traet of a letter from Liverpool to 13th July, or ea
my last Lithographic I told you, dear sir,

That Cotton was worthless, but now there's some stir,
Fulgar fractions begin to be all our desire,

And the market this week is penny higher,

We move here like lightning, in fits, starts, and fishes,
And make our conductors, of Cotton and Ashes;
The Bakers have lately (both country and town)
Determined to let us have interest down
Put you kno very wel their thermometer's gauge,
Only tells weare feverish, but will not assuage
The terrible thirst speculation creates ;
When money is low, no one's fever abates;

You know what I mea, 'tis a joke somewhat stale,
But this lowering of Interest's a "tub to the whale."
The obstinate Lond-holding Lords when they see

Dar
Will join the new Premier, and every one vis

produce go up, from the Thames to th Dee

In praising the man they have just blown "sky high."

In this way, I fear there'll be some ne subor ed

To swear, if not drunk, Johnny Bull has been Corned

The bacon-fed landlores when produce is up,

Will double their rents, and put pearls in each cup;

But w en quarter-day comes, and our inter st is higher,

They'll find that their Bacon is " fat in the fre."
When they call for relief on the Premier again,
They may get it, by taking the duty off grain.

But why need I tell you, who know Mr. Canning,

Though Wellington fights well, can beat him in planning. I say. why should I undertake to relate

The tri ks of a trade, or the Premier of state;

From Machiavel's time down to those of Lord Grey,
The most cunning statesmen have had the most sway.
But it's late. and the servant have called me to dine;
Please remember this letter's

"EXCLUSIVELY" THINE.