In the meantime, notice had been sent to several officers of state, and to the more necessary assistants required, to be present at the imminent event. Most of the great officers were out of the way. In lieu of them arrived the Lord President, Wilmington, and the Lord Privy Seal, Godolphin. In their presence was born a daughter, whom Lord Hervey designated as ‘a little rat’ and described as being ‘no bigger than a tooth-pick case.’ Perhaps it was the confusion which reigned before and at her birth which had some influence on her intellects in after life. She was an extremely pretty child, not without some mental qualifications; but she became remarkable for making observations which inflicted pain and embarrassment on those to whom they were addressed. In after years, she also became the mother of that Caroline of Brunswick who herself made confusion worse confounded in the family into which she was received as a member--that Caroline whom we recollect as the consort of George IV. and the protectress of Baron Bergami. At Hampton Court, the King and Queen, concluding that their dear son and heir had, with his consort, relieved his illustrious parents of his undesired presence for the night, thought of nothing so little as of that son having taken it into his head to perform a trick which might have been fittingly accompanied by the ‘Beggars’ Opera’ chorus of ‘Hurrah for the Road!’ No comedy has such a scene as that enacted at Hampton Court on this night. While the prince was carrying off the princess, despite all her agonising entreaties, the rest of the royal family were quietly amusing themselves in another part of the palace, unconscious of what was passing. The King and the Princess Amelia were at _commerce_ below-stairs; the Queen, in another apartment, was at quadrille; and the Princess Caroline and Lord Hervey were soberly playing at cribbage. They separated at ten, and were all in bed by eleven, perfectly ignorant of what had been going on so near them.