ay. And then his patience under Tory treatment--the
obedience of his swallow! "Admirable, excellent!" cried a certain doctor
(we will not swear that his name was not PEEL), when his patient pointed
to a dozen empty phials. "Taken them all, eh? Delightful! My dear sir, you
are _worthy_ to be ill." JOHN BULL having again called in the Tories, is
"worthy to be ill;" and very ill he will be.

The tenacity of life displayed by BULL is paralleled by a case quoted by
LE VAILLANT. That naturalist speaks of a turtle that continued to live
after its brain was taken from its skull, and the cavity stuffed _with
cotton_. Is not England, with spinning-jenny PEEL at the head of its
affairs, in this precise predicament? England may live; but inactive,
torpid; unfitted for all healthful exertion,--deprived of its grandest
functions--paralyzed in its noblest strength. We have a Tory Cabinet, but
where is the _brain_ of statesmanship?

Now, however, there are no Tories. Oh, no! Sir ROBERT PEEL is a
Conservative--LYNDHURST is a Conservative--all are Conservative. Toryism
has sloughed its old skin, and rejoices in a new coat of many colours; but
the sting remains--the venom is the same; the reptile that would have
struck to the heart the freedom of Europe, elaborates the self-same
poison, is endowed with the same subtilty, the same grovelling, tortuous
action. It still creeps upon its belly, and wriggles to its purpose. When
adders shall become eels, then will we believe that Conservatives cannot
be Tories.

When folks change their names--unless by the gracious permission of the
_Gazette_--they rarely do so to avoid the fame of brilliant deeds. It is
not the act of an over-sensitive modesty that induces _Peter Wiggins_ to
dub himself _John Smith_. Be certain of it, _Peter_ has not saved half a
boarding-school from the tremendous fire that entirely destroyed "Ringworm
House"--_Peter_ has not dived into the Thames, and rescued some
respectable attorney from a death hitherto deemed by his friends
impossible to him. It is from no such heroism that _Peter Wiggins_ is
compelled to take refuge in _John Smith_ from the oppressive admiration of
the world about him. Certainly not. Depend upon it, _Peter_ has been
signalised in the _Hue and Cry_, as one endowed with a love for the silver
spoons of other men--as an individual who, abusing the hospitality of his
lodgings, has conveyed away and sold the best goose feathers of his
landlady. What then, w