John Bull cuts a very ludicrous figure under the manipulations of the noble
Russell and the ignoble
Seward.
The aged British Minister, who is getting in his dotage, has succeeded in taking all the starch out of the national collar and converting the lion into a lamb.
The adroit villain,
Seward, passes off a vast number of practical jokes upon honest John, which are evidently intended as insults, to be avowed as such, or retracted, according to the manner in which they are taken.
Now he knocks John's beaver over his eyes, and when the bluff old gentleman squares away to resent the indignity, the
Yankee assures him that it was entirely unintentional, and that he takes the greatest pleasure in the world in disavowing the act. Anon, he creeps up behind John and runs a pin into him to the head, and when he turns round in a rage, Jonathan is delighted to withdraw the cause of offence.
And so he goes on, treading on John's toes, bruising his shins, and tripping him up, and, as long as he makes an apology for it afterwards,
Bull considers himself bound to be pacified, and to rejoice at the restoration of their friendly relations.
The seizure of British ships, the
Trent affair, the stone blockade, the imprisonment of British citizens, are all so many demonstrations of a desire to annoy and exasperate him, and the explanations which follow a demand, for redress are, in reality, covert insults to his understanding and good nature.
By this time it is evident to all the world, except honest John, that he is be coming the victim and the butt of the malisons
Yankee, who is determined to insult him first and apologize afterwards at every opportunity that offers.
We are sorry to see the old gentleman made ridiculous; but as long as he chooses to doft the lion's character, and occupy the relation to the belligerents of the donkey between two bundles of hay, he must expect to be laughed at.
