contended for, in comparison, were the toys of children.

The October politician is so full of charity and good-nature, that he
supposes that these very robbers and murderers themselves are in a
course of melioration: on what ground I cannot conceive, except on the
long practice of every crime, and by its complete success. He is an
Origenist, and believes in the conversion of the Devil. All that runs in
the place of blood in his veins is nothing but the milk of human
kindness. He is as soft as a curd,--though, as a politician, he might be
supposed to be made of sterner stuff. He supposes (to use his own
expression) "that the salutary truths which he inculcates are making
their way into their bosoms." Their bosom is a rock of granite, on which
Falsehood has long since built her stronghold. Poor Truth has had a hard
work of it, with her little pickaxe. Nothing but gunpowder will do.

As a proof, however, of the progress of this sap of Truth, he gives us a
confession they had made not long before he wrote. "'Their fraternity'
(as was lately stated by themselves in a solemn report) 'has been the
brotherhood of Cain and Abel,' and 'they have organized nothing but
bankruptcy and famine.'" A very honest confession, truly,--and much in
the spirit of their oracle, Rousseau. Yet, what is still more marvellous
than the confession, this is the very fraternity to which our author
gives us such an obliging invitation to accede. There is, indeed, a
vacancy in the fraternal corps: a brother and a partner is wanted. If we
please, we may fill up the place of the butchered Abel; and whilst we
wait the destiny of the departed brother, we may enjoy the advantages of
the partnership, by entering without delay into a shop of ready-made
bankruptcy and famine. These are the _douceurs_ by which we are invited
to Regicide fraternity and friendship. But still our author considers
the confession as a proof that "truth is making its way into their