Not a fortunate stroke of business, that!-- Britannic Majesty, on applying at Vienna (through Keith, Sir or Mr.
Robert Keith, the FIRST Excellency of that name, for there are two, a father and a son, both Vienna Excellencies), was astonished to learn That, in such event of an Aggression, even on Hanover, there was no co-operation to be looked for here.

Altogether cold on that subject, her Imperial Majesty seems; regardless of Excellency Keith's remonstrances and urgencies; and, in the end, is flatly negatory: "Cannot do it, your Excellency; times so perilous, bad King of Prussia so minatory,"-- not to mention, SOTTO VOCE that we have turned on our axis, and the wind (thanks to Kaunitz) no longer hits us on the same cheek as formerly! "Cannot?
Will not ?" Britannic Majesty may well stare, wide-eyed; remembering such gigantic Subsidizings and Alcides Labors, Dettingens, Fontenoys, on the per-contra side.

But so stands the fact: "No help from an ungrateful Vienna;--quick, then, seek elsewhere!" And Hanbury and the Continental British Excellencies have to bestir themselves as they never did.

Especially Hanbury; who is directed upon Russia,--whom alone of these Excellencies it is worth while to follow for a moment.

Russia, on fair subsidy, yielded us a 35,000 last War (willingly granted, most useful, though we had no fighting out of them, mere terror of them being enough): beyond all things, let Hanbury do his best in Russia! Hanbury, cheerfully confident, provides himself with the requisites, store of bribe-money as the chief;--at Warsaw withal, he picks up one Poniatowski (airy sentimental coxcomb, rather of dissolute habits, handsomest and windiest of young Polacks): "Good for a Lover to the Grand-Duchess, this one!" thinks Hanbury.