Yes-"muzzled " was the word, Sir John-
These fools have clapp'd a muzzle on
The boldest mouth that e'er ran o'er
With slaver of the times of yore !*-
Was it for this that back I went
As far as Lateran and Trent,

To prove that they, who damn'd us then,
Ought now, in turn, be damn'd again?—
The silent victim still to sit

Of Gr-tt-n's fire and C-nn-g's wit,
To hear ev'n noisy M-th-w gabble on,
Nor mention once the W-e of Babylon!
Oh! 'tis too much-who now will be
The Nightman of No-Popery?
What Courtier, Saint, or even Bishop,
Such learned filth will ever fish up?
If there among our ranks be one

To take my place, 'tis thou, Sir John;

Thou, who, like me, art dubb'd Right Hon.
Like me too, art a Lawyer Civil
That wishes Papists at the devil.

To whom then but to thee, my friend,
Should Patrick his Port-folio send?
Take it 'tis thine- his learn'd Port-folio,
With all its theologic olio

1 This letter, which contained some very heavy enclosures, seems to have been sent to London by a private hand, and then put into the Twopenny Post-Office, to save trouble. See the Appendix.

2 In sending this sheet to the Press, however, I learn that the "muzzle" has been taken off, and the Right Hon. Doctor again let loose!

3 A bad name for poetry: but D-gen-n is still worse. — As Prudentius says upon a very different subject

Torquetur Apollo

Nomine percussus.

Of Councils, held for men's salvation,
Yet always ending in damnation-

(Which shows that, since the world's creation,
Your Priests, whate'er their gentle shamming,
Have always had a taste for damning,)
And many more such pious scraps,

To prove (what we've long prov'd, perhaps,)
That, mad as Christians us'd to be
About the Thirteenth Century,
There still are Christians to be had
In this, the Nineteenth, just as mad!

Farewell-I send with this, dear N-ch-1,
A rod or two I've had in pickle
Wherewith to trim old Gr-tt-n's jacket.—
The rest shall go by Monday's packet.

P. D

Among the Enclosures in the foregoing Letter was the following "Unanswerable Argument against the Papists."

*

WE'RE told the ancient Roman nation
Made use of spittle in lustration;^
(Vide Lactantium ap. Gallæum3-
i. e. you need not read but see 'em ;)
Now, Irish Papists, fact surprising,
Make use of spittle in baptizing;

Which proves them all, O'Finn's, O'Fagans,
Connors, and Tooles, all downright Pagans.
This fact's enough;-let no one tell us
To free such sad, salivous fellows.-
No, no-the man, baptiz'd with spittle,
Hath no truth in him—not a tittle!

FROM ABDALLAH, IN LONDON, TO MOHASSAN,
IN ISPAHAN.

WHILST thou, Mohassan, (happy thou!)
Dost daily bend thy loyal brow
Before our King- our Asia's treasure!
Nutmeg of Comfort; Rose of Pleasure!-
And bear'st as many kicks and bruises
As the said Rose and Nutmeg chooses;
Thy head still near the bowstring's borders,
And but left on till further orders -
Through London streets with turban fair,
And caftan, floating to the air,

I saunter on, the admiration

Of this short-coated population

This sew'd-up race - this button'd nation-
Who, while they boast their laws so free,
Leave not one limb at liberty,

But live, with all their lordly speeches,
The slaves of buttons and tight breeches.

Yet, though they thus their knee-pans fetter (They're Christians, and they know no better)' In some things they're a thinking nation; And, on Religious Toleration,

Mr. L-ck-e in their new Oriental Plan of Reform. - See the second of these Letters. How Abdallah's epistle to Ispahan found its way into the Twopenny Post-Bag is more than I can pretend to account for.

3" C'est un honnête homme," said a Turkish governor of De Ruyter;" c'est grand dommage qu'il soit Chrétien.”

I own I like their notions quite,
They are so Persian and so right!
You know our Sunnites',- hateful dogs!
Whom every pious Shiite flogs

Or longs to flog'-'tis true, they pray
To God, but in an ill-bred way;
With neither arms, nor legs, nor faces
Stuck in their right, canonic places.3
'Tis true, they worship Ali's name
Their Heav'n and ours are just the same
(A Persian's Heav'n is easily made,
'Tis but black eyes and lemonade.)
Yet, though we've tried for centuries back
We can't persuade this stubborn pack,
By bastinadoes, screws, or nippers,
To wear th' establish'd pea-green slippers."
Then, only think, the libertines!

They wash their toes- they comb their chins,
With many more such deadly sins;

And what's the worst (though last I rank it), Believe the Chapter of the Blanket!

Yet, spite of tenets so flagitious,
(Which must, at bottom, be seditious;
Since no man living would refuse

Green slippers, but from treasonous views;
Nor wash his toes, but with intent
To overturn the government,) —
Such is our mild and tolerant way,
We only curse them twice a day
(According to a Form that's set),
And, far from torturing, only let
All orthodox believers beat 'em,

And twitch their beards, where'er they meet 'em.

As to the rest, they're free to do Whate'er their fancy prompts them to, Provided they make nothing of it Tow'rds rank or honour, power or profit; Which things, we nat'rally expect, Belong to us, the Establish'd sect, Who disbelieve (the Lord be thanked!) Th' aforesaid Chapter of the Blanket. The same mild views of Toleration Inspire, I find, this button'd nation,

1 Sunnites and Shiites are the two leading sects into which the Mahometan world is divided; and they have gone on cursing and persecuting each other, without any intermission, for about eleven hundred years. The Sunni is the established sect in Turkey, and the Shia in Persia; and the differences between them turn chiefly upon those important points, which our pious friend Abdallah, in the true spirit of Shiite Ascendency, reprobates in this Letter.

2 Les Sunnites, qui étoient comme les Catholiques de Musulmanisme." - D'Herbelot.

3" In contradistinction to the Sounis, who in their prayers cross their hands on the lower part of their breast, the Schiahs drop their arms in straight lines; and as the Sounis, at certain periods of the prayer, press their foreheads on the ground or carpet, the Schiahs," &c. &c. Forster's Voyage.

4" Les Turcs ne détestent pas Ali réciproquement; au contraire, ils le reconnoissent," &c. &c. - Chardin.

"The Shiites wear green slippers, which the Sunnites consider as a great abomination."- Mariti.

6 For these points of difference, as well as for the Chapter of the Blanket, I must refer the reader (not having the book by me) to Picart's Account of the Mahometan Sects.

7 This will appear strange to an English reader, but it is literally translated from Abdallah's Persian, and the curious bird to which he alludes is the Juftak, of which I find the following account in Richardson:"A sort of bird, that is said to have but one wing; on the opposite side to which the male has a hook and the female a ring, so that, when they fly, they are fastened together."

8 From motives of delicacy, and, indeed, of fellow-feeling. I suppress the name of the Author, whose rejected manuscript was enclosed in this letter.- See the Appendix.

A month aboard ship and a fortnight on land Puts your Quarto of Travels, Sir, clean out of hand.

An East-India pamphlet's a thing that would tell

And a lick at the Papists is sure to sell well.
Or-supposing you've nothing original in you —
Write Parodies, Sir, and such fame it will win you,
You'll get to the Blue-stocking Routs of Albinia!"
(Mind-not to her dinners-a second-hand Muse
Mustn't think of aspiring to mess with the Blues.)
Or-in case nothing else in this world you can
do-

The deuce is in't, Sir, if you cannot review!

Should you feel any touch of poetical glow, We've a Scheme to suggest Mr. Sc-tt, you

must know,

-

(Who, we're sorry to say it, now works for the

Row 3)

Having quitted the Borders, to seek new renown,
Is coming, by long Quarto stages, to Town;
And beginning with Rokeby (the job's sure to pay)
Means to do all the Gentlemen's Seats on the way.
Now, the Scheme is (though none of our hackneys
can beat him)
[him;
To start a fresh Poet through Highgate to meet
Who, by means of quick proofs-no revises -
long coaches

May do a few Villas, before Sc-tt approaches.
Indeed, if our Pegasus be not curst shabby,
He'll reach, without found'ring, at least Woburn-
Abbey.

1 Sir John Carr, the author of "Tours in Ireland, Holland, Sweden," &c. &c.

2 This alludes, I believe, to a curious correspondence, which is said to have passed lately between Alb-n-a, Countess of B-ck-gh-ms-e, and a certain ingenious Parodist.

3 Paternoster Row.

4 This Letter enclosed a Card for the Grand Fête on the 5th of February.

5 An amateur actor of much risible renown.

LETTER VIII.

Yours, et cetera.

FROM COLONEL TH-M-S TO SK-FF-NGT-N, ESQ.

COME to our Fête, and bring with thee
Thy newest, best embroidery.

Come to our Fête, and show again
That pea-green coat, thou pink of men,
Which charm'd all eyes that last survey'd it;
When Br-mm-l's self inquir'd "who made
it ?"-

6

When Cits came wond'ring, from the East, And thought thee Poet Pye at least!

Oh! come, (if haply 'tis thy week For looking pale,) with paly cheek; Though more we love thy roseate days, When the rich rouge-pot pours its blaze Full o'er thy face, and, amply spread, Tips even thy whisker-tops with redLike the last tints of dying Day That o'er some darkling grove delay.

Bring thy best lace, thou gay Philander,
(That lace, like H-rry Al-x-nd-r,
Too precious to be wash'd,)-thy rings,
Thy seals in short, thy prettiest things!
Put all thy wardrobe's glories on,
And yield in frogs and fringe, to none
But the great R-g-t's self alone;
Who-by particular desire -

For that night only, means to hire
A dress from Romeo C-tes, Esquire.
Hail, first of Actors! best of R-g-ts!
Born for each other's fond allegiance!
Both gay Lotharios-both good dressers-
Of serious Farce both learn'd Professors
Both circled round, for use or show,
With cock's combs, wheresoe'er they go!'

HORAT

Quem tu, Melpomene, semel Nascentem placido lumine, videris, &c. The Man, upon whom thou hast deign'd to look funny, Oh Tragedy's Muse! at the hour of his birth — Let them say what they will, that's the Man for my money, Give others thy tears, but let me have thy mirth: The crest of Mr. C-tes, the very amusing amateur tragedan here alluded to, was a cock; and most profusely were his liveries, harness, &c. covered with this ornament.

Thou know'st the time, thou man of lore!
It takes to chalk a ball-room floor-
Thou know'st the time, too, well-a-day!
It takes to dance that chalk away.'
The Ball-room opens - far and nigh
Comets and suns beneath us lie;

O'er snow-white moons and stars we walk,
And the floor seems one sky of chalk!
But soon shall fade that bright deceit,
When many a maid, with busy feet
That sparkle in the lustre's ray,

O'er the white path shall bound and play
Like Nymphs along the Milky Way:-
With every step a star hath fled,

And suns grow dim beneath their tread!
So passeth life (thus Sc-tt would write,
And spinsters read him with delight,) —
Hours are not feet, yet hours trip on,
Time is not chalk, yet time's soon gone!*

But, hang this long digressive flight!—
I meant to say, thou'lt see, that night,
What falsehood rankles in their hearts,
Who say the Pre neglects the arts-
Neglects the arts?-no, Str-hl—g3, no;
Thy Cupids answer "'tis not so;"
And every floor, that night, shall tell
How quick thou daubest, and how well.
Shine as thou may'st in French vermilion,
Thou'rt best, beneath a French cotillion;
And still com'st off, whate'er thy faults,
With flying colours in a Waltz.

Nor need'st thou mourn the transient date
To thy best works assign'd by fate.
While some chef-d'œuvres live to weary one,
Thine boast a short life and a merry one;
Their hour of glory past and gone
With "Molly put the kettle on!"4

But, bless my soul! I've scarce a leaf
Of paper left-so, must be brief.

This festive Fête, in fact, will be The former Fête's fac-simile; The same long Masquerade of Rooms, All trick'd up in such odd costumes, (These, P-rt-r", are thy glorious works!) You'd swear Egyptians, Moors, and Turks, Bearing Good-Taste some deadly malice, Had clubb'd to raise a Pic-Nic Palace;

And each to make the olio pleasant Had sent a State-Room as a present. The same fauteuils and girandolesThe same gold Asses', pretty souls! That, in this rich and classic dome, Appear so perfectly at home.

The same bright river 'mong the dishes, But not ah! not the same dear fishes Late hours and claret kill'd the old onesSo 'stead of silver and of gold ones,

(It being rather hard to raise

Fish of that specie now a-days)

Some sprats have been by Y-rm-th's wish,
Promoted into Silver Fish,

And Gudgeons (so V-ns-tt-t told
The R-g-t) are as good as Gold!

So, prithee, come-our Fête will be
But half a Fête if wanting thee.

AMONG the papers, enclosed in Dr. D-g-n-n's Letter, was found an Heroic Epistle in Latin verse, from Pope Joan to her Lover, of which, as it is rather a curious document, I shall venture to give some account. This female Pontiff was a native of England, (or, according to others, of Germany,) who, at an early age, disguised herself in male attire, and followed her lover, a young ecclesiastic, to Athens, where she studied with such effect, that upon her arrival at Rome, she was thought worthy of being raised to the Pontificate. This Epistle is addressed to her Lover (whom she had elevated to the dignity of Cardinal), soon after the fatal accouchement, by which her Fallibility was betrayed. She begins by reminding him tenderly of the time, when they were together at Athens-when, as she says,

66

Ah, then how little did we think or hope, "Dearest of men, that I should e'er be Pope;"

5C-rlt-n He will exhibit a complete fac-simile, in respect to interior ornament, to what it did at the last Fête. The same splendid draperies," &c. &c. - Morning Post.

6 Mr. Walsh Porter, to whose taste was left the furnishing of the rooms of Carlton House.

The salt-cellars on the Pre's own table were in the form of an Ass with panniers.

8 Spanheim attributes the unanimity, with which Joan was elected, to that innate and irresistible charm, by which her sex, though latent, operated upon the instinct of the Cardinals_"Non vi aliqua, sed concorditer, omnium in se converso desiderio, qua sunt blandientis sexus artes, latentes in hâc quanquam !"