"Far be it from ME, their most humble chronicler, to speak slightingly of
their Majesties of Hearts and Diamonds; on the contrary, I would maintain
a paper war with any one who dared to insinuate that these honours were
not dealt most fairly: but, on _some_ occasions, I cannot help thinking
that these distinctions have been lavished rather injudiciously, and that
royalty has been made too common. I have seen our own beloved monarch in
public received with acclamations, ay, and with more than mouth honour--
with waving handkerchiefs, and full hearts, and eyes that overflowed. The
enthusiasm of such a welcome is honourable to the monarch who receives it,
and the subjects who bestow it; and let levellers say what they will, the
best feelings of our nature are brought into play on such occasions. There
is a _meaning_ in such a welcome; and long, very long, may our monarch
live to witness proofs of attachment, which his heart well knows how to
appreciate. But there is no meaning whatever in placing a tattooed chief,
or a Hottentot Venus of the blood royal, on the same eminence: it is
_infra dig_.--can answer no good purpose, and brings the genuine
enthusiasm of loyalty into contempt. There is too much of the Dollalolla
in such an exhibition. When his majesty squats uneasily, as if he
considered his chair an inconvenience, and the queen wipes her ebony nose
with her illustrious white satin play bill. When the royal party entered,
the people seemed unable to contain their rapture, and God save the King
was called for. This is the established custom: whenever we look upon the
king of _another country_, we always stand up and sing, God save
_our own_!"


_Club-House Comforts_.

"Far more cheap, and far more commodious than hotels _used to be_, they