Your sisters both attended the trial and had the gratification of hearing Lord Melville acquitted. The Prince had the good sense not to vote. The Court was as full as possible & when the two youngest Peers voted on the first charge & said Guilty, there was something like a hiss from the House of Commons. I am glad it is over & I hope the country will not be put to the expense of any more trials of the same kind for many years. The Princes went and shook Lord Melville by the hand as soon as it was over. Thus it was that eight days after the Pitt dinner, Edinburgh felt itself called upon to give another banquet, designed to celebrate the joyful event of Lord Melville's acquittal. It was likewise proposed to illuminate the city, but the Solicitor-General (Chief Magistrate in the absence of the Lord Advocate) prohibited such a demonstration. He was, in consequence, nicknamed, "The Extinguisher General," and the friends of Lord Melville, to the number of five hundred, consoled themselves by singing a song written by Walter Stanhope for the occasion, and entitled, "A Health to Lord Melville." Each of the eight verses of which it is composed proposes a toast that was staunchly drunk by all present; but perhaps those in honour of the volunteers and of the luckless Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, are the most significant. "Since here we are set in array round the table, Five hundred good fellows well met in a hall, Come listen, brave boys, and I'll sing as I'm able How innocence triumphed, and Pride got a fall; But push round the claret, Come, Stewards, don't spare it; With rapture you'll drink to the toasts that I give. Here, Boys, Off with it merrily, Melville for ever and long may he live! What _were_ the Whigs doing, when, boldly pursuing, Pitt banished Rebellion, gave treason a sting? Why, they swore on their honour, for Arthur O'Connor And fought hard for Despard, 'gainst Country & King! Well then, we knew, Boys, Pitt and Melville were true Boys, And tempest was raised by the friends of Reform. Ah, woe! Weep for his memory; Low lies the Pilot that weathered the storm. [40] * * * * * They would turn us adrift, tho', rely, Sir, upon it, Our own faithful Chronicles warrant us that The free Mountaineer, and his bonny brown bonnet Have oft gone as far as the Regular's hat. We laugh at their taunting, For all we are wanting Is licence our life for our country to give; Off with it merrily, Horse, Foot and Artillery, Each loyal Volunteer--long may he live! * * * * *