We must now follow Mr. Paine to America, and here we find him still combating every thing in the shape of corruption, of which no small portion seems to have crept into the management of the affairs of the United States. He now carried on a paper war with the persons who called themselves Federalists; a faction which seems to have been leagued for no other purpose but to corrupt and to appropriate to their own use the fruits of their corruption. Mr. Paine published various letters and essays on the state of affairs, and on various other subjects, after his return to America, the whole of which convince us that he never lost an iota of his mental and intellectual faculties, although he was exposed to much bodily disease and lingering pain. He found a very different disposition in the United States on his return to what he had left there, when he first went to France. Fanaticism had made rapid strides, and to a great portion of the inhabitants Mr. Paine's theological writings were a dreadful sore. He had also to combat the Washington and John Adams party, who were both his bitter enemies, so that instead of retiring to the United States to enjoy repose in the decline of life, he found himself molested by venomous creatures on all sides. His pen, however, continued an overmatch for the whole brood, and his last essay will be read by the lover of liberty with the same satisfaction as the first.

Mr. Paine was exposed to many personal annoyances by the fanatics of the United States, and it may not be amiss to state here a few anecdotes on this head. On passing through Baltimore he was accosted by the preacher of a new sect called the New Jerusalemites. "You are Mr. Paine," said the preacher. "Yes."-"My name is Hargrove, Sir; I am minister of the New Jerusalem Church here. We, Sir, explain the Scripture in its true meaning. The key has been lost above four thousand years, and we have found it."—"Then," said Mr. Paine in his usual sarcastic manner, "it must have been very rusty." At another time, whilst residing in the house of a Mr. Jarvis, in the city of New York, an old lady, habited in a scarlet cloak, knocked at the door, and inquired for Thomas Paine. Mr. Jarvis told her he was asleep. "I am very sorry for that," she said, "for I want to see him very particularly." Mr. Jarvis having some feeling for the age and the earnestness of the old lady, took her into Mr. Paine's bed room and waked him. He arose upon one elbow, and with a stedfast look at the old lady, which induced her to retreat a step or two, asked her, "What do you want?"-"Is your name Paine?"—"Yes."-"Well, then, I am come from Almighty God to tell you, that if you do not repent of your sins, and believe in our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ, you will be damned, and——"

"Poh, poh, it is not true. You were not sent with any such impertinent message. Jarvis, make her go away. Pshaw, he would not send such a foolish ugly old woman as you are about with his messages. Go away, go back, shut the door." The old lady raised her hands and walked away in mute astonishment.

Another instance of the kind happened about a fortnight before his death. Two priests, of the name of Milledollar and Cunningham, came to him, and the latter introduced himself and his companion in the following words, "Mr. Paine, we visit you as friends and neighbours. You have now a full view of death: you cannot live long, and 'whosoever does not believe in Jesus Christ will assuredly be damned.'"-"Let me," replied Mr. Paine, "have none of your Popish stuff. Get away with you. Good morning, good morning." Mr. Milledollar attempted to address him, but he was interrupted with the same language. A few days after those same priests had the impudence to come again, but the nurse was afraid to admit them. Even the doctor who attended him in his last minutes took the latest possible opportunity to ask him, "Do you wish to believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?" to which Mr. Paine replied, "I have no wish to believe on the subject." These were his last words, for he died the following morning about nine o'clock, about nine hours after the Doctor had left him.

Mr. Paine, over and above what might have been expected of him, seemed much concerned about what spot his body should be laid in some time before his death. He requested permission to be interred in the Quaker's Burial Ground, saying that they were the most moral and upright sect of Christians; but this was peremptorily refused to him in his life-time, and gave him much uneasiness, or such as might not have been expected from such a man. On this refusal he ordered his body to be interred on his own farm, and a stone placed over it with the following inscription:

THOMAS PAINE,
AUTHOR OF
COMMON SENSE,
DIED JUNE 8, 1809,
AGED 72 YEARS AND FIVE MONTHS.

Little did Mr. Paine think when giving this instruction, that the Peter Porcupine who had heaped so much abuse upon him, beyond that of all other persons put together (for Porcupine was the only scribbling opponent that Mr. Paine ever deigned to mention by name) little did he think that this Peter Porcupine, in the person of William Cobbett, should have become his second self in the political world, And should have so far renounced his former opinions and principles as to resent the indifference paid to Paine by the majority of the inhabitants of the United States, and actually remove his bones to England. I consider this mark of respect and honest indignation, as an ample apology for all the abuse helped upon the name and character of Paine by Mr. Cobbett. It is a volume of retractation, more ample and more convincing than his energetic pen could have produced. For my own part whilst we have his writings, I should have felt indifferent as to what became of his bones; but there was an open retractation due from Mr. Cobbett to the people of Britain, for his former abuse of Paine, and I for one am quite content with the apology made.

I shall now close this Memoir, and should the reader think the sketch insufficient, I would say to him that Mr. Paine's own writings will fill up the deficiency, as he was an actor as well as a writer in all the subjects on which he has treated. Wherever I have lightly touched an incident, the works themselves display the minutiæ, and when the reader has gone through the Memoir, and the Works too, he will say, "I am satisfied."

R. CARLILE, DORCHESTER GAOL, MAY 10, 1821.

ADVERTISEMENT.
This little Memoir of Mr. Paine was written purposely to
accompany a new Edition of his Political Works, lately
published by R. Carlile, and whilst it was in the press, it
occurred to him that it would be desirable as a pamphlet to
those persons who had made a previous purchase of those
works. Accordingly lie worked off 500 of them, and found
that they were all sold in a few weeks, without a single
advertisement beyond "The Republican." It has now been out
of print for above three months, and finding a constant, and
increasing demand for them, he has been induced to make a
few corrections and some slight additions, and to print a
second edition. Brief as the number of its pages must
appear, for so interesting a character, the Compiler feels
assured that it will be deemed sufficient by all persons who
may possess Mr Paine's writings, for whose satisfaction it
was solely written,