the full radiance of their vast lawn sleeves. The Bishop of Gloucester,[1] who was nearest, accidentally turning his head, I recognized a face long familiar to me from its cordiality and kindness. A few words were interchanged between us, and also by myself with the rest of the party, the remotest of whom, if I remember rightly, was the Archbishop of Dublin. The dress of my friend seemed to strike the Bishop's attention; but the quiet costume of the Quaker beneath his scarlet robe was entirely unnoticed. I therefore confided to the Bishop of Gloucester the fact that I had a Quaker by my side, at the same time assuring him that my peaceful and philosophic friend was very far from meditating any injury to the Church. The effect was electric upon the whole party; episcopal eyes had never yet beheld such a spectacle in such society, and I fear, notwithstanding my assurance, some portion of the establishment thought the Church really in danger.
"We now entered the Presence-chamber, and having passed the King, I retired very slowly, in order that I might observe events. Doctor Dalton having kissed hands, the King asked him several questions, all which the philosopher duly answered, and then moved on in proper order to join me. This reception, however, had not passed with sufficient rapidity to escape jealousy, for I heard one officer say to another, 'Who the d—l is that fellow whom the King keeps talking to so long?'
"Conversations at Courts are not always thought to be the most interesting things in the world; although, doubtless, they must be so to the parties engaged in them. In the midst of crowded levees and drawing-rooms, one is often compelled to become the confidant of strangers around us.
- ↑ Dr. Monk.
