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than which nothing is more fatal to a writer's serious purposes and immediate fame. Mr. Bentham has already been ridiculed with a severity and success which nothing but the most sterling merit could live through. Again, his thoughts lose all their raciness and vigour, from the necessity of being filtered through the alembic of another pen. A mind equally powerful with his own would still be unable to do his ideas justice. Mr. Dumont, who has generally been his editor, (rédacteur is a better word) and though himself an able man, yet it appears from the preface to the present volume, that his publication of Mr. Bentham's papers have been supposed rather injurious to their spirit and originality. Whose fault is that? we would ask. Who the present editor is, we know not, but he seems to have exercised a good deal of authority over his friend's MSS. and in several places to have arranged and classified them according to his own will.

The substance of this volume was published in French by Mr. Dumont, with many omissions and retrenchments. It is now given to the world in a more complete shape, and made more applicable to British institutions and British interests. It is a treatise on political fallacies, as employed to facilitate the adoption of bad measures, or to occasion the rejection of good ones, in the legislative and administrative departments of our government. A fallacy is meant to designate "any argument employed, or topic suggested, for the purpose or with the probability of producing the effect of deception." Aristotle he considers as the earliest author who has treated of them, and under the same head he ranges all writers on rhetoric. Towards these he has a rooted antipathy, and Single-Speech Hamilton, the author of "Parliamentary Logic," he specially vilifies :

"His book is a sort of school, in which the means of advocating what is a good cause, and the means of advocating what is a bad cause, are brought to view with equal frankness, and inculcated with equal solicitude for success; in a word, that which Machiavel has been suposed sometimes to aim at, Gerard Hamilton as often as it occurs to him does not only aim at, but aim at without disguise. Whether on this observation any such imputation as that of calumny is justly chargeable, the samples given in the course of this work will put the reader in a condition to judge.

One thing only he recognized as being malum in se, as a thing being to be opposed at any rate, and at any price, even on any such extraordinary supposition as that of its being brought forward by the party with which, at the time being, it was his lot to side. This was, parliamentary reform.

"In the course of his forty years labour in the service of the people, one thing he did that was good: one thing to wit, that in the account of his panegyrists is set down on that side:

"One use of government (in eyes such as his the principal use) is to enable men who have shares in it to employ public money in payment for private service :"Parliament a sort of gaming-house; members on the two sides of each house the players: the property of the people, such portion of it as on any pretence may be found capable of being extracted from them, the stakes played for. Insincerity in all its shapes, disingenuousness, lying hypocrisy, fallacy, the instruments employed by the players on both sides for obtaining advantages in the game: on each occasion,-in respect of the side on which he ranks himself, -what course will be most for the advantage of the universal interest, a question never looked at, never taken into account: on which side is the prospect of personal advantage in its several shapes,-this the only question really taken into consideration: according to the answer given to this question in his own mind, a man takes the one or the other of the two sides: the side of those in office, if there be room or near prospect of room for him, the side of those by whom office is but in expectancy, if the future contingent presents a more encouraging prospect than the immediately present.

"Of the self-written Memoirs of Bubb Dodington how much was said in their day! of Gerard Hamilton's Parliamentary Logic, how little! The reason is not unobvious: Dodington was all anecdote; Hamilton was all theory. What Hamilton endeavoured to teach with Malone and Johnson for his bag-bearers, Dodington was seen to practice.

Nor is the veil of decorum cast off any where from his practice. In Hamilton's book for the first time has profiSecond, Sir Charles Sedley and others were indicted for exgacy been seen stark naked. In the reign of Charles the posing themselves in a balcony in a state of perfect nudity. In Gerard Hamilton may be seen the Sir Charles Sedley of political morality. Sedley might have stood in his bal cony till he was frozen, and nobody the better, nobody much the worse: but Hamilton's self-exposure is most instructive.

Above all other species of business, the one which Gerard Hamilton was most apprehensive of his pupils not being sufliciently constant in the practice of, is misrepresentation. Under the name of action, thrice was gesticulation spoken of as the first accomplishment of his profession by the Athenian orator;

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By Gerard Hamilton, in a collection of aphorisms, 553 in number, in about 40 vice is recommended without disguise; twelve times is misrepresentation, i. e. premeditated falsehood with or without a mask, recommended in the several forms of which it presented itself to him as susceptible: viz. in the way of false addition three times, in the way of false substitution twice, and in the way of omis

"Sketched out by himself and finished by his editor and panegyrist, the political character of Gerard Hamilton may be comprised in a few words: he was determined to join with a party: he was as ready to side with: one party as another; and whatever party he sided with, as ready to say any one thing as any other in support of it. Independently of party, and personal profit to be made from party, right and wrong, good and evil, were in hission seven times." eyes matters of indifference. But having consecrated himself to party, viz. the party, whatever it was, from which the most was to be got-that party being, of whatever materials composed, the party of the ins,-that party standing constantly pledged for the protection of abuse in every shape, and in so far as good consists in the extirpation of abuse, for the opposing and keeping out every thing that is good, hence it was to the opposing of whatsoever is good in honest eyes, that his powers, such as they were, were bent and pushed with peculiar energy.

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Mr. Bentham divides fallacies into four classes:of authority, where authority is, and to sion altogether: of danger, where it is to repress the proposed discussion, on the ground of danger: of delay, when the object is to postpone the discussion, with the view to elude it: of confusion, where it is to perplex and confuse the hearers' minds, so as to inca

gation, have never yet found any authoritative expression in words. This is the perfection of oppression: yet propose that access to knowledge of the laws be afforded by means of a code, lawyers, one and all, will join in declaring it impossible. To any effect, as occasion occurs, a judge will forge a rule of law: to that same effect in any determinate form of words, propose to make a law, that same judge will declare it impossible."

pacitate them for deliberation. These are each examined in their order, with the most searching exactness. It is impossible for us to give an analysis, or even a specimen of his general manner. Mr. Bentham's classifications are as peculiar as his style. He divides and subdivides with an infinitisimal diligence. Hence, his book acquires another difficulty to the reader, and another merit to the indefatigable student. He takes a There is a bitterness about the opinions of Mr. Benfallacy-classes it-gives it a name-defines and de- tham, which much impairs their authoritative value. scribes it-shews when, how, and why it is, and tells He has little of the benignity of a philosopher, and yet its effects; then exposes its deceptiveness, and points his admirers proclaim him as the prince of living phiout its refutation and its remedy. All this is very spi-losophers. This is a misnomer. He is about the last ritedly and ingeniously done. The illustrations are man living we should choose for a guide in estimating numerous, and generally selected from the English the character of public men, if we were to be bound by liamentary debates. Mr. Bentham seems to glow with his estimate. We admire his shrewdness, originality, a holy hatred of every thing like English politics and depth and analytical power, but neither the harshness politicians. He accuses them of all sorts of cant- of his feelings, nor the exclusiveness of his likings. common-place nonsense, and falsehood. Occasionally the philosopher adopts a lighter and them with sarcasm, derision, and argumentative hosti- merrier mood, as in speaking of the sinister interests in lity. His leading principle is, that every politician is which the fallacious cry of No innovation has its a knave, every lawyer a bigot, and every churchman a hypocrite. His creed, political and religious, is of the most exclusive sort. Here is a specimen of his opinion of lawyers :

par

He covers

"1. Lawyers; oppositeness of their interest to the universal interest.

The opinions of lawyers in a question of legislation, particularly of such lawyers as are or have been practising advocates, are peculiarly liable to be tinged with falsity by the operation of sinister interest. To the interest of the community at large, that of every advocate is in a state of such direct and constant opposition (especially in civil matters), that the above assertion requires an apology to redeem it from the appearance of trifling: the apology consists in the extensively prevailing propensity to overlook and turn aside from a fact so entitled to notice. It is the people's interest that delay, vexation and expence of procedure should be as small as possible:-it is the advocate's that they should be as great as possible: viz. expense in so far as his profit is proportioned to it; factitious vexation and delay, in so far as inseparable from the profit-yielding part of the expence. As to uncertainty in the law, it is the people's interest that each man's security against wrong should be as complete as possible; that all his rights should be known to him; that all acts, which in the case of his doing them will be treated as offences, may be known to him as such, together with their eventual punishment, that he may avoid committing them, and that others may, in as few instances as possible, suffer either from the wrong or from the expensive and vexatious remedy. Hence it is their interest, that as to all these matters the rule of action in so far as it applies to each man, should at all times be not only discoverable, but actually present to his mind. Such knowledge, which it is every man's interest to possess to the greatest, it is the lawyer's interest that he possess it to the narrowest extent possible. It is every man's interest to keep out of lawyers' hands as much as possible; it is the lawyer's interest to get him in as often, and keep him in as long as possible: thence that any written expression of the words necessary to keep non-lawyers out of his hand may as long as possible be prevented from coming into existence, and when in existence as long as possible kept from being present to his mind, and when presented from staying there. It is the lawyer's interest, therefore, that people should continually suffer for the non-observance of laws, which, so far from having received efficient promul

source.

"Could the wand of that magician be borrowed at whose potent touch the emissaries of his wicked antagonist threw off their several disguises, and made instant confession of their real character and designs;-could a few of those ravens by whom the word innovation is uttered with a scream of horror, and the approach of the monster Anarchy denounced,-be touched with it, we should then learn their real character, and have the true import of these screams translated into intelligible language. 1. I am a lawyer, (would one of them be heard to say) a fee-fed judge, who, considering that the money I lay up, the power I exercise, and the respect and reputation I enjoy, depend on the undiminished continuance of the abuses of the law, the factitious delay, vexation and expense with which the few who have money enough to pay for a chance of justice are loaded, and by which the many who have not, are cut off from that chance,-take this method of deterring men from attempting to alleviate those torments in which my comforts have their source.

"I am a sinecurist (cries another) who, being in the receipt of £38,000 a year, public money, for doing nothing, and having no more wit than honesty, have never been able to open my mouth and pronounce any articulate sound for any other purpose-yet, hearing a cry of " No sinecures !" am come to join in the shout of "No innovation! down with the innovators!" in hopes of drowning, by these defensive sounds, the offensive ones which chill my blood and make me tremble.

3. I am a contractor (cries a third) who, having bought my seat that I may sell my votes; and in return for them, being in the habit of obtaining with the most convenient regularity a succession of good jobs, foresee, in the prevalence of innovation, the destruction and the ruin of this established branch of trade.

"4. I am a country gentleman (cries a fourth) who, observing that from having a seat in a certain assembly a man enjoys more respect than he did before, on the turf, in the dog-kennel, and in the stable, and having tenants and other dependents enough to seat me against their wills for a place in which I am detested, and hearing it said that if innovation were suffered to run on unopposed, elections would come in time to be as free in reality as they are in appearance and pretence,-have left for a day or two the cry of Tally-ho!' and Hark forward!' to join in the cry of No Anarchy!' No innovation!'

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5. I am a priest (says a fifth) who, having proved the

or

Pope to be Antichrist to the satisfaction of all orthodox cur, that in the American Congress the use made of these
divines whose piety prays for the cure of souls, or whose fallacies is not likely to be so copious as in that August As-
health has need of exoneration from the burthen of resi-sembly, which, as the only denomination it can with pro-
dence; and having read, in my edition of the Gospel, that priety be called by, has been pleased to give itself that of
the apostles lived in palaces, which innovation and anarchy || the Imperial Parliament of Great Britain and Ireland."
would cut down to parsonage-houses, though grown hoarse
by screaming out, No reading! No writing! No
Lancaster!' and No popery!-for fear of coming change,
am here to add what remains of my voice to the full chorus
of No anarchy! No innovation!" "

6

6

The value of this work will be very great, to all parliamentary men. If it were to be studied by them attentively for a few weeks, there would be an end to all long speeches. It is a complete exposure of their absurdities, assumptions, mistakes, and fallacies.

It is impossible not to award Mr. Bentham the praise of having given birth to a volume which, with all its faults, abounds in the most important political truths. The favourite speculations of the writer are pushed too|| Adam and Eve; a Margate Story. London : J. and H. L. far, but a judicious reader will know where to draw the line, and to convert them into sources of great intellectual improvement. We will give a single extract more, and we shall have done.

"Two considerations will suffice to render it apparent that, under the British constitution, there cannot but exist, on the one hand, such a demand for fallacies, and, on the other hand, such a supply of them, as for copiousness and variety, taken together, cannot be to be matched elsewhere.

1. In the first place, a thing necessary to the existence of the demand is discussion to a certain degree free.

"Where there are no such institutions as a popular assembly taking an efficient part in the Government, and publishing or suffering to be published accounts of its debates, -nor yet any free discussion through the medium of the press, there is, consequently, no demand for fallacies. Fallacy is fraud, and fraud is useless when every thing may be done by force.

"The only case which can enter into comparison with the English Government, is that of the United Anglo-American States.

"There, on the side of the Outs, the demand for fallacies stands without any difference worth noticing, on a footing similar to that on which it stands under the English Constitution.

"But the side of the Outs is that side on which the demand for fallacies is by much the least urgent and abundant.

"On the side of the Ins, the demand for fallacies depends upon the aggregate mass of abuse: its magnitude and urgency depend upon the magnitude of that mass, and its variety upon the variety of the shapes in which abuse has manifested itself.

"On crossing the water, fortune gave to British America the relief that policy gave to the fox; of the vermin by which she had been tormented, a part were left behind. "No deaf auditors of the Exchequer no blind surveyors of melting irons: no non-registering registrars of the Admiralty Court, or of any other judicatory: no tellers, by whom no money is told but that which is received into their own pockets: no judge acting as clerk under himself: no judge pocketing £7000 a-year, for useless work, for which men are forced to address his clerks. No judge, who, in the character of judge over himself, sits in one place to protect, by storms of fallacy and fury, the extortions and oppressions habitually committed in another: no tithe-gatherers exacting immense retribution for minute or

never rendered service.

"With respect to the whole class of fallacies built upon thority, precedent, wisdom of ancestors, dread of innotion, immutable laws, and many others, occasioned by ent ignorance and ancient abuses, what readers soever may be, by whom what is to be found under those l heads has been perused, to them it will readily oc

Hunt. 1824.

THIS is a poem of somewhere about a thousand lines, written in what is commonly called "the Beppo style." We have often puzzled ourselves to discover ble in this way, but in vain. For money or fame, it the possible motive which could induce people to scribcertainly could not be. If very successful, the profit would not much exceed a five pound note, and the fame would not, at the utmost, be worth half so much. We must remain in the dark, therefore, until we write "a poem in the Beppo style" ourselves.

It opens with a description of a trip to Margate in the steam boat, in which we meet with some spirited lines:

VII.

""Tis something too to bound along the main,
And feel that ye command the elements;
To hear the winds call after you in vain,

And laugh upon the wild wave's weak intents!—
O God! 'tis grand to see the billows strain
Against the vessel's course!-no canvas-rents
Weaken her powers;-no tack, no change is there;-
Despised the roar of winds, or foul or fair;—
VIII.

But on she journeys in her billowy course,

Pawing the wave beneath her, in her might,
And dashing onward, as the roused war-horse'
Springs in his wrath and foams along the fight.
How gallantly she spurns the breakers' force,

And tramples down the surges in her flight!
Till o'er the sunset wave are seen to smile
The lovely shores of Thanet's lovely isle.—
IX.

Then glides the spirit of the mazy dance

Forth on the deck, and thousand busy feet Are glancing there; while o'er the far expanse Of evening waters, rolled in the cadence sweet, Swells the soft voice of music:-then advance Along the Pier the thronging friends to greet Each venturous hero, who could such a Tar get As to come all this way by sea' to Margate!” For the story, there is little or none. It relates to a newly married couple who go to Margate, where they lodge in a hotel, and fall asleep :

XXX.

"To dream, no doubt;-to dream a thousand things,-
Visions of love, and heavenly ecstacies,
Bright as the first, warm, wild imaginings,

That flash upon the youthful lover's eyes!
How the blood rushes, and the young heart springs,

As with a bound, where all its feelings rise, Like the spring-tides of ocean in their sweep, Rapid, and strong, and whelming!-Fast asleep,

XXXI.

Then, lay our loving dreaming pair.-O love!
And what, when loveliest, art thou but a dream?—
A dream of doubts, and hopes, and fears, that move
Along the troubled heart, and shed a gleam
Of lurid sadness, bidding us still prove

That joy is bitterness; and hope, a beam
That cheats us with its brightness; and all life,
One long, dull, weary pilgrimage of strife!
XXXII.

Thy spirit comes, and the heart feels its presence! Thy spirit breathes, and the heart owns its power! Hushed is each pulse of life, as, in obeysance,

The winds will hold their breath, and nature cower Before the coming earthquake!-The quick essence Of stirring thoughts then rises, and the hour Of sense throngs thick with busy shapes, that flit Around the troubled soul, and darken it!

XXXIII.

And thus we dream awhile. Perchance a ray
Looks in on the mind's wanderings, and then
The little sunshine of the heart will stray
Unto the features,-but it fades again!-

Then comes the throb, the start, the quickening play
Of passion o'er the cheek, and the wild strain

Of agony, to fly from bonds, that fast

Confine us still;-and then we wake at last!-
XXXIV.

Such is our dream of love. We love till death,
And wake in dying;-Should a kindlier fate
E'en visit us, uncertain is the breath

Of life we dote upon, and short the date

May be of our enjoyment! Underneath

The turf is our sole hope!-When most elate The dear one is torn from us, and the tomb,

Her early dower, shuts silent o'er her doom!"

I like the cars, well sheltered from the aspersions
Of envious skies upon a rainy day,

And well remember their white curtains too,
And glancing eyes, like Houris', peeping through.
LXXXVII.

I like to dine at early hours, at home,

Or in the fields, perchance, in some green spot;
I like, in the still evening, forth to roam

To sweet St. Peter's, or to Draper's cot,
And there take tea with the old folks; then come
Back to the libraries, though they are not
Quite to my mind, there's too much show, and dress,
And nonsense; but I like them ne'ertheless.
LXXXVIII.

I like the neighbourhood too,-the ancient places
That bring back the past ages to the eye,
Filling the gap of centuries-the traces

Of seventeen hundred years, at least that lie Mouldering beneath your tread!--for such the case is With man and man's achievements-they must die!-There's Richborough, Stonar, Monkton, Minster here And the long track where ran Domnona's deer."

The husband and wife, i. e. Adam and Eve, drive out along the shore to indulge in a bathe, but unhappily they leave their garments in the gig, and the horse startled by some noise, absconds with all their clothing. Their perplexity is amusingly described, and the reader is glad to learn that they are extricated without any great shock to propriety. It is probable that some such incident really happened, and that the poet is a wag who delights to convert the mishaps of his friends into a source of laughter. He has shewn a good deal of humour in working up the story, and as our quotations will shew, possesses considerable powers for serious poetry.

don: Murray. 2 vols. 8vo.

They are awakened by a storm, and a shipwreck- Tales of a Traveller. By GEOFFREY CRAYON, Gent. Lonaid in saving a pilot's life, and relieving his familymeet with some London acquaintance, and stroll about the town. The poet here introduces in his own person some verses, which are well enough in their way :—

LXXXIV.

"Besides, I like the customs of the town:

I like to rise at seven, and troll away In some sweet morning walk; perhaps go down Unto the sands, and saunter through the bay Watching the tides; or, on the high beach thrown, Look out upon the waters, as the day

First glances o'er them from the land, and lightens The foam that o'er the distant billow whitens.

LXXXV.

I like too, after breakfast, to look in

At Hughes's, read the papers; if agree The tide, and whim to bathe, take a machine, Or look from the balcony o'er the sea, Where yet Reculver's sister spires are seen; Or listen to some thrilling harmonyMozart's, or Handel's-with the tones and swells Of a grand piano, such as Broadwood sells.

LXXXVI.

I like their little parties and excursions,
Their trips to some sweet spot, by land or sea;
I like their sailing boats and the diversions,
The laugh, the jest, the song -upon the way;

(Continued from p. 321.)

THE opinion which we expressed last week concerning the merits of Mr. Irving's "Tales," we have seen no reason to regret, after a second and more deliberate perusal. They are easy in style, and sometimes even elegant, but the matter is so light, and often so uninteresting, as to fill us with apprehensions for the literary reputation of this gentleman. This is particularly to be regretted, inasmuch as Mr. Irving, in several parts of his book, indulges in much sneering and sarcasm against critics and periodical writers. Now, as Mr. Irving himself has been nothing else for the whole of his life, having run through all the grades of magazinewriting, from occasional correspondent up to regular editor, it is most ungracious in him to turn round upon us "slaves of the lamp," with a look of absolute scorn. If not unthankful, it is at least very impolitic, and will have the effect of rousing a nest of hornets against him. A weekly critic individually may be no fearful personage; but Mr. Irving should not forget that Gulliver was bound down by the contemptible Lilliputians. Let our pseudonymous friend, therefore,

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into the house and get something to eat; it will be a long while before we get to Fundy.'

thing, just to spite them,' said the Englishman, still more D-n the house-it's a mere trick-I'll not eat any crusty at the prospect of being so long without his dinner. "They say your honour's very wrong,' said John, to set off at this late hour. The road's full of highwaymen.' Mere tales to get custom.'

"The estafette which passed us was stopped by a whole gang,' said John, increasing his emphasis with each ad

"I don't believe a word of it.'

"They robbed him of his breeches,' said John, giving, at the same time, a hitch to his own waistband. All humbug!'

The last two divisions of these "Tales" relate to "Italian Banditti" and "Money-diggers." They are decidedly better than their fellows. There is, if not more originality, at least more novelty in them.ditional piece of information. If the portraits of persons and things be not literally faithful, they belong to other people and countries, and we are unprovided with the means of detecting their inaccuracies. The tales of the banditti open with a description of some Italian travellers stopped at Terracina by the fear of robbers. Their number is gradually augmented by the arrival of an Englishman. The description of this person is by no means badly done.

"Crack! crack! crack! crack! crack! Another apparition of the road attracted the attention of mine host and his guests. From the direction of the Pontine marshes a carriage, drawn by half a dozen horses, came driving at a furious rate; the postilions smacking their whips like mad, as is the case when conscious of the greatness or of the munificence of their fare. It was a landaulet, with a servant mounted on the dickey. The compact, highly finished, yet proudly simple construction of the carriage; the quantity of neat, well-arranged trunks and conveniencies; the loads of box-coats on the dickey; the fresh, burly, bluff-looking face of the master at the window; and the ruddy, roundheaded servant, in close-cropped hair, short coat, drab breeches, and long gaiters, all proclaimed at once that this was the equipage of an Englishinan.

"Here the dark handsome young man stepped forward, and addressing the Englishman very politely, in broken English, invited him to partake of a repast he was about to make. "Thank'ee,' said the Englishman, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets, and casting a slight side glance of suspicion at the young man, as if he thought, from his civility, he must have a design upon his purse..

"We shall be most happy, if you will do us that favour,' said the lady, in her soft Venetian dialect. There was a sweetness in her accents that was most persuasive. The Englishman cast a look upon her countenance; her beauty was still more eloquent. His features instantly relaxed. He made a polite bow. With great pleasure, Signora,' said he.

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"In short, the eagerness to get on' was suddenly slackened; the determination to famish himself as far as Fondi, by way of punishing the landlord, was abandoned; John chose an apartment in the inn for his master's reception, and preparations were made to remain there until morning. "The carriage was unpacked of such of its contents as were indispensable for the night. There was the usual pa"Horses to Fondi,' said the Englishman, as the land-rade of trunks and writing desks, and portfolios and dresslord came bowing to the carriage door. ing-boxes, and those other oppressive conveniencies which burthen a comfortable man. The observant loiters about the inn door, wrapped up in great dirt-coloured cloaks, with only a hawk's eye uncovered, made many remarks to each other on this quantity of luggage that seemed enough for an army. And the domestics of the inn talked with wonder of the splendid dressing-case, with its gold and silver furniture, that was spread out on the toilet-table, and the bag of gold that chinked as it was taken out of the trunk. The strange milor's wealth, and the treasures he carried about him, were the talk, that evening, over all Terracina.

"Would not his Eccellenza alight and take some refreshment ?"

"No-he did not mean to eat until he got to Fondi.' "But the horses will be some time in getting ready.' "Ah! that's always the way; nothing but delay in this cursed country."

"If his Eccellenza would only walk into the house-' "No, no, no!-I tell you no!-I want nothing but horses, and as quick as possible. John, see that the horses are got ready, and don't let us be kept here an hour or two. Tell him if we're delayed over the time, I'll lodge a complaint with the postmaster.'

"John touched his hat, and set off to obey his master's orders with the taciturn obedience of an English servant. "In the meantime, the Englishman got out of the carriage and walked up and down before the inn with his hands in his pockets, taking no notice of the crowd of idlers who were gazing at him and his equipage. He was tall, stout, and well made; dressed with neatness and precision; wore a travelling cap of the colour of gingerbread; and had rather an unhappy expression about the corners of his mouth; partly from not having yet made his dinner, and partly from not having been able to get on at a greater || rate than seven miles an hour; not that he had any other cause for haste than an Englishman's usual hurry to get to the end of a journey; or, to use the regular phrase, to get on. Perhaps too he was a little sore from having been fleeced at every stage of his journey.

"After some time, the servant returned from the stable with a look of some perplexity.

"Are the horses ready, John?'

"No, Sir-I never saw such a place. There's no getting any thing done. I think your honour had better step

66 The Englishman took some time to make his ablutions and arrange his dress for table, and, after considerable labour and effort in putting himself at his ease, made his appearance, with stiff white cravat, his clothes free from the least speck of dust, and adjusted with precision. He made a civil bow on entering, in the unprofessing English way, which the fair Venetian, accustomed to the complimentary salutations of the continent, considered extremely cold. "The supper, as it was termed by the Italian, or dinner, as the Englishman called it, was now served; heaven and earth, and the waters under the earth, had been moved to furnish it; for there were birds of the air, and beasts of the field, and fish of the sea. The Englishman's servant, too, had turned the kitchen topsy-turvy in his zeal to cook his master a beefsteak, and made his appearance, loaded with ketchup, and soy, and Cayenne pepper, and Harvey sauce, and a bottle of port wine, from that warehouse the carriage, in which his master seemed desirous of carrying England about the world with him. Indeed the repast was one of those Italian farragoes which require a little qualifying. The tureen of soup was a black sea, with livers, and limbs, and fragments of all kinds of birds and beasts floating like wrecks about it. A meagre-winged animal, which my host

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