to look at, with sweetly polished manners; but you know all that quite well enough without my telling you.  But it strikes me that you do not know how little prone you are to admit the light of reason into either your public or private life, and how generally you allow yourselves to be guided by traditions, prejudices, and customs which should be obsolete.  If you will consent to listen to what one foreigner thinks,—­though he himself be a man of no account,—­you may perchance gather from his words something of the opinion of bystanders in general, and so be able, perhaps a little, to rectify your gait and your costume and the tones of your voice, as we are all apt to do when we come from our private homes, out among the eyes of the public.”

This was received very well.  The Senator spoke with a clear, sonorous voice, no doubt with a twang, but so audibly as to satisfy the room in general.  “I shall not,” he said, “dwell much on your form of government.  Were I to praise a republic I might seem to belittle your throne and the lady who sits on it,—­an offence which would not be endured for a moment by English ears.  I will take the monarchy as it is, simply remarking that its recondite forms are very hard to be understood by foreigners, and that they seem to me to be for the most part equally dark to natives.  I have hardly as yet met two Englishmen who were agreed as to the political power of the sovereign; and most of those of whom I have enquired have assured me that the matter is one as to which they have not found it worth their while to make inquiry.”  Here a voice from the end of the hall made some protestation, but the nature of the protest did not reach the platform.

“But,” continued the Senator, now rising into energy, “tho’ I will not meddle with your form of government, I may, I hope, be allowed to allude to the political agents by which it is conducted.  You are proud of your Parliament.”

“We are,” said a voice.

“I wonder of which house.  I do not ask the question that it may be answered, because it is advisable at the present moment that there should be only one speaker.  That labour is, unfortunately for me, at present in my hands, and I am sure you will agree with me that it should not be divided.  You mean probably that you are proud of your House of Commons,—­and that you are so because it speaks with the voice of the people.  The voice of the people, in order that it may be heard without unjust preponderance on this side or on that, requires much manipulation.  That manipulation has in latter years been effected by your Reform bills of which during the last half century there have in fact been four or five,—­the latter in favour of the ballot having been perhaps the greatest.  There have been bills for purity of elections, very necessary; bills for creating constituencies, bills for abolishing them, bills for dividing them, bills for extending the suffrage, and bills, if I am not mistaken, for