of
himself less than a yard off gradually assuming shape and form. Anything
more distracting I can not conceive, but it had no effect on the busy
patient. And now let me make a short digression. I saw recently in your
newspapers that there was some complaint of the manners of the rising
generation in Glasgow. If that be so, they are heedless of Mr.
Gladstone's example. It might be thought that so impetuous a temper as
his might be occasionally rough or abrupt. That was not so. His
exquisite urbanity was one of his most conspicuous graces. I do not now
only allude to that grave, old-world courtesy, which gave so much
distinction to his private life; for his sweetness of manner went far
beyond demeanor. His spoken words, his letters, even when one differed
from him most acutely, were all marked by this special note. He did not
like people to disagree with him, few people do; but, so far as manner
went, it was more pleasant to disagree with Mr. Gladstone than to be in
agreement with some others.

Lastly, I come to his courage--that perhaps was his greatest quality,
for when he gave his heart and reason to a cause, he never counted the
cost. Most men are physically brave, and this nation is reputed to be
especially brave, but Mr. Gladstone was brave among the brave. He had
to the end the vitality of physical courage. When well on in his ninth
decade, well on to ninety, he was knocked over by a cab, and before the
bystanders could rally to his assistance, he had pursued the cab with a
view to taking its number. He had, too, notoriously, political courage
in a not less degree than Sir Robert Walpole. We read that George II,
who was little given to enthusiasm, would often cry out, with color
flushing into his cheeks, and tears sometimes in his eyes, and with a
vehement oath:--"He (Walpole) is a brave fellow; he has more spirit than
any man I ever knew."

Mr. Gladstone did not yield to Walpole in political and parliamentary
courage--it was a quality which he closely observed in others, and on
which he was fond of descanting. But he had the rarest and choicest
courage of all--I mean moral courage. That was his supreme
characteristic, and it was with him, like others, from the first. A
contemporary of his at Eton once told me of a scene, at which my
informant was present, when some loose or indelicate toast was proposed,
and all present drank it but young Gladstone. In spite of the storm of
objurgation and ridicule that raged a