rible archangels ever stationed before the throne of Jehovah. They
stand clothed in white, girdled with golden girdles; they uplift vials,
brimming with the wrath of God. Their time is the day of vengeance;
their signal, the word of the Lord of hosts, "thundering with the voice
of His excellency."

"Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? or hast thou seen the
treasures of the hail, which I have reserved against the time of
trouble, against the day of battle and war?

"Go your ways. Pour out the vials of the wrath of God upon the earth."

It is done. The earth is scorched with fire; the sea becomes "as the
blood of a dead man;" the islands flee away; the mountains are not
found.

In this year, Lord Wellington assumed the reins in Spain. They made him
generalissimo, for their own salvation's sake. In this year he took
Badajos, he fought the field of Vittoria, he captured Pampeluna, he
stormed San Sebastian; in this year he won Salamanca.

Men of Manchester, I beg your pardon for this slight _resume_ of warlike
facts, but it is of no consequence. Lord Wellington is, for you, only a
decayed old gentleman now. I rather think some of you have called him a
"dotard;" you have taunted him with his age and the loss of his physical
vigour. What fine heroes you are yourselves! Men like you have a right
to trample on what is mortal in a demigod. Scoff at your ease; your
scorn can never break his grand old heart.

But come, friends, whether Quakers or cotton-printers, let us hold a
peace-congress, and let out our venom quietly. We have been talking with
unseemly zeal about bloody battles and butchering generals; we arrive
now at a triumph in your line. On the 18th of June 1812 the Orders in
Council were repealed, and the blockaded ports thrown open. You know
very well--such of you as are old enough to remember--you made Yorkshire
and Lancashire shake with your shout on that occasion. The ringers
cracked a bell in Briarfield belfry; it is dissonant to this day. The
Association of Merchants and Manufacturers dined together at Stilbro',
and one and all went home in such a plight as their wives would never
wish to witness more. Liverpool started and snorted like a river-horse
roused amongst his reeds by thunder. Some of the American merchants felt
threatenings of apoplexy, and had themselves bled--all, like wise men,
at this first moment of prosperity, prepared to rush into the bowels of
speculation, and to delve new dif