_who are they?_—Oh! keep back your sneers, and hold in your jeers, they're her Majesty's ministers, princes, and peers. With their dingy blue jackets, and collars of red, their old Windsor uniforms, looking so dead; they might well pass for "_Uniform Postmen_" instead!—Now farewell and adieu to the Queen's retinue: for onward we strode, in the Royal abode, where fine ancient paintings, paraded to view, are shown by an ignorant thick-headed dunce, whose brogue murders Masters and English at once.—"Look, here is, an' plase ye, _Paul-very-unaisy_, and bad luck if there an't a rale _Remembrant_:" so if _Dan_ did but follow the old fellow's tail, he'd be quite pleased to hear him call Raphael "_Rapale!_"—But it's going to rain, and although, to a man, we would have the Queen's reign be as long as it can; yet as soaking's "no go," we must rush back to Slough, where panting and gasping for breath we are dinn'd, sir—with "What is the matter? you're quite out of _Wind-sir_." [Illustration: SEPTEMBER—Over-boarded and Under-lodged. ] SEPTEMBER.—OVER-BOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED. We had no great reason to brag of our tournyment at Tuggeridgeville: but, after all, it was better than the turn-out at Kilblazes, where poor Lord Heydownderry went about in a black velvet dressing-gown, and the Emperor Napoleon Bonypart appeared in a suit of armour, and silk stockings, like Mr. Pell's friend, in "Pickwick;" we, having employed the gentlemen from Ashley's Anti-theatre, had some decent sport for our money. We never heard a word from the Baron, who had so distinguished himself by his horsemanship, and had knocked down (and very justly) Mr. Nabb, the bailiff, and Mr. Stubbs, his man, who came to lay hands upon him. My sweet Jemmy seemed to be very low in spirits after his departure, and a sad thing it is to see her in low spirits: on days of illness she no more minds giving Jemimarann a box on the ear, or sending a plate of muffins across a table at poor me, than she does taking her tea. Jemmy, I say, was very low in spirits; but, one day (I remember it was the day after Captain Higgins called, and said he had seen the Baron at Boulogne), she vowed that nothing but change of air would do her good, and declared that she should die unless she went to the sea-side in France. I knew what this meant, and that I might as well attempt to resist her, as to resist Her Gracious Majesty in Parliament assembled; so I told the people to pack up the things, and took four places on board the "Grand Turk" steamer for Boulogne.