this second paroxysm of his proves vain as the first did!
Those laggard Dutch, dead to the Cause of Liberty, it is they
again. Just as the hour was striking, they--plump down, in spite of
magnanimous Stair, into their mud again; cannot be hoisted by
eugineering. And, after all that filling and emptying of water-
casks, and pumping and puffing, and straining of every fibre for a
twelvemonth past, Britannic Majesty had to sit down again, panting
in an Olympian manner, with that expensive long sword of his still
sticking in the scabbard.

Tongue cannot tell what his poor little Majesty has suffered from
those Dutch,--checking one's noble rage, into mere zero, always;
making of one's own glorious Army a mere expensive Phantasm!
Hanoverian, Hessian, British: 40,000 fighters standing in harness,
year after year, at such cost; and not the killing of a French
turkey to be had of them in return. Patience, Olympian patience,
withal! He cantons his troops in the Netherlands Towns; many of the
British about Ghent (who consider the provisions, and customs, none
of the best); [Letters of Officers, from Ghent
( Westminster Journal, Oct. 23d, &c.).] his
Hanoverians, Hessians, farther northward, Hanover way;--and,
greatly daring, determines to try again, next Spring. Carteret
himself shall go and flagitate the Dutch. Patience; whip and
hoist!--What a conclusion, snorts the indignant British Public
through its Gazetteers.

"Next year, yes, exclaims one indignant Editor: 'if talking will do
business, we shall no doubt perform wonders; for we have had as
much talking and puffing since February last, as during any ten
years of the late Administration' [ The Daily Post,