In March, of the following year, Bubb Doddington went to Leicester House. The Prince told him he ‘had catched cold’ and ‘had been blooded.’ It was the beginning of the end. Alternately a little better and much worse, and then greatly improved, &c., till the night of the 20th. ‘For half an hour before he was very cheerful, asked to see some of his friends, ate some bread-and-butter and drank coffee.’ He was ‘suffocated’ in a fit of coughing; ‘the breaking of an abscess in his side destroyed him. His physicians, Wilmot and Lee, knew nothing of his distemper.... Their ignorance, or their knowledge, of his disorder, renders them equally inexcusable for not calling in other assistance.’ How meanly this prince was buried, how shabbily everyone, officially in attendance, was treated, are well known. The only rag of state ceremony allowed this poor Royal Highness was, that his body went in one conveyance and his bowels in another--which was a compliment, no doubt, but hardly one to be thankful for. The widowed Princess remained in occupation of the mansion in which her husband had died. One of the pleasantest domestic pictures of Leicester House is given by Bubb Doddington, under date November 17, 1753:-- The Princess sent for me to attend her between eight and nine o’clock. I went to Leicester House, expecting a small company and a little musick, but found nobody but her Royal Highness. She made me draw a stool and sit by the fireside. Soon after came in the Prince of Wales and Prince Edward, and then the Lady Augusta, all in an undress, and took their stools and sat round the fire with us. We continued talking of familiar occurrences till between ten and eleven, with the ease and unreservedness and unconstraint, as if one had dropped into a sister’s house that had a family, to pass the evening. It is much to be wished that the Princes conversed familiarly with more people of a certain knowledge of the world. The Princess, however, did not want for worldly knowledge. About this time the Princess Dowager of Wales was sitting pensive and melancholy, in a room in Leicester House, while the two Princes were playing about her. Edward then said aloud to George, ‘Brother, when we are men, you shall marry, and I will keep a mistress.’ ‘Be quiet, Eddy,’ said his elder brother, ‘we shall have anger presently for your nonsense. There must be no mistresses at all.’ Their mother thereon bade them, somewhat sharply, learn their nouns and pronouns. ‘Can you tell me,’ she asked Prince Edward, ‘what a pronoun is?’ ‘Of course I can,’ replied the ingenuous youth; ‘a pronoun is to a noun what a mistress is to a wife--a substitute and a representative.’