PARLIAMENTAR YPORTRAITS.

Patea Mail, Volume VI, Issue 542, 6 July 1880, Page 3

PARLIAMENTAR YPORTRAITS.

WILLIAM RUSSELL RUSSELL, M.H.R. FOR NAPIER. Frank as a soldier in his speech, and soldier ly in his manner and bearing. More a soldier than anything else, and yet more than a soldier. One carefully cultured and nurtured. Ho looks, walks, and thinks straight. A loyal and yofa party man. Ho would fight for Throne or Altar as stoutly as he would for Hearth or Home. He bears an honored English name. It is woven in rod letters in the history of English freedom. In a little chapel in Hertfordshire, lies “the honored dust ” of ton generations of the House of Russell. They all have been true to the people’s side. In this little chapel sleeps the ancestress of the race. “ A stern austere lady” says Fronde, “as you can see in the lines on her, marble countenance 1 could not hut feel as 1 stoop in that chapel what a tiling it would be to know that in death one has to bo carried into the presence of that terrible ancestress and the august array of herdccendants,and to be examined whether I had been worthy of the race to which one belonged.” In the long and bitter wrangles, which for years have soughed through the House of Representatives over the Hawke’s Bay iniquities, not one word can bo remembered as having been spoken by Captain Russell which was not in accordance with the traditions of his race. The Maori cause lies between him and his God. Lei it remain there. There arc few men in the Assembly who speak as well ns ho docs—and few who speak so seldom. Ho always understands the subject ho speaks about ; and often throws in a thought you wonder where he found it. Not a politician in any sense of the word, although knowing much about politics. A strong man. Srong in sense, conviction, and a sense of duty. The last man .yon would think of bribing or cajoling. While the New Zealand Parliament endures, let ns hope a dosendant of William Russell Russell will bo found filling a place in its councils wisely, justly, and honorably. May there be in New Zealand years hence, an ancestress of Russell as watchful of the honor of her dcsondants, although os silent as the dame who sleeps at Chcynies.—Well. Chronicle.

W. J. Hurst', M. H. 11., dearly loves a lord. For this reason he sits beside Sir William Fox, and has taken lessons in deportment. Addison relates how an old acquaintance of his had the vanity ot being a man of fashion deep in his heart. “He had a new black suit made upon the death of the King of Spain ; be turned it for the King of Portugal ; and he now keeps his chamber while it is being scoured for the Emperor.” Lamartine said his mother was born a saint, ; Mr Hurst was born with a desire to shine. He reflects light, but does not generate it. It is hard to conceive him in any position in which he would not pose, even if only a milk-maid or a nursogirl wore looking on. Not bad, but weak. Not ambitious, but vain. Not dull, but informed. Owing more to broadcloth and white linen than brains. The milkmaid seeing him pose would think, “ A real gentleman.” If a follow introduced him to his “women folk”they would say “ Gracious me, wherever did you pick him up? Who is ho, dear; do toll us? Such a bonny man?’ ” Too small to hate ; just one to laugh at. The most noticeable portion of his body is fat hands. They arc unresting. It is hard to say, whether he uses gesticulation as an aid to emphasis, or from the desire to attract attention. The mesmerist by the manipulation of certain cranial organs excites desired emotions. Hub soothingly the organ of Mr Hurst’s self-esteem, and you can guide him whore you like. The Premier found out this fact, or was told it, and operated accordingly. If lie could not be the chief personage in Hie Lord Mayor’s show, be would prefer the position and costume of Gog and Magog to any other.