continue--true piece of English stuff, Tom of Bedford--sharp as winter,
kind as spring.

Hail to thee, Tom of Bedford, or by whatever name it may please thee to
be called, Spring or Winter. Hail to thee, six-foot Englishman of the
brown eye, worthy to have carried a six-foot bow at Flodden, where
England's yeomen triumphed over Scotland's king, his clans and chivalry.
Hail to thee, last of England's bruisers, after all the many victories
which them hast achieved--true English victories, unbought by yellow
gold; need I recount them? nay, nay! they are already well known to
fame--sufficient to say that Bristol's Bull and Ireland's Champion were
vanquished by thee, and one mightier still, gold itself, thou didst
overcome; for gold itself strove in vain to deaden the power of thy arm;
and thus thou didst proceed till men left off challenging thee, the
unvanquishable, the incorruptible.

* * * * *

The writer now wishes to say something on the subject of canting
nonsense, of which there is a great deal in England. There are various
cants in England, amongst which is the religious cant. He is not going
to discuss the subject of religious cant: lest, however, he should be
misunderstood, he begs leave to repeat that he is a sincere member of the
old-fashioned Church of England, in which he believes there is more
religion, and consequently less cant, than in any other Church in the
world; nor is he going to discuss many other cants; he shall content
himself with saying something about two--the temperance cant and the
unmanly cant. Temperance canters say that, 'it is unlawful to drink a
glass of ale.' Unmanly canters say that 'it is unlawful to use one's
fists.' The writer begs leave to tell both these species of canters that