As has been said, Mr. Osborne was defeated at this election; he did not indeed succeed in again entering the House of Commons till 1870, when he was returned for Waterford, the Irish constituency which, after his Nottingham defeat, he had unsuccessfully wooed in 1869. Subsequent to this election party feeling ran so high that Mr. Osborne had to be smuggled out of the town in a covered car, some of his opponent’s supporters having announced their intention of lynching him. A few days afterwards he wrote to a friend: “I am slowly recovering from the success of an Irish election.” Mr. Bernal Osborne, as is well known, possessed the derisive faculty in an abnormal degree, and this he could not help exercising everywhere, even in the House of Commons. He was, indeed, the hero of many amusing incidents which convulsed that august assembly, and even to-day tales are told of his readiness in banter and repartee. I do not, however, know whether the following little story is generally known. Mr. Osborne had a great friend, an Irishman, and also a Member of Parliament, though of quite opposite political views. This gentleman, whose name was Tom Corrigan, was not by any means a teetotaller; indeed, malicious people said that he never addressed the House except when under the inspiration of sherry. On a certain night “Tom” chanced to follow Bernal Osborne in a debate upon some Irish question or other, and at once began: “What does my honourable friend know of Ireland? I answer, nothing, or less than nothing. We all know the lines of the poet— A little learning is a dangerous thing” . . . “Go on, Tom,” interjected his friend across the House; “go on, and quote the next line!” “And why should I be after quoting the next line, Mr. Speaker, sorr?” “Because, Tom,” again interrupted Bernal Osborne, “the next line should particularly suit you, for it runs: ‘Drink deep,’ Tom, ‘Drink deep.’” Mr. Osborne was always very severe upon those who spoke above their own capacity and other people’s comprehension. His favourite butts in the House of Commons, indeed, were those pompous and Pharisaical members whose _doctrinaire_ views he was ever ready to deride. Amongst the political squibs in my scrap-book there is one directed against the over-taxation which in long-past days certainly did press very heavily upon the people of England. Exceedingly well written, it is, I believe, an extract from an article by Sydney Smith, published in the _Edinburgh Review_ about 1820. In the form of what we should to-day call a political leaflet, it is rendered all the more effective by the manner in which the words are arranged, and also by the very adroit use made of capital letters:— TAXES upon every Article which enters into the Mouth, or covers the Back, or is placed under the Foot;