The little Monk Lewis has behaved like a great fool, and made himself highly ridiculous. He sent to the Duke of Somerset and desired he would _wait upon him_ the next day at 1 o’clock. The Duke obeyed the summons, and _did wait_ upon him. ‘I understand, D. of Somerset, that you have exposed me to the contempt of being again blackballed by the New Club. I think the part you have acted by so doing unbecoming the character of a friend; thus I desire our acquaintance may drop here.’ He rung the bell, and bid the servant open the door for the D., and thus dismissed him. The D. of S. is remarkably good-natured, and most certainly did what he thought Lewis would like, but, poor little man, he is very irritable and quarrelsome, and will shortly be left not only friendless, but without many acquaintances. [Sidenote: THE ROYAL INSTITUTION] This Institution[77] of Rumford’s furnishes ridiculous stories. The other day they tried the effect of the gas, so poetically described by Beddoes; it exhilarates the spirits, distends the vessels, and, in short, gives life to the whole machine. The first subject was a corpulent, middle-aged gentleman, who, after inhaling a sufficient dose, was requested to describe to the company his sensations; ‘Why, I only feel stupid.’ This intelligence was received amidst a burst of applause, most probably not for the novelty of the information. Sir Coxe Hippisley was the next who submitted to the operation, but the _effect_ upon him was so _animating_ that the ladies tittered, held up their hands, and declared themselves satisfied. The experiment to remove the popular prejudice in favour of silver teapots failed, as the thermometer gave the lie to the Professor’s learned dissertations, but it must have been from the malice of his evil genius, for the fact is in his favour. The Bishop of Killala’s[78] narrative of what passed in the town and neighbouring district whilst the French were in possession of it in ’98 under Humbert, is extremely interesting. It is written simply, with a great appearance of truth and feeling. His palace was the headquarters of the General and his officers. He speaks with highest admiration of their humanity, civility, and incredible discipline. There is even humour in his description of some of the scenes, particularly that in which he describes the mixture of mirth and contempt with which the French officer thrust indiscriminately upon the noddles of the Irish the gaudy helmets. He yields the palm of superiority to the English for their _dexterity_ in pillaging and in plunder; indeed compared with every European army, save the Papal one, it is the only _excellence_ in candour we can admit them to lay claim to.