Strange as it may seem, English literature began to rise in this reign from the low state into which it had fallen under George I. Queen Caroline laughed heartily over the "Travels of Gulliver," in which Swift ridiculed statesmen, scholars, and men of every class of society. Pope wrote a satire upon the literature of his time, which he called the "Dunciad." It created a tremendous uproar among men of letters, and he was assailed in all the news- {094}papers for having produced such a work. His personal appearance was ridiculed, too, for he was anything but prepossessing; and he was represented with a perfect likeness of his head and face on the body of a repulsive-looking monkey, with its long, bony arms embracing a huge pile of ponderous volumes. A weekly journal published this:-- A RECEIPT AGAINST POPE-ISH POETRY. "Select a wreath of withered bays, And place it on the brow of Pope; Then, as reward for stolen lays, His neck encircle with a rope. When this is done, his look will show it, Which he's most like,--a thief or poet." Besides card-playing and court receptions, there were operas and dramas, and of these the king and his whole court were very fond. We must give an account of a funny scene that took place one night at a theatre. John James Heidegger, was a Swiss, who lived in England and superintended operas and masquerades. He soon amassed a fortune, and made himself very popular by devoting part of it to charity. He lived extravagantly, dressed well, and visited in the best society; but he was so eccentric that he was occasionally made the victim of practical jokes. Once he was invited to an entertainment given by the Duke of Montague, and the wine, of which he drank freely, was drugged so that he soon fell sound asleep. He was then placed upon a bed, and a cast was taken of his face and made into a mask. This was done without Heidegger's being aware of it.