Newcastle, if born a peasant, would have taken to tending swine, and his only fault in such a pursuit would be that he would never cleanse the styes.

But, as ministers of the British Crown, the dissimilarity of their dispositions prevented the collisions which would naturally occur between men following the same objects through the same motives. When they met, Newcastle evinced a most agreeable pliancy in reference to Pitt's policy, and Pitt, aspiring to make himself the Great Commoner of England, and to render his name familliar as household words in every court in Europe, left the distribution of official garbage to the jobbing duke.

In 1754, Newcastle was busily engaged in using, to the best advantage, all the ministerial patronage, with a view to increase his adherents in the House of Commons, the Parliament having been dissolved. At the same time, Pitt was most anxious to employ all the influence of the British Government to promote the election of the Archduke Joseph as King of the Romans, in case of the death of the Emperor Francis I. The Duke was thinking of the Cornish boroughs: the Commoner was engrossed with the maintenance or augmentation of British influence on the continent, and only revolving how he could most effectually smite the Bourbons. The First Lord of the Treasury had established communications with every borough in which he had the slightest chance of gaining a seat. Pitt was more anxious that the British Minister at Vienna should have couriers ready to start with intelligence as to the issue of the Emperor's indisposition, in order that threats, promises, and subsidies might be at once applied to the several members of the German Diet. But an interference with his plans occurred, and an attack was made upon him, to which he was compelled for a time to yield. The gout assailed him, and, at once perceiving that the fit would be so severe as utterly to incapacitate him for some time from attending to business, he drove to the spacious mansion at the corner of Lincoln's Inn-fields, and communicated to his ducal colleague the necessity by which he was impelled to succumb for a time to his infirmity. Then, hastily imparting his political views, and urging on Newcastle their vast importance, he desired that, on the arrival of messengers from the continent, the Duke should give them immediate audience. His Grace at once entered into the desires of Pitt, and instantly gave directions that any person arriving, and desiring an interview, should be at once brought to his presence, whether early or late; and that a porter should remain up at night, for the purpose of securing the messengers' prompt admission. Content with this arrangement, Pitt departed, and the Duke resumed a consultation with one of his supporters, Colonel Drisdale, who was about to contest the Cornish borough of St. Michael's, in opposition to Clive, who had returned from his early achievements in India, and brought that admirable recommendation to a borough constituency—a full purse. Clive was supported at St. Michael's by the powerful interest of Lord Sandwich. Newcastle was determined that Drisdale should be returned: he now eagerly applied himself to investigate the promise-book of his friend,—to interrogate him respecting his canvass, and to suggest future operations. Drisdale was desponding.

VOL. II.

D

"It appears to me," said Newcastle, "that all depends on the part the Wrixons will take, that family have seven votes, they have heretofore opposed us, if you gain them over they will make the difference of fourteen on the poll, and they must be gained."

"But," replied Drisdale, "I have not been able to make the slightest impression on them, the younger fellows invariably refer me to old Wrixon, and he as invariably refuses to promise; all that I can get out of him is, that his second daughter has been recently married to a respectable but poor young man, and that he wishes his son-in-law to be appointed supervisor of excise at Falmouth, the present supervisor being in a dying state." "And what did you say?" asked the Duke.

"I told him," answered Drisdale, "that I would be very happy to serve him, and that I should use my best influence to effect his object; but nothing would satisfy the fellow except a positive undertaking, which I could not give."

"But which I can give." said the Duke. "Drisdale, what a fool you are not to have mentioned this to me before. The borough is ours if the rascals have not been already secured by Clive's money."

66 "They have not been secured," answered Drisdale. "Old Wrixon is in town; I saw him to-day, shook him warmly by the hand, and ascertained that he is at the Angel, St. Clement's."

The Duke rang the bell, desired the servant to call a coach, and directed Drisdale at once to go to the Angel and fetch old Wrixon to him. In less than an hour the seven voters for St. Michael's were represented by old Wrixon in the presence of the First Lord of the Treasury.

"Mr. Wrixon," said the Duke, "Colonel Drisdale is my most particular friend. He has importuned me to appoint your son-in-law to the supervisorship at Falmouth. I now promise you that, as soon as the vacancy occurs, your son-in-law shall have the place; and I am delighted to have in my power the means of serving a respectable family, in the welfare of which Colonel Drisdale takes the warmest interest."

"Well, my lord Duke," said the Cornish man, "this is main kind, very. Old Pencuddle cannot last, and it is a nice provision, so I can't but say that we will do our best for the colonel; but there's one thing yet."

"My friend," replied the duke, "I can know nothing of little election matters between you and Drisdale; that is an affair with which I cannot possibly intermeddle, and you must excuse me from--"

"Beg pardon, my lord,' interrupted the old fellow, "it is not that, but I'm thinking that when Pencuddle's dead, we may be trying to see your Grace, day after day, and it's main hard to get at a duke, very, so we may come and go, my lord, and not see you till the place is filled by some one else, which would'nt answer, that's all."

"Hark ye, my good friend," said Newcastle, "I pledge you my word that you shall have access to me at any hour, night or day, early or late, so watch for this Mr. Percuddle's decease, and it will be your own fault, not mine, if your son-in-law is not his successor.

directions for your admission."

I shall, at once, give positive

"All's right," said old Wrixon, "Colonel, there's my hand and word, we're your's, that's all."

Wrixon departed, Drisdale and Newcastle discussed some details of minor corruption relative to St. Michael's, and the Duke complained of the annoyances to which he felt himself subjected by the illness of Pitt, and expressed his hopes that he would speedily get the goat out of his legs, or his German politics out of his head, and leave him the Duke, some time to look after the real business of the country, the coming elections.

A fortnight elapsed before St. Michael's made its choice of men to whom, in the British legislature, the dearest interests of millions were to be intrusted: Drisdale was defeated by a small majority; Clive's Indian gold had too powerful an influence, but the entire of the Wrixon connexion had given their immaculate support to Drisdale, and some hopes were entertained by the Duke that, on a petition, Clive would be unseated. Election petitions were at that time disposed of by a committee of the whole house, the merits of the petition were a secondary consideration, or rather no consideration whatever, the strongest party retained the sitting member, or substituted his opponent, according to their political bias. At present election petitions are disposed of most impartially by select committees, at all events we are bound so to believe.

Pitt was recovering, but still refrained from active business; Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, the British ambassador at Vienna, had written home that the Emperor's health was rapidly sinking, and his decease might be soon expected. The influence of France was to be encountered at the German Diet-the King of England was more sensitive on German subjects than on any English question, the electorate of Hanover had more value in his eyes than his regal dominions, and his ministers could not retain his favour if they evinced any indifference to German affairs. Newcastle was teased by the vast number of demands on his attention from the various expectants of his patronage, exercised as it was, in all the phases of official appointments, or plain, simple, unsophisticated bribery. The petition. against Clive's return was prosecuted, the debate was warm, but the minister had the numbers, Clive was unseated, and Drisdale substituted.

The affairs of Germany became daily of greater importance; George II. required the frequent attendance of Newcastle, and urged the policy of subsidizing Bavaria and Saxony, whilst the Duke wished to keep the money at home to subsidize his own partisans. The king was desirous of proeceding to his continental dominions, and worried Newcastle with the expression of wishes in which he did not sympathize, and projects which he did not understand. He assured his Majesty of his loyal devotion to his service, promised much, evaded more, and betook himself every evening to his spacious mansion, fretted and faded, but still restless and watchful.

A cabinet dinner was over, the guests of the Premier had departed neither in very good temper with their host, nor leaving him with the most amiable feelings towards his colleagues. Pitt was still unwell, and his master spirit had been needed at the banquet to mingle a little conciliation with the Duke's imperiousness, or to mollify the sturdy English spirit which,

amongst some of the officials, was rebelling against making the British empire the mere support of the German tendencies of the sovereign. One complained that the country gentlemen were becoming intractable, another expatiated on the discontents of the great trading communities. A ministerial crisis apppeared fast approaching, and the Premier almost shuddered at the thoughts of losing a position to which his weakness clung, and to which the benches of opposition afforded a most disheartening contrast. Pitt's private secretary had a long conference with his Grace, and had no pleasing tidings to communicate. The gout still clung to "the great commoner" with inexorable tenacity, but his indomitable spirit was bent on defeating the attempts of France to subvert the continental influence of England. Sinister reports had reached Pitt's ears, and he was manifestly distrusting the energy, and perhaps the inclination of his ducal colleague. When the conference terminated, Newcastle retired to rest, comforting himself with the reflection that the continental difficulty would soon be solved in one way or the other. Long after midnight he obtained repose, and in his extensive mansion sleep held undisputed dominion, except over the yawning domestic who awaited the possible arrival of the courier from Vienna. At length the sound of rattling wheels breaks on the watcher's ear. The chaise stops and the hall-door is entered by a traveller, who appears to have had a rapid but tiresome journey, and who demands at once to see the Duke. There is no time for questions, and no questions are asked by the servant, who knows that state affairs are beyond his interference. The stairs are ascended, and his Grace's slumber is dispelled. Raising himself, with the utmost anxiety,he utters the earnest query, "Is he dead?"

"Yes, my lord; you may depend on't. I started instantly on his decease; but I ascertained beyond all doubt that he was no more."

"Have you any letters?

"Not one, my lord. I merely waited for his death, and then started with the utmost speed, to let your Grace know."

"You may retire."

"I hope, my lord, that you will give the necessary directions to have my son-in-law appointed his successor.' "What!" exclaims Newcastle.

"Are you mad? Is it not of the

Emperor of Germany you are speaking?"

"Not exactly, my lord, but of old Pencuddle, the supervisor of Falmouth. You know you promised that, night or day, I should have admission, or I would not presume at this hour."

"Turn that infernal scoundrel into the street," roared the Duke, with an energy which, had it been equalled on all other occasions, would have established his character as the most forcible minister in Europe.

Old Wrixon, for he was the intruder, was very summarily and unceremoniously expelled from the ducal residence; and the real courier from Germany, who arrived next day, experienced no small difficulty in obtaining admission.

However, whether influenced by the hope of keeping the seven voters at

St. Michael's in his interest, or through a wish to avoid the merriment and bantering naturally incident to the mistake of the Supervisor of Falmouth having usurped the attention of a great statesman, under such unworthy circumstances, his Grace kept his word for once, and the ambition of the Wrixons was fully satisfied.

EVERY INCH A KING.

"Aye, every inch a king!"-SHAKSPEARE.

ABOUT the year 855, an Anglo-Saxon king is in Rome, visiting the churches, and laying costly offerings upon their altars. He is a man of a sorrowful countenance; he looks as though he had run away from trouble, and as if he was trying to hide his bewildered head somewhere beneath the shadow of the seven hills of the imperial city. The clamour of those fearful Northmen, "whose cry is in their ships," is still ringing in his ears, and he even now has the scared look of one who listens to a distant echo. The marauding Danes had harried the lands of the poor West-Saxon king, until, remembering the sacred vows which, in his early youth, he had taken upon him, and sighing for the habit which he had put on in love, and been forced to throw off in haste, under pressure of state necessity, the royal devotee has made a pilgrimage to Rome. Wherever he goes, from shrine to shrine, he leads by the hand a fair boy of six years-his fifth, but favourite son.

Is there anything in that young child's face which hints at future greatness? Doubtless there is an inscription written there which, like the invisible ink sometimes employed in secret correspondence, will start out into meaning as soon as it be subjected to the strong light of the full day or the fiery heat of maturing circumstances. That fair-haired child, born in the year of grace 849, at a place called Wantage, in that part of the 'West-Saxon kingdom now known as Berkshire, is one of that small brotherhood who are known to all posterity by the title of "Great." No doubt that title might be read even now, either in the moulding of the brow, in the clear light of the eye, or in the firm chiselling of the little mouth. Perhaps even the childish step has the expression of greater decision than has the wavering, inconsequent gait of that care-worn Saxon father as the two strangers pace the round pavement of the Appian Way, or climb the broad stair which leads to the Capitol. Young Alfred is the future founder of a long-lived kingdom, the skilful architect of a noble constitution, the brave deliverer of an oppressed people, the calm sage who weds liberty to security, the enlightened foster-father of learning-himself scholar, poet, and minstrel. But the credentials which that child has to show are as yet a sealed packet; and, as to future kingship, there are turbulent brothers between Alfred and the throne of Wessex. There were four elder brethren