sonality, which renders him at once annoying and ridiculous. The mind of a Hume, though well constituted, is too contracted for an assembly which, with all its short-comings, is so enlightened; and his defective address destroys what little influence his steadfastness of character and consistency of purpose have acquired for him. And so in like manner is it with most of the leading members of the extreme Liberal section. They all seem to have been forced by some accident, not harmonising with their previous career, into the position they hold, without having had that power of adaptation so singularly displayed by Mr. Cobden and some others, by which a stranger to the forms and customs of the House becomes at once amalgamated in feeling with those whom he finds there, as if he had been all his life accustomed to these new duties. But Mr. Duncombe has every natural advantage in his favour. Whatever disapprobation he may at times excite by the license he occasionally gives himself when making his personal attacks, it is a difficult thing for him to destroy the prestige at first created on his behalf. Tall and very well proportioned, there is a striking air of elegance in his whole figure, which is rendered still more pleasing by the absence of all affectation; which is, in fact, precluded by a peculiarly frank and manly deportment, and a captivating openness of manner almost amounting to familiarity. A handsome face, singularly expressive of the humorous, a remarkably intelligent eye, and a voice at once sonorous and harmonious, complete the attractions of this fortunate and favoured candidate for popularity.

Still it was some time before Mr. Duncombe was able to take his present prominent position in the House of Commons. Apparently, it was some time ere he could make up his mind to take the decisive plunge into Chartism. His early efforts in parliament, not only in the unreformed house, but also for some time after the passing of the Reformbill, were of a much more mild and less ambitious nature. His antecedents had not been favourable to parliamentary success. The day of the men of pleasure was passing away, the House of Commons was

beginning to grow ashamed even of the memory of the race of statesmen who left the gaming-table or the bacchanalian orgies for the discharge of their senatorial duties. The time was near at hand when the practical men were to be in the ascendant. As Mr. Duncombe had a wide-spread reputation as a man of pleasure, with a strong dash of the fashionable roué, it is needless to say that in this state of things some very desperate stroke of policy was necessary in order to give him a chance of rising to distinction. It will always appear uncharitable to doubt the sincerity of any man's avowal of opinion; nor, indeed, except by way of guess or inference, has one any right to do so. It is in that spirit alone that we are tempted to express a doubt whether Mr. Duncombe, in his own secret mind, is prepared to go the length of his declarations in the House of Commons, or that he really entertains those ultra-democratic opinions which he professes, but which meet with such a practical contradiction in every particular of his idiosyncrasy. There have not been wanting, in the history of revolutionary movements, or of popular assemblies, instances of young aristocrats who, from some cause, either in their own misconduct or the misfortune of their family, have lost the prospect of legitimate distinction in their own sphere, suddenly being struck with a passion for reforming the world, and putting themselves forward as the leaders of the populace, thus supplying a dangerous amount of mental ingenuity and energy to what would otherwise be an inert physical mass. Such, modified by circumstances, is the explanation we have heard given of Mr. Duncombe's intensity of Radicalism; and for ourselves, we must say, confessing as we do to a lurking liking for him, which nothing will ever conquer in our mind, that the more we see and hear him, the more we study his conduct and sift his motives, the more the conviction is forced upon us that this earnest advocate of the wrongs of the people is only playing at politics for the advancement of private objects and purposes, a keen foresight having long since told him that the millions by whose labour the whole fabric of society is main

tained, increasing as they are in intelligence and information, at least, if they are not in wisdom, will not much longer be satisfied with an exclusion from political power, not justified by the theory of the constitution. The honourable member for Finsbury feels that he is perfectly safe in agitating for such a cause; and that there is every chance, in the long run, of his obtaining some of those honourable rewards which are always within the grasp of those who play the winning game in politics.

This easy adoption of the principles which seem most likely to tell, explains much of Mr. Duncombe's mode of proceeding in parliament, which might otherwise seem unintelligible. It also explains the apparent contradiction between his education, appearance, and social connexions, and his political associations. The truth is that politics always appear, in Mr. Duncombe's mode of handling them, as if they were capital pastime-a provision by which well-educated men with nothing to do may at one and the same time drive away ennui and satisfy their own ambition. He never succeeds in convincing you that he is in earnest, though he strives very hard, indeed, to do so, and will use very strong language in order the more surely to satisfy you of his sincerity. It is his political profession to find out grievances, and to represent them to the House of Commons. In this pursuit he displays a most praiseworthy alacrity.

Were his motives above suspicion, England might well be proud of a patriot possessed of so much virtue and public spirit. There are, however, a few peculiarities in his manner of proceeding which occasionally suggest suspicion. For instance, Mr. Duncombe seldom or never urges a grievance for its own sake. Obscure cases of oppression he leaves to obscure advocates. Those in which he most delights are cases in which some great public principle is involved, some hereditary legacy of former demagogues, and upon which there is an easy appeal to the constitutional prejudices of the British people. Mr. Duncombe is careful to be always on the popular, and, therefore, for him the winning side. He

never throws away his patriotism, or wastes it on objects either undeserving or unfruitful. In whatever he does he has an eye to the electors of Finsbury, looking upon them as a sort of barometer of public opinion. If he can please them he feels confident that he will also stand well in the opinion of the public at large.

It is in the last degree amusing to witness one of his attacks on a government; for, be it known, it is one of the first principles of such a politician, always to have some bone of contention with the ministry of the day. Mr. Duncombe apparently proceeds upon the convenient assumption that there is something radically wrong or corrupt in every administration, that it is only a matter of accident which iniquity is laid bare first, or how long they may be able to conceal their misdeeds from the jealous guardian of the public interest. Another invariable rule is, to assume that every government official is prevaricating and mystifying, having no object whatever but to withhold as much information as possible from the public. This gives scope for much stereotyped abuse. It is observable, also, that Mr. Duncombe's patriotism is particularly active at the commencement and the close of every session, just at those periods when, in the first case, public men are more the object of general attention, and in the last, when they may have to come in contact with their constituents. Should there be symptoms of a dissolution of parliament, then his patriotism absolutely knows no bounds —there is no restraining the ardour with which at that time he is determined to serve his fellow-countrymen. A ministry, however strong it may seem, should begin to suspect a decay of popularity if they find Mr. Duncombe attacking them; the decay, they may depend upon it, has commenced, even though they may not themselves be aware of it. Or, if there be one member of a ministry weaker than another, he will soon be reminded of his deficiency by an attack from Mr. Duncombe. Ordinarily, however, one or two displays serve the honourable member for the stock in trade of a whole session. A bad case under the Poor-law, or (still more

fortunate!) a letter-opening case, with an unpopular home-secretary to badger night after night, these are of incalculable value.

There can be no doubt that, in a moral point of view, all this theatrical patriotism stands very low indeed; that all thinking men rcpudiate a plan of tactics which makes politics a mere pastime, if not a trade, and prostitutes to the purposes of a temporary ambition or personal convenience some of the noblest privileges enjoyed by the citizens of a free country. It is true also that only the foolish people out of doors are taken in by it, and of them not even the whole; while the wise ones look on, some amused, others irritated, at such a perversion of the functions of the legislator. The secret of his influence seems to be the im

perturbable good humour with which he conducts a case, the ease and nonchalance with which he will deliver the most violent diatribes, the cool assurance with which he will advance to the attack, and work up what shall seem to be a most overwhelming case out of very slender materials. There is always a waggish glance of the eye, and a smile lurking about the lip, which seem to say,

"Of course, you know that this is all acting; but I am not talking to you, except to shew my own smartness. I am taking in the people outof-doors, who, when they read the reports to-morrow, will believe all these charges as so much gospel." And, strange to say, it is this levity which makes the House endure with complacency what would otherwise be sometimes extremely offensive; for, in the course of these claptrap speeches, Mr. Duncombe will often go great lengths, will make charges and use language scarcely permissible in any society of honourable men, but will urge them with so provoking an impudence, such a halfjocular semblance of earnestness and indignation, that an indefinite sense of amusement will take the place of what would otherwise be sometimes very like disgust. One or two hardy speakers, confident in their own powers, and, above all, in their own innocence, have at times essayed to unmask this assumed public virtue, have met the honourable member in his own vein, treating the whole

affair as a got-up exhibition for electioneering purposes. But they found they had a dangerous customer to deal with that Mr. Duncombe would only be jocular when it suited himself; and they have been suddenly astonished to find themselves put out of court by a well-feigned semblance of indignation that the wrongs of the people should be treated with such disrespect, and this, too, from the man whose whole public life has been a practical mockery of the functions of a representative!

Mr. Duncombe deserves the credit of displaying great ability as a speaker. As a mere debater, he is one of the best in the House. There are few speakers who can so soon, and so thoroughly, grasp the points of a case, or who have so happy a mode of so putting them as to make their full force and effect apparent. He is also extremely powerful in reply, another evidence of great ability as a debater. He has a most agreeable delivery, free, graceful, and unaffected, except when acting a part, and, altogether, a most winning manner as a speaker. He has also great powers of humour, especially in a bantering style, which is very annoying to officials, who fret and smart under inuendoes and aspersions which they are precluded from directly noticing. He seldom says any decidedly witty thing which will bear quotation, but by odd contrasts and groupings of ideas, and a way he has of hammering incessantly at the ridiculous side of any question, he contrives usually to keep the House in a state of continual risibility while he is on his legs.

From these remarks it will be seen that we are no great believers in the sincerity of Mr. Duncombe's devotion to the public good. We are disposed to compliment him on his talents at the expense of his integrity. Still, such men are not without their use in the political world. Whatever may be their motives in ferreting out abuses, they sometimes do good by exposing them, and public men are held in restraint by the fear of having their misdeeds paraded. These grievance-mongers are like the licensed jesters. For the few good things which they sometimes say or do they are tolerated in many errors and offences.

HAVE you ever, gentle reader, witnessed a bull-fight? If you have it was probably in that land of romance and banditti, burning love and constant fighting, once haughty Spain, where blood is poured out like water, and life, if one may judge from examples, is valued at a peppercorn, a bulrush, or any other minute article signifying nothing or next to nothing.

Now a Portuguese bull-fight is an affair totally different to those so celebrated in the larger portion of the Peninsula. The contrast is as great as that between the characters of the two people. The Spaniards revel in cruelty, murder, and destruction; the Portuguese have compunction in inflicting pain, not only on their fellow-creatures but on brute beasts. I do not pretend to affirm that they do not both occasionally indulge in a little private assassination from the impulse of sweet revenge; nor do I mean to say that the Portuguese have not abundance of faults, but merely that they do not cut throats with quite so much gusto as the Spaniards. Now the latter people think a bull-fight a very tame affair if some twenty horses or so are not gored to death, twice the number of bulls killed, and unless four or five matadors, picadors, or by whatever name the gentry of the bull-circus are known, are for ever put hors de combat. It is, however, acknowledged by all to be a most gorgeous spectacle, and it must wonderfully strengthen the nerves of the fair dames who behold it, and enable them to look upon death in its various forms of horror with unflinching eye. Such is a Spanish bull-fight. One I witnessed in Portugal I will for your benefit attempt to sketch.

Many years ago, while residing in that heroic city of fair Lusitania, Oporto, a party, of which I was one, was formed to make an excursion to Aveiro, a town about thirty miles to the south of the city, where we heard a bull-fight was to take place on the following afternoon. As half of the

distance was to be performed by water, we agreed to walk the remainder; but, finally, I, with two or three more men, mistrusting our pedestrian powers, determined to proceed on horseback. We were all in the heyday of youth, with few cares to weigh down the buoyancy of our spirits, nothing coming amiss to us; so sticking our pistols in our holsters in the hope of an attack from guerillas or banditti-an event not at all likely to occur, as I believe there were neither the one nor the other in that part of the country-we sallied forth at sunset.

I ought to have observed, that it being then that time of the year when dogs are most rabid, when flowers bloom most brightly, and fleas bite the hardest, we had agreed to avoid the scorching heat of the sun, and to perform the journey at night. As we were crossing the Douro, the moon, to guide us on our way, rose bright and full behind the rocky heights of the Serra Convent, casting a subdued, gentle light over a scene at no time to be gazed on without admiration, but now looking doubly beautiful. On the side of the river we were quitting, the towers, palaces, and houses of Oporto rose one above another towards the sky; before us, the wood-crowned heights of Villa Nova, with numerous buildings below, in which were stored the ruddy produce of the juicy grape; while seaward were the dark, frowning cliffs, between which rush the rapid waters of the Douro ere they find freedom in the ocean. On the south bank we equestrians found our horses and baggage-mules waiting ready, and as the roads were as bad as could be, our friends on foot could without much exertion manage to keep up with us. After proceeding some way along the paths by which the left wing of the British army under our great Duke advanced on Oporto to drive out the French commanded by Soult, we beheld, beneath the shelter of a clump of trees, a number of human figures wrapped in dark cloaks recumbent

on the ground, apparently fast asleep. We immediately drew in our reins.

"See!-Can those fellows be a Miguelite guerilla band coming to plunder the hamlets near Oporto ?" exclaimed one of our party.

Yes, by Jove! I should not wonder if they were; and look, there is the booty they have already taken piled up near their heads!" said another.

"It is odd that they keep no sentinels to guard against surprise. Be ready! They will be on foot in a moment, so look out for a volley."

At that instant one of the banditti lifted his head, and took a long stare at us, when, instead of rousing his companions to murder, or at least to plunder us, apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, he rolled himself up in his cloak, and went to sleep again. The adventure proved to be far from romantic, or rather to be no adventure at all, for we quickly discovered that the supposed banditti were, in truth, hard-working, honest people, from Ovar-mostly, indeed, womenon their way to Oporto, with the fish caught that day, to be ready for the market on the following morning.

I never recollect seeing so many fire-flies as I did that night in a lane through which we passed between high banks shaded by trees, and in a damp situation. The air appeared full of these delicate bluish flashes of light; at one moment we seemed to be amid a blaze of miniature fireworks, then again all was dark, and the next instant the pale lights would burst forth, flitting like spirits around

self, he thought fit to roll me offha ha ha! it is very ridiculousand to set off as fast as he could go into the thick of the forest !"

"Pleasant information," I answered. "Very pleasant and very ridiculous. Ha ha ha! And what is more, when the arrieros went to try and catch him, they left the baggagemule by himself, so that he also took it into his long head to follow the example of his friend. Ha! ha! ha!"

Indeed the latter beast was still in sight, dashing with our portmanteaus and carpet-bags between the trees, throwing up his heels, playing all sorts of antics, such as mules alone can play, and braying with delight at feeling himself at liberty. Our party were soon scattered far and wide through the forest, which now resounded with our shouts of laughter and with the wild cries, and execrations, and holloaing of our arrieros, unwonted noises in those quiet wilds, accustomed only to echo the dull strokes of the woodman's axe. The equestrians were galloping round in the distance in search of my horse, who did not seem inclined to stray far from his companions, and at last the mule, running between two trees, forgetful of the baggage on his back, which was fortunately well secured, was fairly brought to a stand-stillindeed we had some difficulty in getting him out of his trap; and the other animal, disdaining to enjoy his freedom alone, soon after submitted to control. I let my friend walk the rest of the way. It was the most delightful travelling imaginable, the clear, pale moon affording abundance of light to distinguish persons and even objects around us. I never remember to have before seen the Roman poet's description of the glorybearing car of day driving away the shades of night so beautifully realised. While towards the cast the sky shone with a bright refulgence, to the west it seemed that the dark clouds of night yet hung over both sea and land. Drawing my rein, I watched the gradual approach of the luminary of day. Before his warming beams darkness seemed literally rolled back in dense masses, the sky, seen through the open spaces amid the forest-trees, having on one side assumed the ruddy tints of morn, while on the other the obscurity was