It is (says the editor of “The Northern Luminary”) the nature of the
serpent to sting, of the cur to bite, and of the editor of the Meridian
Sun, save the mark!--the farthing candle--to fabricate falsehoods. This
low scurrilous scribbler, this vile reptile, who leaves his slimy track
on every subject over which he crawls, is again spitting his venom at
us, and the friends of social order. But we will put our heel on the
loathsome toad, and crush him as we would the disgusting little animal
which he so much resembles. We were not invited to Mr Priggins’s dinner!
We _were_, thou prince of liars! We _were_ invited to the dinner, but
we treated the invitation with the contempt it deserved. We knew that
_you_, the editor of the Farthing Candle, were to be there--(when did
_you_ refuse a dinner, pray?)--and on _this_ account we declined the
invitation. We would not be seen sitting in the company of a man so
utterly devoid of the feelings and principles of a gentleman, as the
person alluded to is well known to be; and this, we repeat, was the
reason why we did not honour the dinner in question with our presence.
That Priggins was hissed, and that the evening was marked by a most
disgraceful disturbance, we have most respectable and most undoubted
authority for repeating, and we repeat it accordingly. The effrontery is
indeed monstrous and unblushing that would deny facts so notorious. Let
the dastardly editor of the Farthing Candle _again_ deny those facts _if
he dare_.
* * * * *
Our next specimen is from “The Patagonian,” a paper of gigantic
dimensions. It is