Breakfast; and, the day after that, a Grand
Associated Regenerative Tea; and, the day after
that, a Final Grand Aggregate Compounded
United and Associated Steam-boat River
Demonstration; and do the Regenerators go
anywhere without speaking, by the bushel?
Still, what offence to me? None. Still, I
am content to cry, Hurrah! hurrah! If the
Regenerators, though estimable men, be the
most tiresome men (as speakers) under
Heaven; if their sincerest and best
followers cannot, in the infirmity of human
nature, bear the infliction of such oratory, but
occupy themselves in preference with tea
and rolls, or resort for comfort to the less
terrible society of Lions, Elephants, and Bears,
or drown the Regenerative eloquence in the
clash of brazen Bands; I think it sensible and
right, and stiil exclaim, Hurrah!

But how, if with the matter of such
eloquence, when any of it happens to be
heard, and also happens not to be a
singular compound of references to the Bible,
and selections from Joe Miller, I find, on
drawing nearer, that I have some business?
How, if I find that the distinguished swarm
are not of that quiet class of gentlemen whom
MR. CARLYLE describes as consuming their
own smoke; but that they emit a vast
amount of smoke, and blacken their
neighbours very considerably? Then, as a
neighbour myself, I have perhaps a right to speak?

In Bedlam, and in all other madhouses,
Society is denounced as being wrongfully
combined against the patient. In Newgate, and
in all other prisons, Society is denounced as
being wrongfully combined against the
criminal. In the speeches of the Reverend
Jabez, and the other Regenerators, Society is
denounced as being wrongfully and wickedly
combined against their own particular Whole
Hog— who must be swallowed, every bristle,
or there is no Pork in him.

The proof? Society won't come in and
sign the pledge; Society won't come in and
recruit the Juvenile Temperance bands of
hope. Therefore, Society is fond of
drunkenness, sees no harm in it, favors it very much,
is a drunkard a base, worthless, sensual,
profligate brute. Fathers and mothers, sons and
daughters, brothers and sisters, divines,
physicians, lawyers, editors, authors, painters,
poets, musicians, Queen, lords, ladies, and
commons, are all in league against the
Regenerators, are all violently attached to
drunkenness, are all the more dangerous if by any
chance they be personal examples of tem-
perance, in the real meaning of the word!—
which last powerful steam-hammer of logic
has become a pet one, and is constantly to be
observed in action.

Against this sweeping misrepresentation, I
take the liberty of entering my feeble protest.
With all respect for Jabez, for Gloss, for Glib,
for Dove Delegate, and for Scradger, I must
make so bold as to observe that when a Malay
runs a-muck he cannot be considered in a
temperate state of mind; also, that when a
thermometer stands at Fever Heat, it cannot
claim to indicate Temperate weather. A man,
to be truly temperate, must be temperate in
many respects— in the rejection of strong
words no less than of strong drinks—  and I
crave leave to assert against my good friends
the Regenerators, that, in such gross
statements, they set a most intemperate example.
I even doubt whether an equal number of
drunkards, under the excitement of the
strongest liquors, could set a worse example.

And I would beg to put it seriously to the
consideration of those who have sufficient
powers of endurance to stand about the
platform, listening, whether they think of this
sufficiently? Whether they ever knew the like
of this before? Whether they have any
experience or knowledge of a good cause that was
ever promoted by such bad means? Whether
they ever heard of an association of people,
deliberately, by their chosen vessels, throwing
overboard every effort but their own, made
for the amelioration of the condition of men;
unscrupulously vilifying all other laborers in
the vineyard; calumniously setting down as
aiders and abettors of an odious vice which
they know to be held in general abhorrence,
and consigned to general shame, the great
compact mass of the community of its
intelligence, of its morality, of its earnest
endeavour after better things? If, upon
consideration, they know of no such other case,
then the enquiry will perhaps occur to them,
whether, in supporting a so-conducted cause,
they really be upholders of Temperance, dealing
with words, which should be the signs for Truth,
according to the truth that is in them?

Mankind can only be regenerated, proclaim
the fatteners of the Whole Hog Number Two,
by means of a Peace Society. Well! I call
out of the nearest Peace Society my worthy
friend John Bates — an excellent workman
and a sound man, lineally descended from that
sturdy soldier of the same name who spake
with King Henry the Fifth, on the night
before the battle of Agincourt. "Bates,"
says I, "how about this Regeneration? Why
can it only be effected by means of a Peace
Society?" Says Bates in answer, "Because
War is frightful, ruinous, and unchristian.
Because the details of one battle, because
the horrors of one siege, would so appal you,
if you knew them, that probably you never
could be happy afterwards. Because man
was not created in the image of his Maker to
be blasted with gunpowder, or pierced with
bayonets, or gashed with swords, or trampled
under iron hoofs of horses, into a puddle of
mire and blood. Because War is a wickedness
that always costs us dear. Because it wastes
our treasure, hardens our hearts, paralyses
our industry, cripples our commerce, occasions
losses, ills, and devilish crimes, unspeakable
and out of number." Says I, sadly, "But
have I not, O Bates, known all this for this
many a year?" " It may be so," says Bates;