Yes, here is one of that same wonderful, plucky race, which has survived hundreds of years' of war, pestilence, famine, persecution, and contumely, and now finds its best representative in Benjamin Disraeli, the author of "Tancred," "Coningsby," "Henrietta Temple," and "Lothair," that book of books. This is the same Jew whom O'Connell thundered at thirty years ago, and whom he denounced as the lineal descendant of the impenitent thief who died upon the Cross. Thirty-three years ago this man entered Parliament and made his maiden speech, or attempted to make it,--as a member from Maidstone. The crowded House laughed at him that night,--men who were used to Canning, and Henry Brougham; to that consummate orator, Daniel O'Connell, and to the brilliant fireworks of Richard Lalor Sheil,--laughed at the young member with the Jewish beak and profile, and he sat down discomfited, but not beaten, crying out to the House, which was indulging in cock-crowing and geese-cackling at his expense, "You will not hear me now, but you shall hear me yet." He is an older man now, and success in everything he has attempted, such as has never been given to any living man but Louis Napoleon, has rewarded his efforts. Hear how he dashes into Gladstone's eloquent sentences with his biting, withering words of sarcasm,--how he overthrows the airy edifice which the Liberals were just now contemplating,--listen to the fiery words of this master of wit and trenchant, cutting invective--invective that spares no feeling or cherished opinion, but bares the breast of the Minister like the surgeon's hand to plunge still deeper the scalpel in the roots of the wound. Now he has done, and he sits down, and members crowd around him and congratulate him, but he receives their incense with a wearied, indifferent air, that seems to say, "I have been Premier myself, and I think it to be a small place for a man of ability." [Sidenote: DANIEL O'CONNELL.] And so the night passes on in the House, member after member getting upon his honorable legs, and the small hours come on apace, and the small talk continues, and the Speaker comes in and goes out, yet still the House remains in Committee--a very wearisome night it is, and hot and close in the galleries, and many sleep the sleep of exhaustion in the legislative arena--while off in green fields and on grassy meads, by lakes and rivers, the dew falls heavily, and the English Moon shines with a soft light all over the broad land.