Repeal the union, and you remedy this. You 'll have him at home with you--not masquerading about in the disguise of a gentleman--not restricted by the habits of cultivated and civilised life--not tamed down into the semblance and mockery of good conduct--no longer the chained-up animal of the menagerie, but the roaring, rampant lion, roaming at large in his native forest--not performing antics before some political Van Amburgh--not opening his huge jaws, as though he would devour the Whigs, and shutting them again at the command of his keeper--but howling in all the freedom of his passion, and lashing his brawny sides with his vigorous “tail.” Haydn, the composer, had an enormous appetite; to gratify which, when dining at a tavern, he ordered a dinner for three. The waiter delayed in serving, as he said the company hadn't yet arrived, but Haydn told him to bring it up at once, remarking, as he patted complacently his paunch, “I am de compagnie myself.” Such will you have the case in your domestic parliament--Dan will be the company himself. No longer fighting in the ranks of opposition, or among the supporters of a government--no more the mere character of a piece, he will then be the Jack Johnson of the political world, taking the money at the door--in which he has had some practice already--he will speak the prologue, lead the orchestra, prompt the performers, and announce a repetition of the farce every night of the week for his own benefit. Only think what he is in England with his “forty thieves” at his back, and imagine what he will be in Ireland without one honest man to oppose him. He will indeed then be well worth seeing, and if Ireland had no other attraction, foreigners might visit us for a look at the Liberator. He is a droll fellow, is Dan, and there is a strong dash of native humour in his notion of repeal. What strange scenes, to be sure, it would conjure up. Only think for a moment of the absentee lord, an exiled peer, coming back to Dublin after an absence of half his lifetime, vainly endeavouring to seem pleased with his condition, and appear happy with his home. Like an insolvent debtor affecting to joke with the jailer, watch him simulating so much as he can of habits he has long forgotten, while his ignorance of his country is such, that he cannot direct his coachman to a street in the capital. What a ludicrous view of life would this open to our view! While all these men, who have been satisfied hitherto to send their sympathies from Switzerland, and their best wishes for Ireland by an ambassador's bag, should now come back to writhe beneath the scourge of a demagogue, and the tyranny of a man who wields irresponsible power.