You should only read one or two of my lists of cures, out of the many thousands I have by me. If you knew the benefits so many people have received from my grand elliptical, asiatical, panticurial nervous cordial, that cures all diseases incident to humanity, none of you would be such fools as to be sick. I'll just read one or two. (Reads several letters.) "Sir, I was jammed to a jelly in a linseed oil mill; cured with one bottle." Sir, I was boiled to death in a soap manufactory; cured with one bottle." Sir, I was cut in half in a saw-pit; cured with half a bottle." Now comes the most wonderful of all.

"Sir, Venturing too near a powder-mill at Faversham, I was, by a sudden explosion, blown into a million of atoms. By this unpleasant accident I was rendered unfit for my business, (a banker's clerk,) but hearing of your grand elliptical, asiatical, panticurial, nervous cordial, I was persuaded to make essay thereof. The first bottle united my strayed particles, the second animated my shattered frame, the third effected a radical cure, the fourth sent me home to Lombard street, to count guineas, make out bills for acceptance, and recount the wonderful effects of your grand elliptical, asiatical, panticurial, nervous cordial, that cures all diseases incident to humanity."

CCXXXIII.-THE LEARNER.

A PUPIL of the Esculapian school

Was just prepared to quit his master's rule;
Not that he knew his trade, as it appears,
But that he then had learnt it seven years.

Yet think not that in knowledge he was cheated:
All that he had to study still,

Was, when a man was well or ill,
And how, if sick, he should be treated.

One morn he thus addressed his master;
"Dear sir, my honored father bids me say,
If I could now and then a visit pay,

He thinks, with you, to notice how you do,
My business I might learn a little faster."

"The thought is happy," the preceptor cries;

A better method he could scarce devise;

So Bob, (his pupil's name) it shall be so,
And, when I next pay visits, you shall go."

To bring that hour, alas! time briskly fled:
With dire intent, away they went,
And now behold them at a patient's bed.

The master-doctor solemnly perused

His victim's face, and o'er his symptoms mused; Looked wise, said nothing; an unerring way, When people nothing have to say.

Then felt his pulse, and smelt his cane, And paused and blinked, and smelt again, And briefly of his corps performed each motion: Maneuvers that for death's platoon are meant, A kind of make ready and present,

Before the fell discharge of pill and potion.

At length the patient's wife he thus addressed: "Madam, your husband's danger's great; And (what will never his complaint abate) The man's been eating oysters, I perceive." "Dear! you're a witch, I verily believe," Madam replied, and to the truth confessed.

Skill so prodigious Bobby, too, admired;
And home returning, of the sage inquired
How these same oysters came into his head;
"Psha! my dear Bob, the thing was plain;
Sure that can ne'er distress thy brain;
I saw the shells lie underneath the bed!"

So wise by such a lesson grown,
Next day Bob ventured forth alone,

And to the self-same suff'rer paid his court:
But soon, with haste and wonder out of breath,

Returned the stripling minister of death,

And to his master made this dread report.

"Why sir, we ne'er can keep that patient under;
Mercy! such a maw I never came across!
The fellow must be dying, and no wonder,
For-if he has not eat a horse!"

"A horse!" the elder man of physic cried,
As if he meant his pupil to deride;
"How came so wild a notion in your head?"
"How! think not in my duty I was idle;
Like you, I took a peep beneath the bed,
And there I saw-a saddle and a bridle!"

CCXXXIV.-PLEA FOR IRELAND.

THIS is an appeal to England to restore to Ireland some of her privileges. The "gracious predilection" was the favor of the king which they had been encouraged to hope.

IRELAND, with her imperial crown, now stands before you. You have taken her parliament from her, and she appears in her own person, at your bar. Will you dismiss a kingdom without a hearing? Is this your answer to her zeal, to her faith, to the blood that has so profusely graced your march to victory; to the treasures that have decked your strength in peace? Is her name nothing? her fate indifferent? Are her contributions insignificant: her six millions revenue, her ten millions trade, her two millions absentee, her four millions loan? Is such a country not worth a hearing?

Will you, can you dismiss her abruptly from your bar? You can not do it. The instinct of England is against it. We may be outnumbered now and again. But in calculating the amount of the real sentiments of the people, the ciphers, that swell the evanescent majorities of an evanescent minister, go for nothing.

Can

Can Ireland forget the memorable era of 1788? others forget the munificent hospitality with which she then freely gave to her chosen hope all that she had to give? Can Ireland forget the spontaneous and glowing cordiality

with which her favors were then received? Never! Never! Irishmen grew justly proud in the consciousness of being subjects of a gracious predilection; a predilection that required no apology, and called for no renunciation; a predilection that did equal honor to him who felt it, and to those who were the objects of it.

All a

It laid the grounds of a great and fervent hope. nation's wishes crowded to a point, and looked forward to one event, as the great coming, at which every wound was to be healed, every tear to be wiped away. The hope of that hour beamed with a cheering warmth and a seduc、 tive brilliancy.

Ireland followed it with all her heart; a leading light through the wilderness, and brighter in its gloom. She followed it over a wide and barren waste. It has charmed her through the desert. And now, that it has led her to the confines of light and darkness; now, that she is on the borders of the promised land; is the prospect to be suddenly obscured, and the fair vision of princely faith to vanish forever? I will not believe it. I require an act of parliament to vouch its credibility. Nay, more, I demand a miracle to convince me that it is possible!

FROM GRATTAN.

CCXXXV.-WRONGS OF IRELAND.

THIS is an appeal to England to redress the wrongs of Ireland.

You traverse the ocean to emancipate the African. You cross the line to convert the Hindoo. You hurl your thunder against the savage Algerine. But your own brethren at home, who speak the same tongue, acknowledge the same king, and kneel to the same God, can not get one visit from your itinerant humanity! Oh, such a system is almost too abominable for a name. It is a monster of impiety, impolicy, ingratitude, and injustice! You complain of the violence of the Irish. Can you wonder they are violent? It is the consequence of your own infliction.

The flesh will quiver, where the pincers tear,

The blood will follow, where the knife is driven."

Your friendship has been to the Irishman worse than hostility. He feels its embrace but by the pressure of his fetters! I am only amazed he is not more violent. He fills your exchequer, he fights your battles, he feeds your clergy from whom he derives no benefit, he shares your burdens, he shares your perils, he shares everything except your privileges. Can you wonder he is violent? No matter what his merit, no matter what his claims, no matter what his services. He sees himself a nominal subject, and a real slave; and his children, the heirs, perhaps of his toils, perhaps of his talents, certainly of his disqualifications. Can you wonder he is violent?

He sees every pretended obstacle to his emancipation vanished; Catholic Europe your ally, the Bourbon on the throne, the emperor a captive, the pope a friend; the aspersions on his faith disproved by his allegiance to you. against, alternately, every potentate in Christendom, and he feels himself branded with hereditary degradation. Can you wonder, then, that he is violent?

He petitioned humbly: his tameness was construed into a proof of apathy. He petitioned boldly; his remonstrance was considered as an impudent audacity. He petitioned in peace; he was told it was not the time. He petitioned in he was told it was not the time. A strange interval,

war;

a prodigy in politics, a pause between peace and war, which appeared to be just made for him, arose. I allude to the period between the retreat of Louis and the restoration of Bonaparte. He petitioned then, and was told it was not the time.

Oh, shame! shame! shame! I hope he will petition no more to a parliament so equivocating. However, I am not sorry they did so equivocate, because I think they have suggested one common remedy for the grievances of both countries, and that remedy is, a REFORM OF THAT PARLIAMENT. FROM PHILLIPS.