therefore there is no falschood in the statement; although we admit that, in the excessive anxiety of the Opposition papers, they may have sometimes overrated his danger. But as to Lord Castlereagh's liver complaint, Mr. Perceval's predisposition to the dropsy, and Mr. Canning's to the gout in the stomach, The Courier has the sole and exclusive merit of originating this account of their diseases. We are sorry that, in commenting upon this subject, we did not claim one other exception in favour of the Duke of Portland. The Portland Stone, so facetiously introduced by The Courier, is too grave a subject to be treated with levity, and here we drop it: but was it in ridicule of the other patients, that The Courier has selected for them those peculiar disorders? Lord Castlereagh lately exhibited his person in an entire suit of green, from top to toe, and the wits have not failed to say, that his Lordship had purchased the wardrobe of the Brighton Green Man. He had also a disposition towards that colour formerly in Ireland, although he has since turned to Orange. In ransacking, then, the whole Materia Medica for a liver complaint for Lord Castlereagh, we do think that the author of the disease meant to reproach his Lordship on his bad habits, for it is the nature of a liver complaint to give a green and orange tint to the patient. Mr. Perceval's dropsy is a still greater effort of fancy. Had the Opposition been abused for having afflicted him with a bilious complaint, or a disposition to a consumption, appearances would have given a degree of probability to the charge; but to represent a little and dry man as swollen and bloated with the dropsy, would be a foolish device that must defeat itself, and could never have entered into the mind of the Opposition writers. We repeat, then, that the whole article is an invention of The Courier, to enable it to show its zeal for Ministers; and that for this purpose it has, in contempt of all truth and and decency, represented the Cabinet as an hospital of incurables, with a patient in every ward. Yours, BUCHAN and GALEN. A LONDON WINTER. [From the General Evening Post, Nov. 28.] WE lately saw, in a French journal, the Picture of a Parisian Winter; where the Beau Monde crowd to the metropolis, with the fall of the leaf; and where the desolation of the fields and groves, the approach of fogs, rains, snow, frost, short days, and long nights, are signals which all ranks obey. They quit the dreary solitude of the country, and hurry up to town-in which, spectacles, balls, and illuminated saloons attract their multitudes, and the people of fashion s'approchent ! This is a Paris winter commencing in the very be ginning of November-and yet these people pretend to lead the ton of the world, and to give laws to polished society! They regulate themselves by the economy of nature; they implicitly follow the order of the seasons, and yet they make pretensions to taste and luxury! How much supe How unlike a London winter! rior is the graceful indifference which we show to the changes of the year-to the state of the weather-to the rules and laws which the vegetable world (and which only animals born to vegetate) are doomed to obey! Our winter has nothing to do with the season! So far from commencing with the fall of the leaf, water does not begin till Nature shall have put forth the blossoms of regeneration. No woman, who values her reputation for taste, ventures to come to town for the winter till the month of May; and it is not unusual to see a family, of the highest research postpone the burst of its entré into the winter circles till till after the King's birth-day. Every thing, to be fashionable, must be out of season. A dejeuné is suffocating, if given before three o'clock in the afternoon. A man of fashion never takes the morning air in Rotten Row till after sunset. No evening party begins till midnight; and it is indispensable to the character of a Member of Parliament, that after a long debate he should go to his dinner at six o'clock in the morning. It must be dinner whatever be the hour, and however often he may have restored at Bellamy's. It is the sign of pure unadulterate simplicity to act like the herd, who eat when they 're hungry and drink when they're dry; and the Parisians have made no higher attainments in ton than the Hottentots, if they regulate their hours by the daily sun, or their seasons by his place in the zodiac. The London winter begins in April, rages in May, and subsides in June. It is then that our women of fashion find the weather deliciously inclement; and the only remedy against its rigour is in the comfort of compression. It is only by squeezing several hundreds more into a set of rooms than they were ever destined to contain, that the severity of a London winter can be resisted. In Paris the people of fashion only s'approchent-in London they dove-tail. In Paris there is society-in London there is a crowd. It would be intolerable in a fashionable assembly at the west end of the town, if there was room for enjoyment. Indeed the word itself is obsolete; for enjoyment belongs only to the miserable people whom nobody knows. It is the invariable test and criterion of high breeding to counteract the rules of common fe; and therefore to be at your ease in an assembly, into which you enter, is a disappointment. To remain in one place is a sign that you are not in request; and your triumph for the night consists in the number of crowds through which you have jostled. Nothing Nothing can be so unlike indeed as a Paris and a London winter. In Paris the Haut Ton love the pêle-mêle at public places, and the partie choisée at home. They countenance all efforts for general entertainment, and in their own hotels their parties are select. They have a weekly night, and they distribute their invitations, so as to accommodate, as well as entertain, their friends. By this means they never interfere with, nor annoy the spectacles, nor affect the enterprise of professional artists. Here a woman of supreme attraction has her nights en suite, and she shines par excellence, who puts her friends to the greatest degree of oppression. To be able to stir is an accident, and to get in or out, you must watch for an opportunity. It is indispensable to character to treat every thing that is public with contempt, and never to be seen in a place to which every body may go: it is the pinnacle of ton, therefore, for a lady of fashion to open her own house for the benefit of some dear delightful Italian, who will bring all the world together, and yet keep it elegantly crowded. This is at once conspicuous and economical. The lady gives a grand concert at home, and has fifty invitations as her part of the benefit. Oh! what a novelty in the refinements of housewifery!-the lady of a Duke, Marquis, or Earl, with a revenue of fifty thousand a year, sharing in the benefit of an Italian Fidler! But it is Ton-and the character of the lady depends on the multitudes she can attract. Such is our gay season! A Paris winter has its agrémens-a London winter has its éclat. AT LOVE'S TELEGRAPH. [From the Morning Chronicle.] Ta considerable provincial town we learn that a new system of signals has been introduced, which are rendered subservient to the affections of the heart and and the obligations of parties:-for example, if a gentleman wants a wife, he wears a ring on the first finger of the left hand; if he is engaged, he wears it on the second finger; if married, on the third; and on the fourth, if he never intends to be married.When a lady is not engaged, she wears a hoop or diamond on the first finger; if engaged, on the second finger; if married, on the third; and on the fourth, if she intends to die a maiden. When a gentleman presents a flower, a fan, or a trinket, to a lady, with the left hand, it is, on his part, an overture of regard; if she receive it with the left hand, it is an acceptance of his esteem; but if with the right hand, it is a refusal of the offer. Thus, by a few simple tokens, explained by rule, the passion of love is expressed, and, through the medium of the Telegraph, kindred hearts communicate information." IMPROMPTU, ON THE APPOINTMENT OF MR. HASE TO SUCCEED THE LATE MR. ABRAHAM NEWLAND AT THE BANK. YE [From the British Press.] E Directors of England's vast treasure, When Abraham Newland departed, In the Bank he was certainly Mist, Still a Cloud overhangs your proceedings; I see it, I own, with amaze! (Though perhaps you make Light of the matter,) STANZAS, |