not remarkable for readiness.  Accordingly there is an awkward pause, and no one rises from the Opposition Benches.  This is serious, for first blood tells in Parliamentary as in other prize fights.  The Old Man, however, is all alive.  He passes on from this mighty announcement as though he had said nothing in particular, and taking a bundle of notes—­put together with characteristic care and neatness even in the very centre of all this storm—­he proceeds to tell Mr. Goschen something about the currency question, and the state of the silver market in India.  The currency—­who cares about the currency now?  Even the hardiest bimetallist cannot be got to think of his hobby in the face of the dread news just heard.  By the time Mr. Gladstone has given his answers, Mr. Balfour has managed to slightly recover himself, and has framed a question to the Old Man.

[Sidenote:  The precedent of 1887.]

When at last the question does come, it is of a very innocent character.  The Old Man has declared that he had not the terms of the resolution ready, but that they would be announced to the House before its rising in the evening.  All Mr. Balfour wishes to know is, what time it will be when these terms are given.  Such is the simple question; but the reply is of a very different character.  It was delivered in studiously moderate terms; the voice of Mr. Gladstone never rises above a sweet coo; but there is fire, defiance, inflexible determination in every syllable, and the first blow is struck when the wily Old Man announces—­as though it were the merest business affair—­that the closure resolution which the Government will introduce, is founded upon the principle of the resolution of 1887.  He can go no further for several seconds.  The Irish, with their ready wits—­their fierce and keen memories—­have caught the point at once; and they burst into a cheer—­loud, fierce, and prolonged.  What it means is this:  In 1887, the Tories had carried a closure resolution for the purpose of forcing through the Coercion Bill of that year; and it was under the working of that closure resolution that the Bill had finally passed the House of Commons, with several of its clauses undebated.  What, then, this fierce Irish cheer meant was that the chickens were coming home to roost; and that the Tories were now reaping the harvest of their own sowing.  With grave face the Old Man waited until the storm had spent itself, and then he went on to make a little slip, which for the moment gave his enemies an excellent opening.

[Sidenote:  Revolution or resolution.]

He spoke not of the resolution, but of the revolution.  He corrected the slip with great rapidity, but he was not quick enough for his watchful enemies, and loudly—­discordantly—­triumphantly—­they repeated the word after him—­Revolution—­Revolution.  However, Mr. Gladstone, after his Socratic fashion, lowered his eyes for a moment and went off into one of those abstract reveries whither he always allows