Lord Clanricarde's successor, Lord Hardwicke, belonged to the rough diamond species; yet he tried his hardest to fulfil intelligently and conscientiously the duties of his novel and far from congenial office. He had a cordial dislike to jobbery of any kind, though once at least he came near to acquiescing in a Parliamentary candidate's artfully-laid plot suggesting the perpetration of a piece of lavish and unnecessary expenditure in a certain town, the outlay to synchronise with the candidate's election, and the merit to be claimed by him. Happily, Lord Hardwicke's habitual lack of reticence gave wiser heads the weapon with which to prevent so flagrant a job from getting beyond the stage of mere suggestion. It was the man's kind heart and dislike to give offence which doubtless led him into indiscretions of the sort; but amiable as he was, he had at times a knack of making people feel extremely uncomfortable, as when, in conformity with his own ideas on the subject, he sought to regulate the mutual relations of the two chief Secretaries, when he called in all latchkeys—his own, however, included—and when, during his first inspection of his new kingdom, he audibly asked, on entering a large room full of employees, if he had “the power to dismiss all these men.” The old sailor aimed at ruling the Post Office as he had doubtless ruled his man-of-war, wasted time and elaborate minutes on trivial matters—such as a return of the number of housemaids employed—when important reforms needed attention, and had none of the ability or breadth of view of his predecessor.