private, domestic, and even financial troubles to this
wise counsellor, confident that the advice given would be sound. Mr.
Smith had none of the more ornamental qualities, but his fund of common
sense was inexhaustible, he never spared himself in his friends'
service, and his high sense of honour and strength of character earned
him the genuine regard of all those who really knew him. He was a very
fine specimen of the unassuming, honourable, high-minded English
gentleman.

In the 1886 Parliament, Mr. Akers-Douglas, now Lord Chilston, was Chief
Conservative Whip and he was singularly fortunate in his Assistant
Whips. Sir William Walrond, now Lord Waleran, Sir Herbert Maxwell, and
the late Sidney Herbert, afterwards fourteenth Earl of Pembroke, formed
a wonderful trio, for Nature had bestowed on each of them a singularly
engaging personality. The strain put on Members of the Opposition was
very severe; our constant attendance was demanded, and we spent
practically our whole lives in the precincts of the House. However much
we longed for a little relaxation and a little change, it was really
impossible to resist the blandishments of the Assistant Whips. They
made it a sort of personal appeal, and a test of personal friendship to
themselves, so grudgingly the contemplated visit to the theatre was
abandoned, and we resigned ourselves to six more hours inside the
over-familiar building.

Sir William Hart-Dyke had been Chief Conservative Whip in the 1868-1873
Parliament. He married in May 1870, in the middle of the session at a
very critical political period. He most unselfishly consented to forego
his honeymoon, or to postpone it, and there were rumours that on the
very evening of his wedding-day, his sense of duty had been so strong
that he had appeared in the House of Commons to "tell" in an important
Division. When Disraeli was asked if this were true, he shook his head,
and said, "I hardly think so. Hart-Dyke was married that day. Hart-Dyke
is a gentleman; he would never kiss AND 'tell.'" As a pendant to this,
there was another Sir William, a baronet whose name I will suppress.
With execrable taste, he was fond of boasting by name of his amatory
successes. He was always known as "William Tell."

In 1886 the long hours in the House of Commons hung very heavily on our
hands, once the always voluminous daily correspondence of an M.P. had
been disposed of. My youngest brother and I, both then well under
thirty, used to h