some new thing"; still, all their ideas seem to me eminently sweet
and wholesome.

In her old age my mother was the last person living who had seen
George III. She remembered perfectly seeing the old King, in one
of his rare lucid intervals, driving through London, when he was
enthusiastically cheered.

She was also the last person alive who had been at Carlton House
which was pulled down in 1826. My mother at the age of twelve
danced as a solo "The Spanish Shawl dance" before George IV. at
the Pavilion, Brighton. The King was so delighted with her dancing
that he went up to her and said, "You are a very pretty little
girl, and you dance charmingly. Now is there anything I can do for
you?" The child answered, "Yes, there is. Your Majesty can bring
me some ham sandwiches and a glass of port-wine negus, for I am
very hungry," and to do George IV. justice, he promptly brought
them. My mother was painted by a French artist doing her "shawl
dance," and if it is a faithful likeness, she must have been an
extraordinarily pretty child. On another occasion at a children's
party at Carlton House, my uncle, General Lord Alexander Russell,
a very outspoken little boy, had been warned by his mother, the
Duchess of Bedford, that though the King wore a palpable wig, he
was to take no notice whatever of it. To my mother's dismay, she
heard her little brother go up to the King and say, "I know that
your Majesty wears a wig, but I've been told not to say anything
about it, so I promised not to tell any one."

Carlton House stood, from all I can learn, at the top of the Duke
of York's steps. Several engravings of its beautiful gardens are