It was very noticeable at the time that, after citing the strongly condemnatory opinions of Colonel Maberly and Lord Lichfield, Sir Robert Peel remarked, “I do not say that these opinions convince me.”[268] The Resolution was agreed to without division. A week later, the Chancellor of the Exchequer having moved that the Report on the Postage Acts be received, Mr. Goulbourn, who might be regarded as the Chancellor of the Exchequer expectant, moved resolutions of which the object was to have the measure of penny postage postponed, on the ground, mainly, of the present deficiency in the revenue, the extensive powers proposed to be given to the Treasury, and the opposition of the paper-makers. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, in reply, pointed out several recent instances of partial reduction in postage rates which had been followed, speedily, by an increase of revenue, taunted the opposition members with altered tactics since the last debate, and challenged them to a direct vote against penny postage. Sir Robert Peel repeated the arguments of Mr. Goulbourn, and again urged objections to the pledge to make good any loss of revenue. On the division, the “ayes” were 215, and the “noes” 113, giving a majority of 102 in favour of penny postage.[269] Those who frequented the House of Commons thirty years ago will remember the two doorkeepers of the day—Mr. Pratt, a somewhat tall and grave personage, and Mr. Williams, a chubby red-faced man, who seemed as if he escaped bursting only by the relief he found in laughing at the exuberance of his own humour. Both these men were zealous friends of penny postage, and, in the warmth of their friendship, always went at least as far as duty permitted, in enabling me to attend the discussions on postal matters. On the night when the division took place their excitement was prodigious. During the debate I had sat under the gallery, but on the division had, of course, to withdraw. As I passed into the outer lobby, the inner being required in the division, and used, as it happened, to receive the supporters of the measure, my two friends warned me to keep near the door, that they might let me know how things went on. I took my station accordingly, and ever and anon was informed through the grating in the door, the flap being for the moment withdrawn, as to how matters were going on. Each report was better than the last, Williams’s eager face beaming at each momentary glimpse with increased gratification: “All right,” “Going on capitally,” “Sure of a majority,” were given out in succession, until the climax was reached by his whispering audibly, amidst laughter which he strove in vain to control, “Why, here’s old Sibby come out;” and certainly when I learnt that Colonel Sibthorpe, the Tory of Tories, was amongst the supporters of my plan, I could not but feel that the game was won.