TIME is a sovereign more potent than all the imperial rulers that ever wore the Tyrian purple,--stronger than the bravest warriors that ever led conquering armies over desolated lands,--less easy to be moved to mercy than the fiercest tyrants that ever grasped earthly sceptres. To those who, being in misery, look forward to the certain happiness that already gleams upon them with orient flickerings from the distance, Time is slow--oh! so slow, that his feet seem heavy with iron weights and his wings with lead:--but to those who, being as yet happy, behold unmistakeable auguries of approaching affliction, Time is rapid--oh! so rapid, that his feet appear to glide glancingly along like those of a sportive boy in pursuit of a butterfly, and his wings are as light and buoyant as the fleetest of birds. The wicked man, stretched upon the bed of death, cries out, “Oh! for leisure to repent!”--but Time disregardeth his agonising prayer, and saith, “Die!” The invalid, racked with excruciating pains, and wearied of an existence which knows no relief from suffering, exclaims, “Oh! that death would snatch me away!”--but Time accordeth not the shrieking aspiration, and saith, “Live on!” Passionless and without feeling though he be, Time shows caprices in which the giddiest and most wilful girl would be ashamed to indulge,--sparing where he ought to slay--slaying where he ought to spare: insensible to all motives, incompetent to form designs, he appears to act with a method of contradictions and on a system of studied irregularities. * * * * * “Nineteen years had passed away since the occurrences related in the preceding chapters!”--Such is the sweeping assertion which we have now to make. Nineteen years!--how much joy had been experienced, how much misery felt, during that interval: what vast changes had taken place over the whole earth! In these islands that period was marked with the names of three sovereigns:--George the Fourth--William the Fourth--Victoria. The debaucheries, vices, and profligacies of George lessened the value of Monarchy even in the eyes of its stanchest supporters: the utter incompetency, weakness, and even downright silliness of William reduced it to a still greater discount;--and the accession of Victoria proclaimed the grand fact that Monarchy is a farce, since a mere school-girl can be put up as the throned puppet of the Punch-and-Judy show of Royalty.