The occasion was the presentation of an address of welcome to the King, and we are told that the Mayor, on approaching to present it, to the astonishment and dismay of all, instead of kneeling, as he had been told to do, seized the Queen’s hand to shake it as he might that of any other lady. Colonel Gwynne, the master of the ceremonies, hurriedly told him of his _faux pas_, saying, “You should have kneeled, sir.” “Sir, I cannot,” was the reply. “Everybody does, sir,” hotly asserted the Colonel. The Mayor grew red, and, evidently much upset, amidst the ill-suppressed laughter of those in the immediate vicinity, who were aware of the “scene,” and had overheard the colloquy between Colonel Gwynne and his worship, exclaimed, “Damme, sir, but I’ve got a wooden leg.” History, unfortunately, does not tell us what the King’s comment was, but that he was amused none can doubt, for Royalty in those times (as now) dearly loved a joke. But in the phrase, “a smile suffused the face of Her Majesty--unshocked by the strength of Mr Mayor’s language--and the King laughed outright,” we have one of those touches which serve to illuminate the doings of those days. In the papers of that day, too, are to be found many interesting items, and accounts of the “rufflings” of fine gentlemen, and the frailties of fine ladies. More than one duel was fought on the stretch of sand near Sandsfoot Castle, and on the breezy upland just above the north-east curve of the bay, whilst an elopement sometimes sent an angry father and sometimes husband posting hot haste after the fugitives along the Plymouth Road. The town was naturally much exercised concerning the long war which ended only with the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo. The circumstance of the Court being at Weymouth during some of the most stirring events in national history at that time made it the centre of news. Indeed, the King was out riding when tidings of the great victory of the Nile was brought to him by courier, and on that night Weymouth was ablaze with delirious triumph, and the scene of astounding enthusiasm. After the King had returned from his ride, and had mastered the dispatches, he sallied forth upon the Parade, and joyously accosted every one he knew, and told them details of Nelson’s doings. Weymouth at this period suffered, as did most coast towns, considerably from the ever-present fear of invasion; and so great was the satisfaction when peace was proclaimed after the long struggle, that an open-air dance was held in the streets of the town, in which the four Members of Parliament for the borough, and their families, took part. The number of the couples dancing was so great that, we are told, they filled the whole of the length of the main street thickly.