A ROYAL GIFT TO THE MASTER OF THE HORSE.
What will you give me, fair ladies, for a copy of verse, written between the Queen of Great Britain and your most small little journalist?
The morning of the ball the queen sent for me, and said she had a fine pair of old-fashioned gloves, white, with stiff tops and a deep gold fringe, which she meant to send to her new master of the horse, Lord Harcourt, who was to be at the dance. She wished to convey them in a copy of verses, of which she had composed three lines, but could not get on. She told me her ideas, and I had the honour to help her in the metre and now I have the honour to copy them from her own royal hand:—