66 Not the professed pirates; not the upstart demagogues; not the undisguised rascals; for they at least are open, and though they put a pistol to your head, tell you what they want. It is the pampered and cowardly hypocrites I mean, who used to sell themselves to the Crown, and now sell themselves to the people, because they think the people likely to be strongest. It is these who have betrayed us, to save themselves. But, though plunged to the chin in disgrace, they are only like the horse and the man in the fable. I only hope the man will ride them hard enough.' Etheredge in vain told him they would rally, in time to avert this catastrophe. 66 Gorewell gave him another fable. There was a lion once, you know, a very great fool, who, to secure his happiness, and remove all cause of fear of him, submitted to have his claws cut off; and he was properly knocked on the head for his pains. Such are the empirics who quelled us with the belief that they were honest; such the gulls who did, and do support them, thinking that well-meaning will be their protection. But this shallow foresight will not avail them. The time approaches, when the Old England you just mentioned, will be New England; and when tailors, political quacks, and bankrupt lawyers will govern, because gentlemen are un worthy or afraid of doing so. Even the king (if he is permitted), will be forced to seck his own in Germany, which the changed, rascally, and still pretending John Bull refuses him here. In short, the political and moral atmosphere of England is as bad for the health of the mind, as its fogs for the body. Shall I not leave it?" “And whither will you go?" said Etheredge. "To America, which you once so vituperated ?" "I might do worse," returned he; "for even Jonathan has grown more honest, and a much better gentleman, than his father." "As he had now intrenched himself behind the door of his post-chaise," adds Etheredge, "I could not push the argument any farther, had I been inclined to it; but knowing the determination of the man when he thought himself right, as he did here, I saw him drive off, though with regret. His many virtues made us sorry to lose him; and moreover, I was not so comfortably sure as I wished to be, that he was wrong. "Isabel is much edified by your tour, and hopes you will extend it to the Continent, where she says she so far agrees with Gorewell, as to allow there is greater happiness among the people, than in our boasted land of liberty and discontent. Your visit to Easington Hall was more than amusing. I wish there were more Heart frees among us. mightily." Your Willoughby, too, I like Such was the graphic account of a man made for better things, whom it was a pity to think was lost to his country, which it would have been better for him to have endeavoured to save, than abandon. But this proceeded not from cowardice, or indifference; for could his life have saved England from the danger he apprehended, he would have laid it down for her. His real incentive was indignation, partly, no doubt, occasioned by his own wrongs, mainly at the meanness to which he saw our great ones stoop. And here it will, perhaps, be convenient if I interrupt the immediate course of my narrative, to come at once to a continuation of the subject of Gorewell, although it occurred at a more distant epoch of time. SECTION X. A VOLUNTARY EXILE. "All places that the eye of Heaven visits, RICHARD II. My own wishes, and Etheredge and Lady Isabel's advice, had sent me abroad, and to that particular region which they both of them had so much cause to love. They told me that I should there find much food for observation; and in particular, for the proof, where there is natural and constitutional contentedness, how little either of wealth, or equality, is necessary to make a people happy. In short, among other parts of Germany, I visited Wiesbaden, which I would not again mention after all that has been said of it in a former part of these Memoirs, but for an incident which much excited me. My lodgings faced the south, and looked upon a cheerful Boulevard, between a double row of sycamores, where it was the custom for the high and low of the place, men, women, and children, to walk either on business, or for pleasure; so that there was no want of movement at any time of the day. As this was what I liked, I was often at my window to behold the passing world, which, in truth, seemed full of quiet cheerfulness and good-nature-the good-nature of Germany. The constancy with which a particular man at particular hours paced this walk, and the generally pleased attention he seemed to give to all about him, would alone have engaged me; but he also seemed no common personage with all the animated beings, of whatever kind or degree, that passed or repassed him. Not only the upper orders all saluted him, but the lower of both sexes, going to or from market with their baskets, or water-tubs on their heads, greeted him with smiles and "Guten Tag's." Little children danced and sung around, and made him laugh; the dogs capered and caressed; and even cats and kittens gambolled about him. All seemed to know him; and he had a word or a nod for every one, whether of human or brute kind. He had generally, also, corn in his pocket, with which he enticed the neighbouring pigeons, who flew away as soon as the stock was exhausted. Upon one of these occasions, he said to my landlord, who related it to me:- "The rascals! they are |