The galleries are all crowded; peers stand on each other's toes, and patiently wait for hours.
About ten o'clock a man rushes into the lobby, and there is a movement that looks most like a scare--as though the messenger were some herald of disaster.

In a few minutes you see a great stir and a curious suppressed excitement in the lobby, and then you observe that the Prince of Wales has come down to pay the House one of his rare visitations, and to take that place above the clock which it is his privilege on these occasions to occupy.
[Sidenote: Sir Henry James.] The evening began with a speech of Sir Henry James for the Unionist party--legal and dry as dust, but, towards the end, reaching a height--or shall I say a depth--of fierce party passion.

In language more veiled, more deliberate, but as intelligible as Mr.Balfour's and Lord Randolph Churchill's, the ex-Attorney-General called upon the Orangemen to rise in rebellion.

And, working himself up gradually from the slow and funereal tones which he usually employs, Sir Henry James wound up with a fierce, rude, savage gibe at Mr.Gladstone.

Almost shouting out the word, "Betrayed!" he pointed a threatening and scornful finger at the head of Mr.Gladstone, and the Tories and Unionists frantically cheered.
It was more than ten o'clock when Mr.Balfour rose.