block; pressure of innumerable
Delegates so great, doncha, couldn't move off the stage in time. This
gave opportunity for two of the stoutest burghers to go through quick
change; reappeared, dressed in kilts. This fairly fetched down house.

"The interminable procession," as ROSEBERY slyly called it, might have
gone on till now, so perfect were the arrangements. But there was some
talk of Mr. G. making a speech, and, at end of hour and fifty minutes
the last Delegate slowly crossed in front of delighted audience,
handed his red _baton_ to Mr. G., who, though he had entered
thoroughly into the fun of the thing, was beginning to look a little
fagged, and the speaking began.

This was excellent, especially ROSEBERY's introduction of the
travelling Star; a model of terse, felicitous language. Only one hitch
here. Speaking of Mr. G.'s honoured age, he likened him to famous
Doge of Venice, "old DANDOLO." ROSEBERY very popular in Edinburgh. But
audience didn't like this; something like groan of horror ran along
crowded benches.

"Nae, nae," said one old gentleman, momentarily taking his knees out
of the small of my back, "that winna do. 'Auld WULLIE' is weel enoo,
but to ca' a man Auld DANDOLO to his face gars me greet." (Often met
with this phrase in songs and Scotch novels: curious to see how it was
done; fancy, from what followed, it's Scotch for taking snuff.)

Barring this slip, everything went well. GLADSTONE delightful. So
fresh, so informing, and so instructive! Began with lucid account
of Battle of Waterloo; lightly sketched the state of parties at the
period of the Reform agitation in 1832; glanced in passing at the
regrettable conflict between the Northern and Southern States of
America ("sons of one mother" as he pathetically put it); and so
glided easily and naturally into a detailed account of the _melee_
at Mitchelstown, which, as he incidentally mentioned, took place four
years and a half ago.

Audience sat entranced. You might have heard a pin drop, if indeed
you wanted to. I wish the Member for Sark had been here to hear it.
He would have been much more usefully employed than in that hopeless
pursuit to which he has given himself up, the growing of the peelless
potato. He'll never do it.

* * * * *

CORNWALL IN BAKER STREET.--The worst of Cornwall is, it is so far
off--indeed, it has hitherto been quite out of sight. Everything comes
to him who knows how to wait. We wa