Prince of Wales, and the Princess Augusta, was born on the 24th of May, 1738. He was a seven months' child, and, in consequence of his weakness, was privately baptized on the day of his birth. Doubts were entertained as to the possibility of rearing him; and, contrary to court etiquette, a nurse was selected for him from a very humble class of the community. Under the management of this woman, who appears to have been the wife of a gardener, he rapidly gained strength; and the alarm of his parents, that he would be incapable of surviving even the minor diseases of infancy, was soon entirely dissipated. Although the delicate child had been confided to the care of this lowly, but robust individual, contrary to precedent, yet, in obedience to the custom of the court, it was absurdly intimated to the woman, that the royal baby could not be permitted to sleep with her. "Not sleep with me!" she exclaimed, bluntly and indignantly; "then you may nurse the boy yourselves." No arguments could induce her to waive her objection on this point; and the parties concerned, at length condescended to permit the nursling to be her bedfellow. Many years after, either from misfortune, or her husband's extravagance, she was frequently in great distress for money on such occasions, she invariably applied to the prince; who, if he had not the means of relieving her, would actually weep at his inability.

He was publicly baptized on the 22nd of June, by the name of George William Frederick: the King of Prussia and the Duke of Saxe Gotha were his god-fathers by proxy, and the Queen of Prussia was his godmother, also by proxy.

On the first anniversary of his birthday, a Lilliputian military band, consisting of about sixty lads, all under twelve years of age, sons of wealthy citizens, formed into close column before Norfolk-house; and, with drums

up to the drawing-room, where the were received by their elected colonel, the baby prince, and had the honour of kissing his hand.

On the 20th of January, 1741, he was first publicly prayed for: a reconciliation (externally at least) having taken place between his father and the king, and the royal child appears to have been admitted familiarly into the presence of his grandfather. One day his majesty and the little prince being in the library together, the latter was so noisy that the king threatened to put him out of the window into the garden; and finding his threat of no avail, carried it into execution. The sovereign continued at his business without thinking any more of his grandson; until, being about to retire, Dalton, the librarian, reminded him that the young prince was a prisoner in the garden. "God bless me!" exclaimed the king, "I had forgotten the child;" and opening the window, he set the future monarch at liberty.

In 1744, Prince George, being nearly six years old, was taken from the nursery and placed under the care of Dr. Francis Ayscough, who is thus spoken of by Walpole:-" Mr. Pelham said, I know nothing of Dr. Ayscough.-Oh! yes, I recollect I was told by a very worthy man, two years ago, that he was a great rogue." "The princess," says the same author, "found that Prince George, at eleven years of age, could not read English, though Ayscough, to make amends, assured her

he could make Latin verses."

In 1748, George the Second directed Baron Steinberg to ascertain what progress the royal children had made in their education. The baron having accordingly examined them, told Prince George that he should report his great proficiency in Latin to the king; "but," added he, "I wish you were a little more perfect in your German grammar." "German grammar!" exclaimed the boy, squinting at the baron,

"why, any dull child can learn that." Shortly after, it was determined that he should receive the garter, and he was taken to his grandfather for that purpose. On being led into the royal closet, he began a set speech, which had been taught him, by some of the Carlton-house court; but the king interrupted him, by crying "No, no!" In a few moments, the boy attempted to proceed with his address; but those tremendous sounds, which had before stopped him, being again uttered in a louder tone, the little orator's lips were closed with fear.

Goupy, the artist, who was the young prince's drawing master, one day found his pupil standing a prisoner behind his father's chair. "Sit down, Goupy," said the Prince of Wales, "and finish your design." But the artist representing that it was impossible for him to use his pencil with any spirit while his little friend was in disgrace, the young prince was forthwith relieved. A number of years afterwards, his royal pupil, who had long before ascended the throne, met poor Goupy, then eighty-four years of age, and in deep distress, tottering from Kensington towards London, with bailiffs at his heels. The king, who was in his carriage, directed the servants to stop, and thus hailed his old preceptor:- How now, Goupy! How now!-What's the matter?" The aged artist replied, that his personal freedom was in imminent jeopardy; but, added he, "as I once took your majesty out of confinement, I trust you will not suffer me to be placed in it." "Oho, Goupy!" said the king; "Bailiffs, eh? I can't stop the law, you know: let it take its course. But,-d'ye hear, Goupy?Ramus shall settle this business, and I'll take care to secure you from such dangers in future."

In 1749, Lord North, father of the future premier, who is described by Walpole, as having been an amiable, worthy man, of no great genius, unless compared with his successor, was appointed governor to the young prince. About this period, the tragedy of Cato was performed, at Leicester-house, by the royal children, assisted by some of the young nobility and gentry. Prince George, who spoke the prologue, played Portius; Prince Edward, Juba; and

the Princesses Augusta and Elizabeth, Marcia and Lucia. The instruction of the young performers, on this occasion, was confided to the celebrated Quin; who, many years after, on hearing of the graceful mode in which George the Third had delivered the first speech from the throne, exclaimed, exultingly, "Ay, 'twas I that taught the boy to speak!"

On the 12th of July, 1750, Prince George, represented by the Earl of Inchequin, was installed a knight of the garter. The death of his father took place in the spring of the following year: and it is related by Walpole, that the young prince, on hearing of the event, "cried extremely;" although it has been affirmed, that he was hated by the Prince of Wales, who lavished his paternal regard on his second son, Edward. For the father to detest his heir had been the fashion of the family during two or three generations past; and Prince Frederick, apparently expecting that the custom would still be kept up, sent for his eldest son, early in 1751, and, embracing him tenderly, said, "Come, George, let us be good friends while we are suffered to be so."

Soon after the death of Prince Frederick, an act of parliament was passed, vesting the regency and guardianship of the heir-apparent in the princess dowager, assisted by a council, in case of the king's demise during the minority of his grandson; who, on the 20th of April in this year (1751), was created Prince of Wales and Earl of Chester.

Lord Harcourt now became governor, in the room of Lord North; and Hayter, Bishop of Norwich, and Andrew Stone, preceptors to the heir-apparent. The new governor, according to Walpole, thought he discharged his trust conscientiously, if on no account he neglected to make the prince turn out his toes; Stone was proud, very able, and very mercenary; and the bishop a sensible, well-bred, honest, and zealous man, the natural son of Blackbourn, the jolly old Archbishop of York, who had all the manners of a man of quality, though he had been a bucaneer, and was a clergyman.

Differences soon occurred between the parties to whom the education of the young prince was intrusted. The

possession of the prince." His establishment was at length arranged; but in such a manner as to suit the views of his mother and Lord Bute. The latter became groom of the stole, and Andrew Stone was appointed secretary. The prince was graciously permitted, by those who ruled him, to negative the appointment of his sub-preceptor Scott, to any employment about his royal person; because, as it appears, Scott had once said to him, in the presence of Lord Waldegrave, on the prince's having pleading idleness as an excuse for his inapplication, "Sir, yours is not idleness: your brother Edward is idle; but you must not call being asleep all day being idle."

During the years 1757-8, the influence of Lord Bute with the prince appears to have been unbounded. Walpole even insinuates, that, by various misrepresentations, he induced him to neglect his mother; finding it easier to govern a raw youth than an experienced woman. His countryman, Home, the author of Douglas, having produced the indifferent play of Agis, Lord Bute compelled his pupil to attend the performance on three successive Saturday nights. It was also attributed to his lordship's influence, that the prince, at this period, patronized various political authors whose writings were obnoxious to government. Among these were Smollett, who had been imprisoned for libel; and Shebbeare, who had stood in the pillory for abusing George the First.

About this time, the prince, accompanied by Lord Bute, took a trip to Scotland. While changing horses at Edinburgh, they were recognized by a cavalry officer, who, anxious to know what important business had brought the heir-apparent and Lord Bute to North Britain, immediately took horse, and actually dogged them from Edinburgh to Glasgow, thence to the West of Scotland and the Isle of Bute, and afterwards, by another route, back to the inn at Edinburgh where he had first discovered them.

The prince did not take his seat in parliament, as Duke of Cornwall, until 1759. On the 4th of February, in the following year, he went down to the house as one of the royal commissioners, and gave the king's assent to

He appeared in

several new bills. public on some other occasions, but the principal part of his time was passed in retirement, and he was still remarkably timid and retiring.

On the 25th of October, in this year, (1760,) the decease of George the Second took place; and, on the following morning, his grandson, now George the Third, accompanied by Lord Bute, who, it was expected, would soon reap the harvest of his attentions to his royal pupil, proceeded from Kew to St. James's palace. On his arrival, the young monarch was presented by Mr. Pitt, secretary of state and head of the administration, with a paper, on which were written a few sentences, which, the minister hinted, might form the basis of the king's speech to the privy-council. The young sovereign thanked Mr. Pitt, and added, that he himself had already adjusted the substance of his intended speech. The council met at Carlton-house, and the king, although much embarrassed and agitated at first by the novelty of his situation, soon acquired confidence, and addressed them with unexpected dignity and grace.

Before the death of George the Second, the people had entertained but a humble opinion of their future monarch, whose education had been notoriously defective, and of whom his grandfather was known to have said, "The boy is good for nothing but to read the Bible to his mother." On his accession, however, to the great delight and surprise of his subjects, he displayed so many popular qualities, that not to be exceedingly loyal was to be obnoxiously singular. "Every thing," says Walpole, speaking of the commencement of the reign, goes on with great propriety and decency; the civilest letter to Princess Emily; the greatest kindness to the duke; the utmost respect to the dead body. There is great dignity and grace in the king's manner. I don't say this, like my dear Madame Sevigné, because he was civil to me, but the part is well acted. He has all the appearances of being amiable: there is great grace to temper much dignity, and good nature which breaks out on all occasions."

It is difficult to reconcile the statement of our amusing author, that the