d be some time before a gypsy would hand
over his brother to the harum-beck, even supposing you would not only
make him a king, but a justice of the peace, and not only give him the
world, but the best farm on the Holkham estate; but gypsies are wild
foxes, and there is certainly a wonderful difference between the way of
thinking of the wild fox who retains his brush, and that of the scurvy
kennel creature who has lost his tail.

Ah! but thousands of Scotch, and particularly the Charlie o'er the water
people, will say, "We didn't sell Willie Wallace, it was our forbears who
sold Willie Wallace--If Edward Longshanks had asked us to sell Wullie
Wallace, we would soon have shown him that--" Lord better ye, ye poor
trumpery set of creatures, ye would not have acted a bit better than your
forefathers; remember how ye have ever treated the few amongst ye who,
though born in the kennel, have shown something of the spirit of the
wood. Many of ye are still alive who delivered over men, quite as honest
and patriotic as William Wallace, into the hands of an English minister,
to be chained and transported for merely venturing to speak and write in
the cause of humanity, at the time when Europe was beginning to fling off
the chains imposed by kings and priests. And it is not so very long
since Burns, to whom ye are now building up obelisks rather higher than
he deserves, was permitted by his countrymen to die in poverty and
misery, because he would not join with them in songs of adulation to
kings and the trumpery great. So say not that ye would have acted with
respect to William Wallace one whit better than your fathers--and you in
particular, ye children of Charlie, whom do ye write nonsense-verses
about? A family of dastard despots, who did their best, during a century
and more, to tread out the few sparks of independent feeling still
glowing in Scotland--but enough has been said about ye.

Amongst those who have been prodigal in abuse and defamation of Lavengro,
have been your modern Radicals, and particularly a set of people who
filled the country with noise against the King and Queen, Wellington, and
the Tories, in '32. About these people the writer will presently have
occasion to say a good deal, and also of real Radicals. As, however, it
may be supposed that he is one of those who delight to play the sycophant
to kings and queens, to curry favour with Tories, and to bepraise
Wellington, he begs leave to state that suc