therein, and did not scruple to say so. Anyhow, the Bill had so worked that there, in 1851, was Lord John Russell, its parent and promoter, in the office of Premier of Great Britain, and in the command of a parliamentary majority. Small marvel if the ten-pounders asked themselves the question, what, in the name of gluttony, he could covet more? They were quite entitled to ask that question, not only of themselves, but of the singular statesman whom they had been content to follow. Could he state that there was any measure, not revolutionary, but such as they and other well-disposed subjects of the realm desired, which he was prevented from introducing by the aristocratic character of the House of Commons? Certainly not. The triumph of the Free-trade policy was a distinct proof to the contrary. Was there any discontent in the country at the present distribution of the franchise? Nothing of the kind. The apathy was so great that even those entitled to enrolment would hardly prefer their claims. Even the enrolled cared little about voting—so little, indeed, that it was sometimes difficult to persuade one-half of a large constituency to come to the poll. All attempts at public meetings, for the purpose of agitating a reduction of the franchise, had been failures. The people were quite contented with things as they stood, and grumbled at the idea of a change. And yet this was the time, selected by a Prime Minister who had everything his own way, for getting up a fresh agitation! Every one, beyond himself, saw the exceeding absurdity of his conduct. The leading Whigs became positively angry; and from that period we may date his rapid decadence in their estimation. The real nature of his scheme, consisting of an arbitrary lowering of the franchise, was quite well known; and as that could not, by any possibility, be carried even through the House of Commons, his own friends thought it advisable to put the noble Lord upon another scent.