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    but that ' s a trifle : at every turn your eye encounters splendid streets , terraces , and lines of palaces , that flash the words which call up visions of triumphant battles , and * your country ' s heroes , and your victor chiefs ; they speak of gorgeous spoil and booty won , of nations conquered and of thousands slain , of hosts of enemies laid low , of mighty warrior guides who fled before a ' Briton ' s arm , ' of kine ; s

    who crouched to you and prayed for succour , and you gave it ; and they thanked you for it—how ?—as you deserved to be thanked ; but they have not touched your * glory / No , here are its monuments , here are its proofs , this is no dream . Here are the substantialities : — bound along , leap , leap in ecstasy , and cry , ' I too am an Englishman 1 * You feel not the chilling blast ; you do not shiver in the searching mist ; the flame of patriotic fire has thrown its glow down to your footsoles , you are warm , you are cordialed by the sparkling lights in

    crystal lamps and gilded chandeliers ; and the cheerful blaze which paints its laugh on dannask curtains close and snugly drawn , converting the dulness of quiet comfort ' s gifts to winking-eyed , voluptuous luxury . You see England's victories on every wall , her laurels at every step , her heroes at every portal . Her glory blazes from a thousand windows—shout again , * I too am an Englishman ! ' Then home to the scanty and exhausted ashes that lie on your shiver-giving chimney-hearth—your foodless board ; search each dim nook the twentieth time , fora chance morsel—with no hope of finding it—it is a habit

    you have acquired—for that moaning child ; it has not strength to cry . Look , its features are all wan and senseless , except those large

    glistening eyes : all other faculties of thought are dead ; in them is gathered and concentrated a sum of intelligence , which glares out from the protruding balls , wa )\ t—want—want , chill and misery . ' Look around—another , another , and another . ' Well , let him work—an industrious man need not want I am sure . ' Be silent , dolt , leadenhearted dolt ! There are thousands , who at the instant they are most profusely sweating under their toil of to-day , feel suddenly at their

    marrow the freezing- apprehension , that to-morrow industrious search , and eager entreaty , can find no toil to perform ; and the earned bread of to-day will be exhausted ere the sun dawn again . ' Then let him go to his parish , ; we pay enough 1 think . ' Silence ! How you , or any man who talks thus , has the folly to believe himself a Christian , it is not in the compass of my thoughts or imagination to conceive . Why you can have the impudence and hypocrisy to call any other man

    an infidel , is indeed clear . Warm this hearth with the nation ' s *>;\ ovy . Feed these starving with the honour of old England . Bid these cold and hungry be cheerful and rejoice , for England has won renown , and ocean owns her as its queen—ay—ay ; and distant earth has felt tho footsteps of her conquering sons upon its bosom . Point east , and west , and south , and tell this man , there his country ' s banner flouts ;

    tell him that nil t \\ v soils by myriads tilled and by nature smiled into spontaneous abundance of life ' s blessings , shall pout * those blessings into England at her leek : hear his exulting reply , — ' I am cut to the marrow by this sharp wind and sleet , and I want bread . ' Then laugh , or scoff , or spurn him , as a low , vulgar , incorrigibly discontented wretch , insensible of patriotism . Or send him a score of

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    Autobiography of Pel . Verjuice . 695

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• Citation
  • Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Oct. 2, 1833, page 695, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2624/page/35/