THE BUG QUESTION.
THE Morning Post gives us to understand, that all the Conser- vatives are of opinion that the Lord High Chancellor should be cudgelled ; and that at the Clubs, the odds are five to one on his being horsewhipped. " The Lord Chancellor will be cautious how he uses such language in future, if he has heard, as we have, that at the Clubs the odds are live to one in favour of the first men who commit such an outrage, be the scene where it may, be the rank and station of the oflimder what it may, having to undergo the disci- pline of the horsewhip, at the latest, on the following day." It is droll enough, that this language, for which the " highest law authority" should be treated in such a manner as if there were no law in the land, was received by the grave and decorous House of Lords with " laughter" and "cheers." In an asi:embly where the immortal Sir EDWARD had numerous friends (it is to be hoped) present, of both Houses—for several members of the House of Commons were among the auditors—it seems there was no one either to complain or to defend him, till the appearance of the Times next morning inflamed the blood of the valiant. It is flat- tering to the Press, that for some time past, half the world has talked out of the Newspapers • and soon, it would appear, they will only see through them. " Ah 1" cries the Duke, as he unfolds the glowing Times in a morning, " did I sit to hear this last night and show no sign ? How stranov it appeared to me but a joke : and here have I permitted my ° friend to be run through and through, and positively have laughed at every glance of the small .sword as it penetrated his unhappy vitals, and inflicted a deadly . and poisoned wound!" To a mercurial speaker, we can conceive no possible torture greater than the perusal next morning of a multitude of the lead- ing words and phrases of some happy oration the evening before. The whole is "trifle," perhaps; but the reporter has caught only a lump of the soddened cake and ratafla drops charged with . cognac ; and all the froth, the whipped aerial foam, which gave lightness and beauty to the whole, is vanished—gone—condensed, ' perhaps, in the bowl of some muddy reporter's pipe, into a drop of acridity. The Great Bug speech was a pleasant and playful attack upon . a petty and prov;oking personage. The speaker flourished his small sword with great activity and skill : he had no mdice in his heart, made brilliant fence, swore he would touch his antagonist on the fifth button—and did it. But the stop was on the foil, and the spectators were merry. Next morning—(probably the reporter was an Irishman)—" Och ! bloody murther!"—just as, in the police reports, the chimney- sweep had had every bone broken in his skin by a cruel mas- ter, had died that night, and was wholly unable to go to his work next day. The thing was a bagatelle—with just truth and malice, in the French sense, in it, to make it tell; and the report was cor- rect, most certainly--just as correct as a bottle of soda-water three days without a cork.
Then they say, the Chancellor went with a long face to com plain to Mr. STANLEY of the incorrectness of the report. He did not: Mr. STANLEY had occasion to see the Chancellor, and a re- mark was made that the speech was not well reported. We ask, would Mr. PEDLEY own the bottle of soda-water above-mentioned? would he not cry " Ditch-water!" The fact is as we have put it; and all this pother might have been spared,—more particularly the Morning Post's valour, and the "indignation and disgust" of that hero Sir GEORGE ROSE, who writes to the Times to disown a better thing than he ever said.
The Chancellor's entomology was right good fun ; and if any one ought to be horsewhipped on the occasion, it is the mischief- makers. It is they who send the "bug away with a flea in his ear."
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