answering that he acknowledged the relation
between "Cato and Portia," but in truth
could see " no connection between Junius and
a minuet." His " age and figure " too, he
said, "would have done little credit to his
partner." In a previous letter Wilkes had said,
that he did not mean to indulge " the impertinent
curiosity of finding out the most important
secret of our times, the author of Junius.
He would not attempt with profane hands to
tear the veil of the sanctuary. He was disposed,
with the inhabitants of Attica, to erect an altar
to the unknown god of our political idolatry,
and would be content to worship in clouds
and darkness." Upon which not inelegant
comparison Junius, still keeping his state,
though smiling with condescending pleasantry,
observes, that he is " much flattered, as Mr.
Wilkes politely intended he should be, with the
worship he is pleased to pay to the unknown
god. I find," he continues, " I am treated as
other gods usually are by their votaries, with
sacrifice and ceremony in abundance, and
very little obedience. The profession of your
faith is unexceptionable; but I am a modest
deity, and should be as well satisfied with
good works and morality." This is admirable,
and full of matter; but it is not the style
that would have occurred between John
Wilkes, Esquire, Sheriff of London, possessor
of three establishments, and Mr. Francis, at
that time clerk in the War Office, and in the
habit of dining at his table. We must add,
that we take Lord Chatham, Burke, and Earl
Temple to have been in the secret of Junius's
Letters; that the two former objects of his
admiration stimulated his manner; and that
not improbably they occasionally furnished
him with remarks. Nor would it have surprised
us, (before Mr. Taylor published his
book) had Temple turned out to be Junius,
himself. But this is not the place for
discussing the question.

We take the opportunity of giving a
variation of the story which Mr. Taylor
relates respecting the behaviour of Sir Philip
at the table of George the Fourth; (he
should rather have said the Prince Regent;
for there was no George the Fourth till after
the death of Francis.) " Sir Philip," says
Mr. Taylor, " was impetuous, and somewhat
abrupt in manner. He once interrupted
George the Fourth at the royal table (and
we are credibly informed that he frequently
dined there) in the midst of a tedious
story, with a ' Well, sir, well! ' " Our
version of this anecdote, without meaning
to impugn Mr. Taylor's authority, which, not
improbably, is the same as our own,
differently reported, is, that Sir Philip, being
excessively tired, not only with the story in
question, but with others of the same sort
which lie was in the habit of hearing at the
same table, interrupted the royal narration
with the politer, but not less significant
words, " Well, and the result, sir, if you
please? " The result was, that he was never
invited more; and our informant added,
that as such a penalty was certain, it is
not improbable that it was deliberately
incurred.

GARDEN-GAMES.

We entreat our juvenile readers—to
whom this article is especially addressed—
not to criticise the name "garden-games,"
too severely.

It simply means that class of game at
which nothing is won save good humour, and
nothing lost save an idle hour or two which
equally avoids the excitement of cards, the
fatigue of boyish sports, and the perpetual
kissing of " forfeits "—the sort of thing
young gentlemen, of twelve would term
girlish, and which older young gentlemen of
eighteen would call " slow." But why go on
classing, when an example is so much clearer
than a definition, and when we see that our
young readers will exactly know what we
mean, when we say we mean such games
as Puss in the Corner, and Oranges and
Lemons—games which, not requiring the
space of the field, and having too much
movement for the drawing-room, (save at
Christmas, when our drawing-rooms become
play-grounds) are eminently fitted for the
garden?

Old, reflective readers may perhaps be
interested in observing how the ancient
French chivalry and gallantry are manifest
in the sports of the educated French
children of the present day. Our younger
readers may be pleased to know how their
contemporaries amuse themselves on the other
side of the channel, and may perhaps use the
information we give to increase their own
store of " garden-games."

We begin with the game of La tour, prends
garde. Here, the Tower which plays the
defensive part is represented by two young
ladies who hold each other by the hand as
tightly as possible; for the separation of the
hands constitutes the demolition of the
edifice. Another stately young person represents
the Duke; who is blessed with a son and
heir, and is surrounded by a body-guard,
which may be large or small, according to the
magnitude of the party. Nevertheless,
however few the soldiers, there ought to be two
officers, a captain and a colonel; and these
begin the game by accosting , the Tower
thus:—

Tower, Tower, here we are,
Come to knock you down.

The Tower gallantly replies:

No, no, we'll take care
Not to be knock'd down.

The Colonel remarks,

Then I will complain
To the mighty Duke Bourbon.