He was hospitable, courteous, and cordial; he collected about him the most distinguished persons in every rank and condition of life. He had a constant flow of animal spirits, much miscellaneous information, an excellent memory, a great enjoyment of fun and humour, a refined taste and perfect good breeding. But his more solid merit was the thorough goodness of his heart, and the strong and durable nature of his friendships and early attachments. To the friends of his youth he was bound to the last moment of his life with unremitting kindness and never-cooling affection; no greater connections or more ambitious interests cancelled those early ties, and though he was not unnaturally dazzled and flattered by the later intimacies he contracted, this never for a moment made him forgetful of or indifferent to his first and less distinguished friends. [3] [Lord Dover's volume on the 'Man in the Iron Mask' deserves not to be altogether forgotten, though more recent researches have proved that his theory identifying the 'Iron Mask' with Mathioli, the captured agent of the Duke of Parma, cannot be supported.] [Page Head: THE LOCAL COURTS BILL DEFEATED.] The Local Courts Bill was thrown out by twelve. His party made the _amende honorable_ to Lyndhurst, and went down in a body to back him. He and Brougham each spoke for two hours or more, and both with consummate skill, the latter especially in his very best style, and with extraordinary power and eloquence. It would not perhaps be easy to decide which made the ablest speech; that of Lyndhurst was clear, logical, and profound, replete with a sort of judicial weight and dignity, with a fine and cutting vein of sarcasm constantly peeping from behind a thick veil of complimentary phraseology. Brougham more various, more imaginative, more impassioned, more eloquent, and exceedingly dexterous. Unable to crush Lyndhurst, he resembled one of Homer's heroes, who, missing his great antagonist, wreaked his fury on some ignominious foe, and he fell upon Wynford with overpowering severity. As somebody told me who heard him, 'He flayed him alive, and kept rubbing salt upon his back.' It appears to have been a great exhibition. There was Lyndhurst after his speech, drinking tea, not a bit tired, elated and chuckling: 'Well, how long will the Chancellor speak, do you think, eh? we shall have some good fun from him. What lies he will tell, and how he will misrepresent everything! come, let's have done our tea, that we mayn't miss him, eh?' The truth seems to be that the Bill is not a good Bill, and is condemned by the lawyers, that some such measure is required, but that this is nothing more than a gigantic job, conferring enormous patronage upon the Chancellor. The debate, however, appears to have afforded a grand display of talent.[4]