DYING OF A THOUSAND GOOD SYMPTOMS.
" HERE I am," said a great man, to a friend who entered his sick- room while flattering physicians were telling him of hopes of recovery which he felt were false, "dying of a thousand good symp- toms." " There it is," says, with very different feelings, the Morn- ing Chronicle, pointing to Sir ROBERT PEEL'S majority, "dying of a thousand good symptoms." The sanguine journalist tells his readers—" The measures of the Ministry have been supported by larger majorities even than that which placed them in office " : "no defection worth notice has taken place among Sir R. Peel's supporters": "if occasionally a few Tories have given a rebellious vote, their loss has been supplied by at least an equal number of Liberals who have strayed into the majority ": and yet, "we are quite sure " that "the Tory party is most seriously damaged, if not actually broken up, by what has passed during the present session." SHERIDAN, a Whig leader in his day, went once upon a time to shoot over the estates of an Irish nobleman. An Irish attendant followed him carrying his game-bag, much after the same fashion that the Chronicle follows Lord PALMERSTON. SHERIDAN blazed away right and left, but not a bird would fall : the numerical strength of the partridges, like the numerical strength of PEEL'S party, remained undiminished. At first his trusty squire consoled him by assurances that this bird hung its leg suspiciously, that other moved its wing awkwardly, while a third be protested had dropped a feather or two. At last, finding the sportsman listened incredulously to his hacknied flattery, he bethought him of a varia- tion, and bawled out as another bird flew off scatheless, "By the powers, and ye-gave that one a fright !" The Chronicle must have nearly exhausted its topics of consolation when it has recourse to one so nearly akin to Paddy's last shift.
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