now--bearded, slightly bowed, with lines deep as the wrinkles of an
octogenarian, he sometimes looks like the grandfather of his youthful
self. It is in the deep-set, brilliant eyes that you still see all the
fire of his extraordinary political genius, and the embers, that may
quickly burst into flame, of all the passion and force of a violently
strong character. For the moment he sits silent and expectant. He has
even refused to take his rightful place among the leaders of the party
on the Front Opposition Bench. Still he sits in the corner immediately
behind, which is the spectral throne of exiled rulers. He has the power
of all strong natures of creating around him an atmosphere of
uncertainty, apprehension, and fear. Of all the many problems of this
Session of probably fierce personal conflict, this was the most
unreadable sphinx.

[Sidenote: Reaction.]

There came upon the House at the beginning of the following week a
deadly calm, very much in contrast with the storm and stress of its
predecessor. It is ever thus in the House of Commons. You can never tell
how things are going to turn out, except to this extent--that passion
inevitably exhausts itself; and that accordingly, when there has been a
good deal of fire and fury one day, or for a few days, there is certain
to come a great and deadly calm. Uganda is not a subject that excites
anybody but Mr. Labouchere and Mr. Burdett-Coutts; and even on them it
has a disastrous effect. Mr. Burdett-Coutts is always dull; but Uganda
makes him duller than ever. Labby is usually brilliant; while he
discoursed on Uganda he actually made people think Mr. Gladstone ought
to have made him a Cabinet Minister--he displayed such undiscovered and
unsuspected powers of respectable dulness.