us hope that.  But, after all, he might and could exercise it according to his own will.  Nobody can call him to account; he is independent of everybody.  But a peer for life whose dignities descend is in a very different position.  He has every inducement to study public opinion, and, when he believes it just, to yield; because he naturally feels that if the order to which he belongs is in constant collision with public opinion, the chances are that his dignities will not descend to his posterity.

Therefore, gentlemen, I am not prepared myself to believe that a solution of any difficulties in the public mind on this subject is to be found by creating peers for life.  I know there are some philosophers who believe that the best substitute for the House of Lords would be an assembly formed of ex-governors of colonies.  I have not sufficient experience on that subject to give a decided opinion upon it.  When the Muse of Comedy threw her frolic grace over society, a retired governor was generally one of the characters in every comedy; and the last of our great actors,—­who, by the way, was a great favorite at Manchester,—­Mr. Farren, was celebrated for his delineation of the character in question.  Whether it be the recollection of that performance or not, I confess I am inclined to believe that an English gentleman—­born to business, managing his own estate, administering the affairs of his county, mixing with all classes of his fellow-men, now in the hunting field, now in the railway direction, unaffected, unostentatious, proud of his ancestors, if they have contributed to the greatness of our common country—­is, on the whole, more likely to form a Senator agreeable to English opinion and English taste than any substitute that has yet been produced.

Gentlemen, let me make one observation more on the subject of the House of Lords before I conclude.  There is some advantage in political experience.  I remember the time when there was a similar outcry against the House of Lords, but much more intense and powerful; and, gentlemen, it arose from the same cause.  A Liberal government had been installed in office, with an immense Liberal majority.  They proposed some violent measures.  The House of Lords modified some, delayed others, and some they threw out.  Instantly there was a cry to abolish or to reform the House of Lords, and the greatest popular orator [Daniel O’Connell] that probably ever existed was sent on a pilgrimage over England to excite the people in favor of this opinion.  What happened?  That happened, gentlemen, which may happen to-morrow.  There was a dissolution of Parliament.  The great Liberal majority vanished.  The balance of parties was restored.  It was discovered that the House of Lords had behind them at least half of the English people.  We heard no more cries for their abolition or their reform, and before two years more passed England was really governed by the House of Lords, under the wise influence of the Duke of Wellington and the commanding eloquence of Lyndhurst; and such was the enthusiasm of the nation in favor of the second chamber that at every public meeting its health was drunk, with the additional sentiment, for which we are indebted to one of the most distinguished members that ever represented the House of Commons:  “Thank God, there is the House of Lords.”