man, or to render an illustrious name additionally
illustrious, it has been our custom to erect a
monument.

Now, my desire is to establish a system the
very reverse of this. I propose that in grateful
remembrance of every great man who arises
among us, instead of putting up a statue, or
other monument, we go to work with axe and
hammer, and PULL ONE DOWN!

Here would be a stimulus to exertion!
Gracious powers! who that loved his country
—or rather his town—would not strain every
nerve to excel in his own particular department,
when the hope was before him of delivering
his fellow-creatures from one of those terrific
monsters, the public statues! Once let the
edict go forth, once let it be distinctly understood
that any man who achieved greatness
might not only feel secure himself from ever
appearing in one of our public places with a
scroll in one of his hands, and tights on both
his legs, but that he would secure to himself
the glory of abolishing a London statue—once
let this be understood, and I believe there
would be no end to our greatness as a nation.
How would the flagging energies of a virtuous
rising man revive as he passed the Duke of
York's Column, or George the Third's Pigtail,
or George the Fourth's curly wig, and said to
himself, "A little more labour, a little longer
effort, and, thou monstrosity, I shall lay thee
level with the dust."

Some one has remarked that we are not a
military nation. From the moment when this
plan of mine is adopted—as of course it will
be—we shall become so. What will a man
not do, what hardship will he not encounter,
what danger will he not face, with the thought
deep down in the recesses of his heart, that he
is not only combating his country's foes, but
that he is helping to lift that load of horror
off the arch at the top of Constitution-hill!

From one end of our social scale to the other
our whole community would feel this additional
stimulus to exertion. Even the illustrious
prince in whose presence it has never been my
good fortune to bask, would be urged on in a
glorious and virtuous career by the thought
that one day the statue of his great-uncle might
by his greatness be swept away from the surface
of Trafalgar-square, or that his noble acts would
remove another great-uncle from King William-
street, where he interrupts the traffic by vainly
offering a coil of rope for sale, and depresses
the spirits of the passers-by in a perfectly
inexcusable manner. All classes, I say, would feel
this stimulus. The politician would look at
Lord George Bentinck, and, shaking his fist at
him, would mutter, "Thy days are numbered."
The medical man would think of Jenner, and
sign his prescription with a bolder hand. "Fiat
pilula, ruat Jennerum!"

And consider how remarkable it is that the
bronze coinage should have come into existence
just at the moment when we are likely to have
so much bronze thrown upon our hands. What,
unnumbered pennies there must be in the length
and breadth of that fearful statue of the Duke
of Wellington. Why, there must be change for
a five-shilling-piece in his nose. The cocked-
hat would be a dowry for a princess. The
stirrups but—the mind shrinks before the
contemplation of such wealth.

PROPOSED FORM.
To His Excellency General Lord * * * * * * ,
Field-Marshal, &c. &c. &c.

My Lord,

We hasten to approach your lordship with
our heartfelt congratulations on your safe
arrival on these shores, and also on the
success which has attended your arms in every
action in which you have been engaged while
defending the interests of that great country
which you so adequately and nobly represent.

We are directed to convey to your lordship
the acknowledgments of your gracious
sovereign for the services rendered by you to your
country, and we are further directed to add to
the honourable titles which already adorn your
name, those of:—&c. &c. &c.

But a prouder distinction yet awaits your
lordship; one which it will be more glorious
to you to receive, and for us to confer.

It has been decided that such services as
those by which you have recently so eminently
distinguished yourself, are worthy of some more
marked commemoration than any which mere
titles, however illustrious, can afford. We have
to announce to you that it is the intention of
the sovereign of this country to confer upon
you the highest honour which a monarch can
give, or a subject receive.

It has, doubtless, not escaped the notice of
one so well acquainted with our metropolis as
your lordship, that in one of its principal
thoroughfares, at the entrance to one of its principal
parks, in the immediate vicinity of its clubs
and its Tattersall's, there exists a monster of
noisome and appalling proportions, which,
besides being the terror of the neighbourhood in
which it is located, has disgraced the name of
Britain in those foreign countries which the
rumour of its existence has unfortunately reached.

This monster it has been your proud privilege
to depose from his high place. An enemy to
the fair name of this country, almost as much
so as those other enemies over whom you have
lately triumphed—that monster has fallen before
your victorious approach, and beneath the spot
which was once its lair may now be seen your
lordship's name, in bold characters, and underneath
it the simple inscription—"OVERTHROWN BY
THIS PUBLIC BENEFACTOR."

As your lordship's fellow-countrymen pass
that inscription in their daily walks, not only
will the remembrance of the numerous exploits
with which your name is associated be kept
continually before them, but their gratitude
towards the man who has delivered his country
from a terror and a shame, will be reawakened
from day to day, and from hour to hour.

Feeling that nothing we could add would give
any additional value to this tribute which we