ears preceding the advent of a Tory Ministry in 1886, this was
so. Mr. Gladstone, driven to desperation in the second Session of the
Parliament of 1880-5, endeavoured to reform procedure so that
obstruction might be fought on even terms. He was met by such resolute
and persistent opposition from the Conservative side that, even with an
overwhelming majority at his back, he succeeded only in tinkering the
pot. Oddly enough, it was left for the Conservatives when they came into
office to revolutionize the system upon which, through the ages,
Parliamentary business had been carried on.

There was nothing in the reforms more startling to the old
Parliamentarian than the proposal automatically to close debate at
midnight. A dozen years ago members of the House of Commons assembled at
four o'clock for prayers. Questions began at half-past four, and no one
could say at what hour of the night or of the next morning the cry "Who
goes home?" might echo through the lobby. In those days Mr. O'Donnell
was master of the situation, and he had many imitators. A debate carried
on through several nights might seem to be approaching a conclusion. The
Leader of the Opposition, rising between eleven o'clock and midnight,
spoke in a crowded House. The Premier, or his lieutenant, followed,
assuming to wind up the debate. Members wearied of the long sitting were
prepared to go forth to the division lobby; when from below the gangway
on the left there uprose a familiar figure, and there was heard a
well-known voice.

[Illustration: F. H. O'DONNELL.]

These usually belonged to Mr. O'Donnell bent upon vindicating the right
of a private member to interpose when the constituted authorities of the
House had agreed in the opinion that a debate had been continued long
enough. A roar of execration from the fagged legislators greeted the
intruder. He expected this, and was in no degree perturbed. In earliest
practice he had a way of dropping his eye-glass as if startled by the
uproar, and searched for it with puzzled, preoccupied expression,
apparently debating with himself what this outburst might portend. He
did not love the British House of Commons, and delighted in thwarting
its purposes. But he knew what was due to it in the way of respect, and,
however angry passions might rise, however turbulent the scene, he would
never address it looking upon it with the naked eye. As his eye-glass
was constantly tumbling out, and as search for it was pretern