And the gentlemen on the opposite benches sneered and heard!—Impudence is only indigenous in Milesia, and an orator is not made in a day. Discouraged by his reception, Mr. Ferdinand Fitzroy grew a little embarrassed.
"Told you so!" said one of his neighbours.
"Fairly broke down!" said another.
"Too fond of his hair to have any thing in his head," said a third, who was considered a wit.
"Hear, hear!" cried the gentlemen on the opposite benches,
Mr. Ferdinand Fitzroy sat down—he had not shone; but, in justice, he had not failed. Many a first-rate speaker had began worse; and many a country member had been declared a phoenix of promise upon half his merit.
Not so, thought the heroes of corn-laws.
"Your Adonises never make orators!" said a crack speaker with a wry nose.
"Nor men of business either," added the chairman of a committee, with a face like a kangaroo's.
"Poor devil!" said the civilest of the set. "He's a deuced deal too handsome for a speaker! By Jove, he is going to speak again—this will never do; we must cough him down!"