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pounds; so any malicious or morbid scoundrel (or both) might smash any rare piece of antiquity, and handing to the magistrate any sum over five pounds, bid him take the change out of that. I think a club might be formed for certain young chaps about town, to be called "The Independent Smashers." They might subscribe to a common. fund to pay fines; and each in turn draw for the pleasure of a bit of destruction. With the duty taken off the article, it would be remarkably cheap sport. However, there is no doubt of it, that Peel has got great glory by taking off this tax. A good deal of his reputation as a minister will be looked upon as glass; such side of his reputation in the eyes of an admiring country to be always "kept upwards."

We are to have sugar, too, at about three-halfpence a pound cheaper; which Mrs Hedgehog tells me will allow us to save at least sixpence a week: however, what we shall have to pay to protect the West Indians, she, poor soul, never dreams of, and I should be a brute to tell her. Therefore-poor thing she may now and then toast Sir Robert in her Twankay, without thinking of the £140,000 we lose in the other way. Then again, what we shall save in cotton is wonderful!

The auctioneers, too, are all right. They are to knock down at so much for life, instead of taking

out a yearly licence. It is thought that this enlarged piece of statesmanship came about out of compliment to George Robins, who, in one of his familiar letters to the Premier, said he'd rather have it so.

However, everybody says Sir Robert Peel's in for life. He's married Downing Street, and nothing but death can them part. One thing's certain, he's got a thumping surplus. And when any man in England gets that, folks are not very particular how he's come by it.

So no more at present from your affectionate brother-in-law, JUNIPER HEDgehog.

LETTER VII.-To John Squalid, Weaver,

DEAR JOHN,-I'm afraid you don't go the right way to make both ends meet. Your letter is full of complaints of poverty, and all that sort of disagreeable thing. I very much fear that you've got into expensive habits, or your sixteen shillings a week would be sure to go further. Why don't you be economical? why don't you copy the prudence shown you by high people? Look here, now. Just read this from Sir Robert Peel's speech.

He is speaking of the marriage (and economy) of Queen Victoria :—

"It has pleased God to bless that union with the birth of four children, and this, of course, caused a considerable additional demand upon the civil list. In the course of the last year three sovereigns have visited this country; amongst them were the sovereigns of two of the most powerful countries in the habitable globe-the Emperor of Russia and the King of the French."

I hope you blush now. Four children: and when-if you will only consider upon it-you come to think how much it costs for babies-how much in tops-and-bottoms alone-how much in short coating, worsted shoes, and all that,—can you, as a loyal subject, forbear to cast up your eyes and close your hands in wonderment at Sir Robert's picture of royal economy? There have been four children. and three kings come to Windsor Castle, and yet John Bull has never been asked for an extra shilling. If you owe anything anywhere, you are, after this, lost to all sense of self-respect. I give you up. Consider the expense borne by royalty for royal visitors! The extra night-candles-the extra clean sheets and pillow-cases, and yet not a farthing more, as yet, demanded! To be sure, it wouldn't have been very gracious towards the three sovereigns, if the bill for their entertainment

had been immediately sent down to Parliament: they might, as gentlemen, have felt inclined to send over their cheques for the amount: but-no matter for that.

I clearly see what lies before you-it's the union, and nothing less. And you don't know what that -under the benevolence of Sir James Graham— is to be yet. He has just brought in a bill for another experiment upon the poor. Indeed Graham, in his bills for the treatment of the poor, may be likened to one Dr Majendie, a French surgeon, in his treatment of rabbits. He would take a live rabbit and cut its nerves here and there to make some great discovery-to learn what point of agony the rabbit could bear-and still keep a sort of life within it, eat and drink. Graham is the PoorLaw Majendie! He's brought in something like a Settlement Bill; a bill which is to take the poor -to cut their nerves and heart-strings from their parishes-and settle them, when they need, what he in his droll manner calls relief, into unions, melting three-and-twenty parishes into one union! Old feelings-old affections for old places are to be nothing-ties of kindred nothing, nothing. Sir James will sever all these, and will then triumphantly show the world how well the human rabbit can exist with them cut through and through.

When in the fulness of years and reputation it


may please Providence to remove Sir James from this vale of tears—and certainly it's no fault of his measures if the vale is very dry-there ought to be a monument raised to his memory, made of paupers' bones.

However, history will be sure to do this for him. As the poor are to cease to have what is called any associations of place-why should they have any associations of particular names? Why should they not be lettered and numbered like the police ? Such a plan would go far to take the conceit out of them, by reminding them most forcibly of the difference between themselves and the luckier people who bear Christian and surnames. More, that there should be no mistake, no shuffling in the matter, the pauper babe, instead of being christened, might be indelibly tattooed both with letter and number. If at any time of its future life it should by some strange accident realise sufficient money to make it respectable, it might then be allowed to be baptized; in the same way that now a man, on coming to immense wealth, is allowed by the Gazette to slough the vulgarity of Wiggins into the aristocracy of Mosmancourt of Godolphin. I hope Sir James will think of this.

But the poor man was always a culprit. You heard I was once a lawyer's clerk, and so, John, respect my Latin. The poor were adscripti glebæ

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