1 00 Notes of the Month on [JAN. 



Quakers when he .called them, "unbaptized, buttontcss blackguards." 

 It is perfect alike in antipathy and alliteration. It may be a question 

 which Cobbett detests most thoroughly potatoes or the political econo- 

 mists. Some people content themselves with a dash of dislike, or at 

 most, a spice or so of scorn and contempt upon such matters ; but Cob- 

 bett's is direct, downright, undeniable, and unmitigated hatred ; and 

 whether it be the practice of ruining kingdoms on the part of a minis- 

 ter, or of drinking tea on the part of the people, it is the same to him ; 

 his hatred never wants words to work with his thunder always rolls as 

 astoundingly as if we had never heard it before and he seems to be in 

 no more clanger of exhausting his stores of abuse than Sir William 

 Jones, who could have given the lie in fifty languages, at least. But 

 perhaps the Scotch may claim the honour of having monopolized the 

 larger portion of his detestation as the story we have to tell will 

 shew. 



Cobbett, it seems, the other day was called upon to attend some meet- 

 ing in the city ; and the time not admitting of a journey to Kensington 

 to prepare, he went to a shop in one of the courts in the neighbourhood 

 of Fleet-street to be shaved. Not perceiving the name of Mac-some- 

 thing over the door, he only discovered by the northern accent in which 

 he was requested to be seated, that he was patronizing a Scotchman. 

 It was too late, however, to retract, and he sat down, not. over-disposed 

 to listen to the chit-chat of the operator, who, ignorant of the person of 

 his customer, entered at once into some moral reflections upon the Bris- 

 tol burnings. In the heat of his enthusiasm, he happened to stumble 

 upon the terms, c< low rabble." At this the politician started up, of 

 course at the risk of his life, and for a moment looked as if he meant to 

 apply the razor that had just been at his own throat, to that of the 

 operator. " How dare you," he exclaimed, in a tone admirably pro- 

 portioned to the fury of his look, " how dare you a selfish soap-suddy 

 Scotchman a fellow that lives here by sufferance, and takes the bread 

 out of the mouth of the honest British artisan how dare you in my 

 presence apply such a term as ' rabble* to the people of England ?" 

 The operator, all alarm and apology, hinted nevertheless, upon the 

 strength of the weapon with which he was so formidably armed, that he 

 had as good a right to the bread he ate as an English barber ; and that 

 among other things, he had suffered for his country. " Your country ! 

 What country ? you don't call that a country ! But pray let us hear how 

 you have suffered for your country." " Why, I happened to be aboard 

 a Berwick smack when she was taken prisoner by a French privateer, 

 and I remained in a French prison for seven years." " So much the 

 better/' said Cobbett, as he resumed his seat and rubbed his hands, 

 apparently quite appeased. " So much the better ; we saved seven years 

 of your keep." 



THE HORROR-HUNTERS. Nothing is so contagious as crime. Murder 

 stalks like Banquo, with an issue that stretches to " the crack o' doom." 

 Iniquity has always its imitators ; and the more atrocious the iniquity, 

 the more assiduous is the spirit of imitation. We can scarcely call to 

 mind any deed above the usual grade of villany, that has not been fol- 

 lowed by another upon the same plan, a new edition, with explanatory 

 notes. Whenever a genius in crime breaks through the barriers of cus- 

 tom in such matters, and goes out of the beaten track of horrors, he 



