Should a Tory Government succeed the present Cabinet, Mr Motley anticipates much trouble. Nothing, he says, can exceed the virulence with which the extreme Conservative party regard America, nor the delight with which they look forward to its extinction as a nation. The hatred to the English Radicals is, he has discovered, “the secret of the ferocity and brutality with which the ‘Times,’ the ‘Saturday Review,’ and other Tory organs of the press, have poured out their insults upon America ever since the war began.” How the journals thus classified may approve being linked together as Tory organs, we cannot say. To ourselves we, of course, see nothing personal in the general allusion, our leaning to Radicalism and Republicanism being too notorious to admit of any mistake. Subsequently Mr Motley writes a long essay about British matters, explaining the sentiments of the “venerable Premier of England” and our Foreign Minister, and criticising the speech made by Mr Gladstone at Newcastle, part of which makes him very angry, and causes him to express a hope that that statesman’s tongue may be blistered. Nor, unusual as his style of diplomatic correspondence may appear, does he stand quite alone in it. It is possible that the godfathers and godmothers of Mr Cassius Marcellus Clay are, in principal degree, responsible for the efforts made by that gentleman to attain notoriety. It would be mean to sneak obscurely about the world under such magnificent appellations. Better, in such a case, be called John Thomas. Hence, without any quality apparent that would entitle the bearer of these historic names to claim distinction amid the company of a pothouse, his efforts to become known in the world have been as unceasing as if he were some wronged genius entitled to a hearing. At the outbreak of hostilities he launched from Paris a tremendous defiance against our unfortunate country. Then he published a letter in the ‘Times,’ telling us what we ought to do in the American quarrel, and, in case we should not comply, threatening our great-grandchildren with the vengeance of we forget how many millions of unborn Yankees. At this time he was on his way to St Petersburg as United States Minister to Russia. For his guidance he had received one of Mr Seward’s most elaborate moral essays, beginning in this remarkable way: “Sir,—Nations, like individuals, have three prominent wants: first, freedom; secondly, prosperity; thirdly, friends. The United States early secured the two first objects by the exercise of courage and enterprise. But, although they have always practised singular moderation, they nevertheless have been slow in winning friends.” Fortified with a great deal of this kind of composition, Mr Clay arrived in the Russian capital. From his own correspondence we learn that he found the Emperor “absent in the direction of Moscow,” and being advised by the Assistant-Secretary of State to await his Majesty’s return, “I