his right).

The great man then came forward, and with a superior smile on his
countenance waited until the applause which greeted his entrance had
ceased, and then began. He commenced somewhat softly, detailing all
the advantages of the Primrose League: what it had done for England,
the fear it arouses in the heart of the Liberal faction, how it will
raise the country to a summit it never before has reached! No! and
never would have reached had it not been for this flourishing, this
powerful League! &c., &c., &c. His voice gradually grew louder and
louder until, with beating his hands on the table, stamping violently
over the sins of the Radicals, and perspiring vehemently in the
effort, he presented anything but a pleasing spectacle.

Of course animation like this brought down the house. The applause
nearly deafened me, and I was quite glad when he drew near the end of
his most tedious speech. He concluded by calming down very suddenly,
returned to his original tones, and thanking his audience for his
exceedingly kind reception, retired to his seat looking, as Mr.
Mantalini would say, a "dem'd damp, moist, unpleasant body."

Then up rose the ruling councillor, and called us all to pass a vote
of thanks to the "gifted orator." Someone seconded it, and the great
man came forward again to thank us for thanking him. A sort of "So
glad, I'm glad, you're glad" business, it seemed to me.

Then the ladies were thanked for being present: "Such great aids, and
such an _important_ element in the League," with a snigger, and what
he confidently hoped was a fascinating smile, but which made him
resemble a very placid cow with the corners of its mouth turned up.
Such a mouth, too! The poor man could have whispered in his own ear
had he wished. Then someone returned thanks for the ladies. The ruling
councillor was thanked, and thanked his thankers back again, and after
a few more people had exhibited their great faculty for gratitude the
meeting broke up--the only moment at which I felt inclined to applaud.

I do not wish to disparage my own "side" by the foregoing remarks, not
caring in any way to emulate Balaam. It is not only the members of the
Primrose League who are so anxious to praise each other. It is the
case at nearly every meeting you go to. It is a weakness of human
nature. We know that if we laud our friend he will sing an eulogy on
us the next minute, so it is only natural we should do it, after all.

"The f