It is an honourable but a painful distinction to have either to move or
to second the reply to the Speech from the Throne. One of the silly
survivals of a feudal past still obliges men who have to perform this
duty to make perfect guys of themselves, by wearing some outlandish
uniform. Even the sturdiest Radical has to submit to this process;
though I hope when John Burns comes to figure in that honourable
position he will insist on retaining his breezy pea-jacket and his
billycock hat. It was very late in the evening when Mr. Lambert--the
victor in the great South Molton fight--had the opportunity of rising;
and it was even still later when Mr. Beaufoy rose. I must pass over
their speeches by saying that both speakers did extremely well. Even Mr.
Balfour had to compliment them; and the Old Man almost went out of his
way to express his gratification.

[Sidenote: Mr. Balfour.]

It was everywhere remarked that most of the leaders of parties began the
Session in excellent fighting trim. Mr. Morley has been living in the
pleasant green meadows and fields of the Phoenix Park, and looks five
years younger than he did last year. The Old Man astounded everybody by
his briskness; and Mr. Balfour also entered on the fray with every sign
of being in excellent health and spirits. There had been a great roar of
triumph when he came into the House, and throughout his speech--clever,
biting, and adroit--his party kept up a ringing and well-organized
chorus of pointed cheers. The speech was a significant departure from
the ordinary stamp--a fact which Mr. Gladstone, who is notably a great
stickler for tradition, did not fail to notice. For the almost unbroken
tradition of the House of Commons is that the first night shall be one
of almost loving-kindness between the one side and the other. I remember
well _Punch_ indicated this once by representing Mr. Gladstone and Mr.