The destiny of the Ballot Bill is not yet known.
It has again been debated for four weary days of triviality in Committee, and if Mr. Forster loves Mr. Lowther and the two Mr. Bentiucks, he is nearer to the spirit of the Sermon on the Mount than half the saints in Christendom. Whether St. Philip Non, or St. Francis of Assisi, or the sweetest saint among them could have borne the test of carrying a Ballot Bill through Committee for some sixteen days against opponents who are constantly proposing amendments to such effect as this,—that the stamp on the back of the folded ballot-paper need not be shown by the voter, or that ballot-papers
given to voters who have been previously personated in tile same election should be of a different colour from the ordinary ballot- papers,—is, we should say, more than doubtful. Hair shirts and " disciplines " to the back are nothing to such blistering prepara- tions for the temper as these. Mr. Forster, however, if he has not been saintly, has at least been Stoical. Nobody has yet elicited any outward sign of a vexed spirit within. Amongst the feeble- jokes by which some of the Committee have striven to render the debate endurable, perhaps the feeblest was that which, on Mr. Forster repudiating the name of the Father of the Ballot, sug- gested that he was its Forster-brother (" foster-brother, Fors- (er-brother, don't you see " ?) That honourable member should leave town at once, or even consult Dr. Forbes Winslow. His mind is in danger.
