This, however, is all theory and speculation. There are many who will attribute our degeneracy to other causes, and many who will deny that there is any degeneracy in the case at all. I am now going to mention a specific grievance, the existence of which no one can deny, and to which your Majesty alone can apply a remedy. During the life of your father we enjoyed three annual holidays, under the denomination of “King’s visits;” and the enjoyment of them had become so much a thing of course, that few were aware upon how short a tenure we held our blessings. They are gone! We have no “King’s visits,” because your Majesty has never visited Eton. It seems to be pretty well determined that your Majesty, sooner or later, will visit some place or other. Some recommend a visit to Hanover, some recommend a visit to Ireland--I recommend a visit to Eton. It will be less troublesome, less expensive, and less formal, than either of its rival proposals. It will be soonest begun, and it will be the soonest over. It would be without a hundred inconveniences which would wait upon your two other journeys. At Eton, you would not be bothered by counts and courtiers; you would not be stifled with Phelims and Patricks; you would not he pestered with German addresses, as at Hanover; and you would not have to dine with the Mayor and Corporation, as at Dublin. The time of your visit I will not presume to point out. If you happen to come on the fourth of this month, you will find certain illicit proceedings going on, which I cannot in this place describe. I can tell you, however, that we shall have a splendid show, and a band that shall play “God save the King,” _ad infinitum_. If you prefer being present at our public speeches, as your Majesty’s father occasionally was, you will hear much embryo oratory and see much sawing of the air. To be serious--may it please your Majesty, I think you ought to come to Eton. Let us have due notice of the honour intended us, and you shall be received in a style worthy both of us and of you. Come, and by your coming disperse over the face of Etona her wonted smile: paste another bright leaf into her annals: give a new excitement to her talents, her studies, and her amusements. You need not come in state: you must not depart in a hurry: bring to us as many smiles, and as few lords, as you please: above all, drive away for an hour the formality of dress and manner which public life enjoins; come to us provided with an English heart, and dressed in the Windsor uniform.