I've gone into this long detail,

Because I saw your nerves were shaken With anxious fears lest I should fail

In this new, loyal, course I've taken. But, bless your heart! you need not doubtWe FUDGES know what we're about. Look round, and say if you can see A much more thriving family. There's JACK, the Doctor-night and day Hundreds of patients so besiege him, You'd swear that all the rich and gay Fell sick on purpose to oblige him.

And while they think, the precious ninnies, He's counting o'er their pulse so steady, The rogue but counts how many guineas He's fobb'd, for that day's work, already. I'll ne'er forget th' old maid's alarm,

When, feeling thus Miss Sukey Flirt, he Said, as he dropp'd her shrivell'd arm, “Damn'd bad this morning-only thirty!

Your dowagers, too, every one,

So generous are, when they call him in,

That he might now retire upon

The rheumatisms of three old women.
Then, whatsoe'er your ailments are,
He can so learnedly explain ye 'em-
Your cold, of course, is a catarrh,

Your head-ache is a hemi-cranium :-
His skill, too, in young ladies' lungs,
The grace with which, most mild of men,
He begs them to put out their tongues,

Then bids them-put them in again! In short there's nothing now like JACK;Take all your doctors, great and small, Of present times and ages back,

Dear Doctor FUDGE is worth them all.

So much for physic-then, in law too,
Counsellor TIM! to thee we bow;

Not one of us gives more eclat to

Th' immortal name of FUDGE than thou.

Not to expatiate on the art

With which you play'd the patriot's part,

Till something good and snug should offer;Like one, who, by the way he acts

Th' enlightening part of candle-snuffer,

The manager's keen eye attracts,
And is promoted thence by him
To strut in robes like thee, my TIM!
Who shall describe thy powers of face,
Thy well-fee'd zeal in every case,

Or

wrong or right-but ten times warmer (As suits thy calling) in the formerThy glorious, lawyer-like delight In puzzling all that's clear and right, Which, though conspicuous in thy youth, Improves so with a wig and band on, That all thy pride's to way-lay Truth, And leave her not a leg to stand on.

Thy patent, prime, morality,

Thy cases, cited from the Bible— Thy candour, when it falls to thee To help in trouncing for a libel ;"God knows, I, from my soul, profess "To hate all bigots and benighters! "God knows, I love, to even excess, "The sacred Freedom of the Press,

"My only aim's to-crush the writers."

These are the virtues, Tim, that draw
The briefs into thy bag so fast;

And these, oh, TIM-if Law be Law-
Will raise thee to the Bench at last.

I blush to see this letter's length,

But 'twas my wish to prove to thee How full of hope, and wealth, and strength, Are all our precious family.

And, should affairs go on as pleasant

As, thank the Fates, they do at present-
Should we but still enjoy the sway
Of S-DM-H and of C--—GH,

I hope, ere long, to see the day

When England's wisest statesmen, judges,
Lawyers, peers, will all be-FUDGES!

Good bye-my paper's out so nearly,

I've only room for

Yours sincerely.

LETTER VII.

FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO

BEFORE We sketch the Present-let us cast
A few short rapid glances to the Past.

When he, who had defied all Europe's strength, Beneath his own weak rashness sunk at length;— When loosed, as if by magic, from a chain

That seem'd like Fate's, the world was free again,
And Europe saw, rejoicing in the sight,

The cause of Kings, for once, the cause of Right;
Then was, indeed, an hour of joy to those
Who sigh'd for justice-liberty-repose,

And hoped the fall of one great vulture's nest
Would ring its warning round, and scare the rest.
And all was bright with promise ;-Kings began
To own a sympathy with suffering Man,
And Man was grateful-Patriots of the South
Caught wisdom from a Cossack Emperor's mouth,
And heard, like accents thaw'd in Northern air,
Unwonted words of freedom burst forth there!