Lord H--rr-by, hoping that no one imputes
To the Court any fancy to persecute brutes,
Protests, on the word of himself and his cronies,
That had these said creatures been Asses, not Ponies,
The Court would have started no sort of objection,

As Asses were, there, always sure of protection.

'If the Pr-nc-ss will keep them (says Lord C-stl-r-gb),
To make them quite harmless, the only true way
Is (as certain Chief-Justices do with their wives)
To flog them within half an inch of their lives-
If they've any bad Irish blood lurking about,

This (he knew by experience) would soon draw it out.'
Or-if this be thought cruel-his Lordship proposes
'The new Veto-snaffle to bind down their noses-
A pretty contrivance, made out of old chains,

Which appears to indulge, while it doubly restrains;
Which, however high-mettled, their gamesomeness checks
(Adds his Lordship humanely), or else breaks their necks!'

This proposal received pretty general applause

From the statesmen around-and the neck-breaking clause
Had a vigour about it, which soon reconciled
Even Eld-n himself to a measure so mild.

So the snaffles, my dear, were agreed to nem. con.,
And my Lord C-stl-r-gh, having so often shone
In the fettering line, is to buckle them on.

I shall drive to your door in these Vetos some day,
But, at present, adieu !-I must hurry away
To go see my mamma, as I'm suffered to meet her
For just half-an-hour by the Q-n's best repeater.

C

E.

LETTER II.

FROM COLONEL M'M-H-N TO G-LD FR-NC-S L-KCIE, ESQ.

DEAR Sir, I've just had time to look
Into your very learned book,1

Wherein-as plain as man can speak,
Whose English is half modern Greek-
You prove that we can ne'er intrench
Our happy isles against the French,
Till Royalty in England's made
A much more independent trade-
In short, until the House of Guelph
Lays Lords and Commons on the shelf,
And boldly sets up for itself!

All, that can be well understood
In this said book, is vastly good;
And, as to what's incomprehensible,
I dare be sworn 'tis full as sensible.

But to your work's immortal credit,
The P
e, good sir,-the P-
e has
read it.
(The only book himself remarks,
Which he has read since Mrs.
Clarke's.)

See the 'Edinburgh Review,' No. xl.

WE missed you last night at the 'hoary old sinner's,'
Who gave us, as usual, the cream of good dinners—
His soups scientific-his fishes quite prime-
His pâtés superb-and his cutlets sublime!
In short, 'twas the snug sort of dinner to stir a
Stomachic orgasm in my Lord E- -gh,

Who set-to, to be sure, with miraculous force,

And exclaimed, between mouthfuls, 'A He-cook, of course!
While you live-(what's there under that cover? pray, look)-
While you live-(I'll just taste it)-ne'er keep a She-cook.
'Tis a sound Salic law-(a small bit of that toast)-
Which ordains that a female shall ne'er rule the roast
For Cookery's a secret-(this turtle's uncommon)—
Like Masonry, never found out by a woman!'

The dinner, you know, was in gay celebration

Of my brilliant triumph and H-nt's condemnation

A compliment too to his Lordship the J—e

For his speech to the J-y,-and zounds! who would grudge
Turtle-soup, though it came to five guineas a bowl,
To reward such a loyal and complaisant soul!

We were all in high gig-Roman Punch and Tokay

Travelled round, till our heads travelled just the same way,-
And we cared not for Juries or Libels-no-damme! nor
Even for the threats of ast Sunday's Examiner !

More good things were eaten than said-but Tom T―rrh-t
In quoting Joe Miller, you know, has some merit,
And, hearing the sturdy Justiciary Chief

Say-sated with turtle-' I'll now try the beef'-
Tommy whispered him (giving his Lordship a sly hit),
'I fear 'twill be hung-beef, my Lord, if you try it!'

And C-md--n was there, who, that morning, had gone
To fit his new Marquis's coronet on;

And the dish set before him-oh, dish well-devised!

Was, what old Mother Glassc calls, a calf's head surprised!'
The brains were near- - ; and once they'd been fine,
But of late they had lain so long soaking in wine,

This letter, as the reader will perceive, was written the day after a dinner given by the Mof H-d-t.

10

That, however we still might in courtesy call
Them a fine dish of brains, they were no brains at all.

When the dinner was over, we drank, every one
In a bumper, 'the venial delights of Crim. Con.'
At which H-d-t with warm reminiscences gloated,
And E-b'r-h chuckled to hear himself quoted.

Our next round of toasts was a fancy quite new,
For we drank and you'll own 'twas benevolent too-
To those well-meaning husbands, cits, parsons, or peers,
Whom we've any time honoured by kissing their dears:
This museum of wittols was comical rather;
Old H-d-t gave M- ---y, and I gave

e

In short, not a soul till this morning would budge
We were all fun and frolic !-and even the J-
Laid aside, for the time, his juridical fashion,
And through the whole night was not once in a passion!

I write this in bed, while my whiskers are airing,

And M-c has a sly dose of jalap preparing

For poor T-mmy Trr-t at breakfast to quaff;

As I feel I want something to give me a laugh,

And there's nothing so good as old T-mmy, kept close
To his Cornwall accounts, after taking a dose !

LETTER IV.

FROM THE RIGHT HON. P-TR-CK D-G-N-N TO THE RIGHT HON.
SIR J-HN N-CH-L.

Dublin.1

LAST week, dear N-ch-1, making" Rogue "traitor"-hiccup-and all

that

You must be muzzled, Doctor Pat !-
You must indeed-hiccup-that's flat."

Yes-muzzled' was the word, Sir
John-

These fools have clapped a muzzle on
The boldest mouth that e'er ran o'er
With slaver of the times of yore !2-
Was it for this that back I went
As far as Lateran and Trent,
To prove that they, who damned us
then,

Ought now, in turn, be damned again!-
The silent victim still to sit
Of G-tt-n's fire and C-nn-g's wit,

2 In sending this sheet to the Press, however, I learn that the muzzle' has been taken off, and the Right Hon. Doctor let loose again,

To whom, then, but to thee, my friend,
Should Patrick1 his portfolio send?
Take it 'tis thine his learned port-
folio,

With all its theologic olio

We're told the ancient Roman nation
Made use of spittle in lustration."-
(Vide Lactantium ap. Callæum3 –

Of Bulls, half Irish and half Roman-I.e. you need not read but see 'em). Of Doctrines now believed by no manOf Councils, held for men's salvation, Yet always ending in damnation(Which shows that since the world's creation,

Your Priests, whate'er their gentle

shamming,

Have always had a taste for damning);
And many more such pious scraps,
To prove (what we've long proved
perhaps)

Now, Irish Papists (fact surprising !)
Make use of spittle in baptizing,
Which proves them all, O'Finns,
O'Fagans,

Connors, and Tooles, all downright
Pagans!

This fact's enough-let no one tell us
To free such sad salivous fellows-
No-no-the man baptized with spittle
Hath no truth in him—not a tittle!

*

*

*

LETTER V.

FROM THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF C

My dear Lady

TO LADY

! I've been just sending out

About five hundred cards for a snug little Rout-
(By-the-bye, you've seen Rokeby?-this moment got mine-
The Mail Coach edition-prodigiously fine!)

1 This is a bad name for poetry; but D-gen-n is worse. As Prudentius says, upon a very different subject

torquetur Apollo Nomine percussus.

lustralibus ante salivis

Expiat.-Pers. Sat. 2.

Doctor's reference here, and find him, for once, correct. The following are the words of his indignant referee Gallæus: Asserere non veremur sacrum baptismum a Papistis profanari, et sputi usum in peccatorum expiatione a Paganis non a Christianis manasse.'

4 See Mr. Murray's advertisement about the

3 I have taken the trouble of examining the Mail-Coach copies of Rokeby.