So, then, Panic, or what remained of her, was put to bed again.  The Opposition retired into its kennel growling.  The People coughed like a man of two minds, doubting whether he has been divinely inspired or has cut a ridiculous figure.  The Press interpreted the cough as a warning to Government; and Government launched a big ship with hurrahs, and ordered the recruiting-sergeant to be seen conspicuously.

And thus we obtained a moderate reinforcement of our arms.

It was not arrived at by connivance all round, though there was a look of it.  Certainly it did not come of accident, though there was a look of that as well.  Nor do we explain much of the secret by attributing it to the working of a complex machinery.  The housewife’s remedy of a good shaking for the invalid who will not arise and dance away his gout, partly illustrates the action of the Press upon the country:  and perhaps the country shaken may suffer a comparison with the family chariot of the last century, built in a previous one, commodious, furnished agreeably, being all that the inside occupants could require of a conveyance, until the report of horsemen crossing the heath at a gallop sets it dishonourably creaking and complaining in rapid motion, and the squire curses his miserly purse that would not hire a guard, and his dame says, I told you so!—­Foolhardy man, to suppose, because we have constables in the streets of big cities, we have dismissed the highwayman to limbo.  And here he is, and he will cost you fifty times the sum you would have laid out to keep him at a mile’s respectful distance!  But see, the wretch is bowing:  he smiles at our carriage, and tells the coachman that he remembers he has been our guest, and really thinks we need not go so fast.  He leaves word for you, sir, on your peril to denounce him on another occasion from the magisterial Bench, for that albeit he is a gentleman of the road, he has a mission to right society, and succeeds legitimately to that bold Good Robin Hood who fed the poor.—­Fresh from this polite encounter, the squire vows money for his personal protection:  and he determines to speak his opinion of Sherwood’s latest captain as loudly as ever.  That he will, I do not say.  It might involve a large sum per annum.

Similes are very well in their way.  None can be sufficient in this case without levelling a finger at the taxpayer—­nay, directly mentioning him.  He is the key of our ingenuity.  He pays his dues; he will not pay the additional penny or two wanted of him, that we may be a step or two ahead of the day we live in, unless he is frightened.  But scarcely anything less than the wild alarum of a tocsin will frighten him.  Consequently the tocsin has to be sounded; and the effect is woeful past measure:  his hugging of his army, his kneeling on the shore to his navy, his implorations of his yeomanry and his hedges, are sad to note.  His bursts of pot-valiancy (the male side of the maiden