A NUT FOR “HER MAJESTY'S SERVANTS.” If a fair estimate were at any moment to be taken of the time employed in the real business of the country, and that consumed by public characters in vindicating their conduct, recapitulating their good intentions, and glossing over their had acts, it would be found that the former was to the latter as the ratio of Falstaff's bread to the “sack.” A British House of Commons is in fact nineteen out of every twenty hours employed in the pleasant personalities of attack and defence. It is something that the “noble baron” said last session, or the “right hon. baronet” did n't say in the present one, engrosses all their attention; and the most animated debates are about certain expressions of some “honourable and learned gentleman,” who always uses his words in a sense different from the rest of the nation. If this satisfies the public and stuffs the newspapers, perhaps I should not repine at it; but certainly it is very fatiguing and tiresome to any man with a moderately good memory to preserve the excellent traditions each ministry retains of their own virtues, and how eloquently the opposition can hold forth upon the various good things they would have done, had they been left quietly on the treasury benches. Now how much better and more business-like would it be if, instead of leaving these gentlemen to dilate and expatiate on their own excellent qualities, some public standards were to be established, by which at a glance the world at large could decide on their merits and examine into their fitness for office at a future period. Your butler and your coachman, when leaving your service, do not present themselves to a new master with characters of their own inditing, or if they did they would unquestionably require a very rigid scrutiny. What would you say if a cook who professes herself a perfect treasure of economy and excellence, warrants herself sober, amiable, and cleanly--who, without other vouchers for her fitness than her own, would dilate on her many virtues and accomplishments, and demand to be taken into your service because she has higher taste for self-panegyric than her rival. Such a thing would be preposterous in the kitchen, but it is exactly what takes place in parliament, and there is but one remedy for it. Let her majesty's servants, when they leave their places, receive written characters, like those of less exalted persons. These documents would then be on record when the applicants sought other situations, and could be referred to with more confidence by the nation than if given by the individuals themselves. How easily would the high-flown sentiments of any of the “outs” be tested by a simple comparison with his last character--how clearly would pretension be measured by what he had done in his last place. No long speeches, no four-hour addresses would be required at the hustings then. Show us your character, would be the cry--why did he leave his mistress? the question.