I

In the mean time, I hope that Horne Tooke will not shut his house on Sundays, because some guests may have intruded without a wedding garment. have long held those feasts in the utmost reverence, and I have envied such as had access to the great oracle of political wisdom: it is a subject pleasing and instructive, to see the varied group admitted to the Sunday commemorations of the Parson's hospitable board:" The small and the great are there.' Indeed, I never hear an account of these political Agapai, or love-feasts, but I am compelled to admit what I once thought a foolish doctrine, viz. that the clerical character is indelible; what else can make Parson Horne assemble his conventicle only on Sunday? It is the old clerical ordination working in him against his will. He has, with just liberality of mind, cast off the mean and abject function of a minister of Christianity and of the religion of peace. But still he has his flock gathered round him on Sunday, to whom he communicates, ex cathedra, the doctrines of political regeneration.

The Parson has made a pretty allusion, in his twelvepenny pamphlet, to the story of Sinbad the Sailor, and something on Sinbad's shoulder, that he could not shake off. I wish poor Sir Francis would read the whole story, for it is a sad one. It tells us, that Sinbad the Sailor fell into the hands of the Old. Man of the Sea; a decrepit, nauseous, mischievous animal, that fastened round his neck and almost strangled him. No wonder that Sinbad the Sailor was ravished with joy when he got rid of this im portunate rider, "this cursed Old Man" (maudit vieillard); for shocking, indeed, was the character of the monster. "You have escaped," said the people," from the Old Man of the Sea, and are the first that has escaped being strangled; he never quits. those he gets into his hands till he stifles them; he

has

has rendered this island famous for the number of people he has been the death of*" God help those who fall into the power of such Old Men!

This description of the Old Man of the Sea has made such an impression on me, that I think I could draw him sitting on Sinbad's shoulders, to the life. I would paint an adust, wrinkled, shrivelled old man, with the brow of an executioner, and the dark, designing look of a conspirator, sitting on the shoulders of a soft, gentleman-like young man, and I would write under it" The Old Man of the Sea sticking to the Shoulders of Sinbad the Sailor."

HOLOFERNES.

PARODY OF HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY.
[From the Morning Herald, June 4.]

TO stand or not to stand? that is the question.
Whether, t'obtain a seat in Parliament,
T were best secure some borough vendible,
Or try one's strength in a contested county,
And, by opposing, gain it? To stand? to canvass;
Nay more, to be return'd-and say, we frank,
Escape arrests, make laws, and claim such rights
As Senators are heirs to: 't is a privilege

Most proudly to be us'd. To stand? to canvass?
Perchance th' election lose; aye, there's the rub;
For in the lengthen'd poll what sums are spent,
When by some trick, chicane, or compromise,
We are thrown out; must make us first give up,
Ere at so dear a rate we buy huzzas;

For who, would bear the squibs of party wit,
The insulting mob, the poor man's contumely,
The turncoat's perfidy, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That suppliant wealth e'en of pot-boiler takes ;
When he himself might do the State more service.
As a bare country justice? Who'd gripe hands,
And quaff and sweat whole nights with drunken clubs,

Contes Arabes, vol. ii. p. 71.

But

But that the thought of something after chairing,
A pension'd place-which to his steady friends.
No minister denies-spurs on ambition,

And makes us rather rise to expose ourselves,
Than flee from honours, and be little known?
Thus int'rest doth make Members of us all
And thus the spirit of the Constitution
Is so debas'd with sordid views of pelf,
That orators of greatest power i' th' House,
With this defect, their motions turn aside
From public weal, and lose the name of patriots.

HAMLET, III. 1,

missed in Mr.

LOST OR STOLEN.

[From the British Press, June 22.]

LOST or stolen, from the subscriber, some time in December last, a Maiden's Modesty. It was first -'s ball-room, where a number of ladies were rifled of that jewel by a certain personage, well known by the name of Fashion, long suspected of being an arrant thief, and even a murderer, although he is a favourite with genteel company. With her modesty the subscriber also lost her shawl and handkerchief, and the bosom of her gown, which had been plundered of its sleeves the season before. Since the loss of this valuable article, the loser has suffered some decay of health, a considerable degree of scandal, a great decrease of male esteem, and probably some waste or want of prudence and virtue; all of which she can but attribute to that insidious and seductive villain Fashion, who has oftentimes before imposed upon her the greatest hardships, and oppressed her with the greatest rigour. Though the caitiff stole the modesty of many others about the same time, and very strict search has been made ever since to recover the property, but little of it has been obtained; and we are threatened with the ruim

ruin or loss of every thing valuable about us, if the ravages of the monster are not prevented. It is hoped, therefore, that every lover of good order will interest himself in the detection and arrest of this public disturber, before he corrupts both the manners and the morals of the risen and rising generations. On my part, as an incitement to vigilance in apprehending the villain, I promise to whomsoever shall return the stolen and missing goods to me, the un-` covered bosom, the loud laugh, the shameless countenance, and the impudent demeanour, that I have obliged to exhibit ever since the loss of my proper apparel, with a few colds, aches, stitches, &c. I have taken in my new dress, as a reward for their trouble, with the hearty and sincere thanks of their beguiled friend and humble servant,

I

CLARA CANDID.

OXFORD TOASTS.

[From the Morning Chronicle, June 23.]

MR. EDITOR,

AM a true friend to the Church-I was nurtured in its bosom; and when we quaff the circling quadrimum to her prosperity, I heartily join in the toast, but with this aspiration,--" May the dangers to which it is exposed be always as imaginary as those by which it has lately been threatened!" This sometimes produces a war of words, and our common room becomes an epitome of St. Stephen's; though, by the bye, we deem our port better even than Bellamy's.

I am now verging on my grand climacteric, not without some experience of the world, and somewhat sturdy in my opinions. I am, nevertheless, aware of the truth of the old adage-" That a fool never changes his opinions, but a wise man does ;" and, indeed, the present crisis sufficiently illustrates it.

The

The President and myself are often at issue on some of the great topics of the times; and when he challenges me to pledge my opinion in a bumper, I generally clinch my argument with my favourite toast" May the constitutional servants of the Crown never be induced to give any other pledge, than that they will urge war against corruption, and advise that which is for the real honour and safety of the King and his people."

Now, Sir, as we have a delegate among us, who rarely misses his glass, though not so generally at early prayers-one who attended our venerable Chancellor, accompanied by His Royal Highness the Duke of York, in his academical habit, as the Gazette informs us; also by my Lord Chancellor of the realm, and by Sir Christopher Pegg, cum multis aliis, even to the very steps of the throne, where much was whispered of pledges-my reverend friend, it seems, thinks himself bound to throw down the gauntlet of defiance, at the very moment I have filled my constitutional bumper. He instantly sides with the President, and the war recommences with renovated ardour: scout's are dispatched to Godwin's for the file of Gazettes, and to Parker's for the latest importation of brochures fresh from Hatchard's-that great depository of modern orthodoxy, under the immediate patronage of the Bishop of Dm and Mr. Alderman Birch. Toast upon toast is poured forth in the very letter of " Royal Authority," from the Gazettes; and so rich and copious are the various addresses in this respect, that the dullest regent master cannot fail to light upon an appropriate declaration of this modern orthodoxy, civil and ecclesiastical, by merely dipping into the file, with the same successful facility as wigs are dipped for in Middle Row, from which region of our metropolis (entre nous, Mr. Editor) most of our college wigs have long since been imported.

The solemn address of Alma Mater, presented with

VOL. XII.

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