edly one of his disadvantages as a public speaker has not yet
been overcome; but his speech was a return to the very worst manner of
his earlier days in the House of Commons. I have heard the Duke of
Devonshire in his early manner and in his late; and his early manner was
about as detestable as a man's manner could have been. He had a habit of
sinking his voice as he approached the end of a sentence, so that a
sentence beginning on a high note gradually sank to a moan, and a
murmur, and a gulp. The whole effect was mournful in the extreme, and
gave you a sense of the weariness and the worthlessness of all human
life such as the most eloquent ascetic could never succeed in imparting.
In the House of Lords, the Duke of Devonshire suddenly returned to his
early and bad manner, and delivered a speech which was more like a
funeral oration than a call to arms.

[Sidenote: Lord Ribblesdale.]

Of the remaining speeches I need say little. Lord Brassey, in a few
manly and straightforward words, expressed his entire sympathy with the
principle of the Bill; Lord Cowper gave another very melancholy and
inaudible performance. And then came one of the most remarkable speeches
the House of Lords has heard for some time. From the Treasury Bench
there stood a tall, slight, and rather delicate figure. The face, long,
large-featured, hatchet-shaped, was surmounted with a mass of
curling-hair; altogether, there was a suggestion of what Disraeli looks
like in that picture of him as a youth which contrasts so strangely and
sadly with the figure and the face we all knew in his later days. This
was Lord Ribblesdale. Lord Ribblesdale holds an office in the Royal
Household in the present Administration. Up to a short time ago, he was
unknown in even the teeming ranks of noble litterateurs; but an article
he wrote on a conversation with the late Mr. Parnell gave indications of
a bright and apt pen, a great power of observation, and a shrewd,
impartial mind. On Sept. 4th, he surprised the House by showing also the
possession of very rare and very valuable oratorical powers, His speech
was excellent in diction, was closely and calmly reasoned, and produced
an extraordinary effect, even on the Tory side, which, beginning by a
stony silence, and a certain measure of curiosity--ended by giving an
impression of being moved, and even awed a little by this speech.
Altogether a very remarkable performance; we have not heard the last now
that we have heard