rliamentary situation induces him to seriously interfere with his
habits. When the clock points to ten minutes to eight any evening of
the week, he may be seen to rise from his place with the inevitableness
of fate, and to disappear for a couple of hours. I have seen him do this
even when the fortune of a most important amendment seemed to lie
trembling in the balance--the one occasion on which I have known him to
break through that rigid rule was when his son was about to make that
maiden speech which started that promising young fellow on his
Parliamentary career. Coming back like a giant refreshed about ten
o'clock, Mr. Chamberlain contrived to once more set aflame the embers of
dying passion; and he threw himself into the fight over Lord Wolmer's
amendment at the moment when all life seemed to have gone out of it. His
speech was full of cleverness--of what the Americans call smartness, and
it had all that point, personal and party, which sets your friends in a
roar. The Tories cheered him vociferously, and point after point of
brilliant and effective invective pleased the House--always anxious with
its jaded appetite for a sensation. But when you had time to compare, it
with that little speech delivered by Mr. Gladstone earlier in the
evening--when you contrasted its fitful and gaudy brilliancy with the
sober and broad wisdom of Mr. Gladstone's utterance--then, indeed, you
were able to see what a gulf there is between the smart debater and the
genuine statesman.

[Sidenote: A narrow shave.]

At last the debate was over; and then came what was, perhaps, the most
exciting and most momentous incident of the evening. I have already
spoken of the interest with which every division is regarded. The
interest in this particular division was fully justified when the
numbers were told; for the Government majority had fallen to twenty-one.
At once there was a wild outburst of cheering from the Tory Benches.
Some wits ventured on the cry, "Resign! Resign!"--altogether, the Tories
had the best quarter of an hour they have enjoyed since that hideous
afternoon before the Easter vacation, when, after a prolonged fight, the
Old Man had to announce that he could not propose the second reading of
the Bill until after Easter. It was all more or less of an accident;
there were plenty of things to account for it--a reception at the House
of a prominent Liberal lady, and many other explanations: but, all the
same, it was a very ugly litt