Previous to the King’s recovery, the Bishop of Llandaff had expressed himself as having been miserably neglected by Mr. Pitt, and ‘I feel the indignity as I ought.’ The bishop declares that he was overlooked, for want of political pliancy. However, we have seen that, in the allegedly offended Queen’s presence, the Prince of Wales ostentatiously patronised the prelate, and subsequently made a post-prandial promise touching preferment, which he never fulfilled. The bishop strongly suspected that the Queen stood in his way. In 1805, the Duke of Grafton wrote to him, to give him early intimation that the Archbishop of Canterbury was not expected to live; but ‘I had no expectation of an archbishopric,’ says Dr. Watson, ‘for the Duke of Clarence had once said to me, (speaking in conversation no doubt the language of the court), ‘they will never make _you_ an archbishop; they are afraid of you.’ In the following year, the bishopric of St. Asaph became vacant, and Dr. Watson applied for it to Lord Grenville, stating that it ‘would be peculiarly acceptable to himself.’ ‘It was given to the Bishop of Bangor; and the bishopric of Bangor was given to the Bishop of Oxford.’ Hereupon, the diocesan of Llandaff, suspecting that the Queen’s influence was exercised against him over the King, addressed a letter to the Duke of Clarence, begging him to lay the same, which contained a statement of the writer’s wishes, before the Prince of Wales, whom the bishop ‘most earnestly entreated to take some opportunity of doing him justice with the King.’ Years, however, passed on; and, in 1810, we find the right reverend prelate expressing himself in doubt ‘whether it is by her or by his Majesty that I am laid on the shelf.’ In fact, he was by far worse treated at the hands of the Prince of Wales, whose cause he had supported against Queen, ministers, and a great majority of the people, than he ever was by the Queen herself. The Prince had intimated that such a champion should not go without his reward; and that the Prince would not forget the prelate. His Highness did, however, completely forget the right reverend father. We do him wrong: he remembered him on one occasion. On the 3rd of May 1812 there was a dinner party at Carlton House. At these parties it was no uncommon thing for the Regent to tell stories which sent the Queen’s fan up to her face, with a remonstrating ‘George! George!’ to induce him to have some respect for decency. On the occasion in question, however, the conversation turned on immorality and irreligion. Mr. Tyrrwhitt thereupon told a story how he had been in society with a Sussex baronet, who gave utterance to such profligate and atheistic opinions that Mr. Tyrrwhitt was obliged to leave the room, after recommending the blasphemer and libertine to look into Bishop Watson’s ‘Apology’ for that Bible which the baronet so scoffed at. At the royal table ‘the baronet’s answer was produced and read, expressive of the greatest