was a sniff from the Tory benches, Mr. Gladstone, in tones of thunder,
referred to the speech of Lord Salisbury in 1885, when he was angling
for the Irish vote, and when he pointed to Austria as perhaps supplying
some indication of the method of settling the Irish question. This was
good old party warfare; the Liberals cheered in delight, and the old
warrior glowed with all his old fire. There was a softer and more
subdued tone when the Prime Minister referred to Foreign Affairs,
speaking of these things with the slowness and the gravity which such
ticklish subjects demand. But again Mr. Gladstone was in all the full
blast of oratorical vehemence when he took up the attack that had been
made on the Irish policy of Mr. Morley. Now and then prompted by that
gentleman, and with an occasional word from Mr. Asquith, the Old Man
gave figure after figure to show that Ireland has vastly improved since
coercion had been dropped as a policy. Altogether it was a splendid
fighting speech, and dissipated in a few moments all prophecies of gloom
and forebodings of dark disaster which have been prevalent for so many
weeks with regard to the health of the old leader. Thus in fire and fury
began the Session, the leaders on both sides fully equal to their
reputation and at their best, and all the dark and slumbering forces
that lie behind them as yet an undiscovered country of grim and strange
possibilities.

[Sidenote: Lord Randolph.]

But the solid and united ranks of the Tories were broken by one figure
that was once the most potent among them all. I had been strangely moved
at a theatre, a week or so before, as I looked at Lord Randolph
Churchill. I remembered him twelve years ago--a mere boy in appearance,
with clean-shaven face, dapper and slight figure, the alertness and
grace of youth, and a face smooth as the cheek of a maiden. And