"I will not enter into any elaborate eulogy of that speech," said Mr.Gladstone.

"I will endeavour to sum up my opinion of it by simply saying that it was a speech which must have been dear and refreshing to a father's heart." And then came one of the most really pathetic scenes I have ever beheld in the House of Commons--a scene with that touch of nature which makes the whole akin, and, for the moment, brings the fiercest personal and political foes into the holy bond of common human feeling.

Mr.Chamberlain is completely unnerved--I should have almost said for the first time in his life.

I have seen this very remarkable man under all kinds of circumstances--in triumph--in disaster--in rage--in composure--but never before--not even in the very ecstasy of the hours of party feeling--never before did I see him lose for a moment his self-possession.

First, he bowed low to Mr.Gladstone in gratitude--and then the tears sprang to his eyes; his lips trembled painfully, and his hand sprang to his forehead, as though to hide the woman's tears that did honour to his manhood.