rd Kensington sat on the bench
to the left of the doorway, a terror to members who had pressing private
engagements elsewhere, when a division was even possible. There is only
one well-authenticated occasion when a member, being unpaired, succeeded
in getting past Lord Kensington, and the result was not encouraging.

[Illustration: "SKULKING OUT."]

One night, Mr. Wiggin (now Sir Henry), the withdrawal of whose genial
presence from the Parliamentary scene is regretted on both sides of the
House, felt wearied with long attendance on his Parliamentary duties.
There came upon him a weird longing to stroll out and spend an hour in a
neighbouring educational establishment much frequented by members. He
looked towards the doorway, but there was Lord Kensington steadfast at
his post. Glancing again, Mr. Wiggin thought the Whip was asleep.
Casually strolling by him he found that this was the case, and with
something more than his usual agility, he passed through the doorway.

Returning at the end of an hour he found Lord Kensington still at his
post, and more than usually wide awake.

"You owe me L25," said Mr. Wiggin.

"How?" cried the astonished Whip.

"If," said Mr. Wiggin, producing his unencumbered watch-chain and
dangling it, "you hadn't been asleep just now, I wouldn't have got past
you; if I hadn't got past you, I wouldn't have dropped in at the
Aquarium; and if I hadn't looked in at the Aquarium, I shouldn't have
had my watch stolen."

_Quod erat demonstrandum._

[Illustration: "ABSORBED."]

[Sidenote: REMARKABLE FEAT OF A COUNTRY PAPER.]

It was stated at the time, to the credit of the provincial Press, that
at the very moment Mr. St. John Brodrick was delivering in the House of
Commons his luminous speech on the Second Reading of the Home Rule Bill,
his constituents at Guildford, thanks to the enterprise of the local
weekly paper, were studying its convincing argument, lingering over the
rhythm of its sentences, echoing the laughter and applause with which a
crowded House punctuated it. I enjoyed the higher privilege of hearing
the speech delivered, and was probably so absorbed that I was not
conscious of the crowd on the benches, and do not recollect the laughter
and applause. Indeed, my memory enshrines rather a feeling of regret
that so painstaking and able an effort should have met with so chilling
a reception, and that an heir-apparent to a peerage, who has had the
courage to propose a scheme for the