a crowded
House. It was drawing to the close of an important debate, and Mr.
Chamberlain sat down at half-past eleven, leaving plenty of time for the
Leader of the House to reply. To an old Parliamentary war-house the
situation must have been sorely tempting. A party like to be sent off
into the division lobby with a rattling speech from the Front Bench.
There was ample time for a brisk twenty minutes' canter, and the crowded
and excited sport. But there was nothing at stake on the division.
Though Mr. Chamberlain could not withstand the opportunity of
belabouring his old friends and colleagues, he did not intend to oppose
the vote for Uganda, which would receive the hearty support of the
Conservatives. Half an hour saved from speech-making would mean thirty
minutes appropriated to getting forward with other votes in Committee of
Supply. Sir William followed Mr. Chamberlain, and was welcomed with a
ringing cheer; members settling themselves down in anticipated enjoyment
of a rattling speech. When the applause subsided the Chancellor of the
Exchequer contented himself with the observation that there had been a
useful debate, the Committee had heard some excellent speeches, "and now
let us get the vote."

There was something touching in the depressed attitude of the right hon.
gentleman as he performed this act of renunciation. What it cost him
will, probably, never be known. But before progress was reported at
midnight half-a-dozen votes had been taken.

[Sidenote: THE WHIPS.]

Of the various forms ambition takes in political life the most
inscrutable is that which leads a man to the Whip's room. In
Parliamentary affairs the Whip fills a place analogous to that of a
sub-editor on a newspaper. He has (using the phrase in a Parliamentary
sense) all the kicks and few of the half-pence. With the sub-editor, if
anything goes wrong in the arrangement of the paper he is held
responsible, whilst if any triumph is achieved, no halo of the resultant
glory for a moment lights up the habitual obscurity of his head. It is
the same, in its way, with the Whip. His work is incessant, and for the
most part is drudgery. His reward is a possible Peerage, a Colonial
Governorship, a First Commissionership of Works, a Postmaster-Generalship,
or, as Sir William Dyke found at the close of a tremendous spell of
work, a Privy Councillorship.

[Illustration: SIR WILLIAM DYKE.]

Yet it often comes to pass that the fate of a Ministry and the d