success of a part of their flotilla, under the gallant Keelson, which had totally routed and captured the greatest part of a superior flotilla of the Galls, who now trembled at the sight of the moat, as the Catholics imagine the Devil shrinks from holy water. The importance of

this success was, however, diminished, if not overbalanced, by the loss of Keelson, who fell in the action, covered with glory. The Freelanders wept for their loss, and did ample justice to the memory of their gallant avenger.

Misfortunes tread close upon the heels of each other! Vortex died very shortly afterwards, and it was more than probable that he was a victim to his indefatigable labours for the good of his country, and to his grief for the ill success of his efforts.

Although his opponents charged him with plunging the country into an unnecessary war, and lavishing the public money in subsidies, and nick-named him Billy Fight-all and Billy Payall; although they reproached him with trenching upon the rights of the people; yet it was certain that they envied him his power, and very doubtful whether they would have made so good

an use of it. No pilot had ever weathered such dreadful storms, both at home and abroad. If he entered into war, it was necessary to curb an ambitious, inveterate, and envenomed foe; if he subsidized other powers, it was with a view to keep the whole force of the enemy from the Freelanders' own doors, and to put a speedier end to the ravages of war; if he diminished the right of the people, the times imperiously demanded it, and it was but for a time. To do him strict, though ample justice; ambition was his darling aim, but it was of that laudable kind which inclines a man to devote himself to the service of his country; if his measures were unsuccessful, it was more owing to the capriceof Fortune than a want of either talents, judgement, penetration, foresight, energy, or resolution in himself. He was 22 years steward of a deranged estate, and yet, quite the reverse of other men of that class, he did not grow rich in proportion as the estate became poor. Nay, he exceeded the old Roman patriot, who died so poor that he was buried at the public charge, for he died in debt, although he did not live expensively. Peace to his ashes! and it would be

but justice to them to inscribe on their restingplace the following, or some other better-written lines, to the same purport:

EPITAPH ON ***

For talents, judgment, energy of mind,
**** left all other mortals far behind;
He lov'd his country-for it, liv'd and died-
He serv'd it not for interest, but from pride;
His hands with private gains were never soil'd,
From purest motives on to death he toil'd:

With truth these lines might on his urn be penn'd-
"Here lie the ashes of his country's friend!”

CHAPTER VII.

APOSTATE PATRIOTS! THEIR VIRTUE IS LIKE THAT OF DANAE, INCAPABLE OF WITHSTANDING A GOLDEN SHOWER. THE DEATH OF ANOTHER GREAT MAN, AND MORE OF OUR AUTHOR'S ABILITIES IN THE

EPITAPH LINE.

The

AFTER the Freelanders had lost their skilful Palinurus, there was no one who appeared capable of taking the helm, except Brush. Lord could not relish him, but he was obliged to yield to necessity. He empowered one Greenfield (son of the person who had involved Freeland in the fatal contest with the Thirteen Acres) to form a list of the new Household. If Brush must inevitably be included, yet he was not to be steward. A nominal steward was, therefore, pitched upon, one Master Harry Minikin, a youth who could know nothing of public affairs, unless they had been whipped into him with the Latin Rudiments. Brush was appointed Secretary; Greygoose Chief Director, and Merryman Treasurer of the Flotilla; and Hareskin was appointed Keeper of the High

Court of Conscience. The bottom spokes of Fortune's wheel were now gotten to the top, and it was odd that those men who, for more than 20 years past, had incessantly and invariably opposed all the measures of the Household, were now entrusted with the sole management of them. There was, however, no alternative. Greenfield himself, as he drilled his motley crew, and was marching them in a body to have the first audience of the Lord, appeared as much ashamed of them as Jack Falstaff was of his ragged recruits on their march through Coventry. Like him too, he might have exclaimed: “I'll be shot if the whole of them would make one good man!" The Lord did not much relish to be drenched like a horse with such a dose, but there was no other remedy. In spite of his disgust, he could not help smiling at the grotesque appearance of the new household, on their first introduction; they were as awkward as so many Jew clothesmen, who had tied their bags to the back parts of their heads, instead of swinging them in their hands. He observed to Addleton, that they were a strange, a strange heterogeneous mixture; but that nauseous drugs