proclaimed the next day, but there is no need to detail the ceremony, as we have all experienced a similar scene lately.  The existing ministry was retained, and things settled down in their places, yet not quite all at once, for The Western Luminary, a paper long since defunct, says, “In one writ which came down to this city, a ludicrous mistake was made in the date, as follows: ‘In the year of Our Lady 1837,’ instead of ‘Our Lord.’”  And the Royal Arms had to be altered from those borne by Her Majesty’s five predecessors. 

Being a female, they had to be borne on a lozenge, instead of a shield; the crest of a lion surmounting a crown was discontinued, as was also the escutcheon of pretence bearing the arms of Hanover, surmounted by the crown of that country.

The preparations for the funeral of the late King were at once commenced; and, in connection therewith, I cannot help quoting from The Times’ Windsor Correspondent (28 June): “In the platform erected for the interment of George IV., there were more than 70,000 superficial feet of boarding, and 49,000 feet of quartering.  The quantity of black cloth used for covering the floor of, and the roof over, amounted to more than 10,000 yards.  I understand that, after the interment, it becomes the perquisite of the clergy of the chapel, as do, also, many of the decorative ornaments placed on, and suspended over, the coffin.  You will, perhaps, recollect what some people would willingly have you forget—I mean the squabbling which occurred respecting the velvet cushion upon which the coronet of the late Princess Charlotte rested at her funeral, and the scramble which took place for the real or supposed baton of the Duke of York, on the occasion of his burial.  Care was taken to prevent the occurrence of any such indecent proceedings at the funeral of George IV., and, hence, I do not anticipate any such scenes on the present occasion.”

The King was buried with great pomp on the night of the 8th of July, the Duke of Sussex being chief mourner, and Queen Adelaide occupying the Royal Closet.  At the close of the ceremony, the members of the procession, who were much fatigued by the toil they had undergone and by the sultry heat of the chapel, proceeded to quit as quickly and as quietly as possible, but nothing like order was observed in the return to the Palace.  In fact, it was, for a considerable time, a scene of indescribable confusion.  Arrangements had been made, by orders of the Earl Marshal, for the places at which the carriages of those who had to take part in the procession were to set down and take up; but, owing to the immense number of the carriages, the ignorance of many of the coachmen as to the prescribed regulations, and the obstinacy of

others, the rules very soon became a dead letter, and every man seemed disposed to take his own way.  This, as might be expected, caused such confusion that it was long past midnight before anything like order was restored.  There were smashed panels and broken windows in abundance, but no serious accidents were recorded.

The Queen soon had plenty of business on her hands, and on 30th June she gave her assent to forty Bills, one of which (a remarkably short one), the 7 Gul., iv. and i. Vic., c. 23, enacted: “That from and after the passing of this Act, Judgment shall not be given and awarded against any Person or Persons convicted of any Offence that such Person or Persons do stand in, or upon the Pillory.”  Owing to the recent change in Sovereigns, there were a few slips in “Her Majesty,” and “La Reine le veult.”  On the 13th July the Queen and her mother left Kensington Palace and took up their residence in Buckingham Palace.  On the 17th, the Queen dissolved Parliament in person, dressed in white satin, decorated with gold and jewels, wearing the Order of the Garter and a rich diadem and necklace of diamonds.  She bore the function remarkably well, although one evening paper said that “Her emotion was plainly discernible in the rapid heaving of her bosom, and the brilliancy of her diamond stomacher, which sparkled out occasionally from the dark recess in which the throne was placed, like the sun on the swell of the smooth ocean, as the billows rise and fall”!  On the 19th July she held her first levée, and on the 20th her first drawing room.

Having dutifully chronicled the doings of Royalty, let us do the same by meaner folk.  On 24th June, Mr. Moses Montefiore, the celebrated Jewish philanthropist, who lived over one hundred years, was elected Sheriff of London, and, on the 9th Nov. following, he received the honour of Knighthood.  He was the first Jew who ever served the office of Sheriff, or who had been made a Knight, in England.

Of course, there were no Board Schools in those days, and education was somewhat lax, but it will do no harm to note a piece of orthography, which will show the standard at which the middle lower class had then arrived.  It is copied from

The Times of 29 June, 1837.  “(From an Evening Paper)—Last autumn, Mrs. C---, of London, during a visit to --- House, in the West of Scotland, called one day, along with some other ladies, in the family carriage, at the Golden Arms Inn, of a sea bathing place on the coast, and stopped for about an hour.  Some time after the party had returned to D--- House, Mrs. C--- discovered that she had lost a very fine boa, which she supposed she must have left at the Inn.  On enquiry, no trace of the boa could be found; but, about two months after Mrs. C---’s return to London, she received a parcel with a boa somewhat torn, accompanied by the accompanying (sic) epistle, which we give as rather a curiosity of its kind:—

“Golden Arms Inn—29 Oct., 1836.

“Mrs. C---, London,

“Madum,—I was sorry to heer that when you lost your Bowa in my huse, that the Bowa was stole by my sarvant lasses; and the sarvants at D--- House spred a report against my huses karakter, which no person ever questioned afore.  My wiffe, Peggy, was muckle vexed at the report, and sershed the trunks of all the lasses, but did not find your Bowa; she fund in Jenny McTavish’s kist half a pund of tea which Jenny had stole from my wiffes cupboard.  Jenny denied taking your Bowa; but not doubting that you would tell a lee, and as Jenny tuke the tea, my wife thocht she must have taken your Bowa too, so I turned off Jeny for your satisfaction.  She went home to her mithers house in ---, and four Sundays after, wha should be cocken in the breist of the laft, all set round with ribbons in her heed, but Miss Jeny with your Bowa on her shoulders, like a sow with a saddle on its back.  I stopped her coming out of the kirk.  So So, Miss Jeny (says I) hae ye stumped the cow of her tale, or is this the ladies Bowa ye have on your sholders?  The brazen faced woman had the impudence to deny the Bowa was yours, and said her sweetheart had bot it for her in a secondhand shop in the Salt Market of Glasgow.  But I cut matters short wi’ Jeny; I een, as if by your authority, tuke

the law in my own hand, and tore the Bowa from her sholders; it was torn a little in the scuffle wi’ Jeny and me afore the congregation in the kirk yard, but I carried it off in spite of her, and now send it to you, hopping you will put a letter in the newspaper of Lundon cleering the karacter of me and my wiffe Peggy, and my Inn of the Golden Arms.  As for Miss Jeny ye may mak her as black as auld nick, for over and above Peggies half pund of tea, and your Bowa, Jeny (I hae good reason to believe) is no better than she should be.  I am, Madum, your vera humbel