One could not expect him to be a bookworm just now. Lord Palmerston is at a stag-hunt, and patronized the young candidate. Washington Irving dines at his father's, and George has to take notes of his "Yankee twang, sallow complexion, and nasal sounds." He used to say to us that one who saw Irving, and heard him speak, could never believe he was the author of "The Traveller" or "Bracebridge Hall," and much less of "Knickerbocker's History of New York." Irving himself alludes to this, when he says, somewhere, that the London people {99} "wondered that he held a quill in his hand, instead of wearing it in his scalp-lock." He gets over all this after the Ryde recreation, and the hunting at Wiseton, when, towards the end of September this year, he bids farewell to his military life as a cornet in the Yeomanry of Northampton. This is as a preparation for his Orders; but they come upon him still unexpectedly when he receives a letter from the Bishop of Peterborough, on the 5th of October, to signify that he would have Ordination on the 22nd of December following. He writes to the Diocesan Examiner to ask what books he is to read, and how he is to prepare, and that gentleman graciously tells him that he need not trouble himself; that he knows, from the respectability of his family, he must be already quite prepared. [Footnote 5] George is contented for the present, but he has an eye to the future; he borrows, therefore, some twelve of the Wimbledon clergyman's best sermons, and says "that will set me up for a start." He then goes on retreat about the 16th of December, and his day is divided into four principal parts, making allowances for dinner and {100} sleep, consisting of shooting, cribbage, whist, and sermon writing or copying, as the case might be. On the 18th, two days before, he adds one more spiritual exercise to his usual ones; he reads a novel. The next day he goes off to Peterborough, and dines with the Dean and his wife, "who are to feed him" whilst he is there. His examination is gone through--one of the Thirty-nine Articles to be translated into Latin, and he has an _exposé_, with illustrations, on the nature of mesmerism, for the rest of the terrible ordeal. This passed successfully, he comes home to the Dean's house, bids good night to the _materfamilias_, and collects his spirits for the great occasion. He is wrapt in sublime ecstacy, and bursts forth into the following exclamation in his Journal: "I am 22 years old, and not yet engaged to be married!" [Footnote 5: Here is a copy of the letter with which he was favoured from that dignitary: " Yarmouth, Norfolk, October 12.