Famine Expected in England

Hitherto the cycle of the seasons has befriended Sir Robert Peel. Four good harvests in succession have filled his exchequer-filled the stomachs of the lieges-made the nation prosperous, the people contented. Alas! the scene is changed-the evil day has come upon him, and has found him unprepared to face it. Famine-gaunt, horrible, destroying famine-seems impending. Fears have seized the public mind. In Ireland matters look appalling-in England gloomy. The granaries of the continent are exhausted. The corn fields of the Vistula, the Danube, and the Elbe, are barely sufficient for the local wants of the inhabitants. The nation is in commotion; and the cry of "Open the ports and let in corn duty free," is heard on all sides, reverberated from every part of the empire.-The "pressure from without" has made itself heard in Downing street; and faith in the sliding-scale-Peel's sliding-scale, is gone forever. A third of the potato crop in Ireland is destroyed. The government has sent scientific professors to the scene of the mischief; and the awful truth is out, that this large portion of the people's food-the esculent that Cobbett abhorred-is unfit for use. What is to be done, in the terrible, this unlooked for emergency? "Open the ports!" is the exclamation; and there stands the shivering Premier, like a reed in the wind, paralyzed between affection for his sliding-scale, and the horrors of public famine.