Mr. Sexton is one of the men whose life is centred in the House of
Commons. He will attend to no other business, except under the direst
pressure--he has no other interests--though he used to be one of the
greatest of readers, and still can quote Shakespeare and other
masterpieces of English literature better than any man in the House
except Mr. Justin McCarthy. Thus, when he rose after midnight, he had
in his notes before him a perfectly tabulated account of the riots in
Belfast, so that every single fact was present to his mind. The story he
had to tell is already known--the attacks on Catholic workmen--on
Catholic boys--on Catholic girls--by the sturdy defenders of law,
loyalty, and order in Belfast. It was not an occasion for strong
speech--the facts spoke with their silent eloquence better than any
tongue could do. The business was all done very quietly--it had the
sombre reticence of all tragic crises; everybody felt the importance of
the affair too deeply to give way to strong manifestation of feeling.
But there were significant and profound, though subdued, marks of
feeling on the Liberal Benches; and everybody could see what names were
in the minds of everybody.
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