For some weeks after he took his seat Hamilton was silent; but a grand question arising which he thoroughly knew, he could not forbear speaking on the side of the constitution and social order. His speech astonished not only persons who were strangers to the powers of Hamilton, but even his intimate friends; and Sir Edward Hambden declared, that the genius of Hamilton rose with the theatre on which it was exerted. The information and reasoning were such as he expected; but the energetic and impressive eloquence he could not have looked for, from even a man of eminent abilities, who was not accustomed to parliamentary exhibitions. Among the audience in the gallery was the old laird, who had a great pleasure in resorting to the house, not for the eloquence he might hear there, but for seeing his nephew among the members. He had no preconception that William was to open on this occasion, and was actually engaged in a whispering conversation with one of the reporters, who was the son of a farmer on his estate, when the voice of his nephew reached his ears, and with the warmest eagerness he called out, so as to be heard through most of the gallery, “_It is our ain Willie_.” His friend whispered him--“Pray do not speak so loud, you may interrupt your nephew.”--“_Vara weel Sandy, I’ll be as quiet as a moose._ But Willie is too quiet himself, I wish he would speak better _oot_: the _booy_ is _blate_ at first.” William having for some time spoken in that low tone of voice, and modest humility of manner, which results from ingenuous sensibility, on a first appearance before the ablest assembly in the world, at length acquired more firmness, and, as he warmed, entered into all the merit and interest of his subject. With the powers of his understanding, and the movements of his heart, his voice, tones, and gestures, and, above all, his eyes, were in thorough unison. All was energy, interest, and impression. A dead stillness ruled over the house, as if a Sheridan, Fox, or a Pitt, had been speaking; not a whisper was heard, except low breathings of admiration. _One_ indeed would whisper to his neighbour, “_Vara weel laad_.” Hamilton having finished, the chief orators of both parties vied with each other, in bestowing praises on this exhibition of the young member. The question being adjourned, our hero went to the lobby, to look for his uncle, and just as he met him, found himself surrounded by gentlemen, congratulating him on the fame he had established at the very outset of his parliamentary career. Mr. Dundas, to whom our hero was known, came to him, with Mr. Pitt, who testified the highest admiration of the union of knowledge, philosophy, and eloquence. “Happy I am,” said he, “Mr. Hamilton, that our cause has received such a powerful accession; and that when this venerable sage (turning to a gentleman near him) is about to withdraw from parliament, a youth enters, who has adopted his sentiments and principles, and