loftily pronounced to be personal sycophancy and public spoil--the
plunder of the Abbeys, obtained by subserviency to a Tyrant. The
eloquence of this terrible castigation unhappily embalmed the scorn. And
so long as the works of this great man are read, and they will be read
so long as the language endures, the honours of Francis Duke of Bedford
will go down dismantled to posterity.

But his private character was amiable, and the closing hours of his
career were manly. On its being announced to him that an operation was
necessary, he asked only for "two hours delay to settle his affairs;"
and he occupied those two hours in writing to his brothers, and to some
friends. He then offered to submit to be bound, if the operators should
think it necessary; but they replied, "that they relied fully on his
Grace's firmness of mind." He bore the trial with remarkable fortitude.
But the disorder took an unfavourable turn, and on the third day he
expired.

The retirement of Pitt from the Ministry, has given his successor,
Addington, the honour of making the peace. But the services of the great
Master are not eclipsed by the fortunes of the follower. Addington is
universally regarded as the shadow of Pitt; moving only as he moves;
existing by his existence; and exhibiting merely in outline his reality.
Every one believes that Pitt must return to power; and those who are
inclined to think sulkily of all ministers, look upon the whole as an
intrigue, to save Pitt's honour to the Irish Roman Catholics, and yet
preserve his power. Those rumours have received additional strength from
a grand dinner given the other day in the city, on his birthday, at
which his friends mustered in great force, and his name was toasted with
the most lavish panegyric. Among the rest, a song, said to be by George
Rose, of whose claims to the laurel no one had ever heard before--was
received with great applause. Some of its stanzas were sufficiently
applicable.

"No Jacobin rites in our fetes shall prevail,
Ours the true feast of reason, the soul's social flow;
Here we cherish the friend, while the patriot we hail,
As true to his country--as stern to her foe.
Impress'd with his worth,
We indulge in our mirth,
And bright shines the planet that ruled at his birth.
Round the orbit of Britain, oh, long may it move,
Like the satellite circling the splendours of Jove!

"To the name of a Pitt, in the day of the past,
Her