Many a causeway you will
have to cross, many a dark and winding alley to tread. Suppose, my lord,
the pavement were to be torn up, and your lordship were to break your
shin! Suppose a drain were to have been opened in the preceding day,
without your knowing any thing of the matter, and your lordship were to
break your neck! Suppose, which is more terrible than all the rest, you
were to set your foot upon that which I dare not name, and by offending
the olfactory nerves of majesty, you were to forfeit his affections for
ever!
So much, my lord, by way of declamation against the abolition of
lanthorns. Your lordship however does not imagine I shall say any thing
upon affairs so common as the glass lanthorn, the horn lanthorn, and the
perforated tin lanthorn. This last indeed is most to my purpose, but it
will not do, my lord, it will not do. There is a kind of lanthorns, your
lordship has seen them, that have one side dark, and the other light. I
remember to have observed your lordship for half a day together, poring
over the picture of Guy Faux, in the Book of Martyrs. This was one of
the early intimations which my wisdom enabled me to remark of the
destination which nature had given you. You know, my lord, that the
possessor of this lanthorn can turn it this way and that, as he pleases.
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