Book I, chap. xii, p. 130, line 2 from foot: altered in revised edition to 'to'.

Book II, chap. ii, p. 179, line 7 from foot: altered, should clearly be 'hosts'.

was wrongly altered in

'through' was wrongly

'guests,' though never

Book II, chap. xv, p. 307, line 8: the following passage was omitted in the edition of 1858:

'I always thought that paper was Mr. Congreve's,' cries Mr. St. John, showing that he knew more about the subject than he pretended to Mr. Steele, and who was the original Mr. Bickerstaffe drew.

'Tom Boxer said so in his Observator. oracle is often making blunders,' cries Steele.

But Tom's

Mr. Boxer and my husband were friends once, and when the captain was ill with the fever, no man could be kinder than Mr. Boxer, who used to come to his bedside every day, and actually brought Dr. Arbuthnot who cured him,' whispered Mrs. Steele.

'Indeed, madam ! How very interesting,' says Mr. St. John.

6

But when the captain's last comedy came out, Mr. Boxer took no notice of it-you know he is Mr. Congreve's man, and won't ever give a word to the other house-and this made my husband angry.'

Oh! Mr. Boxer is Mr. Congreve's man!' says Mr. St. John.

'Mr. Congreve has wit enough of his own,' cries out Mr. Steele. No one ever heard me grudge him or any other man his share.'

Book III, chap. i, p. 326, line 19: for Frank', Thackeray by an interesting reminiscence of Pendennis wrote Arthur'.

THE ENGLISH HUMOURISTS

OF THE

EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

A Series of Lectures

DELIVERED IN ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND THE UNITED STATES

OF AMERICA

[First edition, 1853; second edition, revised, 1853]

Basilike. The prince blushed and bowed low, as she gazed at him, and quitted the chamber. I have never seen her from that day.

Horses were fetched and put to the chariot presently. My lord rode outside, and as for Esmond he was so tired that he was no sooner in the carriage than he fell asleep, and never woke till night, as the coach came into Alton.

As we drove to the Bell Inn' comes a mitred coach with our old friend Lockwood beside the coachman. My Lady Castlewood and the bishop were inside; she gave a little scream when she saw us. The two coaches entered the inn almost together; the landlord and people coming out with lights to welcome the visitors.

We in our coach sprang out of it, as soon as ever we saw the dear lady, and above all, the doctor in his cassock. What was the news? Was there yet time? Was the queen alive? These questions were put hurriedly, as Boniface stood waiting before his noble guests to bow them up the stair.

Is she safe? was what Lady Castlewood whispered in a flutter to Esmond.

All's well, thank God,' says he, as the fond lady took his hand and kissed it, and called him her preserver and her dear. She wasn't thinking of queens and crowns.

The bishop's news was reassuring: at least all was not lost; the queen yet breathed or was alive when they left London, six hours since. (It was Lady Castlewood who insisted on coming,' the doctor said ;) Argyle had marched up regiments from Portsmouth, and sent abroad for more; the Whigs were on the alert, a pest on them (I am not sure but the bishop swore as he spoke), and so too were our people. And all might be saved, if only the prince could be at London in time. We called for horses, instantly to return to London. We never went up poor crestfallen Boniface's stairs, but into our coaches again. The prince and his prime minister in one, Esmond in the other, with only his dear mistress as a companion.

Castlewood galloped forwards on horseback to gather the prince's friends, and warn them of his coming. We travelled through the night. Esmond discoursing to his mistress of the events of the last twenty-four hours; of Castlewood's ride and his; of the prince's generous behaviour and their reconciliation. The night seemed short enough; and the starlit hours passed away serenely in that fond company.