gentlemen—­all intimate friends or relations of my deeply erudite and profoundly philosophic Secretary of State for the Home Department, and author of “Yes and No,” (three vols.  Colburn) for the purpose of extending the knowledge of reading and writing, and the encouragement of circulating libraries all over the kingdom.

My consistent and uncompromising Secretary of State for the Colonies, having, since the publication of his spirited “Essays by a gentleman who has lately left his lodgings,” totally changed his opinions on the subject of the Corn Laws, a measure is in the course of preparation with a view to the repeal of those laws, and the continuance in office of my invaluable, tenacious, and incomparable ministry.

CAUTION.—­We have just heard from a friend in Somerset House, that it is the intention of the Commissioners of Stamps, from the glaring puffs embodied in the above speech, to proceed for the advertisement duty against all newspapers in which it is inserted.  For ourselves, we will cheerfully pay.

* * * * *

A German, resident in New York, has such a remarkably hard name, that he spoils a gross of steel pens indorsing a bill.

* * * * *

A NEW VERSION OF BELSHAZZAR’S FEAST.

[Illustration:  OLD GLORY’S WHIG TOP-BOOTS REFUSING TO CARRY HIM TO THE DINNER TO CAPTAIN ROUS.]

Such, we are credibly assured, was the determination of these liberal and enlightened leathers.  They had heard frequent whispers of a general indisposition on the part of all lovers of consistency to stand in their master’s shoes, and taking the insult to themselves, they lately came to the resolution of cutting the connexion.  They felt that his liberality and his boots were all that constituted the idea of Burdett; and now that he had forsaken his old party and joined Peel’s, the “tops” magnanimously decided to forsake him, and force him to take to—­Wellingtons.  We have been favoured with a report of the conversation that took place upon the occasion, and may perhaps indulge our readers with a copy of it next week.

In the mean time, we beg to subjoin a few lines, suggested by the circumstance of Burdett taking the chair at Rous’s feast, which strongly remind us of Byron’s Vision of Belshazzar.

  Burdett was in the chair—­
    The Tories throng’d the hall—­
  A thousand lamps were there,
    O’er that mad festival. 
  His crystal cup contain’d
    The grape-blood of the Rhine;
  Draught after draught he drain’d,
    To drown his thoughts in wine.

  In that same hour and hall
    A shade like “Glory” came,
  And wrote upon the wall
    The records of his shame. 
  And at its fingers traced
    The words, as with a wand,
  The traitorous and debased
    Upraised his palsied hand.