The state of parties is curious and full of difficulty. The Protectionists are bent upon turning Peel out, and if possible grow more, rather than less, bitter. On Friday this was especially apparent; no Prime Minister was ever treated as Peel was by them that night, when he rose to speak. The Marquis of Granby rose at the same time, and for five minutes they would not hear Peel, and tried to force their man on the House, and to make the Prime Minister sit down. The Speaker alone decided it, and called on Peel. When he said he knew they could turn him out, they all cheered _savagely_. Then the Whigs are just as eager to be in active opposition again; so that between the two parties--the rage and vengeance of the one, and the habitual rivalry of the other--his fall is certain. But the other night George Bentinck, the Protectionist organ, told the Whigs he would oppose them, so that when the Whig Government is formed, though it may be suffered to go on for a time, it will be intrinsically very weak and powerless, for the ultra-Liberals rather lean to Peel than to John Russell. Such a state of things, so confused, so uncertain, so at the sport of events and circumstances, never was seen before. Many people fancy that Peel will not go out, though they are quite unable to show how he is to stay in; but everybody sees clearly enough that parties are so divided and power so scattered, that any Government that can be formed must hold office by a very feeble and doubtful tenure. At present, however, Peel holds office for the sole purpose of carrying _the_ Bill. The Whigs are guarding him, while he is doing this work, ready to turn against him the moment he has done it, and then, this great contest over, the Protectionists will either join the Whigs in their first onset, or leave him to his fate. _They_ do not care what happens so long as they can break up this Government; they do not care how public business can be carried on, or by whom; whether a strong or a weak Government can be formed. Revenge is their sole object.