l-organs in Charing Cross might record to a
late posterity the capture of Chiavari.

I am not without a certain sort of self-reproach in all this. I feel
it is a weakness perhaps, but I feel that we are all of us too hard on
these organ fellows--for, after all, are they not, in a certain sense,
the type and embodiment of our age? Is not repetition, reiteration, our
boldest characteristic? Is there, I ask, such a "Grind" in the world as
Locke King, and his motion for Reform? What do you say to "Rest and be
thankful," and, above all, what to the "Peace-at-any-price people"?

Is 'Cherry ripe' more wearisome than these? Would all Chiavari assembled
on Wimbledon make up a drearier discord than a ministerial explanation?
In all your experience of bad music, do you know anything to equal a
Foreign Office despatch? and we are without a remedy against
these. Bring up John Bright to-morrow for incessantly annoying the
neighbourhood of Birmingham, by insane accusations against his own
country and laudations of America, and I doubt if you could find a
magistrate on the bench to commit him; and will you tell me that the
droning whine of 'Garibaldi's March' is worse than this? As to the
_Civis Romanus_ cant, it is too painful to dwell on, now that we are
derided, ridiculed, and sneered at from Stockholm to Stamboul. Like
Canning's philanthropist, we have been asking every one for his story;
never was there a soul so full of sympathy for sorrow. We have heard the
tale of Italy, the sufferings of the Confederates, the crying wrongs
of Poland, and the still more cruel, because less provoked, trials of
Denmark. We have thrown up hands and eyes--sighed, groaned, wept; we
have even denounced the ill-doers, and said, What a terrible retribution
awaited them! but, like our great prototype, when asked for assistance,
we have said,

"I'll see you ------ first."

Let us be merciful, therefore, and think twice before we batter down
Chiavari. The organ nuisance is a bore, no doubt; but what are the most
droning ditties that ever addled a weary head, compared to the tiresome
grind of British moral assistance, and the greatness of that _Civis
Romanus_ who hugs his own importance and helps nobody?

R. N. F. THE GREAT CHEVALIER D'INDUSTRIE OF OUR DAY.

I was struck the other day by an account of an application made to the
Lord Mayor of London by a country clergyman, to give, as a warning to
others, publicity to a letter he had just receiv