or so, he felt it necessary to go out and calm his flurried spirits with a glass of brandy and soda-water. As he was leaving the House, a little incident happened to him, which was attended with very memorable consequences. "A word with you, sir," whispered a commanding voice, in his ear, as he felt himself caught hold of by some one sitting at the corner of the Treasury Bench--"I'll follow you out--_quietly_, mind." The speaker was a Mr. SWINDLE O'GIBBET, a tall, elderly, and somewhat corpulent person, with a broad-brimmed hat, a slovenly surtout, and vulgar swaggering carriage; a ruddy shining face, that constantly wore a sort of greasy smile; and an unctuous eye, with a combined expression of cunning, cowardice, and ferocity. He spoke in a rich brogue, and with a sort of confidential and cringing familiarity; yet, withal, 't was with the air and the tone of a man conscious of possessing great direct influence out of doors, and indirect influence within doors. 'T was, in a word, at once insinuating and peremptory--submissive and truculent. Several things had concurred to give Titmouse a very exalted notion of Mr. O'Gibbet. First, a noble speech of his, in which he showed infinite "_pluck_" in persevering against shouts of "order" from all parts of the House for an hour together; secondly, his sitting on the front bench, often close beside little LORD BULFINCH, the leader of the House. His Lordship was a Whig; and though, as surely I need hardly say, there are thousands of Whigs every whit as pure and high-minded as their Tory rivals, his Lordship was a very _bitter_ Whig. The bloom of original Whiggism, however, ripening fast into the rottenness of Radicalism, gave out at length an odor which was so offensive to many of his own early friends, that they were forced to withdraw from him. Personally, however, he was of respectable character, and a man of considerable literary pretensions, and enjoyed that Parliamentary influence generally secured to the possessor of talent, tact, experience, and temper. Now, it certainly argued some resolution in Mr. O'Gibbet to preserve an air of swaggering assurance and familiarity beside his aristocratic little neighbor, whose freezing demeanor towards him--for his Lordship evinced even a sort of shudder of disgust when addressed by him--Mr. O'Gibbet felt to be visible to all around. Misery makes strange bed-fellows, but surely politics stranger still; and there could not have been a more striking instance of it, than in Lord Bulfinch and Mr. O'Gibbet sitting side by side--as great a contrast in their persons as in their characters. But the third and chief ground of Titmouse's admiration of Mr. O'Gibbet, was a conversation--private and unheard the parties had imagined it, in the lobby of the House; but every word whereof had our inquisitive, but not excessively scrupulous, little friend contrived to overhear--between Mr. O'Gibbet and Mr. FLUMMERY, a smiling supple Lord