Of the hastiness of George the Second's temper, several examples have been given: but it was never, perhaps, more ludicrously displayed than in his first interview with Dr. Ward. The King having been afflicted for some time with a violent pain in his thumb, for which his regular medical attendants could afford him no relief, he sought the assistance of Ward, whose famous pills and drops were then in great estimation. The doctor, being aware of the King's complaint, went to the palace, at the time commanded, with, it is said, a specific concealed in the hollow of his hand. On being admitted to his Majesty's presence, he, of course, proceeded to examine the royal thumb; which he suddenly wrenched with such violence, that the King called him a cursed rascal, and condescended to kick his shins. He soon found, however, that the doctor, had as it were, magically relieved his thumb from pain: and so grateful did he feel to Ward, whom he now termed his Esculapius, that he prevailed on him to accept a handsome carriage and horses, and shortly afterwards, presented his nephew, who subsequently became a general, with an ensigncy in the guards.--_From the Georgian Era_. * * * * * NOTES OF A READER. * * * * * THE HUNCHBACK. _A Play, by James Sheridan Knowles_. It would be rather _mal-apropos_ to write the Beauties of the Hunchback, but such a term is elliptically applicable to the following passages from Mr. Knowles's clever and original play:-- INSIGNIFICANT ENEMIES. Is't fit you waste your choler on a burr? The nothings of the town; whose sport it is To break their villain jests on worthy men, The graver still the fitter! Fie, for shame! Regard what such would say? So would not I, No more than heed a cur. HONOURABLE SUCCESS. What merit to be dropp'd on fortune's hill? The honour is to mount it. * * * Knowledge, industry, Frugality, and honesty;--the sinews The surest help the climber to the top, And keep him there. WISE PRECEPT. Better owe A yard of land to labour, than to chance Be debtor for a rood! THE TOWN. Nine times in ten the town's a hollow thing, Where what things are is naught to what they show; Where merit's name laughs merit's self to scorn! Where friendship and esteem that ought to be The tenants of men's hearts, lodge in their looks And tongues alone. Where little virtue, with A costly keeper, passes for a heap; A heap for none, that has a homely one! Where fashion makes the law--your umpire which You bow to, whether it has brains or not. Where Folly taketh off his cap and bells, To clap on Wisdom, which must bear the jest! Where, to pass current you must seem the thing, The passive thing, that others think, and not Your simple, honest, independent self! LOVE.