beaten up in a glass of sherry, Mr
Bright's priming was said to be a glass of a particular old port,
and there was a malicious whisper to the effect that Mr Lowe, whilst
Chancellor of the Exchequer made ready to enter the oratorical arena by
taking a glass of iced water at the bar, being moved to his choice of a
stimulant by considerations of economy. Mr Disraeli then was reported to
the gallery as having taken his half-bottle, and very shortly afterwards
he slipped into the House from behind the Speaker's chair and
assumed his accustomed seat. Some quite inconsiderable Member of the
Conservative party was on his legs, and we all supposed that on his
chiefs arrival he would bring his speech to a close. He prosed
along, however, until the House adjourned for dinner, and Disraeli's
opportunity was for the meantime lost. He left the House at the hour of
adjournment and did not return until about one o'clock in the morning.
When at last he rose, he entered upon a long tale which at first seemed
to have no bearing whatever upon any business the House could possibly
have in contemplation. "Mr Speaker, sir," he began, "it will be within
the memory of many right honourable and honourable gentlemen, members of
this House, that one of the most distinguished ornaments at an earlier
period of its history was the late greatly lamented Sir Robert Peel.
One of Sir Robert Peel's most intimate friends was Colonel Ellis, a less
distinguished member of this Assembly. Colonel Ellis, sir, was a noted
authority in all matters relating to gourmandising and his opinion was
especially respected with regard to the quality of wines. At the time
of which I speak, champagne was a liqueured and sugared beverage, mainly
relegated to the use and for the enjoyment of the ladies."
The House sat in an amazed speculation as to whither the orator was
being led by this extraordinary exordium, but Mr Disraeli flowed on
unmoved.
"It happened that a friend upon the continent sent to Sir Robert Peel a
case of dry champagne, a beverage then almost unknown in this country.
Sir Robert invited Colonel Ellis to dine with him and to taste and
to pronounce upon the novel beverage, and when the repast had been
discussed, Sir Robert turned upon his guest and inquired of him, with
a solemnity befitting the occasion: 'Pray, Colonel Ellis, what is your
opinion of dry champagne?' To which Colonel Ellis, with a solemnity
equal to Sir Robert's own, responded: 'I believe th
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