of Commons. Some there are, doubtless, who hold that true moral earnestness is never to be found clothed in quasi-comical attire,—that facetiousness and Radicalism are incompatible. My reply is, that the honorable member for Carlisle finds genial satire to be by far the most effective weapon in his intellectual armory, and that, like a wise man, he puts his special talent to the best use he can. In skilful hands the scimitar of Saladin will strike home as surely as the battle-axe of King Richard.
After some consideration of the matter, I have arrived at the conclusion that great Radicals, like great poets, are born, not made. They inherit, rather than acquire, the qualities of intellect and heart which enable them to point the path of human progress. Radicalism is a rare and generous fruit, which it takes generations to grow in any thing like perfection.
Sir Wilfrid's grandfather—jovial old Mr. Wybergh—was the counterpart of his grandson in wit and in politics, except that he required the aid of something stronger than either tea or cold water in order to keep in good form. An obituary notice of him, not long since unearthed by Mr. George Augustus Sala, credits him with an "uninterrupted gaieté decoeur, which not even pain or sickness had power to subdue." When Lord Brougham made his historic descent on Cumberland in the Liberal interest, the old gentleman was one of his most active supporters, and much harm did he do to the Tories by the inimitable raillery with which he assailed them. On one occasion, observing that the Conservative side of the hustings was crowded with clergymen, he stretched out his hand towards them, and prefaced a spirited onslaught with the text, "The Lord
