profound silence, concluded one of the most eloquent speeches ever
heard within the walls of parliament--with this pathetic appeal:--

"My lords, I call upon you to pause. You stand on the brink of a
precipice. You may go on in your precipitate career--you may pronounce
against your Queen, but it will be the last judgment you ever will
pronounce. Her persecutors will fail in their objects, and the ruin
with which they seek to cover the Queen, will return to overwhelm
themselves. Rescue the country; save the people, of whom you are
the ornaments; but severed from whom, you can no more live than the
blossom that is severed from the root and tree on which it grows. Save
the country, that you may continue to adorn it--save the crown, which
is threatened with irreparable injury--save the aristocracy, which is
surrounded with danger--save the altar, which is no longer safe when
its kindred throne is shaken. You see that when the church and the
throne would allow of no church solemnity in behalf of the Queen, the
heartfelt prayers of the people rose to heaven for her protection. I
pray heaven for her; and I here pour forth my fervent supplications
at the throne of mercy, that mercies may descend on the people of this
country richer than their rulers have deserved; and that your hearts
may be turned to justice."

The result need scarcely be alluded to. Men of all parties,
however discordant might be their opinions upon the point at issue,
acknowledged and admired the intrepidity and splendid talents of Mr.
Brougham on this memorable occasion.

Brilliant as has been the parliamentary career of Mr. Brougham from
this period, our limits will allow us only to advert to a few of its
brightest epochs. Whether advocating the rights and liberties, and