indignation, and at once throwing off all shackles of pity and moderation, he takes vengeance in the most summary and decisive way, by cracking the unfortunate keeper's pericranium between his jaws, and then, in a style of bitter triumph, which Homer or Virgil would have given their ears to have attained, apostrophizes the body "A fig for your tailor, "You stupid old gaoler, "No bills are paid by the dead." This strong sarcastic exclamation finishes the poem; a spice of humour is thrown into it, to take off, in some measure, the melancholy which the tragical exit of the keeper must leave on every feeling mind; and the sublime and consoling truth of "No bills are paid by the dead,” assures us of at least one advantage which the keeper gains by being thus soon dismissed from the stage. When in old Eblana's bay, Frown'd o'er the foaming surge below, Loudly, on the ev'ning gale, Were borne the minstrel's notes of wail; And floated o'er the wave his song, Prophetic of his country's wrong. Shall tyrant's force, shall stranger's wile, Yes, so it is, the fates decree Low shall be Eblana's walls, And strangers lord in Tara's halls ; Proteus. Dear Mr. Bull, I rejoice to see the reformation which has taken place in your demeanour; you are quite an altered man; you have polished off all that * The cruelties committed by the army of Cromwell will immediately present themselves to the mind. brusquerie, as my pupils, the French, say, which used to be your characteristic, and are really becoming worthy to be enrolled in the number of my votaries. Bull. Then I am to consider that I am indebted to you for this valuable reformation; forsooth, that as I was formerly as steadfast as a rock, so I am now as changeable as a weather-cock. Beware, good master Proteus, lest I find means to confine your boasted mutability; there are in England stocks and bonds, out of which you may find it difficult to slip, though you should even change yourself into an eel. Proteus. Surely I misunderstand you; for nothing is more completely under my dominion than what you have mentioned: what is more variable, more fluctuating than the Stocks? what more changeable in its nature and its value than Chili and Colombian Bonds?: Bull. Positively, Mr. Proteus, you are enough to make a man hang himself for pure vexation. Proteus. If your inclination runs that way, I can change myself into a tree for your accommodation. Bull. The most useful change you can make is, to give up changing at all, and to become a steady kind of divinity, such as your friend Janus, who has eyes before and behind, that he may never be obliged to turn his head round. Proteus. I am much obliged to you for the hint, but must decline taking it, in consideration of the great sacrifice I have made, in leaving my post of Head Keeper of the Sea-Calves, for the express purpose of taking care of those upon land. Bull. What insolence is this? do you call the English, calves? 0 2 Proteus. Yes, and you the father of the herd, Mr. Bull. Bull. Then I must say, that it is my hearty wish that you had confined your dominion to the sea; there indeed you were in your element; she has a disposition congenial to yours, being at one moment tranquil and unruffled, at another agitated with the fury of the tempest; and besides, whether, calm or tempestuous, she is still under the dominion of that most changeable of mistresses, the Moon. Proteus. But pray, Mr. Bull, may I ask the reason of your antipathy to me? for I am perfectly unconscious of having injured you in any way. Bull. Not injured me? then injuries were never known upon earth. Zounds, sirrah! if a man who has his whole fortune in good solid gold is compelled, against his will, to change it for the flimsy currency of a country bank, especially in the time of a panic, is not he injured? yet when I see my sterling and solid inflexibility, my pertinacity of the right stamp, and my native decisiveness of character, changed for fickleness, foppery, and Frenchification, I, forsooth, am not an injured personage! Proteus. But what proofs have you that the national character of the English is changed? Bull. Proofs indeed! proofs enough to stun the deafest man that ever used an ear-trumpet. Look at the Stage, to begin with; what does that pretend to do, but to hold the Mirror up to Nature? and truly it does hold it up with a vengeance, when a Pantomime is acted on its boards: then it is, that the people flock to see things as changeable as themselves, and the more changes there are, the better the pantomime. They delight to see a tawdry, parti-coloured, tinsel-wearing varlet change with his wand houses into stage-coaches, and sign-posts into turnpike-gates; and does all this show no fondness for change? O thou patron of harlequins, mountebanks, and courtiers! Then again, my people are not satisfied with changing themselves, but they must change every thing that belongs to them where are the substantial pavements that used to support the moving mass of the English population; alas! they are changed for an unsubstantial thing, that is either mud or dust, according as the caprice of that most capricious of all things, the weather, shall determine. Think you that I will be blinded, that I will be bespattered with impunity? think you that I will see the basis of the British, the foundation upon which they stand, converted into-Zounds! is there in England no orator "To move the stones to rise and mutiny ?" Are there none to take pity on the forlorn condition of my pavements? There are none. Then may their flinty hearts be broken with hammers, to mend those roads of which they are the advocates. Proteus. I can assure you, Mr. Bull, it grieves me to see you thus indignant; and as discretion is the better part of valour, I shall retire. Bull. Retire, Sir, you shall not, till I have received satisfaction for the insults and injuries you have heaped upon me. Proteus. That is easily given; at least, if you are the reasonable person which I have always supposed you to be. Nay, calm the severity of your brow, and listen |