broad-cloth--can we marvel at the simper of the artisan fresh from his
beef and pudding, solaced with tobacco and porter? Surely not; for the
smile breaks under the highest patronage; nay, even broad grins would have
the noblest warranty, for his Grace the Duke of Wellington has pronounced
rags to be the livery only of wilful idleness--has stamped on the
withering brow of destitution the brand of the drunkard. Therefore, clap
your hands to your pulpy sides, oh well-dressed, well-to-do London, and
disdaining the pettiness of a simper, laugh an ogre's laugh at the rags of
Manchester--grin like a tickled Polyphemus at the hunger of Bolton!

Our babbling, anile friend, in the very looseness of her prating has let
out the truth. Or rather--a common custom with her--she has talked in her
sleep. Her very weakness has, however, given a point to her revelation.

"Diamonds dart their brightest lustre,
_from a palsy-shaken head_!"

In the midst of her snores she has but revealed the plot entered into
between those most respectable conspirators, Broad Cloth and Beef, against
those old offenders, those incorrigible miscreants, Rags and Want! The
confederacy is, to be sure, older than the crucified thieves; but then it
has not been so undisguisedly avowed. Broad Cloth has, on the contrary,
affected a sympathy with tatters, though with a constancy of purpose has
refused an ell from its trailing superfluity to solace the wretchedness;
the tears of Beef dropt on the lank abdomen of Starvation, are ancient as
post diluvian crocodiles.--but it has spared no morsel to the object of
its hypocritic sorrow. Now, however, even the decency of deceit is to be
dropt, and Broad Cloth is to make sport with the nakedness of the land,
and merry Beef is to roar like the bulls of Bashan at the agonies of
famine!