Visit to the Theatre.

“Precisely at seven o’clock the party entered their box, which was tastefully fitted up for their reception.  They were received by the proprietors, and managers, and acting managers, with the customary etiquette, backing most adroitly up stairs, and holding wax candles in their hands (which circumstance was properly stated in the papers the next morning, for fear it should be supposed that tallow had been used on the occasion.)

“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 assuredly are; and country curates, poor poets, and gentlemen who live on very small means, may now take a slice off the joint, with a quarter of a pint of sherry, for next to nothing at all; sitting, at the same time, with their feet on a Turkey carpet, lighted by ormolu chandeliers, surrounded by gold and marble, and waited upon by liveried domestics, with the additional glory of walking away, and ‘giving nothing to the waiter.’  Nay, the more dainty gentleman may order his cotelette aux tomates and his omelette souffle, at a moderate expense.”