with all parts of his person equally exposed, and really braved death :—indeed it is an insult to his memory, to mention them together. Fitzgerald on all such occasions had his chest, &c. cased in a steel cuirass, as the following circumstance will prove :-it will at the same time sufficiently account for his extraordinary

success.

He once provoked a gentleman, (Major Cunningham, an old friend of the writer's,) to fight him. The weapon agreed on was the small sword; and both parties, for some time, appeared to be well-matched: at length, a judiciously aimed thrust at Fitzgerald's breast would have laid him upon the turf, had not the Major's sword bent round and snapped in two, near the middle, owing to the point striking forcibly against a polished hard surface. Enraged at such a dishonourable and cowardly resource, Cunningham pulled off his hat, and flinging it with all his might in Fitzgerald's face, exclaimed, "You infernal rascal!-so, this is the way in which you have been enabled to overcome so many

brave men: but I shall take care that you fight no more duels! Cowardly dog!" As he uttered the last words, he rushed towards him, in order to despatch him with the remaining part of the sword which he still held in his hand; but Fitzgerald turning round, took to his heels with all his might, and, running across several fields, took shelter in a farm house. His opponent eagerly pursued him, followed by the amazed seconds, who could by no means comprehend the cause of this mysterious chase.

When they arrived at the cottage, the gentleman mounted the stairs, and searched all around for several minutes, but the redoubted hero was no where to be found: he had escaped by jumping out of a back window, at the very instant his antagonist had entered the house.*

* The probability of this account has been questioned in a popular Weekly Journal: the writer, however, assures the public that it is strictly and circumstantially true; for which reason he has inserted the name of Fitzgerald's antagonist. As to the fact of Fitzgerald's taking to his heels when Cunningham's sword was broken, that is easily accounted for by the shame of detection in his unfair and ungentlemanly practices.

Soon after this occurrence, Fitzgerald fell a victim to his ferocious disposition, and perished by the hands of a common hangman. In his wardrobe, after his death, were found several cuirasses, constructed of iron or steel plates, lined with flannel: and several of his coats, &c. were found to be what is technically termed papered; that is, wadded and quilted with sheets of that material. Thus, the whole conduct of his life confirms the opinion of a celebrated philosopher, “That whatever may be the physical strength of a bully, he has no moral courage; for, however fierce his demeanour, he is surely a coward at heart."

III.

NOCTES FOXIANÆ.-No. I.

Not only as the leader of Opposition, but likewise as a philosopher, a bon vivant, and a wit of the first order, was Mr. Fox esteemed by every gentlemen who frequented Brookes's. His acuteness of observation, profundity of thought, and extensive knowledge of almost every subject, joined to his courteous and affable deportment, rendered him the revered oracle of the Club. The greatest deference was at all times paid to his opinions; and he himself was held in such general respect, that his presence often acted as a check to the occasional ebullitions of levity on the part of the junior members: so much, indeed, was this

great statesman held in consideration, that, though he had married the well-known Mrs. Armstead, respecting whom their remarks previously had often been pretty free; still, after that lady became Mrs. Fox, no man ever opened his mouth respecting her, even with the most qualified censure; nor did they even allude to the former passages of her life:-by becoming the wife of this illustrious man, her character became sacred.

Mr. Fox's conversation was on all occasions a great treat; for he displayed so much political sagacity and benevolent feeling in his observations, that, like those of the philosophers of old, they were listened to with grateful attention by all who could conveniently obtain a seat near him. The Prince of Wales was his favourite pupil; and to him were directed many useful and important observations on the duties of a sovereign, and the rights of a free people.

Brought up, as it were, at the "feet of Gamaliel,” the Prince enjoyed opportunities of imbibing instruction that fall to the lot of very