preappointed to such a life, and like the pigs to killing, "quite
used to it," I say nothing. But of Dukes, which Duke, I could
ask, has cocoa, soup, meat, and food in general made ready, so
fit for keeping him in health, in ability to do and to enjoy?
Which Duke has a house so thoroughly clean, pure and airy; lives
in an element so wholesome, and perfectly adapted to the uses of
soul and body as this same, which is provided here for the
Devil's regiments of the line? No Duke that I have ever known.
Dukes are waited on by deleterious French cooks, by perfunctory
grooms of the chambers, and expensive crowds of eye-servants,
more imaginary than real: while here, Science, Human Intellect
and Beneficence have searched and sat studious, eager to do their
very best; they have chosen a real Artist in Governing to see
their best, in all details of it, done. Happy regiments of the
line, what soldier to any earthly or celestial Power has such a
lodging and attendance as you here? No soldier or servant direct
or indirect of God or of man, in this England at present. Joy to
you, regiments of the line. Your Master, I am told, has his
Elect, and professes to be "Prince of the Kingdoms of this
World;" and truly I see he has power to do a good turn to those
he loves, in England at least. Shall we say, May _he_, may the
Devil give you good of it, ye Elect of Scoundrelism? I will
rather pass by, uttering no prayer at all; musing rather in
silence on the singular "worship of God," or practical "reverence
done to Human Worth" (which is the outcome and essence of all
real "worship" whatsoever) among the Posterity of Adam at this
day.

For all round this beautiful Establishment, or Oasis of Purity,
intended for the Devil's regiments of the line, lay continents of