Sir John Barnard made a short, bad speech, and went away. Mr. Pelham said, to repeal the Plantation Act would be to tell the people, We will repeal this law, not because it has, but because it ought to have made you uneasy. But it would be too serious to pay such attention even to clamour: who part with their wealth, part with their strength. Such a repeal would revive the principle of the Church, which has had such pernicious effects--but no encouragement must be given to that spirit, though it has been laboured by some who can only figure in a hot contest, and who can thunder out their ecclesiastic anathemas, but have nothing to say when they come to preach on morality. Pitt carried this still further; and though he did not act like, yet he affected to speak with the same spirit of Whiggism as his friend, Lord Temple. He had not expected, he said, that this would be the first return to Parliament for their condescension in repealing the late act. Here the stand must be made, or _venit summa dies_! we should have a Church spirit revived. He believed the late clamour was only a little election art, which was given way to genteelly; that the other Bill was not a toleration of, but a preference given to, Jews over other sects. That his maxim was, never to do more for the Church than it now enjoys: that now you would except the Jews in the opposite extreme. It is the Jew to-day, it would be the Presbyterian to-morrow: we should be sure to have a septennial Church clamour. That we are not now to be influenced by old laws enacted before the Reformation: our ancestors would have said, “A Lollard has no right to inherit lands.” But we do not fear indulging Jews; they will never be great purchasers of land; they love money, and trade with it to better advantage. This silly effort of old prejudices was baffled by 208 to 88. Not that even eighty-eight men were actuated by such monkish principles; some were obliged to espouse them to secure their approaching elections.