e crowed and clapped his wings in the "moment of victory."
Lord Palmerston would have blustered more brazenly than ever.
Mr. Macaulay would have aired the whole stores of his panegyrical
vocabulary; and Sir John Hobhouse would not have gone abroad.

But, under whatever Government achieved, these results would have
filled the minds of patriotic men with unmingled gratitude to all
who had contributed to their accomplishment. India had been in danger,
and was safe. The British arms had been stained by defeat, and were
again glancing brightly in the light of victory. Our countrymen and
countrywomen had been almost hopeless captives, and were now
restored to freedom and their friends. In such a scene and season of
rejoicing, we might have thought that none but a Whig of the very
oldest school of all, could have entertained any feelings but those
of generous sympathy and unrepining satisfaction. But limits cannot
easily be put to human perverseness. The party whose policy had
caused the evils from which we and they have been delivered, felt
nothing but intense hatred to him who had been most prominent in
that deliverance; and, heedless of the good that he had done, they
fastened on what seemed to their malignant and microscopic vision
some specks that chequered his otherwise unblemished administration
of affairs.

The idea of discussing in Parliament, as we have lately witnessed,
the literary style of a Government state paper at a crisis so
momentous, implies a levity that would be hateful if it were not
ludicrous. But there is something peculiarly laughable in the
pedantry of such criticism. When other men are thinking of what has
been done, the reviewers and poetasters of the Whig Opposition can
think only of what has been said. The facts that are before them
have no value in their eyes; they see nothing but the phraseology.
From men who had themselves done nothing but what was mischievous,
this is perhaps natural. They are content, possibly, if they have
never said a foolish thing, to have never done a wise one; though we
are doubtful if a taunt about simplicity of composition, either
comes well from the noble leader of the Whigs, or his friends, when
we remember some of their old achievements in addressing their
supporters. But in the peculiar position of the Whigs, with ignominy
and impeachment suspended over their heads for their Affghan errors,
we think that such a course is as becoming as if a condemned
criminal we