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When truth shall no longer be deemed a foul libel ;
When men follow precepts they preach from the Bible ;
When symptoms like these shall be seen through the land ;
They'll seem to portend, A reform is at hand.'

Morning Chronicle.



His Excellency Don Juan Diez Porlier is about thirty years of age, small in person, thin, but of a handsome appear

He is nephew of the late Minister Porlier, Marquis de Baxamar. He served as a midshipman in the battle of Trafalgar. He first became known in the late war against the tyranny of Buonaparte, by collecting a handful of deserters from the actions in Castile under General Cuesta, with which only amounting to thirty men, he attacked fifty French advantageously posted near the city of Palencia, whom he killed or took and presented to the Junta of Asturias. The latter then gave him the rank of Colonel, and he immediately formed a Guerilla corps, called Cuerpo Franco, with which he did prodigies of valour against the enemy. This corps afterwards became a respectable division. What gave him most credit in the time of the provincial Juntas, was his retreat from St. Andero, surrounded by four times his number of enemies, from whom he escaped, and even took and killed some of the French. This action, covered Porlier with glory, and Ballasteros with shame, who made a disgraceful retreat to Gijon, in consequence of which that part of the country was abandoned. The other illustrious actions of Porlier are contained in the publick papers of that day. He was latterly made a Mariscal de Campo (Major-General) and his character is frank and noble. He is also a man of great energy and readiness, as is proved by what happened between him and the Marchioness of Matarosa; to whose daughter he is now married. The Marchioness was proud and haughty, and before she consented to the marriage of her daughter, she required Porlier to exhibit his titles of nobility. To the person sent to wait on him with this request, Porlier answered— Tell 'the Marchioness from me that my name is Juan Diez PorLIER, and I require to know whether her daughter is to be “married to me or to my parchments; if to the latter, they may both go to the Devil.'--Morning Chronicle.


Dum rediens fugat astra Phoebus, Hor. 0. 21. lib. 3.



the land where the leaf of the myrtle
Is bestowed on good livers in eating sublime ?
Where the race for fat ven’son, and love of the turtle,

Preside o’er the realms of an Epicure clime ?
Know ye the land where the juice of the vine,
Makes Aldermen learned and Bishops divine ?
Where each Corporation, deep flush'd with its bloom,
Waxes fat o'er the eyes of the claret's perfume ?
Thick spread is the table with choioest of fruit,
And the voice of the reveller never is mute :
Their rich robes, though ried, in beauty may vie,
Yet the purple of Bacchus is deepest in dye:
Tis the clime of the East-the return of the sun
Looks down on the deeds which his children have done ;
Then wild is the note and discordant the yell,
When reeling and staggering, they hiccup-farewell.

Morning Chronicle.

April 10th, died in Connaught-Place, aged 70, G. Ellis, Esq. of Sunning-Hill: by which event society and literature have been deprived of one of their ornaments, and his friends have lost a man peculiarly formed to feel and inspire the warmest sentiments of friendship. One of his earliest attempts in literature was a share in the celebrated series of political satires, entitled “The Rolliad, also Probationary Odes,' &c. Mr. Ellis was the writer of that severe and unjust invective against Mr. Pitt, in the second number of the Rolliad, which begins

Pert without fire, without experience sage. He afterwards changed his political connexions ; but it was not till after his return from Lille, whither he had gone in 1797, with his friend Lord Malmesbury, that he became personally acquainted with Mr. Pitt. At the first interview two men of wit, the friends of both, amused themselves with allusions to the Rolliad, which as they probably intended, visibly embarrassed Mr. Ellis. Mr. Pitt turned round, and with a smile said, in a manner full of grace

and good humour,

Immo age, et a prima dic hospes origine nobis.

He instantly relieved Mr. Ellis from his embarrassment; and both were probably afterwards amused by the applications which the verses immediately following might have suggested.

Insidias inquit Danaûm, casusque tuorum,
Erroresque tuos.

To pardon political pleasantries, or even invectives, is an effort of placability, which did not require so safe and unassailable a greatness as that of Mr. Pitt. It was Mr. Ellis's singular fortune to have been also engaged in another collection of political pleasantries, The Anti-Jacobin,' with two colleagues of brilliant talents, with whom he continued in affectionate friendship the rest of his life. In 1790, he published the first edition of the Specimens of Early English Poetry,' which, with the enlarged edition in 1801, and the Specimens of Early English Romances,' formed an important contribution towards that growing study of our ancient literature, which has breathed a youthful spirit into English Poetry: His Essays on the formation and progress of the English language are models of abridgment, in which useful information is shortly and modestly communicated, without inaccuracy or obscurity on the one hand, and without pretention or pedantry on the other. In the abridgment of the old Romances, these prolix tales are rendered more amusing by a gentle sneer, which is constantly visible through the serious narrative, and which enlivens the perusal without destroying the interest. In the preface and appendix to the tabliaux of his friend Mr. Way, are to be found some of the purest and most classical passages of Addisonian composition which this age has produced. Mr. Ellis had been employed some time on a life of the late Mr. Windham, which was intended to accompany some works of that gentleman. The latter years of his life were embittered by maladies, which his virtues, and the friendship that they, still more than his talents, had procured, happily enabled him to endure with cheerful patience.

Literary Panorama. .

In one of the English Magazines, a question has been lately proposed, to find a word that will rhyme with silver, it is said that one cannot be found in the language. If any of our readers can suggest one, we wish they would communicate it.

French Caricatures. The Geant Noir, the first number of which has just appeared, is remarkably bold. It bas even had the audacity to indulge in a sort of contemptible ridicule of the Duchess of Angouleme, by stating that when that Princess visited the Abbe Sicard's establishment (for the deaf and dumb) she complained that his pupils did not cry Vive le Roi !--The following caricature has been sold privately. On the top of a large mat de cocagne (a long pole covered with soap) is placed a crown.

Louis XVIII. is climbing up to reach it, and says to the Duke of Wellington who is below him, 'Gupport me or I shall fall.' The King of Prussia who is still lower, is made to exclaim, Let

me take what suits me.' The Emperour of Russia says haughtily, “Behold my work. The Emperour of Austria is supporting them all or his shoulders, while young Napoleon, who is pulling him by the skirts of his coat, cries Dear Grandpapa, leave all these folks to themselves.' The Emperoui replies, If I leave them they will fall upon * me.' Buonaparte, who is in a corner, observing what is passing, says to hiinself, • I climbed up twice without any help.' [Courier.]

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He began his career in 1790, with reporting the proceedings of the Constituent Assembly for a newspaper. Read the now neglected Memoirs of Dumourier, and you will find him in the embassy of Chauvelin at London, at the time of the death of Louis XV. and on the eve of supplanting the ambassadour, when the whole gang were driven from London. The diplomacy of the Convention appeared 10 have nothing alarming, or capable of stirring the robust fibres which form the tissue of his heart. He was entrusted by the Convention with that mission which the Austrians disturbed at the entrance of the Valteline, by seizing him, Semonville, and I know not what other incendiary. Restored to France by exchange for the daughter of Louis XVI. on the establishment of the Consulate he succeeded M. Lagarde, as Secretary to the Council of Government, and he held that post until he succeeded M. De Champagny as Minister of Foreign Affairs—that office had long been the object of his ambition. The labours of the Cabinet, in their nature always obscure, presented to him a too limited horizon, too contracted a theatre for his talents. He would be the minister of France, or rather of Europe; for in the state in which things then were, the French Minister for Foreign Affairs was nothing less.

His mode of discussing a subject is heavy, embarrassed, never precise, nor luminous ; his elocution, wiredrawn. His principles those of convenience, force, and all that train of sophisms of which French diplomacy has been composed for these last twenty-five years. The day spent in dissipation, the hour for labour at length arrives, and that is almost always the hour at which nature reposes. The clock strikes twelve, business is recollected, and the Minister encloses himself in his cabinet. The Clerks are called and urged to work. Evil to him whom sleep overpowers. About five in the morning the active Minister goes to repose from bis works of darkness, leaving to his wretched underlings the care of digesting the high conceptions with which he had entrusted them. Demosthenes said, that his labours smelt of oil. Those of the Duke of Bassano have no better odour.

Flattery is a certain way of succeeding with the Duke of Bassano. Every thing about him must be flattered and admired, down to the Duchess's lapdog. It was said by a man of wit, that that dog had made many Auditors and Prefects.

The only talent, possessed by the Duke of Bassano, was that of translating the Emperour's ideas. It was curious to see with what an air he contemplated and listened to him. You would have sworn that he was worshipping him. The repression of his own reflection was carried to such a height, that he seemed to alienate his own mind in favour of that of the Emperour. He wrote to me on the 6th of July the following words: The discourse you addressed to me se• duced me, but the Emperor remarked to me that it was bad, and he is right.'

The Duke of Bassano perfected that system of intrigue and deception, by which the political characters, who have

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