_February 8th._--I am just come from hearing the celebrated Mr. Spurgeon preach in the Music Hall of the Surrey Gardens. It was quite full; he told us from the pulpit that 9,000 people were present. The service was like the Presbyterian: Psalms, prayers, expounding a Psalm, and a sermon. He is certainly very remarkable, and undeniably a very fine character; not remarkable in person, in face rather resembling a smaller Macaulay, a very clear and powerful voice, which was heard through the whole hall; a manner natural, impassioned, and without affectation or extravagance; wonderful fluency and command of language, abounding in illustration, and very often of a very familiar kind, but without anything either ridiculous or irreverent. He gave me an impression of his earnestness and his sincerity; speaking without book or notes, yet his discourse was evidently very carefully prepared. The text was 'Cleanse me from my secret sins,' and he divided it into heads, the misery, the folly, the danger (and a fourth which I have forgotten) of secret sins, on all of which he was very eloquent and impressive. He preached for about three-quarters of an hour, and, to judge of the handkerchiefs and the audible sobs, with great effect. We have had a week of Parliament, and though nothing important has occurred, the discussions do not seem to have raised the reputation of the Government or to promise them an easy session, though nobody seems to expect that their stability is likely to be shaken. Disraeli and Gladstone seem verging towards each other in opposition, but there is no appearance of a coalition between them; the only striking fact is that the Opposition, of whose disunion we have heard so much, and of the internal repulsion supposed to prevail among them, seems to be as united as ever it has been, and the usual people appeared at Derby's and Disraeli's gatherings. I take it that any appearance of vulnerability of the Government silences all manifestations of their mutual antipathies, and puts them on the _qui vive_ to turn out their opponents. Gladstone seems bent on leading Sir George Lewis a weary life, but Lewis is just the man to encounter and baffle such an opponent, for he is cold-blooded as a fish, totally devoid of sensibility or nervousness, of an imperturbable temper, calm and resolute, laborious and indefatigable, and exceedingly popular in the House of Commons from his general good humour and civility, and the credit given him for honour, sincerity, plain dealing, and good intentions.