The retirement of Pitt from the Ministry, has given his successor, Addington, the honour of making the peace. But the services of the great Master are not eclipsed by the fortunes of the follower. Addington is universally regarded as the shadow of Pitt; moving only as he moves; existing by his existence; and exhibiting merely in outline his reality. Every one believes that Pitt must return to power; and those who are inclined to think sulkily of all ministers, look upon the whole as an intrigue, to save Pitt's honour to the Irish Roman Catholics, and yet preserve his power. Those rumours have received additional strength from a grand dinner given the other day in the city, on his birthday, at which his friends mustered in great force, and his name was toasted with the most lavish panegyric. Among the rest, a song, said to be by George Rose, of whose claims to the laurel no one had ever heard before--was received with great applause. Some of its stanzas were sufficiently applicable. "No Jacobin rites in our fetes shall prevail, Ours the true feast of reason, the soul's social flow; Here we cherish the friend, while the patriot we hail, As true to his country--as stern to her foe. Impress'd with his worth, We indulge in our mirth, And bright shines the planet that ruled at his birth. Round the orbit of Britain, oh, long may it move, Like the satellite circling the splendours of Jove! "To the name of a Pitt, in the day of the past, Her rank 'mid the nations our country may trace; Though his statue may moulder, his memory will last, The great and the good live again in their race; Ere to time's distant day, Our marble convey The fame that now blooms, and will know no decay, Our fathers' example our breasts shall inspire And we'll honour the Son as they honour'd the Sire."