The Sun. — 1834-02-01 (London, England)

TAIT'S MAGAZINE.  Our friend Tait has grown taller and thinner since his late reduction in price ; he has added " six cubits" to his outward Adam, though his inner remains pretty much where it was. The present number is one of average excellence ; containing, however, one or two very superior articles. Among them we may notice " Sketches of Life and Manners," from the pen, we presume, of De Quincy—a writer who mixes up humour with learning in a very piquant manner; and the " Decline and Fall of the Empire of Fashion," a spirited diatribe, which is likely to do some service. The character of " Lord Althorp" is well portrayed, though in rather an inimical spirit. We subjoin a specimen, descriptive of the Noble Lord's first speech on the Irish Coercion Bill The grand field-day arrived ;—the Bill was brought from the Lords, and the Commons were in great excitement and expectation. At length Lord Altborp rose to move that the Bill be read : and it was plain the members on the ministerial benches, and the Tories also, were like the women who went to see Mrs. Siddons,—prepared for floods of tears. The gentlemen settled themselves ominously. It was evident to any one who knew anything of human nature, that a scene had been prepared, and was just about to be enacted. The Noble Lord began in his usual hesitating, unimpressive, common-place manner. The pocket•bandkerchiefs were evidently ready ; but as yet there was no excuse for crying. The Noble Lord proceeded, and at last began his endeavours at horror creating. They who caine to cry began to feel awkward. There was evidently no case for tears. The Noble Lord tried his hand at rhetoric—it would not do :—as a last resource, he remembered he was Chancellor of the Exchequer, and that figures were consequently his weapons, not figures of speech, mind, good reader, but units and tens,—so he opened his official box, and drew from thence a statement. Instead of horrifying the House with vivid decriptions of atrocities, he coolly ran over the number of murders, &c.— murders, so many,—ditto, in the day-time so many,—so many burglaries,—so many ravishings, and so on. The House came to cry ; they now were inclined to laugh. The official people below the bar were terror-stricken ; they shrugged their shoulders, and turned up their eyes. Mr. O'Connell crowed again,—his eyes sparkled with pleasure, and his cheer became triumphant and deafening. Poor Mr. Stanley ! he was as pale as a ghost be bit his lips, put his heels, like a Yankee, on the table, close by his Noble Colleague ; and at last, in his rage, fairly snatched the box of papers out of his hands, shut it with a loud bang, and locked it ; as much as to say, " You shall not spoil excellent materials ; you are ruining us." The noble Lord seemed startled by this angry proceeding, and hastened to the close of his speech. When he sat down, the House was a dead blank ; there was a painful silence among the great majority, who wanted an excuse of horrors for their intended votes, and who felt that this afforded none. During the whole night the debate laboured on against this painful disappointment ; and not t►ll both Mr. Stanley and Sir R. Peel had properly dished up the horrors, could the House forget the statement of the Chancellor of the Exchequer."