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better times; they paid their rents and taxes, not out of their profits, but out of their capital; and the result was, that they were all completely ruined. But of the present body of farmers, there are very few indeed who possess any reserve of capital to which, in a season of distress, they can have recourse; and, therefore, an artificial rise in the value of money makes itself felt with extraordinary severity.

It must not be assumed, that because we recommend a return to a

paper circulating medium, we wish for the re-establishment of an uncertain and fluctuating standard of value; we concur in all that has been said and written respecting the injustice and insecurity of a paper circulation unchecked by a metallic regulator of its value. But although we freely recognise the indispensable necessity of having an invariable standard of value, we are not therefore bound to admit either the expediency or the justice of a metallic circulating medium. It forms, indeed, by no means the least singular feature in the discussions which have recently taken place respecting the monetary system of this country, that those who pretend to advocate an invariable currency, should have been the very men who prevailed upon the Legislature to sanction the alteration in the value of the circulating medium, which, in its consequences, is, at this moment, so severely felt by the public: those who, within the last ten years, have already tampered with the currency in two memorable instances, (making each time an addition of 25 per cent to the real value of the actual circulating medium,) have now the unparalleled hardihood to turn round and exclaim against the impolicy and injustice of any farther tampering with the currency. They urge that the suppression of the small note circulation having been already carried into effect, it would be unwise and impolitic to disturb a regulation which has been in practical operation for about nine months, although its practical effect has been to add at least 25 per cent to the real weight of all fixed money engagements. Such an argument for maintaining our monetary system on its present footing amounts to a bold declaration, that, because for the last

nine months we have committed on all debtors an unjust act of spoliation, amounting to 25 per cent, or perhaps more, on the sum-total of the claims upon them, we must, for the sake of avoiding the imputation of vacillation and inconsistency, persevere in the wrong course on which we have entered, rather than review our measures, and retrace our steps. It is, in fact, an open avowal, that having given all creditors a legal claim to exact from their debtors an increase of at least one-fourth on the

real amount of the pecuniary stipulations subsisting between them, we should turn a deaf ear to the petitions of the latter when they complain of the ruinous effects which have resulted from this change. But surely common sense and common honesty imperiously require, that if, through oversight and inadvertency, the Legislature have been led to sanction regulations by which one class of the community is enriched at the expense of another class, by that means unjustly impoverished, it should, rather than persist in their error, hasten to remedy, as far as lies in its power, the evil which it has produced. Every principle of equity and good faith requires, that if we cannot make a full compensasation to the debtor for the loss which the increased value of the circulating medium has already inflicted upon him; if we cannot restore to him that of which he has been already plundered, we should at least relieve him from the longer endurance of this injustice. It appears unquestionably a most extravagant reason to allege, that because for the last nine months the agricultural classes have been forced, by an unjust alteration of our monetary system to pay the taxgatherer and moneylender 25 per cent more than they had really promised to these claimants respectively, they should, for the sake of consistency, be compelled to endure permanently this addition to all their pecuniary obligations.

We are, above all things, desirous to see the currency of this country placed permanently upon a fixed and secure basis; but for this purpose it is not necessary to prevent the circulation of pound notes issued by Banks of known solvency, and convertible into cash at the will of the hold

er; we wish to see faith kept with creditors both public and private; to secure to them the repayment of all their claims in a circulating medium fully equivalent to that in which their capital was lent; but we must strenuously contend against the monstrous iniquity of allowing them to enforce the liquidation of their claims in a currency which an act of the Legislature has artificially raised one-fourth in real value.

Upon the whole, we do most earnestly call upon the country to unite with one voice in forcing upon the attention of Government the recon

sideration of our monetary system; it is beyond all calculation the most important question which can engage the deliberations of the Legislature; and not a moment should be lost by those who wish to rescue the producing classes from the ruin which stares them in the face. Petitions should, without a moment's delay, be got up in every district, pressing upon the attention of Parliament the unjust and ruinous addition which the late change in the currency has made to the weight of all fixed money payments.

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No more, alas! I rhyme of fancied pains,
Hope's false delights and Love's ideal chains-
For life's cold paths I quit poetic bow'rs,

And leave to younger bards-my stock of flow'rs.
Rude times like these no mild-toned Muse require
To bend enamour'd o'er the sounding lyre,

But plain strong Sense, whose rough but honest part
Is not to soothe the ear, but wake the heart.
Gods! is it thus that England's Muse is fled
In voiceless grief to hide her peaceful head,
To rest with Southey in his Cumbrian glades,

Or mourn with Bowles in Bremhill's cloister'd shades?
Too true the tale ;-and now a motley throng,
With flames and doctrine fill their piebald song,
Earth jars with heaven, a cherub's holiest smiles
Flaunt in the borrow'd dimples of St Giles;
Vauxhall's dread splendours gild the courts above,
And Drury's language speaks the seraph's love;
Scott, Wilson, Croly,-all we loved of yore,
Strike the proud music of their harps no more;
And Campbell's self, who once sung well, sings dumb,
Or sinks from Tom of Lincoln to Tom Thumb;
Thus, to dull ranters ample space is given,
"To play fantastic tricks before high heaven,
And make the angels weep!"

Oh, happier time,
Ere God was sounded in each schoolboy rhyme,
Ere Worship simper'd with self-pleasing air,"
And bungling Metaphor broke forth in pray'er,
Ere Hell's red fires supplanted Venus' smile,
And Calvary usurp'd the Paphian isle;
Ere for Parnassus Sinai's heights were trod,
And Jove's cast ornaments bestow'd on God!

Long, long ago, Religion, heavenly maid!
With vestal meekness sought the silent glade;
Serenely calm she bore each earthly care,
While Faith, Hope, Charity, adorn'd her prayer!
But now, where'er we turn, a nymph we see,
In streets and markets bend the ready knee,
With tinsel robe, half tawdry, half unclean,
And breast fast heaving with quick sighs between;
Anxious alike, while round her eye she rolls,
To pick our pockets and to save our souls.
With thundering voice she strives to heaven to raise
Prayer without love, and dares to call it praise.
Where is the heart? you ask. Alas! 'tis set
Not on its God, but on an epithet.

And see! she stops, in ecstasy sublime,
Dumb from excess of awe, and want of rhyme !
But who shall wonder that the infection spreads,
And snivelling Cant uprears her thousand heads,
Since those who ought to crush, embrace her knees,
And even the Mitre owns its Pharisees?
Hark! how with tragic pomp, and gesture proud,
Thy prelate, awes the listening crowd,
And talks in ill-cloak'd pride's most humble tone,
Of lights and graces to him only known,-

How warm he prayed for heaven's directing nod;
How at his Maker's word he left his God;
How to a life of mean subservience just,
The's protegé betray'd his trust!

Oh! while his watering eyes are turn'd above,
How thrills his breast with more than mortal love!
All round the circle holy fervour goes,
And every heart with like devotion glows;
While literate shews his dandy limb,
And prays some other may favour him.
What! are his youth's employments cast aside,
The crack'd guitar across his shoulder tied,
The Spaniard's cloak, the whisker's curl of jet,
To win the glance of each impure grisette,
Or has he wisely hush'd his borrow'd lay,
Left the loose ballad and begun to pray,
Or does he merely show his Protean art,
And for the minstrel's, fill the preacher's part,
Actor alike in both, with equal grace

To shew the exile's charms, the saint's grimace?

Changes more sad, our wondering eyes engage,
And life's true scenes exceed the mimic stage.
Nine years are past, since, gentle-voiced and meek,
The well-bred Tutor scarcely dared to speak,
A bland convenient priest politely blind,-
To fleshly sins (in peer or peeress) kind,
Quick at my lady's nod to cringe and bow,
In heart as abject and as false as now,
With fulsome speeches working day by day,
As snails with slime, his still ascending way,
Till, quite a FRIEND, he holds his head more high,
Whines over sin with more lugubrious sigh,
To unrepenting Magdalen pours his moan,
More fit for Fletcher's tub than's throne!

What deeds were his that call'd for such reward, Fit meed of learning deep and labours hard?

His learning?-let him nurse and guard it well,
For though no Porson, he at least can spell;
His labours?-he no doubt reclaim'd the stray,
"Allured to brighter worlds and led the way,"
Bade Faith and Charity around him spread,
And led such life as sainted Heber led!
Can troubled springs a hallow'd stream afford?
Go ask my lady; ask her Courtier Lord-
(Whose meek forgiveness fills us with surprise,
While Rome's first Cato stalks before our eyes.)
Ask if acquaintance with such scenes polite,
Gives to the sacred lawn a purer white,
If lengthen'd prayers can hide Apostate shame,
Or Pride can flourish 'neath Religion's name!

Scorn'd by the good and pitied by the wise,
He soothes his spleen with Pomp's poor vanities,
Flies for relief to wands and gilded state,
While on each nod a dingy rabble wait,
An oily, lank, and methodistic train,

As Crookshanks' self could paint or fancy feign,
All Christian brothers, by his kindness gain'd,
Self-righteous, self-sufficient, self-ordain'd.

Hark! to the long-drawn hymn! The nasal drawl
Sounds from the zealous crowd in yonder hall,
Breathing not less of piety than gin,

And not more wash'd from filthiness than sin.

The enraptured prayer comes next-a long half hour
Proves both the teacher's wind, and spirit's pow'r;
Oh grudge him not his stamp, his sigh, his roar,
No English Bishop heard the like before-
The righteous Reverend friend concludes, and then,
Their meek Right Reverend brother sighs—Amen!

The mob grows calm;-the few vile parsons there
Gather in holy awe around his chair,

While Independents bend their list'ning ear
To catch those sounds to true seceders dear,
And strut in their high calling's sacred pride,
(Thieves, weavers, paupers, all the week beside)
Pleas'd on that platform's elevated board
To shew how little now they fear " My Lord."

Oh for a Mawworm's tongue and Judas' heart
To deal full justice to his glorying part,

To tell the force with which his Lordship prays,
The trait'rous kiss which points where he betrays!

Deserting thus the cause he vow'd to guard,
Admitting foes by his own oath debarr'd,
False to his God, he joins the ranks of those
To England's faith, to Christ's own Cross the foes,
Yet wears the robe he desecrates, and then,
Gives thanks to God" he's not as other men."

Well may the Church to watch and arm begin,
Not less 'gainst knaves without than fools within.
When Brougham and Connel gather round her wall,
Anxious to burn, and spoil, and plunder all,
Their open malice from their arts defends;
But who shall guard her from pretended friends?

Lo! at a wink from Minister or peer
Bishops themselves desert their posts in fear,
Break down her barriers to assist the foe,
And, having once disgrac'd her, overthrow.

Oh, wise and apron'd, wigg'd and sinless tribe!
Good all your aim, and heav'n your only bribe:
No hopes were yours, methinks ye all exclaim,
That change of vote might lead to change of name.
But on that instant that the Premier spoke,
Light broke on you, as once on Paul it broke,
Fill'd the dull soul of -'s fatted calf,
And gilt the brazen forehead of ·

Hard is the fate that girdles thousands in,
Believing God, yet fetter'd slaves to sin,

Whose clouded Faith, which nought can quite destroy,
Robs life of bliss, and sin of all its joy-

Whose mastering sins obscure each brighter hour,
Rob Heav'n of hope, and Faith of all her power.
But not more hard than 's ruthless fate,

Whose soaring pride would urge him to be great;
But (oh! Ambition, what a woful fall)

Whose empty dulness dooms him to be small!
Fit brother he for 's brainless Lord,
With equal honour, equal wisdom stored,

Raised by the same chaste Dame to equal height,
And all three-" darken'd through excess of light."

Woe on the logic that can teach the quill
To fence and foil with dialectic skill,

That proves a Jesuit black, then, quick as light,
Turns round again, and proves a Jesuit white;
But freed from sin like this, if sin it be,
Guiltless of logic as of wit is he,

A weak, dull man, exceeding Dogb'ery's rule,
Who shews his love and "writes himself a fool."

Oft 'mongst our friends, one sillier than the rest,
Whose want of sense provokes the sneering jest,
Strives from such jeers his character to save,
And just to hide the fool assumes the knave:
Oft too the practised rogue, inured to sin,
To shield his crimes affects the idiot's grin;
And though his murderous hand in blood be red,
Trusts for full safety to his fatuous head.
This latter plea might -'s Judas plead,
Such want of brains would sanction any deed;
But pride remains, and party's abject tool
Proses, to prove himself more knave than fool.
Poised thus between, to bend to either loth,
Impartial Justice deems the Traitor both.

But let not fools alone usurp the scene;
Let -'s Bishop yield to -'s Dean.
For virtue loved, for vigorous mind admired,
Which solid learning graced, and genius fired,
Has
left the cause that raised his name,
And for Court favour barter'd honest fame?

Like mean deserters, is his influence borne,
From friends who trusted once, to foes who scorn?

No powerful aids from

may they seek,—

2 A

The act that proved him faithless, made him weak.

VOL. XXVII. NO. CLXIII.

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