We shall now consider the law, as our laws are very considerable, both in bulk and number, according as the statutes declare; considerandi, considerando, considerandum; and are not to be meddled with by those that don't understand 'em. Law always expressing itself with true grammatical precision, never confounding moods, cases, or genders, except indeed when a woman happens accidentally to be slain, then the verdict is always brought in man-slaughter. The essence of the law is altercation; for the law can altercate, fulminate, deprecate, irritate, and go on at any rate. Now the quintessence of the law has, according to its name, five parts. The first is the beginning, or incipiendum; the second the uncertainty, or dubitandum; the third delay, or puzzliendum; fourthly replication without endum; and, fifthly, monstrum et horrendum.

All which are exemplified in the following cases, Daniel against Dishclout.—Daniel was groom in the same family wherein Dishclout was cookmaid; and Daniel, returning home one day fuddled, he stooped down to take a sop out of the dripping-pan, which spoiled his clothes, and he was advised to bring his action against the cookmaid; the pleadings of which were as follow. The first person who spoke was Mr. Serjeant Snuffle. He began, saying, "Since I have the honour to be pitched upon to open this cause to your Lordship, I shall not impertinently presume to take up any of your Lordship's time by a round-about circumlocutory manner of speaking or talking, quite foreign to the purpose, and not any ways relating to the matter in hand. I shall, I will, I design to shew what damages my client has sustained hereupon, whereupon, and thereupon. Now, my Lord, my client, being a servant in the same family with Dishclout, and not being at board wages, imagined he had a right to the fee-simple of the dripping-pan, therefore he made an attachment on the sop with his right-hand, which the defendant replevied with her left, tripped us up, and tumbled us into the dripping-pan. Now, in Broughton's Reports, Slack versus Small wood, it is said that primus strocus sine jocus, absolutus est provokus. Now who gave the primus strocus? who gave the first offence? Why, the cook; she brought the driping-pan there; for, my Lord, though we will allow, if we had not been there, we could not have been thrown down there; yet, my Lord, if the dripping-pan had not been there, for us to have tumbled down into, we could not have tumbled into the dripping-pan." The next counsel on the same side began with, "My Lord, he who makes use of many words to no purpose has not much to say for himself, therefore I shall come to the point at once; at once and immediately I shall come to the point. My client was in liquor: the liquor in him having served an ejectment upon his understanding, common sense was nonsuited, and he was a man beside himself, as Dr. Biblibus declares, in his Dissertation upon Bumpers, in the 139th folio volume of the Abridgment of the Statutes, page 1286, where he says, that a drunken man is homo duplicans, or a double man; not only because he sees things double, but also because he is not as he should be, profecto ipse he; but is as he should not be, defecto tipse he."

The counsel on the other side rose up gracefully, playing with his ruffles prettily, and tossing the ties of his wig about emphatically. He began with, "My Lord, and you, gentlemen of the jury, I humbly do conceive I have the authority to declare that I am counsel in this case for the defendant; therefore, my Lord, I shall not flourish away in words; words are no more than filligree work. Some people may think them an embellishment; but to me it is a matter of astonishment how any one can be so impertinent to the detriment of all rudiment. But, my Lord, this is not to be looked at through the medium of right and wrong; for the law knows no medium, and right and wrong are but its shadows. Now, in the first place, they have called a kitchen my client's premises. Now a kitchen is nobody's premises; a kitchen is not a warehouse, nor a wash-house, a brew-house, nor a bake-house, an inn-house, nor an out-house, nor a dwelling-house; no, my Lord, 'tis absolutely and bona fide neither more nor less than a kitchen, or, as the law more classically expresses, a kitchen is, camera necessaria pro usus cookare; cum saucepannis, stewpannis, scullero, dressero, coalholo, stovis, smoak-jacko,pro roastandum, boilandum,fryandum, et plum-pudding mixandum, pro turtle soupos, calve's-head-hashibus, cum calipee et calepashibus.

"But we shall not avail ourselves of an alibi, but admit of the existence of a cook-maid. Now my Lord, we shall take it upon a new ground, and beg a new trial; for, as they have curtailed our name from plain Mary into Moll, I hope the court will not allow of this; for, if they were to allow of mistakes, what would the law do? for, when the law don't find mistakes, it is the business of the law to make them." Therefore the court allowed them the liberty of a new trial; for the law is our liberty, and it is happy for us we have the liberty to go to law.

By all the laws of laughing, every man is at liberty to play the fool with himself; but some people, fearful it would take from their consequence, choose to do it by proxy: hence comes the appearance of keeping fools in great families. [Takes the head.] Thus are they dressed, and shew, by this party-coloured garment, they are related to all the wise families in the kingdom.

This is a Fool's Cap; 'tis put upon Nobody's head. Nobody's face is without features, because we could not put Anybody's face upon Nobody's head. This is the head of Somebody. [Takes the head.] It has two faces, for Somebody is supposed to carry two faces. One of these faces is handsome, the other rather ill-favoured. The handsome face is exhibited as a hint to that part of mankind who are always whispering among their acquaintance, how well they are with Somebody, and that Somebody is a very fine woman. One of those boasters of beauty, one night at a tavern, relating his amazing amours, the toast-master called him to order, and a gentleman in a frolic, instead of naming any living lady for his toast, gave the Greek name of the tragic muse Melpomene; upon which the boaster of beauty, the moment he heard the word Melpomene, addresses the toast-master, "Oh! ho! Mr. Toastmaster, you are going a round of demireps. Ay, ay, Moll Pomene, I remember her very well; she was a very fine girl, and so was her sister, Bet Po-mene; I had 'em both at a certain house, you know where?" Can we help smiling at the partiality of the present times? that a man should be transported if he snares a hare, or nets a partridge, and yet there is no punishment for those whisperers away of ladies' reputations? But ill tongues would fall hurtless were there no believers to give them credit; as robbers could not continue to pilfer were there no receivers of stolea goods.

Here is the head [takes it] of Anybody, with his eyes closed, his mouth shut, and his ears stopped; and this is exhibited as an emblem of wisdom; and anybody may become wise, if they will not spy into the faults of others, tell tales of others, nor listen to the tales of others, but mind their own business, and be satisfied. Here is the head [takes it] of Everybody. [ Turns the head round.] This is to show how people dread popular clamour, or what all the world will say, or what every body will say. Nay, there is not a poor country wench, when her young master the 'squire attempts to delude her, but will immediately reply to him, "Lord!—Your honour!—What will the world say?" And this, what will the world say, is what everybody is anxious after, although it is hardly worth anybody's while to trouble their heads with the world's sayings.

These four heads of Nobody, Everybody, Somebody, and Anybody, form a fifth head, called a Busybody. The Busybody is always anxious after something about Somebody. He'll keep company with Anybody to find out Everybody's business; and is only at a loss when this head stops his pursuit, and Nobody will give him an answer. It is from these four heads the fib of each day is fabricated. Suspicion begets the morning whisper, the gossip Report circulates it as a secret, wide-mouthed Wonder gives Credulity credit for it, and Self-interest authenticates that, as Anybody may be set to work by Somebody, Everybody's alarmed at it, and, at last, there is Nobody knows any thing at all of the matter. From these four heads people purchase lottery-tickets, although calculation demonstrates the odds are so much against them; but Hope flatters them, Fancy makes them believe, and Expectation observes, that the twenty thousand pounds prizes must come to Somebody [gives the head off]; and, as Anybody may have them [gives the head off], and Nobody knows who [gives the head off], Everybody buys lottery-tickets. [Gives the head off.]

Most difficult it is for any single speaker long to preserve the attention of his auditors: nay, he could not continue speaking, conscious of that difficulty, did he not depend greatly on the humanity of his hearers. Yet it is not flattery prompts the lecturer to this address; for, to shew in how odious a light he holds flattery, he here exposes the head of flattery. [Takes the head.]

This being, called Flattery, was begat upon Poverty, by Wit; and that is the reason why poor wits are always the greatest flatterers. The ancients had several days they called lucky and unlucky ones; they were marked as white and black days. Thus is the face of Flattery distinguished; to the lucky she shews her white, or shining profile; to the unlucky she is always in eclipse: but, on the least approach of calamity, immediately Flattery changes into reproach. [Opens the head.] How easy the transition is from flattery into reproach; the moral of which is, that it is a reproach to our understandings to suffer flattery. But some people are so fond of that incense, that they greedily accept it, though they despise the hand that offers it, without considering the receiver is as bad as the thief. As every head here is intended to convey some moral, the moral of this head is as follows: This head was the occasion of the first duel that ever was fought, it then standing on a pillar, in the centre, where four roads met. Two knights-errant, one from the north, and one from the south, arrived at the same instant at the pillar whereon this head was placed: one of the knights-errant, who only saw this side of the head, called out, "It is a shame to trust a silver head by the road side." "A silver head!" replied the knight, who only saw this side of the head, "it is a black head." Flat contradiction produced fatal demonstration; their swords flew out, and they hacked and hewed one another so long, that, at last, fainting with loss of blood, they fell on the ground; then, lifting up their eyes, they discovered their mistake concerning this image. A venerable hermit coming by, bound up their wounds, placed them again on horseback, and gave them this piece of advice, That they never hereafter should engage in any parties, or take part in any dispute, without having previously examined both sides of the question.

We shall now conclude this part of the lecture with four national characters.

Here is the head of a Frenchman [shews the head], all levity and lightness, singing and capering from morning till night, as if he looked upon life to be but a long dance, and liberty and law but a jig. Yet Monsieur talks in high strains of the law, though he lives in a country that knows no law but the caprice of an absolute monarch. Has he property? an edict from the Grand Monarch can take it, and the slave is satisfied. Pursue him to the Bastile, or the dismal dungeon in the country to which a lettre de cachet conveys him, and buries the wretch for life: there see him in all his misery; ask him "What is the cause?"

"Je ne sÇai pas, it is de will of de Grand Monarch." Give him a soupe maigre, a little sallad, and a hind quarter of a frog, and he's in spirits.—"Fal, lai, lai, vive le roy, vive la bagatelle." He is now the declared enemy of Great Britain: ask him, "Why?—has England done your country an injury?" "Oh no." "What then is your cause of quarrel?" "England, sir, not give de liberty to de subject. She will have de tax upon de tea; but, by gar, sir, de Grand Monarch have send out de fleet and de army to chastise de English; and, ven de America are free, de Grand Monarch he tax de American himself." "But, Monsieur, is France able to cope with England on her own element, the sea?" "Oh! pourquois non?" "Why not?"

Here is the head of a British Tar [shews the head]; and, while England can man her navy with thousands of these spirits, Monsieur's threats are in vain. Here is a man who despises danger, wounds, and death; he fights with the spirit of a lion, and, as if (like a salamander) his element was fire, gets fresh courage as the action grows hotter; he knows no disgrace like striking to the French flag; no reward for past services so ample as a wooden leg; and no retreat so honourable as Greenwich hospital. Contrast his behaviour with that of a French sailor, who must have a drawn sword over his head to make him stand to his gun, who runs trembling to the priest for an absolution—"Ah, mon bon pere, avez pitiÉ de moi!" when he

should look death in the face like a man. This brave tar saw the gallant Farmer seated on his anchor, his ship in a blaze, his eye fixed on the wide expanse of the waters round him, scorning to shrink, waiting with the calm firmness of a hero for the moment when he was to die gloriously in the service of his country.

Here is the head of a Spaniard, [Shews the head.] But first I had better remove the Frenchman, for fear of a quarrel between the two allies. Now he has no dislike to England; he wishes, as Spain ever did, for peace with England, and war with all the world; he remembers the latter end of the last war, the British fleets thundering in their ports, and the whole nation abhorring the French for the calamities brought upon them by an intriguing Italian cabinet. He was taken prisoner by the gallant Sir George Rodney; and the only favour he asked, upon coming to England, was not to be imprisoned with a Frenchman, detesting all connexion with that superficial, dancing, treacherous people. The Frenchman, vain and sanguine to the last, encourages his ally to persevere. Attendre, attendre, mon cher ami.—"Wait, my good friend, we shall get the game yet." "Certainly," replies the grave Don, "for we get all the rubbers." But, whilst these two are mourning over their losses by the war, here comes another to complete the procession of madness and folly.

This is the head [shews it] of Mynheer Van Neverfelt Large Breecho Love Cabbecho Dutch Doggero, a great merchant at Rotterdam; who had amassed an immense fortune by supplying the enemies of Great Britain with hemp, and who, if he had his deserts, should die as he has lived by it. He considers treaties as mere court promises; and these, in the vulgar acceptation of a pie-crust, whenever they cover any advantage, it is but breaking them, and down with friendship and honour in a bite. He looks upon interest to be the true law of nature, and principal a Sinking Fund, in which no Dutchman should be concerned. He looks upon money to be the greatest good upon earth, and a pickled herring the greatest dainty. If you would ask him what wisdom is, he'll answer you, Stock. If you ask him what benevolence is, he'll reply, Stock: and should you inquire who made him, he would say, Stock; for Stock is the only deity he bows down to. If you would judge of his wit, his whole Stock lies in a pipe of tobacco; and, if you would judge of his conversation, a bull and a bear are his Stock companions. His conduct to all men and all nations is most strikingly typified by Hogarth's Paul before Felix, in true Dutch gusto, where the guardian angel, Conscience, has fallen asleep, which Avarice, in the shape of the devil, taking advantage of, saws asunder the legs of the stool upon which the apostle is exhibited standing. But the vengeance of Britain's insulted genius has overtaken him, in the east and in the west, and Holland has received blows, for her breach of compacts, she will remember as long as her dykes defend her from the encroachments of the ocean.

When men have eminently distinguished themselves in arts or arms, their characters should be held up to the public with every mark of honour, to inspire the young candidate for fame with a generous emulation. There is a noble enthusiasm in great minds, which not only inclines them to behold illustrious actions with wonder and delight, but kindles also a desire of attaining the same degree of excellence. The Romans, who well knew this principle in human nature, decreed triumphs to their generals, erected obelisks and statues in commemoration of their victories; and to this day the cabinet of the antiquarian preserves records of the victories of a Germanicus, the generosity of a Titus, or the peaceful virtues of an Antonius. Why then should not England adopt the practice of the Romans, a people who reached the highest pinnacle of military glory? It is true that some of our great generals have marble monuments in Westminster Abbey. But why should not the living enjoy the full inheritance of their laurels? If they deserve to have their victories proclaimed to the world by the voice of Fame, let it be when men are sensible to the sweetness of her trumpet, for she will then sound like an angel in their ears. Here is the head of a British Hero; a title seldom conferred, and as seldom merited, till the ardent valour of the youthful warrior is ripened into the wisdom and cool intrepidity of the veteran. He entered the service with the principles of a Soldier and a patriot, the love of fame, and the love of his country. His mind active and vigorous, burning with the thirst of honour, flew to posts of danger with a rapidity which gave tenfold value to his military exertions, and rendered his onsets terrible as resistless. No expedition appeared to him either difficult or impracticable that was to be undertaken for the good of the cause he had embarked in. Fortune too seemed enamoured of his valour, for she preserved his life in many actions; and, though he cannot stretch forth an arm without shewing an honourable testimony of the dangers to which he was exposed, he has still a hand left to wield a sword for the service of his country. As he is yet in the prime of life, there is nothing too great to be expected from him. He resembles the immortal Wolfe in his fire and fame. And oh, for the good of England, that Wolfe, in his fortunes, had resembled Tableton!

END OF PART IV.