The Sun.
London, England, 1835-12-23 00:00:00

The CHAIRMAN said, he hoped they had all filled their
glasses, for he was sure they would not drink his toast
in other than bumpers—aye, and that with all their heart
and soul. Were they all ready—every man of them ready ?
—(Yes, yes—all, all.) Well then, he had to propose the
health of their worthy and beloved Member—" Colonel
Brodie."—Loud and protracted cheers.)
Col. BRODIE rose, but for some time was debarred by the
cheers from speaking. At length he was allowed to proceed,
and spoke nearly as follows :—My friends and fellow towns-
men—l feel I have not words in which to thank you for the
kind manner in which you have received the last toast. I
know no happiness that society can bestow—no kindness
that friends can impart—equal to the esteem you have
just evinced for me by the flattering manner in which you
drank my health.—(Cheers.) In any situation I should
deem myself highly honoured by such a testimonial—how
much more then must I feel the compliment when it pro-
ceeds from personal and political friends, all united in their
expressions of regard and esteem—all bearing testimony to
their sense of the honesty with which I have discharged
the high and responsible trust reposed by them in me.—
(Cheers.) I said to you on a former occasion, I would
give no pledges—no ; you trusted to my general character
—( We did, we did)—and I am happy to say I have not
deceived, and, my friends, I never will deceive you.—
(Continued cheers.) This is no very difficult promise to
make, for it luckily happens, that, on all points, our senti-
ments cordially agree ;—I may, and no doubt do, differ
from some of you on minor matters, but on all great points
—on all leading principles, I know we hold opinions in corn-
mon.—(Hear, hear.) You will ever find me supporting
certain principles—those which first recommended me to
your notice, steadily and consistently, and sure I am that
so long as I continue to do so—so long as I continue to
do my duty to you—you will never forget or desert me.—
(Great cheers.) But what are those principles? Are they
not, my friends, the extension of Christian love, charity, and
upright dealing to all.—(Great cheers.) Acting on these
principles, Ministers, supported by the steady and con-
sistent Reformers of the country, have effected four grand
and important objects as the first results of the Reform
Bill. They have got rid of the rotten boroughs—(Loud
cheers)—they have emancipated _ the slaves—(Continued
cheers)—and what brighter gem can an honest Ministry
place in the crown of a virtuous King—(Cheers)—they have
broken down the monopoly of the East India Company,
and they have in a great measure, though I am not so san-
guine on this subject as some, effected a reform in the Cor-
porations. (Cheers.) lam a member of one of these
Corporations ; one, however, which I honestly believe to
be amongst the least vicious in the country ; which has ho-
nestly an faithfully discharged its duties. But the sys-
tem has long been broken up ; that system which is so no-
toriously vicious ; though, I repeat, I do not say one dis-
paraging word of any one of those with whom I have acted,
and who I believe to be as honourable men as can be asso-
ciated with.—(Hear, hear.) But I will always say, that
the system was a vicious and an offensive one, for I have
many men just now in my eye whose talents, integrity, and
virtue, have long entitled them to a seat in the Corpora-
tion.—(Cheers.) But, my friends, the power now is in
your own hands, and recollect it will be your own fault if
you do not elect the most fit and proper men, no matter to
what denomination of Christians they may belong ; such
men as will do credit to your judgments by showing a pro-
per anxiety to benefit and improve the City.—(Hear,
hear.) But, my friends, though much has been done by
Ministers and Parliament, much more yet remains to
be effected. The grievances of the Dissenters must—
aye, and will be redressed.—(Cheers.) The wrongs of
Ireland must, aye, and will be redressed. (Continued
cheers.) For more than five centuries that unfortunate
country has groaned under the tyranny and misrule Hof this
country ; but, God be thanked, she has now a Viceroy who
metes out justice to all parties, whether_ Protestant or Ca-
tholic.—(Cheers.) And this, my friends, is all the. Irish
ask for—justice is all they require.—(Cheers.) Is it an
unfair request—is it an unreasonable demand ?—(lmmense
cheering.) How often have I heard O'Connell—the much
vituperated O'Connell, declare that he only wanted justice
—justice for Ireland.—(Cheers.) Yes, my friends, and jus-
tice he and his unfortunate country will have, in spite of all
the efforts of factious and heartless intriguers. Now, hav-
ing just alluded to this much maligned individual, I will say
a word or two on the serious charge brought against Minis-
ters of being united with him in one common object—as if,
indeed, he were' some hideous and loathsome monster that
ought to be hated- and shunned.—(Hear.) But admit-
ting, for a moment, for the mere sake of argument, that
Mr. O'Connell is as base and as hideous as his malignant
foes would have us believe, are the Ministers in that situa-
tion that they must refuse just and beneficial measures to
the country, merely because those measures happen to meet
the views and command the support of Mr. O'Connell. Bu

I deny that Mr. O'Connell is that bad man—that design-
ing politician—that hideous monster his reckless oppo-
nents declare him to be.—(Loud cheers.) Mr. O'Connell
has his faults, I freely admit.—( Hear, hear.) But have
we not all our faults, eh ?—is there one of us without
them ?—(Cheers.) I cannot agree in every one of Mr.
O'Connell's doctrines—l will not defend Mr. O'Connell's
violence of language at times ; but let me ask, are there not
others to blame as much, aye, more than himself—have not
his enemies been goading him on, by their ungenerous taunts
and their foul imputations, almost to madness?—(Con-
tinued cheers.) What ! is O'Connell a mere block ?—is he
hewn out of stone ?—is he a cold, unfeeling, marble statue ?
—(Cheers.) Oh, my friends, is he not, like ourselves, flesh
and blood?—has he not the common attributes of man?—
(Great cheers.) If we are pricked, do we not bleed ?—if
we are tickled, do we not laugh ?—if we are poisoned, do
we not die ?—and if we are wronged, my countrymen, shall
we not revenge ?—(Cheers.) Has O'Connell been wronged ?
—(Yes, yes.) He has, my friends, be has, and in a manner
almost beyond what human patience could bear.—(Cheers.)
I grant you he might have pursued a more dignified course
—I wish his keen and acute temperament had permitted
it—by heaping coals of fire on the heads of his calumniators.
This mighty Colossus—for such, indeed, gentlemen, he is,
is not to be put down.—(Tremendous cheers.) I will use
the words again—this mighty Colossus is not to be put
down by the impotent weapons of the Baronet, I might al-
most say, the ex-Baronet of Westminster.—(Cheers.) And
now my friends, I will tell you candidly, the time was
when I too was prejudiced and strongly too against Mr.
O'Connell. But for the last few years every thing I have
read, everything I have heard has tended only more and
more to convince me that he is a much injured man.—
(Cheers.) From my heart, gentlemen, I firmly believe Mr.
O'Connell to be a truly honest man.—(Loud and continued
cheers.) lam well aware that, in certain quarters, I shall
pass for a driveller—that I shall be sneered at as a fool or
dupe—may be stigmatized as a traitor—but I care not for
these, for any consequences, while my conscience tells me
my motives are pure and my actions just.—(Continued
cheering.) Oh, my friends, happy is it for us to have lived
to see the day when the dispensation of justice is pure and
impartial in Ireland—when the honest man, drooping in the
bitterness of insulted feeling, dare stand erect amongst his
fellows—when his heart tells him he may in security and
independence breathe the invigorating air of safe and ra-
tional liberty—when his country—his loved country, Ire-

land, may freely and truly indulge the hope of being the
equal of her sister isle—of England—in freedom, happiness,
truth, and virtue.—(Lond continued cheers.)

On the 4th of December a vagabond created great
confusion at the Hof theatre, at Vienna, by crying out fire
as loud as he could, in the midst of the performance. The
whole audience were terrified and took to flight. It is
not said that any further mischief occurred. The fellow
was arrested.
The following melancholy occurrence connected with
the loss of the George 111. convict ship took place last
week :—A woman named Levi, the wife of one of the
convicts, shortly after his departure from this country, be-
came acquainted with a young man named Hudson, and
after a short time they lived together as man and wife.
When, however, the news arrived in London of the loss of
the vessel, and of her husband being drowned, she was
seized with such remorse that she fled from her paramour
and went to her friends, who reside at Broad-green, Surrey.
After a day or two had elapsed, Hudson, having been in-
formed where she was, went after her, and begged her to go
back with him. She, however, persisted in her determina-
tion of remaining with her friends, and at length the man.
Hudson became so enraged that he drew a knife from his
pocket, and, seizing the unfortunate woman by both her
hands, he inflicted a desperate wound in her throat. He was
taken into custody almost immediately, and subsequently
fully committed for trial for the capital offence of wounding
with intent to murder.