The Government introduced their Bill, with the old clap-traps about "universal peace, goodwill everywhere, fraternity of nations, symmetry, harmony, beneficence of commerce, expansion of the intellect, and so on. To all these noble things now there remained one wretched little obstacle, which it was our duty and our privilege to remove at once, the leprous stain of blood-guiltiness, and greed"--in the mill of their eloquence they ground up metaphors--"and that obstacle was the ambition of England. If once we proffered, to the world at large, this magnificent pledge of our candour, confidence, and chivalrous resolve not to raise our hands against those who might indeed appear desirous to trample on our bodies, but would abstain, when they found them so defenceless,--then, and not till then, should we be able to claim the proud title of promoters of the glorious cause of humanity." There was a great deal more, even finer than this; but is it not written in the chronicles of Hansard? The Liberal benches were rent with explosions of applause, like an ancient fig tree; while on our side presently, an honourable Member gained earnest attention, by imitating to a nicety the clucking of a hen, that calls her chicks together. Being new to the manners of the House, and zealous upon all points of order, up I jumped, and began to run about, trying to catch with my hat the Dame Partlet, so intrusive in high places. Roars of laughter were my reward, the greatest of great guns joining in; and even the omnipotent premier gave me a smile of extraordinary sweetness. I had earned the good-will of the House for ever; and until I am grey, I shall be called "Green Tommy." Now, this may seem a very small, and childish affair, at a time most truly momentous; and some will accuse me of my accustomed triviality in recounting it. But without fear of contradiction from any then present, and able to form opinion, whether Liberal or Conservative, I say that the cluck of an imaginary hen changed the fortunes of Great Britain, for at least ten years; though her foes will prevail in the end, no doubt. That is to say, unless there is, from time to time--as there ought to be, according to analogy--an outbreak of savage fury, havoc, mad bestiality, and wallowing murder, in that centre, heart, soul, brain, Queen, star, crown, sun, and Deity of the universe, which Mr. Windsor calls "Parree." Insanity there makes London sane; as a man I know well, who cut down his best friend--too late, alas! for any but the Coroner--has been afraid ever since to go near a belfry.