a number of hours, with adamantine gravity and severe decorum, to make laws and to debate on the state of the country, should attend a sitting during which Mr. Whalley shall address the House, and they will be once for all disabused of their error. The scene they will behold will be something like this: From a place two or three benches behind the front Opposition bench, the sudden apparition of a little figure, grey. headed and grey-bearded, whose face of amiable innocence is fraught with anxiety of quite a touching description, and whose hand (probably grasping a hat) is swayed up and down with most persuasive emphasis as he essays to speak; all around and in front of this queer little figure, an array of members who are behaving in an exceedingly frivolous and disrespectful fashion ; some chatting together quite loudly, some keeping up a persistent chorus of "hear, hear,” and “ divide divide,” some guffawing at every sentence, others imploring the hon. gentleman to sit down, and some even unceasingly inviting Mr. Whalley to oblige the House with a song. By this time the member for Peterborough has become quite accustomed to such demonstrations; and so, nothing daunted, he proceeds in dumb show until a lull in the agitation enables him in some degree to be heard. At once, with the most unaffected earnestness and anxiety, he assures the House that those terrible Jesuits are at it again ; that it is they and they only who are at the bottom of the Lancashire riots, and that he knows for a fact that the recent death of one Scarlet Lady, Pius IX., and the substitution in her place of another Scarlet Lady, Leo XIII., has vastly and materially complicated the Eas ern Question. Having made this momentous disclosure the hon. gentloman proceeds to ramble off on such an erratic and eccentric course that it really seems as if he wished to perform the function which Dryden ascribes to dreams, and to “ Compound a medley of disjointed things, A band of cobblers, or a court of kings." But hardly has this vigilant detective of popish conspiracy taken halfa dozen steps when the House once more loses patience. The demonsrations recommence with double vehemence, and, pertinacious as he is, Mr. Whalley has to resume his seat in despair. Of late, as we indi cated at the commencement of this sketch, the member for Peterborough has become perfectly mute ; and we are bound to say that there seems some mystery about such unwonted silence. In all probability Mr. Whalley has got on the scent of some Jesuit plot which is more than usually dark and devilish ; for the present, he is discreetly dumb, but in a short time he will burst upon the House with a magnificent and thrilling éclaircissement. In the meantime, the House of Commons will wait with due patience for the utterance of its time-honoured oracle, confident that Mr. Whalley will not too long abdicate the character which has made him so distinct a personality of the Imperial Parlia ment. XVIII. MR. NEWDEGATE, The Tory member for North Warwickshire makes an admirable pendent to the Liberal member for Peterborough. Although the former is a perfect representative of what is sometimes called the old high and dry Tory, he has yet this feature so far in common with Mr. Whalleyhe hates and suspects everything that has the slightest approximation to Roman Catholicism. His fear and detestation of that mysterious power may not be pushed to such absurd conclusions as are those of the member for Peterborough, but, nevertheless, he considers that his primary duty in life, and his special function in Parliament, is to keep his eye upon the movements and manæuvres of that occult influence which Presbyterian divines so delight to speak of as “ The man of sin;" and in the House of Commons Mr. Newdegate has always been regarded as preeminently the champion of Protestantism. There are many nervous old ladies who cannot go to bed comfortably without first having peeped into every nook and cranny, to assure themselves that the house is not on fire; there are others who make a point of looking under their beds before they jump into it, for fear a robber may be concealed there. Mr. Whalley, in his nervous horror of Jesuits, does, we feel quite certain, peep carefully under his bed every night, and if he happens to notice a shadow, caused by some article of furniture, at once jumps to the conclusion that it is a follower of Loyala, who must be instantly ejected. Mr. Newdegate, on the other hand, waits until he has been authoritatively informed that one of the abhorred fraternity has positively entered his house, and is at the moment concealed in it, when he proceeds with the utmost method and perseverance to search every room and cupboard. But, on this one particular question, both hon. gentlemen may be considered arcades ambo. Mr. Newdegate has sat in the House for a number of years, certainly from the time of Sir Robert Peel and the great Corn Law tergiversation, and his parliamentary career generally gives him a claim to be regarded as perhaps the most absolutely independent Conservative who sits on the Government benches. Nor is this all. He is probably the “last of the Mohicans ;" the one true surviving representative of those "stern and unbending Tories," whose original hard-and-fast principles upon a variety of questions, have now almost become obsolete. Mr. Newdegate, though nominally belonging to the educated party, has never himself been educated, He has never submitted to the great political tutor ; indeed, it is commonly believed that he has always entertained an undisguised dislike of Lord Beacons field. This is quite conceivable, for the member for North Warwickshire with all his honesty and tenacity, and what is often somewhat heedlessly termed, consistency, is a thoroughly one-idead, and wholly unimaginative min; and to such idiosyncrasies the dazzle and daring of genius is terri. fying rather than alluring. A min with great concentration of purpose, even though it b: lirected within a very narrow area of ideas, is almost sure to have a strong individuality; and, therefore, it is not a matter of wonder that Mr. Newdegate should always have been, in a particular way, a marked personality of the House. As a champion of Protestantism he has specially identified himself with an annual motion for inquiry into the conventual and monastic establishments of the United Kingdom ; and once he had a great triumph. It was during the reign of the Gladstone Ministry. The hon. gentleman's motion was actually carried as regards one particular stage, and when he walked up the House to his place, in order to proceed with the further stages, he was much cheered by his party. Mr. Newdegate is a pretty tall man, with a somewhat antiquated figure and style. There is a certain stiffness and formality about his carriage and address, which suggests that he may likewise be a person “stiff in opinions,” though not necessarily “ always in the wrong ;” and his manner is marked by an old-fashioned frigid stateliness which nearly verges on the pompous. On the occasion to which we have referred, he addressed the House in his wonted style of speaking, which is solemn and monotonous, and accompanied by laboured and artificial action. In the end Mr. Gladstone, after a somewhat jesuitical speech, in which he put on an air of well-acted horror at the enormity of tender and innocent women being subjected to unsparing inquisition, succeeded in getting the motion snelved. The type of Tory whom Mr. Newdegate represents is in these days almost an anachronism ; and while the House has always respected the hon. gentleman for his uncompromising integrity, it would yalue him a greal deal more were his intelligence in some proportion to his character. MOTLEY. ON Whit-Monday morning we were not ready for our travels before ten o'clock. Idle beings! some will say,-to which we can only plead that we always outdo the sun himself as to the time of retiring. Sol must altogether alter his ways in these parts before he beats us as to lateness in seeking rest. There in winter-in the dreary December and rueful January -when there is no inducement to stir abroad at all; when it is only the stoic's soul, soaring above vicissitudes of weather and circumstances with supreme indifference, that moves us to perform our duty in sublunary affairs, --in the waist and murky depth of the seasons, we rise and attend to our daily tasks whilst he is opening his sleepy eye. Don't let us be chidden too severely. If there is any charge as to early rising, let it be broad and general-let the months be measured, let the weeks be put into the scale, let all the days of the year be analysed, let the sun be our witness, let his appearance be our standard,-and we are sure we shall be acquitted, before any jury of intelligent late-sitters. Time, it must be remembered, too, is proportioned to tasks. If we do a good day's work, we think it should be valued without any reference as to when we began it, any more than as to what we have eaten and drunken. Before midnight comes we expect to render an account that will make the time of the morning when we were astir a matter of no moment. This is the opening day for the Lakes, and we found Ambleside market-place alive with coaches and machines. It is only a fitfu fever, we understand. Whit-Tuesday over, and the region wil leep well again. After witnessing the departure of the vehicles for different directions to seek the watery coves of Winier nere, the trans cendent scenery encircling Skiddaw, the stern grandeurs of Coniston, and the august ruins of Furness Abbey, we ourselves set off for the solemn solitudes of the Langdales, whose peaks certainly form the cynosure of the mountains. We made for Clappersgate, which lies at the southern base of Loughrigg Fell. Thenceforward our path lay by the side of the Brathay, twin brother to the Rothay, whose joint waters form Windermere. A singular fact in natural history is that the char prefer the river Brathay for spawning. They will descend the Rothay to go up the other stream in November and December. Trout, on the other hand, choose the sandy bed of the Rothay. The river scenery here is of richly rural character; the broad meadows are green to its very edge, the water seems to have stolen a passage through them, woods lie beyond the pasture lands, and the view is closed by noble mountains, which the azure distance robs of all sternness. Having measured the miles from Ambleside, instead of crossing the bridge over the Brathey, we turned up to Skelwith Force"where Beauty loves to bathe," says Christopher North. The water is insignificant in quantity, and the fall is only twenty feet, but it is imposing in the boldness of form in which it descends. The scene as a whole, too, is grand. Above and below the fall the river struggles through a rocky channel; and to the northwest-that is, looking up to the fall-we behold, in the far distance, the full majesty of the Langdale Pikes. We could not resist the call they seemed to give us; it seemed treasonable to retrace our steps and approach them circuitously. We determined to go onward, right on- "Boy! may the eagle's flight ever be thine, was our idea for ourselves and Rossallian as we recalled Doane's hymn, familiar to our own youth. We, accordingly, did not seek the high-road again; we forewent the satisiaction of viewing Col with Force, and pressed up the river-side. Coming upon an opening in a stone dyke, we turned, and soon after left a rugged cart-road, and by romantic perseverance attained a path that led over low-lying, verdant, velvet pastures. In truth, we were in a by-path meadow, with never a thought of trespass, and no vision of Giant Despair. We made a distant village our object, believing it the one which it finally proved to be. Hopeful was our companion, and he is ever a sweetener of toil. As we walked gaily over the grass we congratulated ourselves on the length of way which we saved in comparison with the distant circling road we had avoided, and |