_July 17, 1817._ A writer in a Morning Paper, a few days ago, commented very wisely and wittily on the situation of the State Prisoners under the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus, as a warning to the people of England not to meddle in politics. He seemed infinitely amused with the inability of these poor devils ‘to get out,’ though he seemed to know no reason why they should be kept in. ‘One of these gentlemen must have a flute, _forsooth_!’ he exclaims with a very hysterical air, as if it was a good joke truly for a man to have a flute taken from him, and not to be able to get it back again.[40] Even Mr. Hiley Addington allows that Evans might have his flute again, if he did not use it. If this writer had himself been in the habit of blowing a great war-trumpet, and wished to make as much noise as ever with it in time of peace, he might not like to have it taken from him. He, however, consoles Mr. Evans for the loss of his flute, with the very old and original observation, ‘That the people bear the same relation to the Government, as the sheep to the shepherd, and that the sheep ought not to dictate to the shepherd, or remonstrate against what he does for their good.’ Now the sheep are not usually in the habit of dictating, or remonstrating on such occasions, except in that sort of language which _Lawyer Scout_ advises _Sheep-face_ to imitate before _Justice Mittimus_, and to which this Professional Gentleman seems to wish the State Prisoners to resort in their intercourse with the Home Department. The fleecy fools, whom the writer holds up as models of wisdom and spirit to his countrymen, do, to be sure, make a terrible noise at a sheep-shearing, and a short struggle when they feel the knife at their throats. But our allegorist, we suspect, would regard these as Jacobinical, or Ultra-Jacobinical symptoms. He would have the people stand still to be fleeced, and have their throats cut, whenever Government pleases. He has in his eye the sublimest example of self-devotion: ‘As a lamb, he was led to the slaughter: as a sheep before the shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.’ We cannot understand the point of comparison in this _sheep-biting_ argument. If the people are really to be as silly, and as submissive as sheep, they will be worse treated. A flock of sheep pass their time very comfortably on Salisbury plain, biting the short sweet grass, or lying with ‘meek mouths ruminant,’ till they are fit to send to market: we have sometimes heard them fill the air with a troublous cry, as they pass down Oxford-street, to Smithfield, and the next morning it is all over with them. But Governments have not the same reasons for taking care of the people, ‘poor, poor dumb mouths,’ they do not ordinarily sell them or eat them. The comparison would be much nearer to beasts of burden, asses, or ‘camels in their war,’ who, as Shakspeare expresses it,—