brutality, and personal and political insecurity, what say you of it, Mr. Blenkinsop? Do you regard this wig and pigtail period as constituting the good old times, respected friend?” “There was Queen Anne’s golden reign, Sir,” deferentially suggested Mr. Blenkinsop. “A golden reign!” exclaimed the Statue. “A reign of favoritism and court trickery at home, and profitless war abroad. The time of Bolingbroke’s, and Harley’s, and Churchill’s intrigues. The reign of Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, and Mrs. Masham. A golden fiddlestick! I imagine you must go farther back yet for your good old times, Mr. Blenkinsop.” “Well,” answered the churchwarden, “I suppose I must, Sir, after what you say.” “Take William the Third’s rule,” pursued the Statue. “War, war again; nothing but war. I don’t think you’ll particularly call these the good old times. Then what will you say to those of James the Second? Were they the good old times when Judge Jeffries sat on the bench? When Monmouth’s rebellion was followed by the Bloody Assize. When the King tried to set himself above the law, and lost his crown in consequence. Does your worship fancy that these were the good old times?” Mr. Blenkinsop admitted that he could not very well imagine that they were. “Were Charles the Second’s the good old times?” demanded the Statue. “With a court full of riot and debauchery--a palace much less decent than any modern casino--whilst Scotch Covenanters were having their legs crushed in the “Boots,” under the auspices and personal superintendence of His Royal Highness the Duke of York. The time of Titus Oates, Bedloe, and Dangerfield, and their sham-plots, with the hangings, drawings, and quarterings, on perjured evidence, that followed them. When Russell and Sidney were judicially murdered. The time of the Great Plague and Fire of London. The public money wasted by roguery and embezzlement, while sailors lay starving in the streets for want of their just pay; the Dutch about the same time burning our ships in the Medway. My friend, I think you will hardly call the scandalous monarchy of the ‘Merry Monarch’ the good old times.” “I feel the difficulty which you suggest, Sir,” owned Mr. Blenkinsop. “Now, that a man of your loyalty,” pursued the Statue, “should identify the good old times with Cromwell’s Protectorate, is of course out of the question.” “Decidedly, Sir!” exclaimed Mr. Blenkinsop. “_He_ shall not have a statue, though you enjoy that honor,” bowing.