ritain, Grub street, Billingsgate, and _Blackwood_."

Then there is a note at page 10: "Who can account for the eulogies of
_Blackwood_ on Sotheby's Homer as compared with Pope's and Cowper's?
Eulogy is not reported to be the side he _lies_ upon, in general."
On the same page, and the next, you say of Us, high Churchmen and
high Tories,

"Beneath the battlements of Holyrood
There never squatted a more sordid brood
Than that which now, across the clotted perch,
Crookens the claw and screams for Court and Church."

Then again at page 12,

"Look behind you, look!
There issues from the Treasury, dull and dry as
The leaves in winter, Gifford and Matthias.
Brighter and braver Peter Pindar started,
And ranged around him all the lighter-hearted,
When Peter Pindar sank into decline,
Up from his hole sprang Peter Porcupine"

All which is nothing to Us, but what does it lead to?

"Him W ... son follow'd"--

Why those dots, Mr. Landor?

"Him W ... son follow'd, of congenial quill,
As near the dirt and no less prone to ill.
Walcot, of English heart, had English pen,
Buffoon he might be, but for hire was none;
Nor plumed and mounted in Professor's chair
Offer'd to grin for wages at a fair."

The rest is too foul-mouthed for repetition. You are a man of nasty
ideas, Mr. Landor. You append a note, in which, without any
authority but common rumour, you exhibit the learned Professor as an
important contributor to Blackwood, especially in those graces of
delicate wit so attractive to his subcribers. You declare, too, that
we fight under cover, and only for spite and pay; that honester and
wiser satirists were brave, that--

"Their courteous soldiership, outshining ours,
Mounted the engine and took aim from towers;"

But that

"From putrid ditches we more safely fight,
And push our zig-zag parallels by night."

Again, at page 19--

"The Gentleman's, the Lady's we have seen,
Now blusters forth the Blackguard's Magazine;
And (Heaven from joint-stock companies protect us!)
Dustman and nightman issue their prospectus."

_Landor (who has sate listening, with a broad grin, while Mr. North
was getting rather red in the face_.)--Really, Mr. North,
considering that you have followed the trade of a currier for the
last thirty years, you are remarkably sensitive to any little
experiment on your own skin. Put what has my unpublished satire to
do with our present affai