At this time the world was talking much about Reform, though Mr. Mildmay had become placidly patient.  The feeling was growing, and Mr. Turnbull, with his friends, was doing all he could to make it grow fast.  There was a certain amount of excitement on the subject; but the excitement had grown downwards, from the leaders to the people,—­from the self-instituted leaders of popular politics down, by means of the press, to the ranks of working men, instead of growing upwards, from the dissatisfaction of the masses, till it expressed itself by this mouthpiece and that, chosen by the people themselves.  There was no strong throb through the country, making men feel that safety was to be had by Reform, and could not be had without Reform.  But there was an understanding that the press and the orators were too strong to be ignored, and that some new measure of Reform must be conceded to them.  The sooner the concession was made, the less it might be necessary to concede.  And all men of all parties were agreed on this point.  That Reform was in itself odious to many of those who spoke of it freely, who offered themselves willingly to be its promoters, was acknowledged.  It was not only odious to Lord de Terrier and to most of those who worked with him, but was equally so to many of Mr. Mildmay’s most constant supporters.  The Duke had no wish for Reform.  Indeed it is hard to suppose that such a Duke can wish for any change in a state of things that must seem to him to be so salutary.  Workmen were getting full wages.  Farmers were paying their rent.  Capitalists by the dozen were creating capitalists by the hundreds.  Nothing was wrong in the country, but the over-dominant spirit of speculative commerce;—­and there was nothing in Reform to check that.  Why should the Duke want Reform?  As for such men as Lord Brentford, Sir Harry Coldfoot, Lord Plinlimmon, and Mr. Legge Wilson, it was known to all men that they advocated Reform as we all of us advocate doctors.  Some amount of doctoring is necessary for us.  We may hardly hope to avoid it.  But let us have as little of the doctor as possible.  Mr. Turnbull, and the cheap press, and the rising spirit of the loudest among the people, made it manifest that something must be conceded.  Let us be generous in our concession.  That was now the doctrine of many,—­perhaps of most of the leading politicians of the day.  Let us be generous.  Let us at any rate seem to be generous.  Let us give with an open hand,—­but still with a hand which, though open, shall not bestow too much.  The coach must be allowed to run down the hill.  Indeed, unless the coach goes on running no journey will be made.  But let us have the drag on both the hind wheels.  And we must remember that coaches running down hill without drags are apt to come to serious misfortune.