You see yonder group of three: the one is a petty printer, the other an unscrupulous politician, and the third an independent voter. Altogether there is wit enough amongst them to make one tolerable fool, and heart enough to make one paltry villain. The first endeavors to persuade the public that the second is an honest and patriotic citizen, for which he receives the common rewards of the political toady: a pleasant smile and lavish promises to begin,--a bitter curse, worse treachery, and a parting kick, to end; the other has already been in office for a time, and has stolen sufficient for another campaign; whilst the third is just preparing to increase his shouts for the good of the country, for which he demands a greater indulgence to his appetites. The palate is a marvellous channel through which to obtain distinction and preferment, an easy manufactory of good opinion, extorting pledges of eternal friendship with astonishing rapidity, and clinching a kind conclusion with emphatic precision. The old maxim has it, that “you may easily pin down a fellow’s nose to a full table,” and much of the success and distinction in the world has no better basis. The aspirant yonder knows full well how to avail himself of this one of our good-natured imperfections, and having duped the people once, through its aid and the assistance of his companions, this success has emboldened him to make another effort. Beware of them all, for though they may be loud in their declamations and vociferous in their patriotic demonstrations, they still answer Seneca’s description,--“their liberty consists principally in stuffing their bellies”--and may yet incur the general ridicule instead of obtaining the public plunder. The most serious public matters, you know, are often made the merest farces, and the frequent promotion of knaves as often incurs no paltry penalties, as you may learn from that red-faced individual approaching this way. “Mankind,” says an old philosopher, “are not so happy, as that the best things shall have the most patrons and defenders;” and notwithstanding the habits of that officer, he has been elevated to the chief position of this place, and now sits in judgment upon all offenders. His first morning task is to meet his friends at the “Stag’s Head” yonder, his second to feast upon and imbibe the wherewith to maintain his ruddy hue, and his third to reel to his office, open his judicial council, and dispose of the drunken or offending creatures who may have been taken into custody during the night, not so much for ill behaviour as to provide a paltry fee for the police. Of course, a police whose rewards depend upon the number of unfortunate creatures that may fall into their clutches, cannot be remarkably cautious upon whom they exercise their authority, nor measure personal freedom by any very exact or liberal scale. Nothing beyond the prospect of a few picayunes, thought Peter, is required to make men’s vision double, and cause them