of Esculapius was not so easily re-grasped. He avoided ordering physic, he said, as much as most men do taking it. Hayman is told (December, 1846) that he had a perfect abhorrence of all labour, but most of writing books-which was, after all, the sorriest mode a man of his taste or feeling could get his bread by. Nevertheless bread must be bought. Getting up steam for "The Trains by Tilbury Tramp" once more engaged him.

Though no longer editor, he continued to write. occasionally for the serial in which his first literary attempts had appeared. On reading them in the Magazine, distance failed to lend enchantment to his view. In March, 1845, a missive to McGlashan invokes "the curse of Cromwell on the devils who included Danes vice Druses in his list of Oriental population." What seems to be a bit of stirring autobiography had a somewhat better fate. "His papers on 'the Burschenschaft of Germany,' published in the 'D. U. M.'" remarks Canon Hayman, "ought certainly to be consulted by readers desirous of tracing his progress at this time." *

Lever when in Dublin had started a newspaper as an organ of the Irish Government, which after internal

* Lever tells that he was hailed gleefully by old "Foxes" and friends; "Irländer, you have come back; right welcome! Champagne for the Irländer," resounded from every side. "There is no use in resisting," he writes, "no use in saying with a smile-which, Heaven forgive us! we have sometimes done, in order to save the pockets of our entertainers-that we prefer beer! The flasks are brought forth, the corks fly, the goblets foam, our health is drunk, we are on our legs." (D. U. M. vol. xxvii., p. 440.) Later on "a party of excited young 'foxes' came up, and seizing upon us, insisted on having a dance. It was in vain we struggled, and represented that in our country such a thing without the presence of the fair sex was impossible

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struggles came to a speedy end. He lost money and heart by it; and from the chiefs of party whose cause it warmly espoused, received scant thanks. And worse still, it finally turned on Lever himself and fiercely stung him, while robbing him as well. This print was called the Dublin Times, but had no connection with the journal which now bears a similar title. Lever declared to McGlashan that his experiences of that print had taught him a new feature in journalism, namely, that insolence and robbery could be advantageously combined. It would soon be dead and d▬▬d, and he didn't care if the printer were so with it. These mortifying experiences failed to wean him of editorial leanings, for, ere the year was out, he announced to McGlashan that he had a grand idea of a new weekly journal in his head, if he knew "of any simpleton willing to embark £10,000 to set it going."

He had some thoughts at this time of writing "Hints for Rambles and Residence Abroad," with views of society, scenery, literature, art, religion, and to convey "useful and entertaining knowledge for absentees and vagabonds." He considered that Southern Germany, the Tyrol, and Hungary afforded material for good tableaux. The idea, however, was not carried out. By way of excuse for this

Off we were carried; and a fox of gigantic stature having seized us round the waist, the band was ordered to strike up, and round we went, greatly to our discomfort, in a spieces of maniacal polka.”—P. 445.

How some duels were interrupted by the executive; and in the confusion how the Irländer tumbled over a fat German and broke his pipe, provoking him to exclaim "Teufel," further stirring reminiscences tell. (P. 447.)

and other literary shortcomings while at Brussels, he said that pâté de foie gras, with champagne glacé and salmi de bécassine truffé made writing more difficult than the low diet of Templeogue. He would soon start for the land of Micky-Rooney and of Love!

His contributions to the Magazine were restricted by the then vexatious postal arrangements. Lever said that they weighed letters in Brussels like the Dutch settlers: every man's hand weighed one pound, and his foot less! Each clerk in the Post Office had a tariff of his own; and one little rascal, with a red head, screwed him up to more than double the price of his confrères.

From Brussels, as Mr. Pearce correctly states, Lever removed to Bonn, where he found himself delightfully situated in sight of Drachenfels, the tallest of the Siebengebürge, or Seven Hills. His seclusion here was disturbed (August, 1845), by the visit of Queen Victoria and the Prussian Court; every part of the Royal progress he describes as a web of blunders. The inauguration of Beethoven's statue by a band of 800 musicians, fiddling like madmen, and as many thousand voices, interrupted his work; and ended by his brains being, as he said, well-nigh blown out by symphonies in four flats.

Finally, the Queen and Beethoven together were accused of driving him out of Bonn, where he had been most comfortably and quietly housed. But the row, uproar, cannon-firing, loud huzzaing, grease-pot illuminating,

*Query, Maccaroni ?

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and Hoch Deutsche enthusiasm, that would explode within ten days, were announced by Lever as too much for him. Perhaps the real fact was-though Lever himself may not have been fully conscious of his own weakness-that he did not play first fiddle at the grand gala. The sensation he afterwards sought to produce daily by driving his cavalcade through the cascine of Florence and also at Carlsruhe, shows that his tastes were not ascetic.

Lever started for Coblentz and St. Goar, and after visiting the Rheinstein, which he described as in all the agony of preparation for a Royal visit, came on to Mayence. Here a letter from Miss Edgeworth reached him, so complimentary that he regarded it as more than compensation for some critical calumny that had caused him great pain, and went to the length of accusing him of concealed assaults on Nationality and the Irish people. He had higher motives and better objects, he said; but he had never stooped to purchase popularity by any subserviency to the prejudices of the people.

A removal was hastily effected to Baden-Baden. Mrs. Lever often deplored that her husband had ever left Bonn: why, we shall see.

That the combined colours of rouge-et-noir had fascination for Lever, may be inferred from one of the best chapters in "Lorrequer," where he is described as breaking the Bank. Lever liked roulette too; and, oblivious of the fact that the chances entirely favoured the owners of the tables, he surrendered himself to the excitement of both games.

In the Conversationhaus at Baden-Baden he was, for more than one season, a familiar figure. At first he won, but pursuing Reaction failed not to overtake him; and he at last left the region of the Black Forest very much in the condition of a game-cock with feathers plucked and plumage drooping. He had now more time for thought and inquiry, and ascertained that the Government of Nassau let the Conversationhaus to a knot of black-legs for a yearly rent of 35,000 florins, with an obligation to spend besides 250,000 florins on the public pleasure-grounds. The same company rented, with equally profitable results, the gaming-tables of Ems, Homburg, Aix, and Wiesbaden.

Lever in his "Nuts" pillories the governments of small German States, who "finding a deficiency in their exchequer, have hit upon this method for supplying the gap, by a system which has all the regularity of a tax, with the advantage of a voluntary contribution. These little kingdoms, therefore, of some half-dozen miles in circumference, are nothing more than rouge-et-noir tables, where the grand duke performs the part of croupier and gathers in the gold." "Poor fellow," writes his fast friend Major

* Lever, in 1846, describes "a laughable incident which occurred last summer at Wiesbaden while we were there." The gist of it is that an English lady of rank, who had frigidly refused every man that asked her to dance, accorded the favour to a handsome German who spoke English like a native, knew every stranger in the town, had the names of all the travelling English at his fingers' ends-in short, he made himself so agreeable that the fine lady danced repeatedly with him during the night. "He must be in some public office in Wiesbaden," she said. "Yes," was the reply, "he is the Oberkellner at the Gasthaus von Rose." On consulting the dictionary it appeared that Oberkellner meant "Head waiter."