have reached him, and whose wants are laid

before him.

But if the politician become popular, in the vulgar acceptance of the word, he too often sacrifices his own feelings of duty, preferring applause, though it be unmerited, to remaining unknown. We must remember that, notwithstanding the march of intellect is very great, still the majority of the poor (taking Wales and Ireland, as well as the meaner parts of England and Scotland, into consideration) are very untutored, and even when the poor are taught, they are but imperfectly acquainted with the estimate of their own wants; like spoilt children, they would love the hand which caressed, and the bounty which gave them plenty, but, in time, they would find that the very things they had craved for were unwholesome and satiating, and the firm hand which had chastised, as the bold voice which

had refused, would be more beloved when reason enforced the belief that the politician had proved worthy of his post.

The difficulty of refusing a request is often greater than granting it.

Parties are very well in their place, and when there is a necessity for them.

If a king be dethroned, it is natural that one part be for, another against, his cause, for the Sovereign must have leaned to a party, ere party be formed for and against him. There have been times when names and parties in politics were absolutely necessary.

When Charles the First was dethroned, one party called for his head, another wished to reinstate him upon his throne.

A man would have been unworthy of his sex if he could calmly have looked on, nor sided with one part of the community.

When William and Mary were called to

the English throne, many were still disposed to favour the unfortunate Stuart dynasty.

We cannot change our hearts as soon as we imagine we can; we cannot cast off old feelings as we would a worn-out vesture. No; they cling to us in spite of philosophy's keenest reasoning, and in those unfortunate days the more lenient were for the weak Sovereign, whom they hoped would yet amend, the more turbulent were on the opposite side.

But now now, in these peaceful times,

why cabal about terms,-let motives be the object; let all that is sacred convince our politicians of that which they should ever bear in mind that they hold a responsible

situation.

Let them come to those glorious halls, feeling that a day is lost when it has not been devoted to the nation.

Many stand there in the pride of manhood, with the glow of health upon the cheek, the fire of energy beaming from the eye. Ah! time will come with its ever-craving touch, will alter each line of grace and feature, and will bring, at last, its companion-reflection. The young politician must think that he will look back in years to come, and turn page by page, leaf by leaf, from the book of the past.

In old age he dreams that he stands again, for the first time, within Parliamentary walls -he was dreaming then-now he is wide awake; awake to the reflection that it has not been a fashionable, unimportant life which he has led, but that he has gone through a conflict of deep responsibility; that by healing the miseries of the sick at heart, he has drawn them nearer to their God, in thankfulness to the wise decree which has placed

the great over the poor, not to tyrannize, but to assist and befriend them.

Then, in such an hour of calm reflection, when the world is closing, when the dearlyprized joys of earth are retreating dimmer and dimmer down the receding panorama, when the fleeted years seem like some distant ship momentarily bearing further and further down the stream, then conscience is the only criterion by which a politician can judge whether he is worthy to say, "I stood in the House as a man watching over the interests of my fellow-man; I have done my duty; I am worthy of being called a British Politician."