In Rotten Row Lady Diana Beauclerk was once wont to ride in a green velvet riding habit, whilst the Prince of Orange caracoled by her side. Here also used to canter the dashing Baron de Géramb, whose plumed kalpack and furred pelisse made such an impression upon the British military authorities as to cause the creation of certain cavalry regiments dressed as hussars, which are still part of the English army. This Baron, who ended his days as the chief of a Trappist monastery, was an extraordinary and somewhat mysterious character, who, after having offered to raise 24,000 Croatian troops to assist in the overthrow of Buonaparte, was denounced as an impostor and ordered out of England. Upon this he barricaded himself in his house, hanging out a board on which was written, “My house is my castle,” and announced that he would sustain a long siege whilst awaiting the arrival of his Croatians, and at the last extremity would blow up his house and all Bayswater rather than yield. His resistance, however, did not last long, for that very evening he was captured, taken to Harwich, and sent out of the country. In later life Géramb, becoming a monk, rose, as has been said, to a very high position in the Trappist community. Indeed, when he went to Rome in 1837 he created such a sensation that Pope Gregory XVI. said, “There are two popes now—Pope Géramb and myself.” The favourite motto of Géramb, in his later years, when he had become a pattern of simple devotion and zeal, was “_se taire, souffrir et mourir_,” words which he caused to be inscribed on the walls of his modest cell. This Procureur-Général of the Trappist Order, who was the creator of the English hussar, died at Rome on the 15th of March 1848. The era of the dandies has long since passed away, and were he to return to the scene of his sartorial triumphs, D’Orsay, Prince of unblemished boots and short napped hat, would find that his well-thought-out costume, far from evoking admiration, would be regarded only with ridicule and contempt. The days of the gorgeous equipages which at one time formed one of the principal sights in Hyde Park during the season are also over; there seems a strong probability, indeed, that in the not very distant future horsed carriages in London will become something very like curiosities, being supplanted by motors, which, notwithstanding certain inconveniences, are essentially suited to a modern city.