In May, 1786, the Mastership of the King’s Band, which had formerly been promised to Dr. Burney, once more became vacant. The Doctor was again a candidate for the appointment. We gather from his having accepted so small a post as that of Organist to Chelsea Hospital, and from some other indications, that his circumstances had not improved as he grew older. He was now sixty years of age: he must have found the work of tuition at once less easy to be met with, and more laborious to discharge, than it had been in his younger days; we cannot be mistaken in supposing that he was eager to obtain, not merely promotion, but also some permanent and lighter occupation. In his anxiety he had recourse to Mr. Smelt, who counselled him to go to Windsor, not to address the King, but to be seen by him. ‘Take your daughter in your hand,’ said the experienced courtier, ‘and walk upon the Terrace. Your appearing there at this time the King will understand, and he is more likely to be touched by such a hint than by any direct application.’ Burney lost no time in acting on the advice thus given. When he and Fanny reached the Terrace in the evening, they found the Royal Family already there. The King and Queen, the Queen’s mother, and the Prince of Mecklenburg, her Majesty’s brother, all walked together. Behind them followed six lovely young princesses,[68] with their ladies and some of the young princes, making, in the eyes of loyal subjects, ‘a very gay and pleasing procession of one of the finest families in the world.’ “Every way they moved,” continues the narrator, “the crowd retired to stand up against the wall as they passed, and then closed in to follow. When they approached, and we were retreating, Lady Louisa Clayton placed me next herself, making her daughters stand below—without which I had certainly not been seen; for the moment their Majesties advanced, I involuntarily looked down, and drew my hat over my face. I could not endure to stare at them; and, full of our real errand, I felt ashamed even of being seen by them. Consequently, I should have stood in the herd, and unregarded; but Lady Louisa’s kindness and good breeding put me in a place too conspicuous to pass unnoticed. The moment the Queen had spoken to her, which she stopped to do as soon as she came up to her, she inquired, in a whisper, who was with her. The Queen then instantly stepped near me, and asked me how I did; and then the King came forward, and, as soon as he had repeated the same question, said: “‘Are you come to stay?’ “‘No, sir; not now.’ “‘I was sure,’ cried the Queen, ‘she was not come to stay, by seeing her father!’ “I was glad by this to know my father had been observed. “‘And when,’ asked the King, ‘do you return again to Windsor?’ “‘Very soon, I hope, sir.’ “‘And—and—and,’ cried he, half laughing and hesitating significantly, ‘pray, how goes on the Muse?’ “At first I only laughed too; but he repeated the inquiry, and then I answered: “‘Not at all, sir.’