A case of this kind happened a few evenings since:--A Mr. Blewitt--I suppose the composer--made a very absurd motion, the object of which was to inquire “What office the Duke of Wellington held in the present government, and whether he was or was not a member of the cabinet.” Without referring the learned gentleman to a certain erudite volume called the Yearly Almanack and Directory, Sir Robert Peel proceeded to explain the duke's position. He eulogised, as who would not? his grace's sagacity and his wisdom; the importance of his public services, and the great value the ministers, his _confreres_, set upon a judgment which, in a long life, had so seldom been found mistaken; and then he concluded by quoting from one of the duke's recent replies to some secretary or other who addressed him on a matter foreign to his department--“That he was one of the few men in the present day who did not meddle in affairs over which they have no control.” “A piece of counsel,” quoth Sir Robert, “I would strenuously advise the honourable member to apply to his own case.” Now we have already said that we think Blewitt--though an admirable musician--seems to be a very silly man. Still, if he really did not know what the duke represented in her Majesty's government--if he really were ignorant of what functions he exercised, the information might have been bestowed upon him without a retort like this. In the first place, his query, if a foolish, was at least a civil one; and in the second, it was his duty to understand a matter of this nature: it therefore came under his control, and Sir Robert's application of the quotation was perfectly uncalled-for. Well; what followed? Mr. Blewitt rose in wrath to reply, when the house called out, “Spoke, spoke!” and Blewitt was muzzled; the moral of which is simply this--you ask a question in the house, and the individual addressed has a right to insult you, you having no power of rejoinder, under the etiquette of “spoke.” Any flippancy may overturn a man at this rate; and the words “loud laughter,” printed in italics in the _Chronicle_, is sure to renew the emotion at every breakfast table the morning after. Now I am sorry for Blewitt, and think he was badly treated. A NUT FOR “LAW REFORM.” [Illustration: 229]