 out of the estate at last, both sides went at it in a
lively and spirited manner, and expense was no consideration. Then, he launched
into a general eulogium on the Commons. What was to be particularly admired (he
said) in the Commons, was its compactness. It was the most conveniently
organised place in the world. It was the complete idea of snugness. It lay in a
nut-shell. For example: You brought a divorce case, or a restitution case, into
the Consistory. Very good. You tried it in the Consistory. You made a quiet
little round game of it, among a family group, and you played it out at leisure.
Suppose you were not satisfied with the Consistory, what did you do then? Why,
you went into the Arches. What was the Arches? The same court, in the same room,
with the same bar, and the same practitioners, but another judge, for there the
Consistory judge could plead any court-day as an advocate. Well, you played your
round game out again. Still you were not satisfied. Very good. What did you do
then? Why, you went to the Delegates. Who were the Delegates? Why, the
Ecclesiastical Delegates were the advocates without any business, who had looked
on at the round game when it was playing in both courts, and had seen the cards
shuffled, and cut, and played, and had talked to all the players about it, and
now came fresh, as judges, to settle the matter to the satisfaction of
everybody! Discontented people might talk of corruption in the Commons,
closeness in the Commons, and the necessity of reforming the Commons, said Mr.
Spenlow solemnly, in conclusion; but when the price of wheat per bushel had been
highest, the Commons had been busiest; and a man might lay his hand upon his
heart, and say this to the whole world, - »Touch the Commons, and down comes the
country!«
    I listened to all this with attention; and though, I must say, I had my
doubts whether the country was quite as much obliged to the Commons as Mr.
Spenlow made out, I respectfully deferred to his opinion. That about the price
of wheat per bushel, I modestly felt was too much for my strength, and quite
settled the question. I have never, to this hour, got the better of that bushel
of wheat. It has re-appeared to annihilate me, all through my life, in connexion
with all kinds of subjects. I don't
