"That's O'Connell," said the Queen.
"And very like him," said Prince Albert. And with all respect for his Royal Highness—(for, as we are slaves, we have learned to treat the Saxon with respect!) with all respect we ask, how he should presume to know it was like the deified lineaments of the sublime Liberator?—"And very like him!" said the Queen's husband; but—patience is the badge of all our tribe, and we'll let that pass.
But the withering insult is now to be recorded; if it do not, as we write it, turn our steel pen red-hot, and singe the paper into flames!
The Duke of Wellington—the second Duke—the son of O'Connell's "stunted corporal"—yes, Dux Secundus—presumed to "buy O'Connell and the peasantry!"
Think of that, oh countrymen! The Duke of Wellington dared to put his hand into his pocket, and to take out so much tax-wrung, Saxon gold, and—counting it piece by piece—he laid it down as the price of O'Connell!
What did he mean by that cowardly, atrocious, ready-money transaction? Why, this: by purchasing O'Connell he intended to fling this burning libel in the face of Ireland—he wished to show it as his decided opinion that O'Connell could be bought!!!
But the day of reckoning with the Saxon will come. Meantime, if we hug our chain, it is only to count and pay for the links!
A CLERK PAID IN KIND.
Law is looking up at Manchester—to judge from a paragraph in the Morning Herald; to wit—