was also in his place, looking as though the open rivalry of Lord Randolph Churchill had not much affected his spirits.  Mr. Chamberlain nearly always looks the same.  He has himself informed the world that he does not take exercise in any shape or form whatsoever, and there is never therefore, on his cheek that look of deep-drunk sunshine which marks the cheeks of more active men.  But he was ready for the conflict, and as the night went on showed there was no decrease in either the venom or the vehemence with which he means to fight against the Home Rule Bill.  On the Irish Benches nearly every man was in his place, and the Tories had so far benefited by their buffetings from the Times as to make a braver show than they usually do in the early days after vacation.

[Sidenote:  Home Rule once more.]

When the House separated, the subject under debate was an audacious proposal to postpone Clause 3.  There was nothing whatever to be urged in favour of such a proposal; it was pure, unadulterated, shameless obstruction.  But Sir Richard Temple is not gifted with a sense of humour, and on this amendment he wandered and maundered away for the better part of an hour.  The House has yet no power to prevent a bore from consuming its time; but it is free to save itself from the yoke of attention.  By a sort of general spontaneity, everybody left his seat; and though hapless Mr. Balfour was forced by the hard necessities of his official position to remain in his place, nobody else was compelled to do so; and Sir Richard addressed the general, void, encasing air.  There was some more speech-making of the like kind—­still to empty air—­when suddenly and almost unexpectedly the debate was allowed to collapse.  At first, this was unintelligible—­for, senseless as was the amendment, it was no worse than scores of others which the Tories have made the pretext for endless debates.

[Sidenote:  A tight division.]

However, the division revealed the secret.  It is one of the peculiarities of this strangely interesting Session that nearly every division is a picturesque and portentous event.  With a majority so small as forty, the turnover of a very few votes from one side to the other may mean the defeat of Home Rule, the downfall of Gladstone and his Government, and chaos come again.  And these accidents are always possible.  Death knocks at the door of the families of members of Parliament as of other people; and often, when one of the great divisions is pending, the Whips have to consider the grim and painful question whether they can allow a man to remain by the rack on which a wife lies tortured, or receive a loving mother’s parting sigh.  For some reason or other, Tuesday was a bad day for the Liberals, and there was a series of ugly and annoying little mishaps.  Thus, in the first division, which was snatched quickly by the Tories, informed by their scouts of what was going on, the majority sank to thirty-three.  This was a bad beginning, but worse, as will be seen, remained behind.