ss of the House to Sir William
Harcourt. He was thus able to get to bed at a reasonable hour, and to
attend during the day to the business of the nation. But when the
emergency arises, Mr. Gladstone is never able to listen to the dictates
of prudence, or selfishness, or peril. He was determined to show the
Tories that if they were going to play the game of obstruction, they
would have to count with him more seriously than they imagine. To his
friends--who doubtless were aghast at the proposition--he announced that
he was going to break through those rules which had been imposed upon
him by a watchful physician and by his age. At eleven o'clock he
announced he would be in the House again, and accordingly, at eleven
o'clock--quietly, unostentatiously, without the welcome of a cheer--he
almost stole to his place on the Treasury Bench. Something about the
figure of Mr. Gladstone compels the concentration of attention upon him
at all times. He seems the soul, the inspiration, the genius of the
House of Commons. He was not, as is usually the case with him in the
evening, in the swallow-tail and large shirt-front of evening dress; he
had the long, black, frock coat, which he usually wears on the great
occasions when he has a mighty speech to deliver. Of course, Mr.
Gladstone was immediately the observed of every eye; but, as I have
said, there was no demonstration--the House of Commons is often silent
at its most sublime moments.

[Sidenote: He pounces.]

But if there were silence, it was simply pent-up rage, fierce resolve.
When, having brought the discussion down to past midnight, the Tories
calmly proposed that the debate should be adjourned, the Old Man got up.
He was very quiet, spoke almost in whispered lowliness; but he was
unmistakable. The vote would have to be taken. An hour later--when the
clock pointed to one--there was a second attempt. There was the same
response in the same tone--its quietness, however, fiercely accentuated
by Liberal cheers. And then, when the Tories still seemed determined to
obstruct, came a division, then the closure, and at one o'clock in the
morning Mr. Gladstone was able to leave the House. Thus was he compelled
to waste time and strength, that Mr. Chamberlain might nightly hiss his
hate, and Mr. Jimmy Lowther might gulp and obstruct, obstruct and gulp.

CHAPTER VI.

GLADSTONE THE SURVIVAL.

[Sidenote: From the past.]

What I like most about Mr. Gladstone is his antique spi