she would go nowhere. At last, as an instance of prodigious compliance, she told him that if he would accept such a dinner as a butterwoman's daughter could give him he should be welcome. Away they walked to Craven Street; the mother borrowed some silver to buy a leg of mutton, and they kept the eager lover drinking till twelve at night, when, with a chosen committee, the faithful pair waited on the minister of May-fair. The Doctor was in bed, and swore he would not get up to marry the King, but that he had a brother over the way who perhaps would, and who did. The mother borrowed a pair of sheets, and they consummated at her house; and the next day they went to their own palace."

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The streets which occupy the site of old May Fair are of too modern date to present any extraordinary features of interest. Where Hertford Street, originally called Garrick Street, now stands, there formerly stood a public-house, known as the Dog and Duck," behind, or rather to the north of which was a large pond, which was a favourite resort of the admirers of the ancient sport of duck-hunting. In this street lived General John Burgoyne, as celebrated for his defeat at Saratoga as for his comedy of the "Heiress," and in the same house afterwards resided Richard Brinsley Sheridan. In this street also Mrs. Jordan took up her residence when she first placed herself under the protection of the late King.

At his house in Curzon Street, May Fair, died

George Earl Macartney, celebrated for his embassy to China; and in Chesterfield Street, for many years, resided the witty and eccentric George Selwyn. At a small house (No. 4.) in the latter street lived the celebrated George Brummell. His establishment must have been sufficiently contracted; but with the aid of his own fascinating powers of conversation, an excellent cook, and admirable wine, he attracted to his little dining-parlour in Chesterfield Street, all the wit, the talent, and profligacy, which distinguished the commencement of the present century. Here George the Fourth, when Prince of Wales, was often his guest. Frequently, it is said, the Prince would pay him a morning visit in Chesterfield Street, to watch the progress of his friend's inimitable toilet; sometimes sending his horses away, and remaining to so late an hour, that he was compelled to insist on Brummell's giving him a quiet dinner, which not uncommonly terminated in a midnight debauch. Chesterfield House, from which Chesterfield Street takes its name, was built by the celebrated Earl of Chesterfield in the reign of George the Second. The staircase, (the only marble one, we believe, in London, except that at Northumberland House,) was brought from the magnificent seat of the Duke of Chandos at Canons.

From Curzon Street we pass into South Audley Street,—in the chapel in which street Lord Chesterfield, and the celebrated John Wilkes, lie

GROSVENOR SQUARE.

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buried; and to the west runs Chapel Street, at No 13 in which street Brummell removed from Chesterfield Street, and from which house he made his sudden flight to the Continent in 1816. In South Audley Street, the two exiled Kings of France, Louis the Eighteenth and Charles the Tenth, occupied at different periods the same house; and close by, in a house overlooking Hyde Park, lived the infamous Egalité, Philip Duke of Orleans.

South Audley Street leads us into Grosvenor Square, which derives its name from having been built on the property of Sir Richard Grosvenor, who was cup-bearer at the coronation of George the Second, and who died in 1732. On the site of this aristocratic square, the rebel citizens of London, during the civil war, erected a strong line of fortifications; the redoubt, long known as Oliver's Mount, being thrown up close to where the statue of George the First, the work of Van Nost, now stands from this mound it would seem that Mount Street derives its name. The gardens in the centre of Grosvenor Square were laid out by the well-known landscape gardener Kent.

In Grosvenor Square lived Melesina Schulenberg, Duchess of Kendal,-the gaunt and unsightly mistress of George the First, to whom she was supposed to have been united by a left-handed marriage ;—and next door to her, before the erection of Chesterfield House, lived the celebrated Lord Chesterfield, who had married Melesina, Countess of Walsingham, the reputed niece of the

Duchess, but who, there is every reason to believe, was her daughter by her royal lover.

At his house in Upper Grosvenor Street died, in 1765, William, Duke of Cumberland, memorable for the atrocities which he committed after the battle of Culloden; and in Grosvenor Street also breathed her last, in 1730, the frail, the beautiful, and warm-hearted actress, Mrs. Oldfield. Her corpse, having been decorated with fine Brussels lace, "a holland shift with a tucker and double ruffles of the same face, and a pair of new kid gloves," was conveyed from her house in Grosvenor Street to the Jerusalem Chamber at Westminster, from whence, having lain in state during the day, it was carried at eleven o'clock at night to the Abbey, Lord De la Warr, Lord Hervey, Bubb Dodington, and other gentlemen supporting the pall.

Running parallel with Upper Grosvenor Street is Upper Brook Street, remarkable for one of the most lamentable fires which occurred in London during the last century. Horace Walpole writes to Marshal Conway, on the 6th of May, 1763,— "I must tell you of the most dismal calamity that ever happened. Lady Molesworth's house in Upper Brook Street was burnt to the ground between four and five this morning. She herself, two of her daughters, her brother, and six servants, perished. Two other of the young ladies jumped out of the two-pair of stairs and garret windows; one broke her thigh, the other (the eldest of all) broke her's too,

Biog. Brit. Art. Oldfield.

and has had it cut off. The fifth daughter is much burnt; the French governess leaped from the garret and was dashed to pieces; Dr. Molesworth and his wife, who were there on a visit, escaped; the wife by jumping from the two pair of stairs, and saving herself by a rail,-he by hanging by his hands till a second ladder was brought, after a first had proved too short. Nobody knows how or where the fire began; the catastrophe is shocking beyond what one ever heard, and poor Lady Molesworth, whose character and conduct were the most amiable in the world, is universally lamented." It was to the credit of George the Third, that immediately upon hearing of this dreadful calamity, he sent the surviving young ladies a handsome present; ordered a house to be immediately prepared for their reception at his own expense; and not only continued to them a pension which had been enjoyed by their mother, but ordered it to be increased by two hundred pounds a year.

Crossing Oxford Street, we soon find ourselves in Portman Square, which was built about the year 1764, but of which I know little that is interesting, except that Montague House, the large house which stands alone at the north-west corner, was once the residence of the well-known Mrs. Montague, the Madame du Deffand of her day. Here, once a year, she feasted the chimney-sweepers in the garden of Montague House; here assembled the wit, the rank, and the talent of the last century; and here was the apartment, covered with