THE THREE KINGDOMS.

THE political dullness of the dullest month of the political year has not been greatly relieved by a
pronunciamento from Mr. Disraeli, in Bucks. In this display the author of the Revolutionary Epic tried
his hand at that ingenious puzzle of trying to put nonsense into the form of sense which he has often tried
before. But this is not among the revolutions in the ordinary uses of language which even his ingenuity has
any chance of rendering successful. "Let us consider," said he, "what are our real prospects, and what,
under the circumstances, as men of sense who understand the spirit of the age, we ought to take," &c., &c., &c.
Imagine these words addressed to the top-boots and leather smalls of the Royal Bucks Agricultural Association.
Why, what should a bigotted old squire do, in the character of a man understanding the spirit of the age,
but forthwith go drown himself, beeves, buckskins and all, if unprepared to cut the connection with Mr. Disraeli
and the R.B.A.A.? What possible comfort can he derive from being told that he had better go for a
re-adjustment of taxation generally, rather than for a new tax on corn, because there is a mighty difference
between upholding a system that exists and bringing back a system which has been abrogated? He has
only room for one idea in his head, and why should Mr. Disraeli overwhelm him with two. The old squire,
accordingly, in the shape (for the nonce) of a Mr. Paul Foskett, "punches" the head of Mr. Disraeli as the
best answer he can make to his proposal. We want no more parliamentary hide and seek, Paul bawls out.
No more time-serving ambiguity for us, no more parliamentary chicanery, no more political cowardice!
We go for the real thing and no mistake. "We are determined to regain for every British interest full and
effectual protection from foreign competition." And so beginneth that persecution of Benjamin by Paul,
for the end of which sensible men will wait quietly, and with unruffled temper and patience. They have
only to remember, with Paul, that "a suffering and oppressed people have in the eleventh hour learnt a
lesson by which they can profit,"—and to console themselves, with Benjamin, that "the system generally
known by the name of the protective system can never be brought back unless it is the interest of all classes,
and unless the nation speaks out upon the question in an unmistakable manner."

Much more exciting than any such protectionist passage of arms, though it may yet be open to doubt
whether it is likely to be as profitable to us all, has been the announced descent of the god of wealth
propriâ personâ, at Bathurst in Australia, some hundred and fifty miles from Sydney, attended by a rush as
eager to offer him homage, from all parts of the colony, as greeted his first appearance in California now some
three years back. Let us hope that the experience of these three years, on populations not our own, may
help us to make a somewhat more profitable use of what has here befallen us. If ever the curse of Timon—

Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Will o'er some high vic'd city hang his poison
In the sick air,

—was manifested in what seemed a precious gift, it has been so displayed in California. In Bathurst, the
ominous visitor descends on a population more civilised, though with temptations incident to certain classes of
it by no means trifling in amount or degree; and it finds an organised government knowing the duties
required of it, though certainly less able than might have been wished to give proper effect to its determinations
and resolves. On the whole, the balance of hope is on the favourable side. There will be a more full and
free immigration than any less powerful inducement could have brought into the colony; what it has most
required in the way of labour will now be voluntarily attracted to its shores; the short-comings of government
in the way of facilities of passage, encouragement of cultivation, stimulants to industry of all kinds,
will at last be sure of redress, without the sacrifice of another sheet of foolscap or yard of red tape in
Downing Street;—and for the rest, as we have said, we must hope. The bubble of Plutus may soon burst;
but the human thews and sinews, and the exhaustless wealth of a rich and almost boundless soil, cannot but
remain. Nor will it be matter for very great regret should the many active eager men now rushing to the
Australian diggins, be taught by a little sharp suffering that nothing which is worth the having waits on
mere luck or chance, but everything on skill and industry, even in the neighbourhood of mines of gold.
To everything nature compels toil. She does not sow her treasures broadcast over the earth. Nothing is
to be had from her by coaxing. She exacts sheer hard work from all who would profit by her; and if the
sum were ever capable of being clearly worked out, it is more than probable that the amount of labour and
capital sunk in the sands and soil of California during the last three miserable years, would be but fairly
represented by the "yield" of gold she has surrendered. As compensation for the attendant vice and
misery, the sum would exhibit nothing.

Mr. Gladstone has reason to congratulate himself upon the effect of his gallant and brave vindication of
humanity against the atrocities of King Bomba and the government of Naples. The arrow which he shot
stands rankling in the heart of the foul creature aimed at, and from side to side its yells of pain are audible.
In the midst of a terrible earthquake, which has spread desolation throughout the Neapolitan kingdom, as
though nature herself took part against such wickedness and were prophesying doom against the land
polluted by it, the respectable literary spokesmen of King Ferdinand's prisons and scaffolds have had time
to prepare an official answer to the letters of the English statesman. The pitiful "private" defence put