_Slowgoe._ Don’t talk of potatoes in that heathen way, Mr Nutts; if you’d any decency, any religion, you wouldn’t talk of a potato with a smile. I suppose you haven’t seen what Lord George Bentinck--that’s a pious soul, that is--says upon potatoes? I thought not. Here it is. His Lordship as _will_ be Prime Minister--it’s at Mr Newdegate’s dinner--his Lordship says (_reads_): “They would recollect that at the close of the last year there was _a sham cry got up_, respecting the failure in the potato crop, _to serve the purpose of an administration_; he was now sorry to say that that feint had become a reality; that the potato failure had spread from one end of the kingdom to the other--from the Land’s End to John o’ Groats, throughout the whole of Ireland, and throughout the whole of the countries bordering upon the Atlantic. (Hear.) He was fain to confess, and _he did so with sorrow, that this time there was no sham_, but he _greatly feared_ that this sad reality _was the just vengeance of Providence for the_ great ingratitude we had displayed in needlessly complaining of His bounty.” And all the people cried “Hear, hear,” and with the wind in their faces, no doubt, looked very believing, very solemn. So you see, ’cording to Lord George, it’s Peel, and nobody but Peel, as has brought the potato rot upon us. Peel cried “Wolf” to pass the corn-laws; and now for his wickedness, and his alone, the wild beast is really come--has been sent, as dear Lord George says, by Providence, to tear the bowels of hundreds o’ thousands of innocent people; and, moreover---- _Nutts._ Don’t--don’t go on in that way, or I must lay down the razor. Well, I hope I’m a religious man--I haven’t cut you, Mr Bleak, I trust?--and I love a bit o’ politics, nobody better; but if I shouldn’t blush redder than that blacking-bill, to think for a minute of making Providence Whig or Tory, and counting the angels on my side of the question; whether it was for all the world as they count a majority in the House of Commons. If there is a presumption that shows what an impudent worm upon two legs a man is--and I don’t care a button whether the worm is a worm with stars and ribands, or a worm with no more nobility of flesh in him than a worm in a pauper burial-ground--if there is a presumption in this world, it is, I say, when a man will take religion into partnership with him, and whatever he may do, make himself and his little dirty doings the special pets of Providence. And yet, I daresay, Lord George thinks this the Christianity for gentlemen! Well, there’s no knowing what use a man may make of his religion. Hearing what I have heard, I won’t swear that a member of the Jockey Club mayn’t bind his betting-book up with his Bible. _Slowgoe._ I’ve often threatened it, Mr Nutts; but if you go on in this infidel manner, I must take my chin to another shop.