in his hand, and it is enough to remind one of those courtly groups of
ladies and gentlemen, in old prints of Windsor terrace, or Kensington
garden.

He talks frequently about "the service," and is fond of humming the
old song,

Why, soldiers, why,
Should we be melancholy, boys?
Why, soldiers, why,
Whose business 't is to die!

I cannot discover, however, that the general has ever run any great
risk of dying, excepting from an apoplexy or an indigestion. He
criticises all the battles on the continent, and discusses the merits
of the commanders, but never fails to bring the conversation,
ultimately, to Tippoo Saib and Seringapatam. I am told that the
general was a perfect champion at drawing-rooms, parades, and
watering-places, during the late war, and was looked to with hope and
confidence by many an old lady, when labouring under the terror of
Buonaparte's invasion.

He is thoroughly loyal, and attends punctually on levees when in town.
He has treasured up many remarkable sayings of the late king,
particularly one which the king made to him on a field-day,
complimenting him on the excellence of his horse. He extols the whole
royal family, but especially the present king, whom he pronounces the
most perfect gentleman and best whist-player in Europe. The general
swears rather more than is the fashion of the present day; but it was
the mode in the old school. He is, however, very strict in religious