attractions were not
numerous, consisting chiefly of tobacco and tea. The conversation was
generally listless and often desultory; and occasionally there would
arise the great and terrible evil of a punster whom every one hated
but no one had life enough to put down. But the thing had been a
success, and men liked to be members of the Universe. Mr. Bonteen was
a member, and so was Phineas Finn. On this Sunday evening the club
was open, and Phineas, as he entered the room, perceived that his
enemy was seated alone on a corner of a sofa. Mr. Bonteen was not a
man who loved to be alone in public places, and was apt rather to
make one of congregations, affecting popularity, and always at work
increasing his influence. But on this occasion his own greatness had
probably isolated him. If it were true that he was to be the new
Chancellor of the Exchequer,--to ascend from demi-godhead to the
perfect divinity of the Cabinet,--and to do so by a leap which would
make him high even among first-class gods, it might be well for
himself to look to himself and choose new congregations. Or, at
least, it would be becoming that he should be chosen now instead of
being a chooser. He was one who could weigh to the last ounce the
importance of his position, and make most accurate calculations as to
the effect of his intimacies. On that very morning Mr. Gresham had
suggested to him that in the event of a Liberal Government being
formed, he should hold the high office in question. This, perhaps,
had not been done in the most flattering manner, as Mr. Gresham had
deeply bewailed the loss of Mr. Palliser, and had almost demanded a
pledge from Mr. Bonteen that he would walk exactly in Mr. Palliser's
footsteps;--but the offer had been made, and could not be retracted;
and Mr. Bonteen already felt the warmth of the halo of perfect
divinity.

There are some men who seem to have been born to be Cabinet
Ministers,--dukes mostly, or earls, or the younger sons of such,--who
have been trained to it from their very cradles, and of whom we may
imagine that they are subject to no special awe when they first enter
into that august assembly, and feel but little personal elevation.
But to the political aspirant not born in the purple of public
life, this entrance upon the counsels of the higher deities
must be accompanied by a feeling of supreme triumph, dashed by
considerable misgivings. Perhaps Mr. Bonteen was revelling in his
triumph;--perhaps he was ant