Mr. Chamberlain carefully, that the soil is very barren and very thin; and that after a few oratorical crops it becomes exhausted.  Perhaps the failure of the speech was also largely due to the fact that the Irish and the Liberal members, taught by previous experiences, resolved to also put restraint on themselves.  They have learned by this time that interruptions do Mr. Chamberlain a great deal of good; and that his great nimbleness and readiness never come out so well as when he has suddenly to answer such an interruption.  Addressing benches—­blank, silent and irresponsive, he laboured rather heavily throughout the whole of his address; and there was a complete absence even from the Tory benches of that loud and frequent accompaniment of cheers to which Mr. Chamberlain is usually treated.  In short, it was a dull, ineffective speech, mostly listened to in silence.

[Sidenote:  A coming man.]

Sir Edward Grey delivered an admirable reply.  In his case—­as in that of Mr. Chamberlain—­there was an immense disadvantage of a tired House, and the audience had thinned somewhat after Mr. Chamberlain had sat down.  But those who remained were fortunate enough to hear one of the most perfect specimens of House of Commons eloquence that has been heard in Westminster for many a day.  Indeed, there are few men in the House who have so perfect a command of what I might call the true, genuine, and even grand style of Parliamentary eloquence.  Sir Edward Grey speaks with a perfectly unbroken, level tone; his language is moderate and reserved, and he has the great art of using language which implies and suggests more than it actually says.  In short, his eloquence is that of perfect high-bred conversation, discussing questions with that complete self-command and composure of the man of the world who disdains to use, even of the greatest affairs, and of the strongest emotions, language of passion or exaggeration.  Such a style is wonderfully effective in a business assembly, where men feel, even when they are under the glow of splendid eloquence, that there is behind the words a thinking, reflective, and composed mind.  The speech gained enormously by the contrast of its composure—­its fine temper, its calm and broad judgment—­from the somewhat pettish, personal, and passionate utterances of Mr. Chamberlain.  This young man will go very far—­very far indeed.

[Sidenote:  Wearisome Wallace wit.]

Then there was the interval of the dinner-hour—­wound up with a speech from Mr. Wallace.  The iniquity of the abandonment of the In-and-Out clause of the Bill was again the burden of his theme.  He brought to the subject the same quaint, rich, but somewhat elaborate humour which made the success of his previous speech; and the Tories were more than delighted with some telling hits which he gave to Mr. Gladstone for the change of front.  But Mr. Wallace made two mistakes.  It is not given to any man to make a success twice over on the same theme; and he spoke at much too great a length.  In the end he somewhat wearied the House, and altogether the second speech was not equal to the first, though it had a great deal of ability in it, and The Sun was obliged next day to acknowledge with gratitude the great gratuitous advertisement which it received by numerous quotations from its columns.