His Majesty's tastes are simple; simple, and yet good and human.

Here is a small Royal Order, which I read once, and ever since remember,--though the reference is now blown away, and lost in those unindexed Sibylline Farragos, the terror of human nature;--let us copy it from memory, till some deliverer arise with finger on page.

[Probably in Rodenbeck's _Beitrage,_--but long sad searching there, and elsewhere, proves unavailing at present.
Historical Farragos without INDEX; a hundred, or several hundred, blind sacks of Historical clippings, generally authentic too if useless, and not the least scrap of LABEL on them:--are not these a handy article!] "At Magdeburg, on this Review-Journey, have dinner for me, under a certain Tree you know of, outside the ramparts." Dinner of one sound portion solid, one ditto liquid, of the due quality; readied honestly,--and to be eaten under a shady Tree; on the Review-ground itself, with the summer sky over one's head.

Could Jupiter Tonans, had he been travelling on business in those parts, have done better with his dinner ?-- "At Sinzheim ?" thinks his Royal Highness; and has spoken privily to the Page Keith.

To glide out of their quarters there, in that waste negligent old Town (where post-horses can be had), in the gray of the summer's dawn?
Across the Rhine to Speyer is but three hours riding; thence to Landau, into France, into--?
Enough, Page Keith has undertaken to get horses, and the flight shall at last be.