At eleven o'clock he announced he would be in the House again, and accordingly, at eleven o'clock--quietly, unostentatiously, without the welcome of a cheer--he almost stole to his place on the Treasury Bench.

Something about the figure of Mr.Gladstone compels the concentration of attention upon him at all times.

He seems the soul, the inspiration, the genius of the House of Commons.

He was not, as is usually the case with him in the evening, in the swallow-tail and large shirt-front of evening dress; he had the long, black, frock coat, which he usually wears on the great occasions when he has a mighty speech to deliver.

Of course, Mr.
Gladstone was immediately the observed of every eye; but, as I have said, there was no demonstration--the House of Commons is often silent at its most sublime moments.
[Sidenote: He pounces.] But if there were silence, it was simply pent-up rage, fierce resolve.
When, having brought the discussion down to past midnight, the Tories calmly proposed that the debate should be adjourned, the Old Man got up.
He was very quiet, spoke almost in whispered lowliness; but he was unmistakable.