place for the procession; where, is a profound secret, because, if known, I should be teased to death, and none but my first friends shall be admitted.  I dined with your secretary [Single-speech Hamilton] yesterday; there were Garrick and a young Mr. Burke[1]—­who wrote a book in the style of Lord Bolingbroke, that was much admired.  He is a sensible man, but has not worn off his authorism yet, and thinks there is nothing so charming as writers, and to be one.  He will know better one of these days.  I like Hamilton’s little Marly; we walked in the great allee, and drank tea in the arbour of treillage; they talked of Shakspeare and Booth, of Swift and my Lord Bath, and I was thinking of Madame Sevigne.  Good night—­I have a dozen other letters to write; I must tell my friends how happy I am—­not as an Englishman, but as a cousin.

[Footnote 1:  Mr. Burke’s book was “A Vindication of Natural Society,” and was regarded as a very successful imitation of the style of Lord Bolingbroke.]

ARRIVAL OF THE PRINCESS OF MECKLENBURGH—­THE ROYAL WEDDING—­THE QUEEN’S APPEARANCE AND BEHAVIOUR.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

ARLINGTON STREET, Sept. 10, 1761.

When we least expected the Queen, she came, after being ten days at sea, but without sickness for above half-an-hour.  She was gay the whole voyage, sung to her harpsichord, and left the door of her cabin open.  They made the coast of Suffolk last Saturday, and on Monday morning she landed at Harwich; so prosperously has his Majesty’s chief eunuch, as they have made the Tripoline ambassador call Lord Anson, executed his commission.  She lay that night at your old friend Lord Abercorn’s, at Witham [in Essex]; and, if she judged by her host, must have thought she was coming to reign in the realm of taciturnity.  She arrived at St. James’s a quarter after three on Tuesday the 8th.  When she first saw the Palace she turned pale:  the Duchess of Hamilton smiled.  “My dear Duchess,” said the Princess, “you may laugh; you have been married twice; but it is no joke to me.”  Is this a bad proof of her sense?  On the journey they wanted her to curl her toupet.  “No, indeed,” said she, “I think it looks as well as those of the ladies who have been sent for me:  if the King would have me wear a periwig, I will; otherwise I shall let myself alone.”  The Duke of York gave her his hand at the garden-gate:  her lips trembled, but she jumped out with spirit.  In the garden the King met her; she would have fallen at his feet; he prevented and embraced her, and led her into the apartments, where she was received by the Princess of Wales and Lady Augusta:  these three princesses only dined with the King.  At ten the procession went to chapel, preceded by unmarried daughters of peers, and peeresses in plenty.  The new Princess was led by the Duke of York and Prince William; the Archbishop married them; the King talked to her the whole time with great good humour, and