Morrison's
Hotel--"Parnell's Hotel," for the "uncrowned king" (at that time
deposed) always stopped there--in fact it was said he had an interest in
the property. It was late on Sunday afternoon. I was writing in my
sitting-room on the first floor, next to Parnell's room, when the
strains of national music of approaching bands smote my ear, and soon
the hotel was surrounded by a cheering, shouting crowd. Banners were
flying, bands were playing, thousands of voices were shouting. Standing
in a brake haranguing the surging mass of people was the familiar figure
of Charles Stewart Parnell. With difficulty he descended from the brake,
and had literally to fight his way into the hotel, while his worshippers
clung on to him into the building, till they were seized and ejected by
the servants. I went out of my door to see the scene, and in the passage
outside, between Parnell's sitting-room and mine, he sat apparently
exhausted. His flesh seemed transparent--I could fancy I saw the
pattern of the wall-paper through his pallid cheeks. The next moment,
before I was aware, another figure sat on the same seat, arms were
thrown round my neck. It was my old Irish nurse, who had come up from
Wexford to see me, and had been lying in wait for me.

[Illustration: OUTSIDE MY ROOM.]

The first picture I drew for _Punch's_ essence of Parliament was a
portrait of Lord Randolph Churchill, "Caught on the Hip," to illustrate
the following truly prophetic words of Toby, M.P.: "The new delight you
have given us is the spectacle of an undisciplined Tory--a man who will
not march at the word of command and snaps his fingers at his captain.
You won't last long, Randolph; you are rather funny than witty--more
impudent than important." That was written at the opening of Parliament,
1891.

[Illustration: "THE G.O.M." AND "RANDY."]

I must plead guilty to being the cause of giving an erroneous impression
of Lord Randolph's height. He was not a small man, but he _looked_
small; and when he first came into notoriety, with a small following,
was considered of small importance and, by some, small-minded. It was to
show this political insignificance in humorous contrast to his bombastic
audacity that I represented him as a midget; but the idea was also
suggested from time to time by his opponents in debate. Did not Mr.
Gladstone once call him a gnat? and do we not find the following lines
under _Punch's_ Fancy Portraits, No. 47, drawn by Mr. Sambourne?