en gentle malice loves to bring about a count-out. If it is
a private members' night the Whips have no responsibility in the matter
of keeping a House, and have even been suspected of occasionally
conniving in the beneficent plot of dispersing it. But just now private
members' nights stand in the same relation to the Session as the
sententious traveller found to be the case with snakes in Iceland. There
are none. Every night is a Government night, and weariness of flesh and
spirit naturally suggests a count-out. The regular business of the Whip
is to see that there are within call sufficient members to frustrate the
designs of the casual counter-out.

[Illustration: MR. JARRETT, DOOR-KEEPER.]

[Sidenote: "BOBBY" SPENCER.]

Mr. Gladstone and other members of the Cabinet, on many dull nights of
this Session, have been cheered on crossing the lobby by the sight of
Mr. "Bobby" Spencer gracefully tripping about, note-book in hand,
holding an interminable succession of members in brief but animated
conversation. He is not making a book for the Derby or Goodwood, as one
might suspect. "Do you dine here to-night?" is his insinuating inquiry,
and till he has listed more than enough men to "make a House" in case of
need, he does not feel assured of the safety of the British
Constitution, and therefore does not rest.

[Illustration: "BOBBY" SPENCER.]

This is part of the ordinary work of the average night. When an
important division is impending, the labour imposed upon the Whip is
Titanic. He, of course, knows every individual member of his flock. With
a critical division pending he must know more, ascertaining where he is
and, above all, where he will be on the night of the division. It is at
these crises that the personal characteristics of the Whip are tested. A
successful Whip should be almost loved, and not a little feared. He
should ever wear the silken glove, but there should be borne in upon the
consciousness of those with whom he has to deal that it covers an iron
hand.

It happens just now that both political parties in the House of Commons
are happy in the possession of almost model Whips. As was said by a
shrewd observer, no one looking at Mr. Marjoribanks or Mr. Akers-Douglas
as they lounge about the Lobby "would suppose they could say 'Bo!' to a
goose." The goose, however, would do well not to push the experiment of
forbearance too far. All through the last Parliament Mr. Akers-Douglas
held his men together w