from America: what a Transatlantic flavour, what a native gusto, what a
fine _sauce piquante_ of contempt they were seasoned with! If he had
sat down to look at himself in the glass, instead of looking about him
like Adam in Paradise, he would not have got up these articles in so
capital a style. What a noble account of his first breakfast after his
arrival in America! It might serve for a month. There is no scene on
the stage more amusing. How well he paints the gold and scarlet plumage
of the American birds, only to lament more pathetically the want of the
wild wood-notes of his native land! The groves of the Ohio that had
just fallen beneath the axe's stroke 'live in his description,' and the
turnips that he transplanted from Botley 'look green' in prose! How
well at another time he describes the poor sheep that had got the tick
and had bled down in the agonies of death! It is a portrait in the
manner of Bewick, with the strength, the simplicity, and feeling of that
great naturalist. What havoc be makes, when he pleases, of the curls of
Dr. Parr's wig and of the Whig consistency of Mr. [Coleridge?]! His
_Grammar_, too, is as entertaining as a story-book. He is too hard upon
the style of others, and not enough (sometimes) on his own.

As a political partisan no one can stand against him. With his
brandished club, like Giant Despair in the _Pilgrim's Progress_, he
knocks out their brains; and not only no individual but no corrupt
system could hold out against his powerful and repeated attacks, but
with the same weapon, swung round like a flail, that he levels his
antagonists, he lays his friends low, and puts his own party _hors de
combat_. This is a bad propensity., and a worse principle in political
tactics, though a common one. If his blows were straightforward and
steadily directed to the same object, no unpopular minister could live
before him; instead of which he lays about right and left, impartially
and remorselessly, makes a clear stage, has all the ring to himself, and