rather
than a clever man, but has plenty of vanity, ambition, and industry, and
may go far.

[Sidenote: Who said "Rats"?]

Mr. Jesse Collings has changed from a respectable Radical, with good
intentions and excellent sentiments, into a carping, venomous,
wrong-headed hater of Mr. Gladstone and all the proposals which come
from a Liberal Government. On the 8th of February, he gave an extremely
ugly specimen of his malignant temper, by complaining that there was no
care for the agricultural labourer on the part of a Government which has
undertaken the largest scheme of agricultural reform ever presented to a
House of Commons. This had the effect of rousing the Old Man to one of
those devastating bits of scornful and quiet invective by which he
sometimes delights the House of Commons. Jesse had spoken of the
proposals of the Queen's Speech as a ridiculous mouse, and thereupon
came the dread retort that mice were not the only "rodents" that
infested ancient buildings; the words derived additional significance
from the fact that, as he used them, the Prime Minister directed on
Jesse those luminous, large, searching eyes of his, with all their
infinite capacity for expressing passion, scorn, contempt, and disgust.
The House was not slow to catch the significance of the phrase, and
jumped at it, and yelled delightedly until the roof rang again.

[Sidenote: A tumble for Joe.]

This naturally called Joe, pliant creature, to the rescue of his beloved
friend. That, however, was far from a lucky week with Joe; he had begun
to look positively hang-dog, with baffled hate. He attempted to stem the
splendid tide of enthusiasm on which the Grand Old Leader was swimming
triumphantly, by stating that at one time Mr. Gladstone had separated
himself from Mr. Collings's proposals for the reform of the position of
the agricultural labourers. When anybody makes a quotation against Mr.
Gladstone, the latter gentleman has a most awkward habit of asking for
the date, the authority, and such like posers to men of slatternly
memory, and doubtful accuracy. I have heard several of the wonderful Old
Man's private secretaries declare that they had never been able to get
over the dread with which this uncanny power of remembering everything
inspired them--it was awe-inspiring, and produced a perpetual feeling of
nervousness--as though they were in the presence of some extraordinary
and incomprehensible great force of nature. It is rather unfortunate