assail it for what it did contain. Here again he was out of order, for
the estimate was prepared exactly as every other estimate had been
prepared for years. This answer was given to him. But Jimmy went
on--gulping and obstructing, obstructing and gulping. It is amusing,
perhaps, to you who can read this description as part of an
after-dinner's amusement, but what is one to think of a Parliamentary
institution that can be so flouted, and nullified by mere beef-headed
dulness? This is a question to make any one pause who has faith in
Parliamentary institutions.

[Sidenote: Mr. Balfour keeps away.]

During all these performances, Mr. Balfour keeps steadily away from the
House. He never was a good attendant, even in his best of days, and now
that he is relieved of responsibility, he naturally seeks to take
advantage of it. But he doesn't take so much advantage as one would
expect. He who used to be so indolent, has developed a feverish
activity. He seems during some portions of every sitting to be ready to
rise to his feet at the smallest provocation, and to interfere in the
smallest matter of detail. It is this tendency which has hurried him
into some of those ridiculous errors, which he has made so frequently.
The explanation of it all, is that curious figure that sits so silent,
remote, and friendless on the front Opposition bench. Lord Randolph is
still the riddle which nobody can read. Whenever Mr. Balfour appears
Lord Randolph does his best to efface himself, even in the places which
men select on the front bench. Here is a hint of that eternal conflict
and play of ferocious appetites and passions which is going on in the
House of Commons. Everybody who has ever visited the House of Commons
must have observed that pair of boxes which stand on the table in front
of the Speaker's chair. These boxes mark to the outward world the