The writer said that the book, of course, would give offence to humbugs; the Radical then demanded whether he thought him a humbug ?--the wretched wife was the Radical's protection, even as he knew she would be; it was on her account that the writer did not kick his good friend; as it was, he looked at him in the face and thought to himself, "How is it possible I should think you a humbug, when only last night I was taking your part in a company in which everybody called you a humbug ?" The Radical, probably observing something in the writer's eye which he did not like, became all on a sudden abjectly submissive, and, professing the highest admiration for the writer, begged him to visit him in his government; this the writer promised faithfully to do, and he takes the present opportunity of performing his promise.
This is one of the pseudo-Radical calumniators of Lavengro and its author; were the writer on his death-bed he would lay his hand on his heart and say, that he does not believe that there is one trait of exaggeration in the portrait which he has drawn.

This is one of the pseudo-Radical calumniators of Lavengro and its author; and this is one of the genus who, after having railed against jobbery for perhaps a quarter of a century, at present batten on large official salaries which they do not earn.

England is a great country, and her interests require that she should have many a well-paid official both at home and abroad; but will England long continue a great country if the care of her interests, both at home and abroad, is in many instances intrusted to beings like him described above, whose only recommendation for an official appointment was that he was deeply versed in the secrets of his party and of the Whigs?
Before he concludes, the writer will take the liberty of saying of Lavengro that it is a book written for the express purpose of inculcating virtue, love of country, learning, manly pursuits, and genuine religion, for example, that of the Church of England, and for awakening a contempt for nonsense of every kind, and a hatred for priestcraft, more especially that of Rome.
And in conclusion, with respect to many passages of his book in which he has expressed himself in terms neither measured nor mealy, he will beg leave to observe, in the words of a great poet, who lived a profligate life it is true, but who died a sincere penitent--thanks, after God, to good Bishop Burnet-- "All this with indignation I have hurl'd At the pretending part of this proud world, Who, swollen with selfish vanity, devise False freedoms, formal cheats, and holy lies, Over their fellow fools to tyrannise." -- ROCHESTER.
THE END.
Footnotes: {0a} "Of anything like animal passion there is not a trace in all his many volumes.

Not a hint that he ever kissed a woman or ever took a little child upon his knee.

He was beardless: his voice was not the voice of a man.