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enlisting in the ranks of the good cause, the plain, practical, hard-working portion of our capitalists, has done more towards the salvation of his country than has been effected by the efforts of any other single individual.

But Mr. Hume has greater claims upon the public gratitude and confidence than are due even for this important service. There are many public men who see deeper into the workings of the human mind ; many who are more extensively and intimately acquainted with the complexities of our law, and the remedies which may be applied to it ; many who may be more ingenious in devising light yet efficient modes of taxation; many with more glowing sentiments of patriotism, genius, or philanthropy ; many with powers of fairer and more sounding speech ;—but there exists not one who sees and grasps more clearly what lies within his range, none who has more uncompromisingly and undeviatingly identified himself with the people, none who has shewn a tithe of his sturdy perseverance and unwearied activity. Never hurried off his feet by passion, the practical always maintains the ascendency in his plans of action. His policy is direct, going at once to the point aimed at—and no further.

Were we called upon to point out to any community the model of a representative, we should desire no better than Mr. Hume. And yet an eager attempt is at this moment making to throw him out of the representation of Middlesex. In favour of whom? Of Lord Henley, a man of whom The Edinburgh Review, now turned dispenser of conservative doctrines, says, “ He has no leaning whatever towards the principles of innovation, nor any disposition to “meddle with them that are given to change;' a man who has published a pamphlet on Church Reform, in which he contemplates, as the most eligible mode of effecting his object, leaving the matter in the hands of the Bishops, or re-assembling the Convocation. And by whom? By an unhallowed alliance of the Whigs, the out-and-out supporters of Ministers and the Tories. “Mr. Hume is no stanch friend,” cries the one pack, “ and therefore he must out."-"Mr. Hume voted with Ministers on the question of the Russo-Dutch loan,” cries the other, “and therefore he must out.” And then both join in the yelping chorus, “ He must out.”

The cuckoo song of the Whigs at present is, that the Radicals are sacrificing all principle, and colleaguing with the Tories to oppose them. “With whom,” says The Edinburgh Review, “ are they (the Tories] everywhere making common cause against the Government? With the Radical party.” This charge has twice been brought by The Times against two individuals, and twice indignantly repelled. And now the more wary Review takes care to save itself from the disgrace of contradiction, by framing its assertion so vaguely that no one can disprove it. What is the Radical party? There is a Tory party,—a large body of men leagued and allied to attain office, and keep themselves in it. There is a Whig party, united for the same purpose. These men stand all for one, and one for all ; and for the conduct of each individual member the party is responsible, if it do not expressly disavow him. But there is no Radical party ; no servile unity of opinion, no organization among those to whom this appellative is vaguely and arbitrarily given. Each individual, or each community, is responsible for its own deeds, and for them alone. If, then, it shall appear that in any place the politicians called Radicals aided the Tories and opposed the Whigs, they are a pack of fools for their pains. The Whigs may turn out to be knaves ; but the Tories ostentatiously proclaim themselves to be knaves. This · is all that can be said. But what terms shall we apply to those Whiglings who, borne into office on the backs of the people, now begin to curry

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favour with the Tories, and seek to insinuate distrust or contempt of every independent man who refuses to swallow implicitly every word of their political creed?

This accusation is not rashly urged. We could prove it in more instances than one ; but Mr. Hume's is as good a case in point as any. Mr. Hume is opposed in Middlesex by Lord Henley. Now what is the line of conduct adopted by the organs of the Whig party? The last number of The Edinburgh Review lies upon our table. It contains an article entitled, “Working and Prospects of Reform.” In this paper reformers whose opinions are of a bolder cast than those entertained by the writer, are unceremoniously described as “ few in number and inconsiderable in weight ;” as “ wild fantastic theorists, profligate speculators in confusion, for the chance of what they may be able to snatch in a scramble, or for the mere gratification of a preposterous vanity, seeking momentary distinction and speedy destruction;" as “a band leagued together by the mere indiscriminate love of destruction.” We are also told that the return to Parliament of a large number of the enemies of reform is far less perilous to the state than would be any trust reposed in these persons. And occasion is taken to represent the hissing of the King after he had played Earl Grey false, and the pelting of the Duke of Wellington with mud, “ as a disgrace more foul and lasting than we in Scotland endure this day for the sordid crime of the seventeenth century.” * Most appropriately do we find a fulsome lick-spittle eulogium of Lord Henley and his pamphlet, introduced into the same num. ber of the Review, which contains this clumsy pawing of the Duke, and these indiscriminate calumnies against the independent reformers.

In the circumstances of the case, we should have thought ourselves entitled thus to infer the Machiavellian purpose of these innuendos, even without further aid. But when we find The Times sneering in its own awkward manner, day after day, at Mr. Hume's “crotchets,”+ and warning the country against his attempts to smuggle a party into Parliament pledged to his impracticable schemes, it is impossible to doubt. As if to accumulate proof where it is no longer required, The Globe congratulates the country that not above fifteen of the extreme Radicals who vote with Mr. Hume will be returned to Parliament. The Courier discovers that since the bill has been carried, its friends and foes are equal. ly eligible. The Standard accuses the member for Middlesex of irreligion; and—“ unkindest cut of all,”—Sir Francis Burdett sneers at his petty details of retrenchment.

The meaning of all this is obvious enough : but the country is not to be hoodwinked by such gross and palpable juggling. We cannot bring ourselves to believe that Ministers lend their countenance to these dirty tricks. It would be unjust to hold them responsible for the knavery of every dirty fellow who has forced his services upon them. At the same time, they will do well to order their curs “ to heel.” We have known a decent farmer fined for the misdeeds of his “ dunching bull” before now. They may take our word for it, that Mr. Hume is disposed to render them every assistance if they will only act so that he can conscientiously do it. The conduct of their tools, as often happens, is as foolish as rascally ; tending to force a friendly man to take up a hostile position.

This illustration is singularly unfortunate in a work which not long ago undertook to prove that the Scots were not accessary to the death of Charles I., and that his execution was no great crime after all.

+ Short Parliaments, the Ballot, Reduction of Expenditure, Church Reform, &c.


Burlhen of a Drinking Song.

At the commencement of last spring, when the cholera, having donned its seven-leagued boots to take a ramble over Europe, was spreading consternation from capital to capital, it was our misfortune, or fault, or folly, to be infected with the general mania of flying before an enemy, who “ came neither fri m the East, nor from the West, nor yet from the South.” Driven from our aërial quatrième in the Rue Montblanc by a panic still more fatally contagious than the malady itself, and forewarned that quarantine was already established in all the ports of La Manche, we threw our despairing selves and microscopic valise into the Strasburg malle poste, determined to go and drink the waters of Selters, fresh from the rock, and, if possible, outstrip the pursuit of the ogre. The month was May, the weather May-like; and already the sun was assuming sufficient ardour to enhance the attraction of blue waters and green woods. With kindling enthusiasm, we now longed to behold the waves of the Rhine eddying round the Bingerloch, or rippling over the black altar-stone of Bacharach ; and the coup d'ail of the white walls, lofty

; poplars, and confluent streams of Coblentz filled us with agreeable anticipations !

Eighteen years had elapsed since our eyes were first feasted with “ Ehrenbreitstein and its shattered wall.” During the Congress of 1814, while Elba afforded only a temporary imprisonment to the ex-Postmaster General of the Continent, we had the good luck to achieve the tour of the Rhine ; to behold it ere yet the dust raised by invading armies was laid upon its highways, and while the gloss of nationality was still bright upon the land. No tourist had been maundering there with his sketch- book, no poet with his rhymes; there was no steam-boat, no Schreiber, no Reichard ! and the Rheingan, the Taunus mountains, Rolandseck, Nonnenwerder, and fifty other places, (now mereCockney cake houses,) came upon us with the freshness of fairy-land !

On this, our second visit, we were aware that a change must necessarily “ come o'er the spirit of our dream ;" that we must prepare to behold this most frequented of aquatic gangways invested with somewhat of the familiar vulgarity of Fleet Street. The mere newspaper advertisement of “Guides to the Rhine,” and “ Panoramas of the Ruine,” and “ Picturesque views of the RainE,” and “ Lays of the Ruine,” having extinguished the romantic associations of the excursion, it is now a mere affair of seeing the Lions; a sort of holyday trip to the Hornsey or Hackney of Germany. Scarcely, however, had we arrived at Coblentz, established ourselves at the inn of the Trierische Hof, and looked out on the Platz to bestow, for the fiftieth time, our fiat of approval on the soldierlike breadth of chest distinguishing the troops of the

Schneider König, when (by the ministry of that most worthy and most tedious of men and hosts Herr Maas, once maitre d'hotel to the Marquis of Huntly, now maitre of the best hotel in Coblentz) a list of the company at the Baths of Emms was placed in our hands; containing among the rest, the transcribable, but somewhat unpronounceable, patronymic of a certain Bohemian Princess, our favourite partner of the last Carnival, who was drinking the waters on her way to Vienna, across the Duchy of Nassau. Without a moment's hesitation, we secured a place for Emms by the earliest diligence ; but, as a compensation to our NO, VIII, --VOL, II,



old friend Maas for the service he had unconsciously rendered us, we stept, meanwhile, into the Speise Saal; where (the clock having struck one) the table d'hôte dinner was smoking on the table. And what a din. ner for one o'clock on a warm May morning !-Within scope of our own observation stood a reeking tureen of sausage soup, with poached eggs floating on the greasy surface ; bouilli with damson sauce ; suet dumplings garnished with onion chips ; a Rhine carp stewed in hop shoots ; roasted fieldfares; a ragout of liver with carrots and parsley; a myste. rious mass of extremely infantine veal; a pancake resembling a Witney blanket, and a dish of spinach and water, resembling a weedy pond ! The spectacle, with its concomitant fumet, was nauseous enough ; and not the less so from the celerity with which these savoury viands disappeared down the throats of some dozen or so of Rhenish-Prussian offi. cials, civil and military, who washed them down with potations of sour Moselles, (their half empty flask bottles generally distinguished by a dirty rag tied round the neck,) and liberal draughts of mineral water from the spring at Thal Ehrenbreitstein. Three courses did we endure with the excruciation of martyrdom ; nor was it till a dessert of Mandel-brod and Zucken-brod, of various kinds, comprehending a large sausage made of quince marmalade and chopped almonds, was placed on the table, that we began to breathe again. Looking round for some object on which to bestow the philanthropic sympathies melting within us, we perceived that a knife and fork, which had been peculiarly active on our left flank, were plied by an odd-looking animalcule, in a black wig; attired (not to say disguised) in a large pair of green spectacles, a large pair of whiskers, a large pair of mustaches, a large double-breasted coat, and a very small pair of shrunken nankeen continuations; one of those strange looking figures peculiar to Les Eaux ; who are seen one summer at Barège, and the next at Carlsbad ; at Cheltenham one autumn, and the next at Lucca; without affording any clue to the whereabout of their winter residence, or means or motive of such extensive locomotion. We were about to apostrophize him as “ Monsieur le Baron !” (the general alias of the tribe,) when, “ Do me the honour of a glass of wine, sir?” pronounced with a smirk and cringe savouring most vilely of the counters of Soho, mortified our susceptible bosom with the certainty that we were addressing an Englishman.

My countryman! and yet I know him not !" was our involuntary exclamation, as we accepted the challenge ; and after a reciprocation of the compliment, and a considerable advance towards intimacy on the part of our anonymous neighbour, Herr Maas, whose swivel eye was fixed observingly upon his proceedings, seemed to think it time to apologize for the officiousness of his guest, by observing, half aside, though quite across the table, “ I see you vind out your goundrymans, sirr ; Misder Smidz he fery long residence in Goblentz, sirr; Misder Smidz he know efery von vhat trafels the Rhine, sirr; Misder Smidz he know efery ding vhat efery von trafels de Rhine to see, sir !” We sat corrected ! It was clear that a Mr. Smith, resident in Coblentz, was not the travelling Baron we had taken him for ; and we accordingly made it a point of conscience to insinuate as much deprecation and amenity as we could command into our mode of reiterating the intelligence already received.

“ You have resided here some time, Mr. Smith ?”

“ Yes, sir, yes! When first I came to Coblentz, the city was up to sale, as one may say, sir; we didn't know for certain, sir, who she'd be knocked down to by the great auctioneers over yonder at the Con.


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gress. Lord bless you, sir ! since I've been here, I've seen every stone of Ehrenbreitstein laid one a-top o' t'other. The place isn't the same place as when I took up my quarters in it just afore the battle of Wa. terloo."

The town, I understand, has doubled in size and population under the protection of the Prussian Government?”

“Why, if you'll believe me, when first I settled on the Rhine, sir, there wasn't so much as a steam-packet a-going on the river.”

There were few, I fancy, established in Europe at that period.”

“ The people were quite uncivilized, as one may say, without no accommodation to speak of for travellers, or gentlemen in your line of business, sir.”

“ Gentlemen, in my line of business !” What could the villain mean? We looked a forbearing note of interrogation. “ Beg pardon, sir; hope no offence.”

None, whatever !” We were predetermined against a quarrel with so small an individual, wearing such formidable whiskers.

“ Seldom have any travellers on the Rhine, at this time of year, sir, except in the picturesque way!"

“ Indeed ? "
“Author, pray may I ask, sir, or artist ?”—

“ A little of both,” said we, willing to ascertain the limits of his vulgar audacity.

“ Aha!-a volume,-perhaps two volumes of an octavo tour, with head and tail pieces of your own ; eh, sir ? -_- A SPRING near the Rhine !' The Autumn near the Rhine had a wonderful run, sir; eight editions, I'm told ?”

“ I am not ambitious of attempting a rivalship with its attractions.”

Not a matter-of-fact writer, perhaps !-a novelist, then? or may be you are getting up an annual? Lord bless you ! take my advice! The Rhine's drained dry, sir ! Go to the Danube ; it wouldn't cost you a couple of hundred florins. Nobody's been at work on the Danube yet, but Planché! Or what do you think of trying the Wolga, sir ? There hasn't been a scratch of the pen or pencil about the Wolga! But as to the Rhine, it's growing as Cockneyfied as Greenwich or Blackwall."

We now began to suspect a competitor ; and accordingly arraigned “ Mister Smidz” as a foundling of the muses.

Why, to say the truth, my dear sir, I believe I may plead guilty to a little bit of literary! Lord bless you, there hasn't been a single work made up out of the Rhine for the last fifteen years, without my finger in the pie! They get all their information out of me, sir, (a sad set, our literary brethren !) and then go home, and fancy themselves authors !”

“Why, you must have become acquainted with a succession of all the men of genius of the age ?”

“ Lord, sir, we have them in cargoes by every steam-packet! I'll be bound there's not a gentleman nor gentlewoman of the press, but what has made the Rotterdam trip. First of all, sir, we had Ackermann's people stuck about sketching on the rocks, like so many jackdaws. Then there was Leigh's fellows, and Galignani’s, and Schreiber's, picking up materials for their Guide Books. Then came my Lord Byron with his third canto; and the “ Autumn” gentleman, and Dr. Russell, and Jefferson Hogg ; and Planché, with his “ Lays and Legends,” and Sullivan with his “ Historiettes,” and Praed with his "


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Lyrics,” and

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