hand a large-faced child, with great blue eyes, and a cold in its head. It wore a brown skin cap with a gold band round it, while a green and white net-comforter was twisted round its chin and body; its dress, generally, bearing very strong evidence that the dear little thing

was an extremely bad traveller.

.

After a short delay, during which several aristocratic carriages rolled by-at which period the Marquis adopted the celebrated system of ostrichism, and hid his headthe omnibus rattled on towards town. At Walham-green, two tall scraggy girls from a boarding-school were pocked in. A gentleman with very red mustachios, was picked up at the Queen's Elm gate; and a poulterer's boy, with a couple of skinned rabbits in a tray, was added to the party at the corner of Sloane Street, the said rabbits being on their way back to a poulterer's in Duke Street, St. James's, because they were not fresh.

At the top of St. James's Street, the caravan stopped. The day had cleared up; the pavement was dry. The King was in town; there were many people about. Lord Snowdon just peeped through the windows, and saw groups collected-men he knew. Here it was clear he could not get out-whither should he go? how far-what place was safe? At length he resolved upon going the whole journey to the Bank, so that he might emerge in the city, and then enveloping himself in a hackney-coach, reach the habitable part of the town without fear of discovery.

Still the Marquis kept peering out of his prison-nobody saw him-and it was pleasant to peep through the loop-holes thus unobserved. In a few minutes all was right; but the pavement in Piccadilly was up; it was necessary, therefore, that the huge machine should go down St. James's Street; and so it did; but short was its progress in that line of march. All the bumpings and thumpings which its rapid course in the earlier part of its journey had excited, now were to be compensated for. The driver smacked his whip, the horses obeyed the

sound; when, bang went something, and, in an instant,

the whole fabric came down with a crash like thunder, exactly in front of White's.

Now, as far as we can see, there is nothing vulgar in any of this picture, except the Marquis, who is the very concrete essence of it. But does anybody suppose that the author intended to make him so?-that author being at once a bought slave, and a born worshipper of the aristocracy, and, moreover, a man who would die a martyr to his faith in the silver-fork school of manners and morals? The supposition would be ridiculous. What is the explanation, then? Why, that the man is himself essentially a vulgar man, and therefore cannot, by possibility, know what vulgarity means; and is so governed by his genius and passion for the ludicrous, that he bestows it upon his patrons, as if it were a boon from Heaven, as they bestow their patronage on him.

As Mr. Theodore Hook employs the rubbing process upon his patients, and kills them out of pure ignorance of their nature and his own applications, so Mrs. Gore goes to the opposite extreme, and professes to effect her cures by the delicate and elegant system of acu-puncturation. Her polished and finely-pointed needles penetrate to the very bone, without being felt otherwise than pleasantly by the patient and there

is no saying that they might not in time have effected a cure of the disease, but that their points are steeped in poison; and thus, for every bad humour that they dissipate or draw off, they inflict a wound that is "past surgery.'

But, after all, "the unkindest cut" (howbeit very far from the hardest) that has been inflicted on the Fashionable World, reached it from the last quarter that would have been suspected of such a design. "The Exclusives," which is a regular and systematic attack on the whole plan and principle of aristocratic life, is written, not as its worthy publisher insists, by a Prince of the blood and a Peer of the realm uniteda Beaumont and Fletcher of the Fashionable World-but by a pillar of the Church!

Our limits, long since overstepped, warn us to conclude. We have, not ungraciously, we trust, compared the present melancholy predicament of the Fashionable World to that of the "Great Captain," who was its representative, by anticipation, in the last century. Betrayed by its pals, and deserted by its parasites, it lies, like him, bound hand and foot in the black-hole of public opinion, hopeless of a reprieve. But, like him also, its fate for the moment rests in some measure in the hands of the Peachum and Lockit of the political world,-the Whig and Tory parties, who may possibly agree between themselves to give it "a session or two longer." But be this as it may, its doom is decreed and is imminent: the fiat has gone forth, and nothing can long avert the ignominious end that awaits it. Whether, like the gallant Captain aforesaid, it will have the spirit to "die game," is more than we shall predict; though our own private opinion is, that in all probability it will. For there is, after all, something in "blood," which keeps the courage to the sticking-place, when nothing else can. If we remember rightly, "The Tenth" fought capitally at Waterloo.

Something, of course, will depend upon the artificial stimulants to which we are all apt to resort on great emergencies. If, like Macheath's brandy-flask, those should be run dry, it may possibly cut but a sorry figure when arraigned at the awful bar of that public opinion which it has so long outraged; for the case is one of so flagrant a nature, that the assembled judges will indeed form" a terrible show" in the eyes of the delinquent. If, on 'the other hand, it can contrive to keep possession, to the last, of its ill-gotten means of keeping up its spirits, we shall chance to see some sport yet.

In any case, we shall, at whatever cost, secure a seat within view of the place of execution, and thus give ourselves the high moral satisfaction of witnessing the final exit of the most impudent and successful culprit that ever cried "Stand!" to a true man.

Z. Z.

READER, did you ever, in the course of your various experiences, see a burly Yorkshire farmer bargaining respecting a horse? If you did ever behold this specimen of humanity under such an aspect, you did not fail to remark, that Dame Nature had been kind to him in much that regards our real comfort here below. You saw by the hale and florid countenance, that she had blessed him with a hearty constitution; and by the general good round appearance of the man, you perceived that he had not neglected to do his part in maintaining the due and comfortable condition of the bodily man. Under a rather heavy good-natured exterior, you perceived also, by the twinkle of his eye, a sort of shrewdness, not indeed of a high character, but still sufficient to rescue the man from the imputation of stolidity. You thought, too, that you would not like to buy a horse of that man. Now, reader, if you ever did see such a person, you can easily form to yourself no very incorrect idea of the appearance of that important person, the Chancellor of the Exchequer. The habiliments, too, with which that noble Lord adorns his person, would not seem in any way to disturb this comparison. A low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat, an eternal black coat, broad at the tails, a grey waistcoat, and checked trousers, that seem made out of an old bed ticken,-all seem to strengthen the notion, that the noble Lord is some well-todo, good-natured, and rather sly farmer of the North Riding. And sooth to say, the exterior is no bad index here of the interior man. Nature meant him for that very position; but one of those strange freaks of fortune, which so disturb all our calculations and set at nought our philosophy, made him Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Had the noble Lord started in life as plain Mr. Anybody, he would never have occupied the position he now holds; though, from the sharp.. ening that his wits would have received, that native shrewdness of which we have spoken, would have become more prominent, and he would have acquired the reputation of a sharp | man. His character and influence, at the present moment, are of a somewhat curious description. It is probably known to our readers, that Lord Althorp is now leader of the House of Commons. They, however, may not exactly know what that means, nor the sort of influence which the Chancellor of the Exchequer exercises over that assembly.

The leader, then, manages the whole business of the House. He represents the administration generally, and determines upon the mode in which the Ministry shall meet every matter transacted. He, in fact, determines when the House shall adjourn, what questions shall be discussed, and the order which ministerial business shall follow. The Speaker always sees himthe House always listens to him: so long as the

Ministry exists, the House, in fact, give up their guidance to his hands.

In an assembly like the House of Commons, composed of all sorts of materials, and every member being able, to a certain extent, to pursue an independent course as regards the business of the House, it is of enormous importance to the Ministry, that the leader should really have the ear of the House, and receive from the members implicit obedience. Mr. Pitt bullied the House; frightened them. He was lord paramount; and would have his own way, simply because he chose it. Lord Althorp's influence is nearly as complete, but attained and exercised in a very different manner. His burly, goodnatured appearance, his extreme good temper, and suavity of manner, have raised in the minds of nine-tenths of the members, the idea that he is really a very well-intentioned, kind, and honest sort of a person. He never bullies. As for his being angry, why, the thing seems impossible. He has always a good-humoured smile; and if he do not, or cannot understand what is intended, people always feel and say, that he would, if he could. If he go wrong in the opinion of any one, it is always observed, "he really does not intend it; and he is so good-natured, and wellintentioned, that I have very little doubt but that I shall set him right." Thus he has become what is called very popular with the House. No one believes him possessed of much ability, but all give him credit for very good wishes. He, by this means, has become a sort of general referee from all the discordant elements of the House.

If one were to ask any of the members of the House, if he thought the noble Lord fitted for the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer, we would venture any odds, that, nine times out of ten, the answer would be, "No, certainly not." Were you to inquire whether he ought to be leader of the House; as certainly would they answer "Yes." On account of his knowledge? "Oh, no-he knows very little." "On account of his capacity to catch quickly what is intended, and to answer it?" The person questioned would laugh in your face, and cry out, "Oh, dear, no one suspected him of that." Well then, what is it that fits him for this very difficult office? The answer would be, "He has the confidence of the House." Yes, but how has he gained it? "Chiefly by his good temper, and his appearance. No one wishes to think ill of him; and if one were to wish it, the thing would almost be impossible. You would feel next to certain that he could not overreach you."

As to the superior skill of the noble Lord, in managing that very troublesome assembly, the House of Commons, a striking example was afforded during the last session, pending the de bate on the famous 147th clause of the Irish

Church Bill. A very opportune fit of the gout compelled him to be absent during the discussion of that affair; and, consequently, Mr. Stanley not only managed the debate, but was, in fact, leader pro tempore. The result might easily have been foreseen. The Right Honourable Secretary's temper was not fitted for the task. What with his own petulance, and that of those by whom he was assailed, he was nearly driven frantic; and the House became more like a bear garden than ever. Had his dictatorship existed for ten days, it would have been dangerous to have entered the House; and we sincerely believe the Ministry would have been ruined. All parties seemed heartily pleased when the Chancellor of the Exchequer returned good nature became again part of the order of the day, and serving in Parliament was no longer a thing to be deemed personally dangerous.

The reader may perhaps wonder at this his.. tory, and puzzle himself by endeavouring to account for it. Perhaps he will permit us to aid him in his difficulty. Did you ever see a badger hunt, a bear baited, or a Spanish bull fight? Any one of these is a fit illustration of the position of the unfortunate leader of the House of Commons. Take a very ordinary case as an example:-A motion is made, that the Speaker do leave the chair, whereupon up start some twenty persons having questions to put to the leader of the House. (Every member may then put a question, though he cannot discuss it, except on a motion to go into a Committee of Supply. That is indeed the grand holiday for the House.) Seeing the noble Lord in his place," says, perhaps, some member for the city, "I wish to put a question to him respecting the duty on nutmegs.' When the important matter of the nutmegs has been duly answered, there immediately rises some agricultural member, who is in an agony respecting taxed carts, or the Corn Laws; and not being able to contain himself, wishes to put another question to the Chancellor of the Exchequer. That being over, some pompous person, of more extensive views, wishes to know, "Whether anything definite be known by our Government as to the negotiations now supposed to be pending between the various Northern Powers?" Lord Palmerston here rises, and, with a flourish of his hands, begs, in roundabout phrase, "to assure the honourable member, that in the present condition of the various difficult and intricate considerations involved in the nature of the inquiry, the Government intend to preserve that caution which the great interests at stake necessarily demand." The House, or rather the ministerial benches, cry, "Hear, hear;" and the questioner is silenced. The next person rises with solemn gravity, and is really very sorry to detain the House, but the very important and pressing urgency of the matter must be his excuse; he desires to know "whether the Chancellor of the Exchequer has learned that a little black boy, who was supposed to have been landed some weeks since by a vessel from some infected port in America, had

The

been attacked by the cholera, had turned particularly blue,—and, it was said, died very suddenly? Of the latter part of the statement the honourable member was not quite certain; but he really should be much obliged to the noble Lord, if he could give the House any information respecting this distressing occurrence." The Chancellor of the Exchequer, having answered, some person, as pertinacious as Mr. Cobbett himself, gives notice, that, on such and such a day, he intends to move the following resolutions ;he thereupon commences reading amidst a din totally indescribable. At length there is a hope of going to business, when some angry member chooses to be heard upon a breach of privilege. Everybody is immediately silent; then it usually turns out that an impudent newspaper has called the honourable gentleman a fool. member having no newspaper of his own, answers the writer from the floor of the House. Every person now begins to be seriously impatient,-the poor Minister has been badgered for half an hour, and the Speaker has made sundry attempts to put the question, that "I do now leave the chair;" the shouts are becoming intense, everybody very hot, and out of humour. An Irish member usually selects this identical moment for the detail of some abominable grievance. He also wishes to put a question to the Secretary for Ireland. He will not be put down. He knows that English members are unwilling to listen to Irish grievances; why then do they not let them take care of their own affairs? He is ready to prove that they are perfectly competent to the task. “Question!" "Question!" now resounds from every quarter of the House. The member, undismayed, and fancying himself a martyr for the cause of Ireland, assumes a dignified attitude. He folds his arms, gets exceedingly red in the face, and looks with affected unconcern at the chandelier, as if to prove that he intended to stand till the House should be silent. Hereupon the Speaker, cries, with a sonorous voice, "Order!" "Order!" and rises to address the member, having first, with great grace and dignity, blown his nose, and put his white handkerchief leisurely into his pocket. "The honourable member must be aware that his privilege at present extends only to putting a question; and the House must perceive that such questions cannot be put, if order be not preserved. On the one hand, the privilege of the member must not be lost sight of, nor on the other, the convenience and wishes of the House entirely disregarded,—and he feels assured that the honourable member will so exercise his discretion, and the House their power, that the dignity of the House and decorum of its proceedings be preserved inviolate." Cheers from all sides, and the Speaker sinks with great dignity into his chair. The Irish Member" is ever ready to bow to the decision of the Chair, and act upon his suggestion," and he magnanimously agrees to forget and forgive the interruption, and proceeds to state his grievance :-" Has the Right Honourable Secretary for Ireland become acquainted

it was neither the one nor the other-it was the

escence. The bill was not gained by a manœuvre, but by the plain, downright determination of the nation at large.

The circumstance to which we allude occurred during the passing of the Coercion Bill. The grand point was to get up a thorough tale of horrors, in order to scare away the senses of the House of Commons. A regular raw-headand-bloody-bones story was to be fabricated, and terror and alarm were of the order of the day. To propitiate the House, also, the affair was committed to Lord Althorp's charge; for, although Mr. Stanley has a reputation for talent, his prudence is not deemed of the highest, and it was thought of the utmost consequence to conciliate the Commons. Lord Althorp, more than any other person, possessed their confidence; and they would consequently view, with less jealousy, any obnoxious measure which came recommended by him. The grand field-day arrived ;—the bill was brought from the Lords, and the Commons were in great excitement and expectation. At length Lord Althorp 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 ladies, on those occasions, commenced operations on coming into their box, by arranging fan, shawl, and pockethandkerchief, which was always carefully displayed, and unfolded, to be ready for immediate use. The gentlemen settled themselves ominously. They all, in sailor phrase, pulled long faces got up a gravity, and seemed to obey Antony's directions, "If you have tears, prepare to shed them now." 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-handkerchiefs 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 came to cry began to feel awkward. There was evidently no case for tears. It is a rule given us by Horace, "if you wish to make me weep, you must first weep yourself." The noble Lord's acting never reached this point,—— no man ever seemed farther from tears. He did not, indeed, seem pleased,—he felt that he looked very silly. The taunting cheers of the Radicals were not calculated, as restoratives, much to aid him. 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 regular units and tens, -so he opened his official box, and drew from thence a statement. Instead of horrifying the House with vivid descriptions of atrocities, he coolly ran over the number of murders, &c. murders, so many,-ditto, in the day-time so

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 he 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 till 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. In this case, the failure was of a description which everybody in the House could understand. No knowledge, no talent, was needed fully to feel how miserably the noble Lord had fallen short of his aim. People know well enough, that if you desire to frighten and horrify your hearers, you must not enumerate a dry catalogue of murders and burnings; they also understand, that the assertion of twenty murders having occurred, will not harrow up the feelings and terrify your audience one hundreth part as much as would the minute detail of one atrocity. Knowing all this, they could not fail to be aware of the singular breakdown of the noble Lord, and to feel something like contempt, for the strange attempt to excite an audience, self-styled highly educated, by dotting off a list of crimes, as if it had been a ship's invoice. Such an exhibition would have utterly ruined any one, not the heir to a peerage and some fifty thousand a-year. As it was, the affair was the subject of a day's joking; and next day the noble Lord was thought quite as clever as before.

"We

But here the inquiring reader may step in, and ask if there be not in the character of his Lordship something so honest, so open, frank, and straightforward, as to win for him great and deserved confidence. The quiet insertion of the deserved confidence puzzles us. must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us." We fully acknowledge that such is the character usually ascribed to the noble Lord ; but we must as frankly aver, we do not agree with that estimation.

Previous to his coming into office, the noble Lord went farther than any of his brethren on the side of popular government. He was never deemed a man of much ability; but still in this country his advocacy of democratic government was of great and essential service to that cause.