f the whole conclave!--yet was each individual, perhaps, of
demure and sanctimonious manners, to whom the moral eye of a people
looked--villains all in the guise of goodness:--

"Vir bonus, omne forum quem spectat et omne tribunal,
Quandocuncque Deos vel porco vel bove placat,
Jane Pater, clare, clare, cum dixit, Apollo,
Labra movet metuens audiri--Pulchra Laverna,
Da mihi fallere, da justum sanctumque videri,
Noctem peccatis et fraudibus objice nubem."

We are told that there is such a disease as a cannibal madness, and that
it was common among the North American savages; that those seized with
it have a raving desire for human flesh, and rush like wolves upon all
they meet. Now, in what was this court of conscience better than these
cannibals? Better! a thousand times worse--for wolves are honest. Now I
well know, Eusebius, how I have put a coal under the very fountain of
your blood--and it is boiling at a fine rate. Let me allay it, and
follow the stage directions of "soft music;" only on this occasion we
omit the music, and take the rhyme. So here do I exhibit conscience in
its playful vein. Our friend S., the other day, repeated me off the
following lines; he cannot remember where he had them--he says it was
when a boy that he met with them somewhere. Call it the Conscientious
Toper; yet that is too common--it is the characteristic of all
topers--never was one that could not find an excuse. Drink wonderfully
elicits moral words, to compound for immoral deeds. Call it then--

THE CONTROVERSY.

No plate had John and Joan to hoard--
Plain folks in humble plight--
One only tankard graced their board,
But that was fill'd each night;

Upon whose inner bottom, sketch'd
In pride of chubby grace,
Some rude engraver's hand had etch'd
A baby angel's face.

John took at first a moderate sup--
But Joan was not like John--
For when her lips once touch'd the cup,
She swill'd till all was gone.

John often urged her to drink fair,
But she cared not a jot--
She loved to see that angel there,
And therefore drain'd the pot.

When John found all remonstrance vain,
Another card he play'd,
And where the angel stood so plain
He had a devil portray'd.

Joan saw the horns, Joan saw the tail,
Yet still she stoutly quaff'd,
And when her lips once touch'd the ale,
She clear'd it