complimentary to Lord Palmerston.  As a whole, it was an admirable specimen of Irish oratory.  In the elan with which the speaker leaped to his feet and dashed at once into his subject, full of spirit and eager for the fray, in his fierce and vehement invective and the occasional ferocity of his attacks, in the fluency and fitness of his language and the rapidity of his utterance, in the unstudied grace and sustained energy of his manner, it was easy to recognize the elements of that irresistible eloquence by which so many of his gifted countrymen have achieved such brilliant triumphs at the forum and in the halls of the debate.

It might perhaps heighten the effect of the picture, if I were to describe the appearance of Mr. Gladstone during the delivery of this fierce Philippic,—­the contracted brow, the compressed lip, the uneasy motion from side to side, and all the other customary manifestations of anger, mortification, and conscious defeat.  But if my sketch be dull, it shall at least have the homely merit of being truthful.  In point of fact, the whole harangue was lost upon Mr. Gladstone; for he left the House immediately after making his own speech, and did not return until some time after Mr. Whiteside had finished.  In all probability he did not know how unmercifully he had been handled until he read his “Times” the next morning.

Six more speeches on the Liberal side, loud in praise of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, bitter in denunciation of the Conservatives, and by no means sparing the policy of the Prime Minister, followed in quick succession.  They were all brief, pertinent, and spirited; with which comprehensive criticism I must dismiss them.  Their delivery occupied about two hours, and many members availed themselves of this opportunity to leave the House for a while.  Some sauntered on the broad stone terrace which lines the Thames.  Not a few regaled themselves with the popular Parliamentary beverage,—­sherry and soda-water; and others, who had resolutely kept their seats since the opening of the debate, rewarded their devotion to the interests of the public by a more elaborate repast.  Now and then a member in full evening dress would lounge into the House, with that air of perfect self-satisfaction which tells of a good dinner by no means conducted on total-abstinence principles.

It was midnight when Mr. Disraeli rose to address the House.  For years the pencil of “Punch” has seemed to take particular delight in sketching for the public amusement the features of this well-known novelist, orator, and statesman.  After making due allowance for the conceded license of caricature, we must admit that the likeness is in the main correct, and any one familiar with the pages of “Punch” would recognize him at a glance.  The impression which he leaves on one who studies his features and watches his bearing is not agreeable.  Tall, thin, and quite erect, always dressed with scrupulous care, distant and reserved in manner, his eye dull, his lips wearing habitually a half-scornful, half-contemptuous expression, one can readily believe him to be a man addicted to bitter enmities, but incapable of warm friendships.