l--sent either for copy or a proof--deposes that our
friend seized him, and laying him in his lap, insisted upon feeding him
with his goose-quill, at the same time dipping that noisome instrument in
his ink-bottle. The said devil declares that with all his experience of
the various qualities of various inks used by gentlemen upon town, he
never met with ink at once so muddy and so sour as the ink of the
_Athenaeum_. We do not deny the statement of the devil as to what he calls
the assault committed upon him; but the fact is, the editor was not in his
own study, but was "taking his turn" at the pap-spoon of the Duke of
CORNWALL!

Betty, the editor's housemaid, has given warning, declaring that she
cannot live with any gentleman who insists upon taking her in his arms,
and tossing her up and down as if she was no more than a baby; at the same
time making a chirruping noise with his mouth, and calling her "poppet"
and "chickabiddy." Well, we allow all this, and boldly ask, What of it? We
grant the "poppet;" we concede the "chickabiddy;" and then sternly inquire
if an excess of loyalty is to impugn the reason of the most ratiocinative
editor? Does not the thing speak for itself? If BETTY were not a fool, she
would know that her master--good, regular man!--meant nothing more than,
under the auspices of Mrs. LILLY, to dandle the Duke of CORNWALL.

A taxgatherer, calling upon the editor for the Queen's taxes, could get
nothing out of our respected friend, but "Ride a cock-horse to Bamberry
Cross!" If taxgatherers were not at once the most vindictive and the most
stupid of men (it is said Sir ROBERT has ordered them to be very
carnivorous this Christmas), the fellow would never have called in a
broker to alarm our excellent coadjutor, but would at once have seen that
the genius of the _Athenaeum_ was taking his turn in Buckingham Palace,
singing a nursery _canzonetta_ to the Duke of CORNWALL!

And is it for these, to us beautiful evidences of an absorbing loyalty--of
a feeling that is true as truth, for if it was a mere conventional flame
we should take no note of it--that the editor of the _Athenaeum_, a most
grave, considerate gentleman, should be cited to Gray's-inn Coffee-house,
and by an ignorant and unimaginative mob of jurymen voted incapable of
writing reviews upon his own books, or the books of other people?

The question that we would here open is one of great and social political
importance. There is an end of pers