Its faculties and powers, become, at once,
The happy rival of that house of mutes,
The Legislative Body!

Font. Hold, s'death, Fabre,

Is this the language of a subject? Dare you,
Proud and presumptuous, urge, in these bold terms,
Your futile claims? Say, are these specimens
Of that deep silence, Sir, to which the Tribunes
Would, as you vaunt, so cheerfully submit?"
Boul. Declare your wishes, Sire, and, howsoe'er
Th' event may prove-

Bon. Forbear, "and be attentive.

I will not now recall the past, nor give you
My reasons for the blood which I have shed:
Suffice it that I did but what I thought
Necessity enjoin'd. I will not make
The rash unthinking multitude my judge,
Who hold that Monarchs are ordain'd to spare,
And that to make and keep a people happy,
Is the whole art of empire! Victory
Succeeding victory has fix'd my power
Beyond the shock of fate, and my sole name
Bears terror with it to the heart of Russia.
By me alone, Paris, dissolv'd in glee,
Dances and laughs, her finger on her lips,
In flowery manacles, at once protector
And victim of a master whom she rais'd..
The gallant Frenchman flies to arms, fights, dies,
And, 'midst his triumphs, wonders at the yoke
To which his fate condemns him! Emperors, Kings,.
Confess my equal claims, and style me" Brother!"
Yet more, the ardent, ever-active foe,

At whose inspiring voice Europe twice rose,
And, with his Albion, leagu'd against my power,
Pitt, the implacable undaunted Pitt,

Sinks to an early grave!

The afflicting loss

Of Denmark's navy rack'd my soul no more,
Forgot in other triumphs; Portugal.
Was now within my gripe; the destinies
Of trembling Europe waited on my will;

And

And Fortune, like a captive, trac'd my steps,
Chain'd to my car of glory: But one care,
One busy care, which I can neither still
Nor banish from my bosom, checks, of late,
The rapid flow of my prosperity.

A dream (can Bonaparte fear a dream?)
Has conjur'd up, and planted in my heart
A pang that racks me with severest woe,
And, though I still avoid it, still pursues me.

'T was night, and deepest horror reign'd around,
When, full before my sight, a Tribune rose,
Whose manly eloquence ran through the realm,.
And rous'd all France to deeds of death and vengeance.

He spoke, he mov'd-I see him yet, and wav'd

A flaming poignard in his outstretch'd hand.

ON THE FEATS OF THE LATE MINISTERS. [From the Morning Post.]

THOSE wondrous men, oh! what did they do?
No tongue can tell, no mortal can show!
To all so kind and civil.

Why, what did they do?-for the truth you call,
Then-one half-year they did-nothing at all-
And 't other half-year-play'd the devil.
Oct. 15.

GENUINE COPY OF A LETTER,

PICKED UP A FEW DAYS AGO IN THE STREETS.

[From the Morning Chronicle]

To

-, Esq. Denmark Hill.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

I HAVE just received your letter, in which you affect to complain very grievously of my servants, because a few nights ago they broke open your stables, and took away all your horses. Your complaint is surely very unreasonable, and you must be convinced that it is so

when

when you see how calmly I can argue the matter with you. You cannot but know that there has been for some time a desperate gang of horse-stealers and housebreakers in your neighbourhood, and I had very good information (though I don't choose to say from whom) that they meant to steal your horses on the first opportunity. I thought, therefore, that the best thing I could do was to be beforehand with them, because, had they been taken away by these fellows, you know, my good friend, they would by this time have been endeavouring to commit trespasses on my premises.

As to your ostlers, stable-boys, and postillions, having been beat about the head by some of my men, it was all owing to their own obstinacy in pretending to stop up that narrow lane that leads to your house, and particularly in not opening the stable-doors the moment my people desired them, and I am sure they desired them to do so very civilly. The same obstinacy must account for a few stacks of hay having been burnt, some of your windows broken, and a cottage or two thrown down in the hurry of bringing things away.

You complain also that we have taken away all the corn, hay, oats, and beans, all the water-troughs, and all the bridles, saddles, stirrups, &c. that we could find. But, my dear Sir, be pleased to consider for a moment; of what use were these things when you had no horses? Had we left all these materials (of which, by the way, there is no such vast quantity), the gang might have brought their own horses, and fed upon them, for I am told they are d-nably in want of good fodder. So that you see, my dear Sir, all I did was out of pure self-defence and friendship for you; for had these fellows come first, depend upon it they would have done just as I have.

And let me add, that if you will be but cool, and argue the matter calmly, you cannot, I am sure, be in

the

the least offended at the trifling liberty I have taken in removing your horses. If the leader of the gang had got them, they might have been of some consequence to him, as he has lost a great many lately. But as for yourself, there they were in your stables, eating their heads off, as the saying is, and doing nothing to pay for their keep. Besides, you know, my dear friend, that you never was a clever horseman, and your walking on foot will just do as well, while every body knows that riding is my forte.

With respect to what I have brought away, it is true I did not much want them, and now I have seen the poor beasts I am surprised that I should ever have been afraid of whatever hands they might have fallen into; but then, my dear friend, this shows my disinterestedness. Between ourselves, they are but very so-so cattle

some of them old and broken-winded, and some seem to have got the spavin, and some, the staggers: I would not give one of my racers for a dozen such; besides, Lean spare very few boys to look after them, my own stud requiring all the hands I can procure. So that, my dear friend, if you think you have lost much, you may console yourself that I have gained little.

I own all this has the appearance of an unneighbourly action; but while the leader of the gang makes no scruple to do such things, I really don't see why I should not meet him in his own way. The beasts are safe with me now, and as soon as we can get thẹ gang dispersed I promise you shall have them all back, and every saddle, bridle, and bit faithfully accounted for; that is to say, provided that you make no morę work about this affair, and provided I hear no more of your intending to join the gang. Should any thing like this take place, only think of the consequences! Why, I shall never have it in my power to show you such another proof of my friendship.

་

My

My respects to your wife and family, who I hope were not disturbed by this little fracas; and I remain, My dear Sir, yours affectionately, &c.

Little Britain, Old

[Oct. 22.

NEW THIRF-CATCHING DOORS.

MR. EDITOR,

[From the same ]

IN your Paper of Monday you inform us, that "A young gentleman, in Dundee, has just invented and finished a model of a door, which, when once locked, it is impossible for a stranger to open; and in case of a thief making the attempt, it is equally impossible for him to avoid being caught in the act, and detained on the spot, until a person, acquainted with the invention, comes to his relief."

Now, Sir, there is something in this paragraph which appears a little obscure; if, indeed, that obscurity should not happen to be in my understanding; I have, therefore, determined to consult some of your more intelligent writers on the subject. I am a friend to men of genius, and I hate thieves. I hail with joy every attempt to reward the former, and detect the latter; but this new door I do not perfectly understand, and I suspect that some part of the inventor's account must have been accidentally omitted.

The excellence of the invention no one can doubt. Who would not applaud the discovery of a door which not only keeps all within safe, but has even the gift of apprehending a thief? But it requires some explanation. It is easy to conceive, that this door may have the power of detaining a thief, when it has once caught him; but in what manner is it enabled to know a thief from a stranger? a good moral man, for example, and perhaps an enemy to Popery. The account says

of