Outside there is an even denser
crowd--ready to hoot or cheer their favourites. The galleries are all
crowded; peers stand on each other's toes, and patiently wait for hours.
About ten o'clock a man rushes into the lobby, and there is a movement
that looks most like a scare--as though the messenger were some herald
of disaster. In a few minutes you see a great stir and a curious
suppressed excitement in the lobby, and then you observe that the Prince
of Wales has come down to pay the House one of his rare visitations, and
to take that place above the clock which it is his privilege on these
occasions to occupy.
[Sidenote: Sir Henry James.]
The evening began with a speech of Sir Henry James for the Unionist
party--legal and dry as dust, but, towards the end, reaching a
height--or shall I say a depth--of fierce party passion. In language
more veiled, more deliberate, but as intelligible as Mr. Balfour's and
Lord Randolph Churchill's, the ex-Attorney-General called upon the
Orangemen to rise in rebellion. And, working himself up gradually from
the slow and funereal tones which he usually employs, Sir Henry James
wound up with a fierce, rude, savage gibe at Mr.
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