nationality. No such thing. He replied
thus: " My good friend Tipkisson, gentlemen,
wishes to know what I mean when he asks me
what we are driving at, and when I candidly
tell him, at the illimitable perspective. He
wishes (if I understand him) to know what I
mean ? "  "I do! " says Tipkisson, amid cries
of "Shame" and "Down with him." "Gentlemen,"
says our honorable friend, "I will indulge
my good friend Tipkisson, by telling him, both
what I mean and what I don't mean. (Cheers
and cries of " Give it him! " ) Be it known to
him then, and to all whom it may concern, that
I do mean altars, hearths, and homes, and
that I don't mean mosques and Mahommedanism!"
The effect of this home-thrust
was terrific. Tipkisson (who is a Baptist) was
hooted down and hustled out, and has ever
since been regarded as a Turkish Renegade
who contemplates an early pilgrimage to
Mecca. Nor was he the only discomfited
man. The charge, while it stuck to him, was
magically transferred to our honorable friend's
opponent, who was represented in an immense
variety of placards as a firm believer in
Mahomet; and the men of Verbosity were asked
to choose between our honorable friend and
the Bible, and our honorable friend's opponent
and the Koran. They decided for our
honorable friend, and rallied round the
illimitable perspective.

It has been claimed for our honorable
friend, with much appearance of reason, that
he was the first to bend sacred matters to
electioneering tactics. However this may be,
the fine precedent was undoubtedly set in a
Verbosity election: and it is certain that our
honorable friend (who was a disciple of
Brahma in his youth, and was a Buddhist
when we had the honour of travelling with
him a few years ago,) always professes in
public more anxiety than the whole Bench
of Bishops, regarding the theological and
doxological opinions of every man, woman,
and child, in the United Kingdom.

As we began by saying that our honorable
friend has got in again at this last election,
and that we are delighted to find that he has
got in, so we will conclude. Our honorable
friend cannot come in for Verbosity too
often. It is a good sign; it is a great
example. It is to men like our honorable
friend, and to contests like those from which
he comes triumphant, that we are mainly
indebted for that ready interest m politics,
that fresh enthusiasm in the discharge of the
duties of citizenship, that ardent desire to
rush to the poll, at present so manifest
throughout England. When the contest lies
(as it sometimes does) between two such men
as our honorable friend, it stimulates the
finest emotions of our nature, and awakens the
highest admiration of which our heads and
hearts are capable.

It is not too much to predict that our
honorable friend will be always at his post
in the ensuing session. Whatever the question
be, or whatever the form of its discussion;
address to the crown, election-petition,
expenditure of the public money, extension of
the public suffrage, education, crime; in the
whole house, in committee of the whole house,
in select committee; in every parliamentary
discussion of every subject, everywhere: the
Honorable Member for Verbosity will most
certainly be found.

TRANSPORTED FOR LIFE.

IN TWO PARTS.—PART I.

The following narrative is not fictitious. It has
been taken down from the lips of the narrator, whose
sufferings are described; with the object of shewing
what Transportation, at the present time, really is.

MANY years ago -- eventful years with me --
I stood at the bar of a court of justice, and
heard the terrible announcement of the judge,
that I was to be transported to a penal
colony for the remainder of my life. My
innocence of the crime of which twelve men
had, at the end of my long trial, declared me
guilty, has since been established. I have not
forgotten, nor shall I ever forget, with what
emotions I rose, at the end of a trial which
lasted a whole week, to make my last appeal,
"in arrest of judgment." My appeal was in
vain; and, when I heard my principal fellow
prisoner whom I then knew to be guilty,
asserting in fewer words -- though with
scarcely less fervour -- that he also was guiltless,
I felt how little the most emphatic
assertions of a prisoner could weigh with
those who have had long experience in the
administration of justice. Then, and not till
then, a feeling of my utter helplessness came
upon me. The complete isolation of the soul
of every man from me had never before
presented itself so strongly to my mind. My
fellow prisoner has since acquitted me of all
participation in his crime. How different,
then, were the thoughts and feelings in our
breasts, as we stood there side by side. Yet
the crowd about us were as unable to look
into the mind of the guilty man, as I was
powerless to make known to them my own.

The present separate celled prison omnibus
had not come into use at that time; and, after
the trial was over, myself and a batch of other
prisoners were conveyed from Newgate in a
long van open at the top and guarded by a
policeman, in the place of conductor, to the
prison at Milbank. I was chained leg to leg
with a man who had been twice convicted of
burglary. The operation of riveting on the
irons is a painful one, and is performed with
as much rudeness and with as little feeling as
it could have been done five centuries since --
each stroke of the riveting hammer causing a
sensation of pain something like tooth-drawing.
It was a fine spring morning; and
through the entrance of the vehicle, I caught
a glimpse -- perhaps, as I thought, for the last
time -- of the busy streets, already growing