The bore, the faddist, the empty
self-advertiser, is as inevitable on such occasions as the reportorial
dog that always rushes along the Derby course at that dread moment when
you can hear the beating of the gamblers' hearts.
[Sidenote: To business.]
But on this fateful Wednesday there is no such ridiculous intervention.
There are only two questions altogether on the paper; and both of those
refer to the great issue of how obstruction is to be put down. Mr.
Gladstone answers the questions very briefly; but there is hidden and
fateful meaning in every syllable he utters; and the House of Commons,
looking on, shows itself in one of those moments which bring out all its
picturesqueness--its latent passions--its very human characteristics.
There is the eager strain of curiosity. Every face is turned to that of
the single pale white solitary figure that stands out from the Treasury
Bench, dressed, I may add, in the sober but light grey suit of the
summer season, in spite of his being a messenger of such doom to Tory
obstruction. There is a hush, but a hush never lasts long in the House
of Commons when a great party blow is going to be struck.
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