But hear it out.—"The sustenance of man."—mark ye now;—"the pot of the labourer; the oven of the cottager; the board of the marriage-feast, with all the fair faces surrounding it; the christening, and the merry-making; and even the sorrowful repast of those, who in the graves of their forefathers have deposited their dead;—yes, I am free to confess, my Lords, that there, on such occasions, should the healthful produce of our native fields be found in abundance. But would you have the repasts of England's valiant sons and lovely daughters drawn from foreign climes?—from fields unlike to those in which they have joyfully beheld the green blade shoot, and the poppy wave its gay head in the sun?—from fields barren to them of all dear associations and sympathies which are the nurture of the mind?—I will not wrong noble Lords so much as to suppose it."
BLOUNT.
If they can allow, after that, one penny loaf of foreign flour to thicken the pottage of a drover, they deserve to be choked with it themselves.
LORD WORRYMORE.
Ha! ha! ha! it amuses me to see you take it up so heartily. Well, I love you the better for it; though you do express your thoughts in your own sailor-like fashion. I thought it would strike you.—And you must do it justice, my young
