The English Spy: An Original Work Characteristic, Satirical, And Humorous. C. M. Westmacott

CYPRIAN'S BALL,

       OR

       THE PHILOSOPHY OF LAUGHTER;

       OR, MR PUNCH IN ALL HIS GLORY.

       THE WESTMINSTER SCHOLAR.

       ON FEASTERS AND FEASTING.

       A SUNDAY RAMBLE TO HIGHGATE,

       OR, THE CITS ORDINARY.

       THE STOCK EXCHANGE.

       THE LIFE, DEATH, BURIAL, AND RESURRECTION COMPANY.

       CAPITAL.—ONE HUNDRED MILLIONS SHARES.—ONE POUND.

       THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

       A CIRCULAR,

       ADDRESSED TO THE MEMBERS OP THE ROYAL YACHT CLUB.

       PORTSMOUTH IN TIME OF PEACE.

       EVENING, AND IN HIGH SPIRITS.

       CHELTONIAN CHARACTERS.

       A TRIP TO THE SPAS.

       CHAPTER I.

       A SECOND ODE TO BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, ESQ.

       or A MICHAELMAS-DAY PREACHMENT.

       A TRIP TO THE SPAS.

       CHAPTER II.

       TRAVELLER'S HALL.

       A FAMILIAR EPISTLE TO BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, ESQ.,

       HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF DONCASTER

       A VISIT TO GLOUCESTER AND BERKELEY.

       A DAY IN BRISTOL.

       SKETCHES IN BATH.

       SPORTSMAN'S HALL.

       A SCENE AT THE CASTLE.

       THE BATTLE OF THE CHAIRS.

       SKETCHES IN BATH—CHAPTER II.

       WAGGERIES AT WORCESTER.

       BERNARD BLACKMANTLE TO HIS READERS.

       A SHORT ODE AT PARTING,

       FROM HIS "SPIRIT IN THE CLOUDS"

BERNARD BLACKMANTLE{*} TO THE REVIEWERS.

       Table of Contents

      "But now, what Quixote of the age would care

       To wage a war with dirt, and fight with air?"

      Messieurs the Critics,

      After twelve months of agreeable toil, made easy by unprecedented success, the period has at length arrived when your high mightinesses will be able to indulge your voracious appetites by feeding and fattening on the work of death. Already does my prophetic spirit picture to itself the black cloud of cormorants, swelling and puffing in the fulness of their editorial pride, at the huge eccentric volume which has thus thrust itself into extensive circulation without the usual cringings and cravings to the pick fault tribe. But

      I dare defy the venal crew that prates,

       From tailor Place* to fustian Herald Thwaites.{**}

      * The woolly editor of the Breeches Makers', alias the

       "Westminster Review."

       ** The thing who writes the leaden (leading) articles for

       the Morning Herald.

      Let me have good proof of your greediness to devour my labours, and I will dish up such a meal for you in my next volume, as shall go nigh to produce extermination by surfeit. One favour, alone, I crave—give me abuse enough; let no squeamish pretences of respect for my bookseller, or disguised qualms of apprehension for your own sacred persons, deter the natural inclination of your hearts. The slightest deviation from your usual course to independent writers—or one step towards commendation from your gang, might induce the public to believe I had abandoned my character, and become one of your honourable fraternity-the very suspicion of which would (to me) produce irretrievable ruin. Your masters, the trading brotherhood, will (as usual) direct you in the course you should pursue; whether to approve or condemn, as their 'peculiar interests may dictate. Most sapient sirs of the secret bandit' of the screen, inquisitors of literature, raise all your arms and heels, your daggers, masks, and hatchets, to revenge the daring of an open foe, who thus boldly defies your base and selfish views; for, basking at his ease in the sunshine of public patronage, he feels that his heart is rendered invulnerable to your poisoned shafts. Read, and you shall find I have not been parsimonious of the means to grant you food and pleasure: errors there are, no doubt, and plenty of them, grammatical and typographical, all of which I might have corrected by an