Bentley's Miscellany

WHILE the great question of "Peace or War?” is trembling in the scales, and the Thirty-ninth volume of Bentley's Miscellany is issuing from Beaufort House, a few words as to "what we are all about," at the beginning of the year eighteen hundred and fiftysix, may not be altogether out of place.

Political affairs, if not absolutely at a stand-still, are, at all events, in a somewhat torpid state, hybernating until the season arrives to wake up for fresh mischief. There will be plenty of work for our “Notables”-such as they are—when the time comes for them to open their most oracular jaws :" damaged reputations to restore, obsolete opinions to recant, all kinds of political tinkering on hand,

great deal of " sound and fury," and the most part of it like the idiot's tale“ signifying nothing.”

The wisest amongst the broken-down lot are discreetly silent at present on the subject of their own demerits. Lord John, who must always be doing something, merely lectures, with fatal facility, upon every art and science known, to the inexpressible edification of “Christian young men." Mr. Gladstone, to a certain extent, follows his noble friend's example, discoursing also on 66 The Unattainable,” that is to say, “The Colonies," and choosing for his audience the colonially-disposed Welsh Mormons, hardy lovers of truth like himself. Sir James, with northern prudence, abstains from "patter” of any sort, knowing well that all his ingenious eloquence—that pure, unsophisticated moral gin—will be required in the approaching conflict with honest, outspoken, brave Sir Charles, and husbanding his strength accordingly. Equally cautious not to commit himself—to anything—"Benjamin the ruler" voiceless sits apart, resisting all temptation; his own constituents, even, can extract from him nothing but what is bucolical.

The blatant Gemini, however,—there is a yelping couple in every pack, despite the huntsman's lash-in the incontinence of speech still howl on. Mr. Cobden having no listeners, tries to find readers, and rushes into print, proclaiming himself, as usual, the only true prophet ; but his wordy, windy letters are unheeded, “the hungry sheep look up and are not fed." But his fellowjourneyman, Mr. Bright, the holder of the Czar's brief-at how large a fee is best known to himself-appeals to the platform as well as to the press. Under the guise of a lecturer to the Me

VOL. XXXIX.

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