he lost Leader, P-rn-ll.]

"What's that?" I asked DICK POWER, who happened to be taking glass of
sherry-wine at Bar in Lobby.

"That," said RICHARD, "is the Irish wolves crying for the blood of
PARNELL," and DICK, tossing down his sherry-wine, as if he had a
personal quarrel with it, hurried back to the shambles.

Quite a changed man! No longer the _debonnaire_ DICK, whose light
heart and high spirits made him a favourite everywhere. Politics have
suddenly become a serious thing, and DICK POWER is saddened with them.

"I take bitters with my sherry-wine now," DICK mentioned just now in
sort of apologetic way at having been discovered, as it were, feasting
in the house of mourning. "At the present sad juncture, to drink
sherry-wine with all its untamed richness might, I feel, smack of
callousness. Therefore I tell the man to dash it with bitters, which,
whilst it has a penitential sound, adds a not untoothsome flavour in
anticipation of dinner."

Even with this small comfort ten years added to his age; grey hairs
gleam among his hyacinthine locks; his back is bent; his shoes are
clogged with lead. A sad sight; makes one wish the pitiful business
was over, and RICHARD himself again.

All the best of the Irish Members, whether Cavaliers or Cromwellians,
are depressed in same way. Came upon SWIFT MacNEILL in retired
recess in Library this afternoon; standing up with right hand in
trouser-pocket, and left hand extended (his favourite oratorical
attitude in happier times) smiling in really violent fashion.

"What are you playing at?" I asked him, noticing with curiosity that
whilst his mouth was, so to speak, wreathed in smiles, a tear dewed
the fringe of his closed eyelids.

"Ah, TOBY, is that you?" he said, "I didn't see you coming. The fact
is I came over here by myself to have me last smile."

"Well, you're making the most of it," I said, wishing to encourage
him.

[Illustration: The Last Smile.]

"I generally do, and as this is me last, I'm not stinting measurement.
They're sad times we've fallen on. Just when it seemed victory was
within our grasp it is snatched away, and we are, as one may say,
flung on the dunghill amid the wreck of our country's hopes and
aspirations. This is not a time to make merry. Me country's ruined,
and SWIFT MacNEILL smiles no more."

With that he shut up his jaws with a snap, and strode off. I'm sorry
he should take the matter to heart so seriously. We shall miss that
smile.