There was just one exception to this. For some reason best known to
himself, Sir John Gorst (he is usually at variance with his friends) had
come down early on June 28th, and was in his place with edifying aspect
to listen to the solemn exhortation and the soft responses.
[Sidenote: The shout of battle.]
At twenty minutes past twelve there is a roar in the House; the Old Man
has arrived; and there ascends that bracing cheer with which in our
still barbarous times we welcome our champions on the eve of a big
fight. The Old Man has hurried, for he is out of breath; and the deadly
pallor of his cheek is almost affrighting to see. But he soon recovers
himself, though when he rises to speak the breathlessness is still very
apparent, and he has to gasp almost now and then for more voice.
Fortunately on this occasion we have not long to wait for the big
announcement which everybody is so anxiously expecting. It is usually
the fate of the House of Commons, whenever something very momentous is
under weigh, to have a thousand trivialities in its path before it gets
on to the real business. I have heard something like a hundred questions
asked, most of them very trivial, on more than one night, when the whole
of the civilized world was waiting for the Minister to develop some
great plan of Governmental policy.
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