of your life! No, no, he repents-or is it only too much beer? To you, Pat, you blethering villain! Yes. Here, waiter, son of O'Brien, king of Cork, whiskey and water for the son of your mither: he drinks; it has no effect; again, again, again, and the drinking doth not slack. Oho! I have you there, Pauthrick; you'll not get us drunk quite yet, my lad! no, no, no, time enough for that, my boy. To you, Sandy, my philosophic guardian of the saxpence; to you, canny Scot, servant of kings, servant of self,-how is it thou makest so good a republican? Honest reader, this is Sandy the stern republican,-drink to him. There is humor in his eye: beware his jest, beware his bargain; treat him well, or take thyself

scoundrel, or I will beat you within an inch | brother Bull; they commonly hit their fathers, without much practice. Here, my friend, call for what you like. Monongahela for the stranger; he takes it pure! Bacchus defend me! I acknowledge the weakness; I cannot drink fire; here's to ye in ale. Have you come all the way from the backwood to find men in New-York? Look, hunt, advertise, inquire; call here, call there;faugh! you are a fool; that is a whiskerando, a barber's doll. Let it alone; we will go out early in the morning and look for one; meanwhile, here are a few tolerable substitutes, good fellows all; and one of them you see, the fat boy with the tankard, a scoundrel cousin of mine, very companionable; an excellent solid rogue and the best target. He weeps; d'ye see the big tears upon his manly cheeks? The woes of all humanity oppress him; he is grieved for his portionless younger brothers and poor relations. He means to give them each a little bit of land to till; he will give us all a bit of land, and make us all happy;-and yet, in your ear, the fat rogue is broke with mortgages. Here he sits all day, drinking, while the rats are eating holes in the sides of his ships. No voice of that, it is a great secret. (Bull sings :)

away.

Ah ha! Mein Herr! quit thy native humility; think thyself a man, else the good God will not let thee be a republican. I cannot drink Rhine wine, it is a cold drink. Monsieur, my service to you; we drink to you in champagne of Cincinnati, the best and bravest wine in the world. Thou art a brilliant fellow, Monsieur, but is there not a corner in thy heart reserved for kings? No! Then let us drink again in wine of France. Here is confusion to despots, honor to the braves. Have you any men left in France; were they all guillotined? No! Then let us be united, Citoyen, and we two will stand together, and beat the world.

A brave company of jolly fellows, are we not, hey, brother Bull? Let me introduce to you all, gentlemen, my friend the Reader, the honestest, bravest, hardfeatured dog. You see that little instrument he carries: it is a shooting tool; a rifle, gentlemen, a very dangerous weapon for boys; never let your children use it,

THE EAGLE AND THE ANCIENT ELEPHANT.

BY REYNARD THE FOX.

[Whether any political significance ought to attach to the following anonymous production is a point which the editor submits entirely to the superior penetration of the reader. We ourselves do fancy we see something in it, notwithstanding the decision of our elbow critic, Mr. Simple, who is ready to make out it is a mere prose poem, with no more significance than one of Æsop's Fables.-ED.]

In the forests of Bămangwǎtoo, the great | moved all the beasts of Bămangwǎtoo to Elephant, Sadi, had led the herd an hundred let the Lions come in and feed: to feed upon years. At night he withdrew to the summit grass, and the fruits of the soil; but they of a mountain, bursting his way through the feed not upon these. Their food is the flesh forest, and in his sullen rage tearing off great of tender beasts, friends of my friends, friends branches from the oaks, and trampling the of the mighty Elephants, the lordly Elephants, young trees to death. The steep rocks echoed the defenders of the West. Wo is me! his moans. The roaring waterfall could not The heart of Sadi is dead: he communes drown his voice. Dire was the tumult in with the past. The glory of his youth is the soul of the mighty Sadi. the food of his soul!"

The mighty Sadi was amazed, and trem- and their spirits were roused, for they knew bled, for never before had the Eagle spoken that the Black Eagle was the bird of God; fiercely to him. and they assembled together and killed the

And the form of the Eagle was changed. Jackals and drove out the Leopard; and the His wings expanded like a morning cloud. mighty Sadi was left alone. Alas for the He was the genius of freedom and of victory. mighty Sadi! he no longer leads the beasts His eyes were lightnings, his voice thunder. to victory; his soul communes with the past; The beasts of Bămangwǎtoo heard the rush the glory of his youth is the food of his of his wings and the thunder of his voice, soul.

THE DEMOCRATIC REVIEW ON FREEDOM OF TRADE.

FROM THE DEMOCRATIC REVIEW OF FEBRUARY, 1851, with REPLY.

FREE TRADE.*

START not, reader dear! The bill of fare is no doubt formidable; and of a verity thou mayest well entertain some gastric misgivings. But we are yet in holiday times, good friend, and there is digestion in the winter breezes, coming down upon us booming from far lake and forest. So be of good cheer; take an easy chair, or a hard one, if none other be at hand, and, cocking your toes, and nose if so minded, "draw near the ingle," determined to go it with right good-will, and we assure thee, if thou be not a man of the "dura ilia" stamp, or a woman after the heart of Lucinda Stone, thou shalt find nothing in the above, or our reficiamento thereof, to breed thee mental spasms, impart a twitch of statistical night-mare, or raise one blue-devil or blue-stocking before thy distempered vision. In sooth, good friend, 'tis not our intention to make a book. "Some books," thou knowest, "are lies frae end to end," as that ungodly Vates, the highland chiel, hath in malice sung; and somebut it is submitted that the "o'ergrown bulk" of many a goodly volume has resulted from “taking the sow by the wrong ear" at starting, and waddling, splashing and stumbling through the remainder, endeavoring to convert it into the right one; the application of which philosophy is, in this instance, left to thine own sagacity. Having, as we trust we have, by this time established ourselves in thy intimate confidence, we beg thee to be assured, that of Mr. Carey's facts and figures we shall be as sparing as possible, leaving some millions thereof untouched or unhashed for thy palate's tempting. So, too, of the American Review. We shall not seek to solve the problem, "Who feed the English?" inasmuch as we are determined they shall not be fed by us Americans, unless for a substantial “quid pro quo."

With the red hot bolts both have flung at the heads of that "iniquitous" people, this child does not purpose to meddle, albeit he is impressed with the conviction that they are brimful of mischief and destructiveness, and very undeservedly hurled at that mildest, most inoffensive, and most forbearing type of Christianity and thrift, "Johann Bool." Whether he abstains from handling such hot and hissing combustibles through simple respect for his fingers, or that he believes the peculiar chivalry which would, without further aim or cause, stake its life of life for injured innocence or outraged virtue, is gone clean out of the world, he does not choose to explain. With respect to Ireland, that she hath been used as a pack-horse, a poor dumb drudge, a long and callous-eared donkey, goaded, Scourged, blasted and tortured by steel, and whip-cord, and flame, he is willing, for the argument's sake, to admit. Nay, to the end of redeeming her from that unworthy comparison-alas! too meet for her condition-he will not gainsay that, although she sitteth wailing by the way-side, betrayed, ravaged and desolate, with ashes on her head and agony in her heart; and although she is crowned with a crown of thorns only, yet is she a rightful queen, and of royal beauty ineffaceable. Whether true or not, he has not the heart to deny that her grace and loveliness have been to her a fatal dower, serving only to lure her despoiler. And if, shaking off her dream of death, she turn her to the rising sun, and invoking freedom fresh from the breath of God, spring at her defiler, then would he proudly deck her brow with garlands of everlasting radiance. But, meantime, he has his own views in her regard. The stain upon her name of damnation's deepest dye can only be removed by her own hand. He fancies that until it is removed, 'tis vain to tell her sorrows-how her rich luxuriance hath been

The Past, the Present, and the Future. Harmony of Interests. By Henry C. Carey, British Policy Here and There. American Review, November and December. Horace Greeley, passim.

plundered, and her fecundity made the nurse of death. The real difficulty in solving the problem of her destiny is, that her courage and the conscience of England have been both negative quantities. One never will change, the other may; then, and not till then, will her day begin to date.

These are, in part, his reasons for thus in the outset dismissing these topics, on which two of the writers, whose views he proposes to test, are so nobly eloquent. The question he purposes to discuss cannot be illustrated by the sufferings and wrongs of Ireland; nor can it subserve her prospects or her hopes. If other interests were out of view, and that it remained to be considered how her injuries could be avenged, then possibly the plunder committed upon her would be entitled to weight in the commercial polity of the United States. But, even then, it would be little worthy of a great nation to baffle her rival through the medium of a little custom-house thimble-riggery. If we, in good earnest, desire her downfall; if her day of retribution be at last come; if she is to feel reacting, on her own heart, the broadcast felony she has scattered over land and main; and if it be ours to speed the bolt of justice, let us, in God's name, go right straight about it, as we would to bore the blue mountains, or marry the oceans.

Having premised thus much, we proceed to the consideration of the works above quoted, in the order in which they are given.

Mr. Carey's elementary book is exceedingly agreeable. It is evidently written with a purpose intensely in earnest. By many it is deemed original, by some profound, by some instructive, by some abstruse, and by some absurd. With this man it is "authority," with that a paradox or a burlesque. One thinks it infallible-facts, figures, deductions and conclusions-the other heterodox and heretical all. Here, either general commendation or condemnation is needless; it is needless even to refer to more than a few of its leading propositions and arguments. For instance, its first chapter is an original picture of primeval rusticity--whether it be according to nature or not, is immaterial. But, supposing it a fancy sketch, it is not void of attractions. There stands the naked man confronting the old Titanic forest, accustomed to bow to no influence but the spirit of the tempest. How he fells it, tree by tree; how he stitches his garment of fig leaves, sows his first seed grain, and builds him a rude wigwam, and how he fares therein, is an interesting inquiry to all. To break a spell so agreeable would be rude and ill-natured. But how it so chanced that the lucky settler, when selecting the mountain slope for its freer air and lighter soil, should find ready to his hand iron, and copper, and zinc ores, and how he was blessed with means and sagacity to smelt, and mould, and temper them to use, is a question intended to affect the one now in discussion; and while we freely admit that it is well calculated to set village wonder all a-gape, may we humbly hint that in the mind of a rigid philosopher it would possibly provoke a sneer? It serves the same purpose, and stands on the same basis, as the prophecy sung by Virgil for Anchises some thousand years after the old seer had gone to his everlasting rest. The trapper's protectionist instincts are so immediately developed, and the agencies, resources, and essential elements necessary for a prosperous forest manufacturing interest are so available to his hand, that one wonders a beaver or a griffin is not found to present him with a veritable, ready-made "spinning jenny." Nevertheless, the connection between the brass hatchet and the present inquiry (the very one Mr. Carey had in view) is not so clear. Nor is it explained in the text whether this original feller of pine would or would not prefer, or would or would not be benefited, if a keen polished steel axe had come to him, no matter if from the moon, so he got it for the produce of one day's labor, instead of ten he must have lost tinkering at, and hundreds be must have lost tinkering with, the blunt instrument. We have our suspicions on that head, and if we thought them needed, we would print them. For the rest, Ricardo's philosophy of rent supplies Mr. Carey with an opportunity for much eloquent and indignant commentary. The discussion turns on the question whether the first cultivators do not naturally select the "best soils," and proceed downwards as these are exhausted, which Mr. Carey denies with vehement enthusiasm. They naturally, he asserts, begin with the worst, like children at a feast, and leave the choice morsels for the last. Hence is deduced this consoling philosophy, that the supply afforded by the earth will always be in proportion to the demand of its inhabitants; and that as rent increases, so will the prosperity of those who pay it, the cash of the landlord and that of the tenant making a harmonious jingle together. This is gratifying to more than the mere philanthropist, the only drawback being, that stiff-necked and stiff-willed tenants in general can, with extreme difficulty, be made to believe that the more they pay out the more they have left. To every appeal in proof they would be inclined to answer by a useless fumble in their empty pockets. If Mr. Carey takes three from six, and tells them that three remain, they will comprehend and assent; but if he takes four from six and assures them that four remain, in the absence of practical proof they must only refer the thing to some occult science, and go their way, lamenting their ignorance of such lucrative philosophy. Dub, you know what be animal magnetism!" said a Yankee Moor to his sable brother, fresh from the South. "No; for what should I noo? Massa noos "Well," replied the philosopher, "I'se larn you; hab you a half dolla?" The coin being produced, he placed it between his digit and palm, and interrogated the proselyte: "Dub, you see that there half dolla?" 'Yea, ha, ha, hi." "Am you sure you see him?" "Yea, ha, ha, hi, hi." "Am you quite sure you see him?" "Yea, ha, ha, hi, hi; ha, ha, hi, hi." 'Well, you will neber see him again, and that be animal magnetism." The tenant who pays his half dollar to the landlord for the purpose of experiencing our friend's philosophy, would find himself equally wise and equally empty-handed But the rent discussion does one thing: it shows how much can be made of the lana caprina logic, and how a man can become violently earnest in proving the difference between tweedledum and tweedledee. If Ricardo's meaning be that men will naturally select the soils which yield most, as it evi

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