ld
generously give that day to a less observant adversary. He knew how
to blind the eyes of members to the truth. Those on the opposite
side of the House would find themselves checkmated by his
astuteness,--when, with all their pieces on the board, there should
be none which they could move. And this to him was Government! It was
to these purposes that he conceived that a great Statesman should
devote himself! Parliamentary management! That, in his mind, was
under this Constitution of ours the one act essential for Government.

In all this he was very great; but when it might fall to his duty
either to suggest or to defend any real piece of proposed legislation
he was less happy. On this occasion he had been driven to take the
matter in hand because he had previously been concerned in it as
a lawyer. He had allowed himself to wax angry as he endeavoured
to answer certain personal criticisms. Now Sir Timothy was never
stronger than when he simulated anger. His mock indignation was
perhaps his most powerful weapon. But real anger is a passion which
few men can use with judgment. And now Sir Timothy was really angry,
and condescended to speak of our old friend Phineas who had made the
onslaught as a bellicose Irishman. There was an over-true story as to
our friend having once been seduced into fighting a duel, and those
who wished to decry him sometimes alluded to the adventure. Sir
Timothy had been called to order, but the Speaker had ruled that
"bellicose Irishman" was not beyond the latitude of parliamentary
animadversion. Then Sir Timothy had repeated the phrase with
emphasis, and the Duke hearing it in the gallery had made his remark
as to the unwonted eloquence of his son's parliamentary chief.

"Surely we ought to listen to him," said the Duke. And for a short
time they did listen. "Sir Timothy is not a man I like, you know,"
said the son, feeling himself obliged to apologise for his subjection
to such a chief.

"I never particularly loved him myself."

"They say that he is a sort of necessity."

"A Conservative Fate," said the Duke.

"Well, yes; he is so,--so awfully clever! We all feel that we could
not get on without him. When you were in, he was one of your party."

"Oh yes;--he was one of us. I have no right to complain of you for
using him. But when you say you could not get on without him, does
it not occur to you that should he,--let us say be taken up to
heaven,--you would have to get on without hi