Every well-to-do artisan has wended his way along
the streets showing his teeth, but then at his own sweet will he can
employ those favoured instruments on roast or boiled: hence his smile for
those who, gifted with the like weapons, bear them as men bear court
swords, for ornament, not use. Alas! the smirk of the well-dressed may be
struck into blank astonishment by the fluttering of rags--by a standard of
tatters borne by a famine-maddened myriad; the teeth of the dragon want
may be sown, and the growth may, as of old, be armed men.
Yet can we wonder at the jocoseness of those arrayed in lawn and
broad-cloth--can we marvel at the simper of the artisan fresh from his
beef and pudding, solaced with tobacco and porter? Surely not; for the
smile breaks under the highest patronage; nay, even broad grins would have
the noblest warranty, for his Grace the Duke of Wellington has pronounced
rags to be the livery only of wilful idleness--has stamped on the
withering brow of destitution the brand of the drunkard. Therefore, clap
your hands to your pulpy sides, oh well-dressed, well-to-do London, and
disdaining the pettiness of a simper, laugh an ogre's laugh at the rags of
Manchester--grin like a tickled Polyphemus at the hunger of Bolton!
Our babbling, anile friend, in the very looseness of her prating has let
out the truth.
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