The reader will immediately make the application.  The horse John Bull is prostrate.  It will be remembered that Colonel SIBTHORP (that dull mountebank) spoke learnedly upon glanders—­that others declared the animal needed a lighter burthen and a greater allowance of corn,—­but that the majority of the mob made way for a certain quacksalver PEEL, who being regularly called in and fee’d for his advice, professed himself to be possessed of some miraculous elixir for the suffering quadruped.  All eyes were upon the doctor—­all ears open for him, when lo! on the 16th of September,—­PEEL, speaking with the voice of an oracle, said—­“It is not my intention in the present session of Parliament to submit any measures for the consideration of the House!” In other words—­“Let the horse alone!”

The praises of the Tory mob are loud and long at this wisdom of the doctor.  He had loudly professed an intimate knowledge of the ailments of the horse—­he had long predicted the fall of the poor beast,—­and now, when the animal is down, and a remedy is looked for that shall once more set the creature on his legs, the veterinary politician says—­“Let the horse alone!”

The speech of Sir ROBERT PEEL was a pithy illustration of the good old Tory creed.  He opens his oration with a benevolent and patriotic yearning for the comforts of Parliamentary warmth and ventilation.  He moves for papers connected with “the building of the two houses of Parliament, and with the adoption of measures for warming and ventilating those houses!” The whole policy of the Tories has ever exemplified their love of nice warm places; though, certainly, they have not been very great sticklers for atmospheric purity.  Indeed, like certain other labourers, who work by night, they have toiled in the foulest air,—­have profited by the most noisome labour.  When Lord JOHN RUSSELL introduced that imperfect mode of ventilation, the Reform Bill, into the house, had he provided for a full and pure supply of public opinion,—­had he ventilated the Commons by a more extended franchise,—­Sir ROBERT PEEL would not, as minister, have shown such magnanimous concern for the creature comforts of Members of Parliament—­he might, indeed, have still displayed his undying love of a warm place; but he would not have enjoyed it on the bench of the Treasury.  As for ventilation, why, the creature Toryism, like a frog, could live in the heart of a tree;—­it being always provided that the tree should bear golden pippins.

We can, however, imagine that this solicitude of Sir ROBERT for the ease and comfort of the legislative Magi may operate to his advantage in the minds of certain honest folk, touched by the humanity which sheds so sweet a light upon the opening oration of the new minister.  “If”—­they will doubtless think—­“the humane Baronet feels so acutely for the Lords Spiritual and Temporal,—­if he has this regard for the convenience of only 658 knights and burgesses,—­if,