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  voice he passed on to the great sorrow of the nation, and, as he took up his new subject, the true orator appeared. His voice scarcely rose above a mournful whisper—so tremulous with feeling and yet so clear, and his words were of the simplest and fittest, as he spoke of the true worth of the departed Prince, and of the immeasurable greatness of the nation's loss. Every breath communicated its pathetic tones to every heart among his listeners, as he recounted the many virtues that survived to perpetuate the memory of the dead; and when he had concluded with a soul-touching allusion to the grief of the Queen, one felt that the strain of eloquence which had just ceased was of that order which could never be given to others in written words.

In manner and bearing there is some personal likeness between Mr. Disraeli and an Australian statesman—Mr. Gavan Duffy, and when I remarked this to a friend of Mr. Duffy's, I was told that the resemblance had often been noticed. In complexion and features they are very unlike. I was struck by a much more vigorous appearance in the Conservative leader of the Commons than I expected to see. His face looked full, and