mured, perhaps unheard, at the increaſe of our debt and the loſs of our people.
This thirſt of blood, however the viſible promoters of ſedition may think it convenient to ſhrink from the accuſation, is loudly avowed by Junius, the writer to whom his party owes much of its pride, and ſome of its popularity. Of Junius it cannot be ſaid, as of Ulyſſes, that he ſcatters ambiguous expreſſions among the vulgar; for he cries havock without reſerve, and endeavours to let ſlip the dogs of foreign or of civil war, ignorant whither they are going, and careleſs what may be their prey.
Junius has ſometimes made his ſatire felt, but let not injudicious admiration miſtake the venom of the ſhaft for the vigour of the bow. He has ſometimes ſported with lucky malice; but to him that knows his company, it is not hard to be ſarcaſtick in a maſ. While he walks like Jack the
