At Newmarket all this past week. Nothing of consequence occurred here except the debate in the House of Lords upon Brougham's motion for the production of naval instructions about Sardinian ships, which was only lost by the numbers being equal. The Duke of Wellington, according to his custom, refused to be factious, and when Melbourne said that it would be highly inconvenient to produce any instructions, he declared against the motion and left the House. Brougham was furious, and many of the high Tories greatly provoked. Brougham said, 'Westminster Abbey is yawning for him.' Ellenborough, Mansfield, and Harewood stayed and voted, Aberdeen went away. After all their fury, however, the Tories are beginning (as I was told last night) to come to their senses. The Duke was quite in the right; there is no doubt that some very unwise and improper instructions have issued from the Admiralty, and their purport has got abroad by the indiscretion of somebody, but we only know, or rather suspect from public rumour, that such is the case; they have never been acted upon if they do exist; no overt act has been done, and the production of this document might be attended with very seriously inconvenient consequences. Brougham cares for nothing but the pleasure of worrying and embarrassing the Ministers, whom he detests with an intense hatred; and the Tories, who are bitter and spiteful, and hate them merely as Ministers and as occupants of the places they covet, and not as men, are provoked to death at being baulked in the occasion that seemed to present itself of putting them into a difficulty. The Duke, whose thoughts are steadily directed to the public good, and to that alone, will lend himself to no such vexatious purposes; he looks at the position of the Government in relation with foreign powers, and deals with it as a national and not as a party question. It is in this spirit that he constantly and inflexibly acts, though not failing to give Ministers a pretty sharp lecture every now and then. His forbearance has annoyed his own supporters to such a degree that they keep up a continual under-growl, and are always lamenting the decay of his faculties, and if they dared and knew how, they would gladly substitute some other leader for him. The 'ardor prava jubentium' has, however, no effect whatever on him: it neither ruffles his serenity nor shakes his purpose. The Whigs laud him to the skies, which provokes the Tories all the more, nor does their praise spring in all probability from a purer or more unselfish source than the complaints of their adversaries, for they are more rejoiced at finding so often this plank of safety than struck with admiration at his magnanimity. Wise, moderate, and impartial men of all parties view the Duke's conduct in its true light, and render him that justice the full measure of which it is reserved for history and posterity to pay. No greater contrast can be displayed than between the minds of the Duke of Wellington and