my coffee, which, thanks to my meditation, is as cold as Queen Elizabeth, and walks as fancy free—at least from any fancy of mine,—I have been debating, whether in emulation of the patriots of Rome, I should not arise and stab you to the heart with one of these knives—yonder columns having informed me that England, 'that precious stone set in a silver sea,' is on the brink of destruction, and that you are the political Thalaba of her peace and plenty; or to speak in less embroidered language, that the present ministry are the destruction of the country, and that you are worst among the bad. I have shuddered at the excess of your guilt. Luckily, farther to ascertain the extent of your enormity, I took up another newspaper; and now I am only anxious to make my homages acceptable to the deliverer of his country, and express my admiration of the patriotic minister in sufficiently earnest terms."
"I answer with Rosalind," said Mr. Delawarr—
" 'Which will you have—me or your pearl again?
Neither of either—I reject both twain.'
I am afraid I am neither quite worthy of the praise, nor, I trust, deserving of the censure;—
