Olla Podrida | Page 2

mutual scenting will be
followed up by a growl or a wag of the tail; however, one remark will
soon discover the political sentiments of the whole party. Should they
all agree, they are so busy in abuse that they rail at their adversaries
with their mouths full--should they disagree, they dispute so
vehemently that they forget that they were invited to dinner, and the
dishes are removed untasted, and the duties of the Amphytryon become
a sinecure. Go to an evening party or a ball and it is even worse, for
young ladies talk politics, prefer discussion to flirtation, and will rather
win a partner over to their political opinions than by their personal
charms. If you, as a Tory, happen to stand up in a cotillion with a pretty
Whig, she taps you with her fan that she may tap your politics; if you
agree, it is "En avant deux," if not, a "chassez croisee." Every thing

goes wrong--she may set to you indeed, but hers is the set of defiance,
and she shakes her wig against your Tory. To turn your partner is
impossible, and the only part of the figure which is executed con amore
is dos a dos. The dance is over, and the lady's looks at once tell you that
you may save your "oaths," while she "takes her seat."
I have tried change of scene--posted to watering places; but the deep,
deep sea will not drown politics. Even the ocean in its roaring and
commotion reminded me of a political union.
I have buried myself in the country, but it has been all in vain. I cannot
look at the cattle peacefully grazing without thinking of O'Connell's tail,
Stanley's tail, and a short-docked pony reminded me of the boasted
little tail of Colonel Peel. The farm-yard, with its noisy occupants, what
was it but the reality so well imitated by the members of the Lower
House, who would drown argument in discord? I thought I was in the
lobby at the close of a long debate. Every tenth field, every tenth
furrow, (and I could not help counting,) every tenth animal, and every
tenth step, reminded me of the Irish tithes; and when I saw a hawk
swoop over a chicken, I thought of the Appropriation Bill--so I left the
country.
I have tried every thing--I have been every where, but in vain. In the
country there was no relaxation--in society no pleasure--at home no
relief. England was disjointed, never to be united until it was
dismembered--and there was no repose. I had my choice, either to go
abroad, or to go mad; and, upon mature deliberation, I decided upon the
former, as the lesser evil of the two. So I gave--I sold--I discharged--I
paid--I packed up, and I planned. The last was the only portion of my
multifarious duties not satisfactorily arranged. I looked at the maps,
plied my compasses that I might compass my wishes, measured
distances that I might decide upon my measures--planned, looked over
the maps--and planned again.
CHAPTER TWO.
Well, as I said in my last chapter, I planned--and planned--but I might

as well conjugate it, as many others assisted--it was I planned, thou
plannedst, he planned, we planned, ye planned, and they planned--and
what annoyed me was, that I could not help considering that "the whole
house was in a committee," and without being able "to report progress."
At first it was decided upon that we should proceed up the Rhine, and
not leave off paddling until we had arrived at Manheim, at which town
I fancied that I should at least be out of political distance. We read all
about Manheim, found out that it was a regular-built town, with a
certain number of inhabitants--with promenades, gardens, and a fine
view of the Rhine. "So you're going abroad--where?" Manheim, was
the reply, and all the world knew that we were bound to Manheim; and
every one had something to say, or something that they had heard said,
about Manheim. "Very nice place--Duchess Dowager Stephanie--very
cheap--gay in winter--masters excellent"--were the variety of changes
rung, and all was settled; but at last one unlucky observation raised a
doubt--another increased--a third confirmed it. "A very dull
place--German cookery bad for children--steam-boats from Rotterdam
very bad, and often obliged to pass two nights on deck." A very
influential member of the committee took alarm about the children
being two nights on deck, and it was at last decided that to go up to
Manheim by steam-boat at 4 pounds, 9 shillings a-head, and children at
half-price was not to be thought of.
"I wonder you don't go to Bruges," observed a committee man; "nice
quiet place--excellent masters--every thing so cheap--I once bought
eighty large peaches there for two francs."
And all the