picture; but all in situations so extraordinary, and so strangely mixed, that a judge of composition must turn in disgust from the performance. The scene of this chaotic sketch is a room with a table, to which the figures are advancing: a large chair is seen in the back ground, behind which several figures, larger than the chair itself, are represented smiling at the group before them, and pulling certain small wires that appear to communicate with the figures in the foreground. The artist has completely left us in the dark as to the particular subject represented; and we own ourselves at a loss to determine whether it be meant for Milton's celebrated Pandemonium, or a sketch for the opening scene of the new pantomime that is to succeed Mother Goose. In a word, whatever be the subject, the design is weak, the filling up confused, the colouring washy, and the artist must be ranked with him who composed a picture of materials so various and so dissimilar,

"Ut nec pes nec caput uni Reddatur formæ !"

I am, Sir, &c.

APELLES POLITICUS.

N. B. I shall, in a few days, transmit to you my remarks on a performance still more celebrated than the one I have just criticized, which may strictly be considered as a national concern, and which is entitled the British Institution.

April 6.

"HOW LITTLE WISDOM RULES THE WORLD." [From the Morning Chronicle.]

OLD Blenstiern, that artful Swede,

Once sent his son, we somewhere read,
To some fam'd Congress, where were met,
From every nation cull'd, a set

Of gravest Ministers of State,
To settle Europe's future fate.

Go thou, my son!" in words of truth,
He thus addrest the parting youth,

And thence, how little wisdom, know,
It is, that rules this world below."

Whoe'er in any foreign nation

Would choose this course of education,
Whoe'er would wish this truth imprest
Deep on his offspring's youthful breast,
This moment let him seize with joy,
And quick to Britain send his boy ;-
For here we boldly, proudly say,

While Hawkesbury, Canning, Castlereagh,
While Camden, Mulgrave, Westmorland,
With Eldon, rule this menac'd land,
(I mention not their several claims,
'Tis quite enough to name their names,)
And sinking deeper, deeper yet,
While Portland heads the looby set,
That we can show your foreign youth
More clear and more distinct this truth,
By fact made sure, in practice tried,
Than all the world, alas! beside;
Than all past times in hist'ry's page;
Nay, challenge every future age.
April 7.

* The words really made use of are said to have been these " I,

mi fili, et vide quam parvâ sapientiâ regitur mundus."

FOUND!!!

I

MR. EDITOR,

FOUND!!!

[From the Morning Herald.]

PICKED up the enclosed odd kind of a paper some days since, which I can make neither head nor tail of: I rather think that it was dropped out of the hand of a tall thin gentleman who stoops in the shoulders, while he was making some violent motions with his right arm. I have shown it to many friends, who gave different guesses as to the nature of the contents: several think that they are the memorandums of some poor gentleman a little beside himself-while others imagine that it contains a dark plot against Church' and State. Should you agree with the latter, you will, perhaps, publish it, in order to put His Majesty's new Ministers on their guard against such foul designs.

Yours, &c.

COPY.

A PASSENGER.

HINTS preparatory to Wednesday, the 6th inst.

1. Not to be seen in the streets on the 1st of April. Ad-m to stop the mischievous witticisms of Sherdan's flings.

2. Irish Members doubtful-always best half seas over. Shake up Castle-gh's Down-bed for him again.-Quiz Perc- for quitting Coke for Cocker.— Robs-n to examine C-n-ng in the tongues of the Foreign Department.-General M-lg-ve, First Lord of the Admiralty-famous hoax!-Mem. No allusion to Army Jobs till Fitzp―ck retires.

3. Rehearse the Cabinet Door scene again with Grenville-cursed stupidity! his head more heavy than his ! Secrecy of Cabinets laughable-obsolete-Oaths of Privy Counsellors ridiculous-regarded

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but

but as those of "dicers or of lovers."--Squeeze out a dying joke, if possible, from Courtn―y:

4. Br-nd not to be too fiery for fear of an awkward volley of puns.-P-tty to attend more to Perc-val's arguments than his own altitudes.Franc-s to be ready with an Oriental tale.—Gratt-n's long promised philippic in favour of Irish Catholics. Avoid naming the Pope-his Holiness not popular enough yet for a Parliamentary eulogium.— Wilb-force guarantee for the Saints from rising at the sound of the word Test.-When R-se " VOWS to G-d," in pious zeal, for the good of the Church -horse-laugh!-Anst-r, and other long faces, to sit on the back benches.-Romil-y to bake the Master of the Rolls over again in his own Chancery oven.-Dr. Laure-ce for time to reply to both, by adjudged cases from the Roman civilians, by way of digest.

5. If Sidm-th still squeamishly loyal, attack him! Watch Lauder-le's pitch-pot, that it does not boil over!-Staff-d to flog the Bishops.-Introduce the Royal Pledge with deep solemnity-rise in pathos -broken utterance-reverence-affection-unshaken loyalty to his sacred person. Eloquent transition to public duty!-national honour!-violated Constitution-Charles the First!-Impeachment !-Denunciation!-Axes!-Scaffolds, &c. &c. &c. (Withdraw, solus, under repeated cries of Hear! Hear! Question! Question!) Hear! [April 7.

THE CONFESSION OF A GREY FRIAR:

A SOLEMN DIRGE.

To the Tune of "The Vicar of Bray."
[From the Morning Post.]

IN good Charles Fox's bustling day,

I came to man's estate, Sirs;
To blue and buff stuck patriot Grey,
Like nit to beggar's pate, Sirs.

By

By nature proud I scorn'd control;

For place and power I panted, And though a despot in my soul, 'Bout liberty I canted.

For this with Whigs I was enroll'd,
The Whigs of modern day, Sirs!
But now with them few tenets hold,
A motley Whig is Grey, Sirs.

Near twenty years in Stephen's fane
'Gainst Pitt I rail'd and voted;
To Edmund Burke preferr'd Tom Paine,
On th' Rights of Man I doted,
For good O'Connor's faith and truth
I would have pledg'd my own, Sirs!
At Quigley's sentence I was wroth,
And griev'd for banish'd Stone, Sirs!
No longer now I mourn their loss,
My Whig Club friends-good day, Sirs!
Rome's holy cares the mind engross→→
O the quondam patriot Grey, Sirs!

'Gainst Tories once I join'd the cry,
To William pour'd libations,

No Irish cousins then had I,

No Catholic relations;

The Tests that shut out James's breed,
I deem'd it sin to alter;

The Revolution's code-my Creed,

The Bill of Rights-my Psalter.

Now, like my name, my note is chang'd,
A different game I play, Sirs;
Howick with Stuart's friends is rang'd,
No longer patriot Grey, Sirs!

For them, 'bout Irish feuds I'll croak,
And lode rebellion's day, Sirs;
Canning, I know, my scheme will smoke,
And call me, raven Grey, Sirs!
Still on the Commons rests our hope,
Once more to gain our quarters;
But if we fail, we trust the Pope
Will style us-blessed martyrs!

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Now