And curiously enough, it is impossible to put him down.  On March 6th he was commenting on some item which he supposed was in a Post-office Estimate.  It was pointed out to him that the item to which he alluded was not in that particular vote at all, but in quite another vote, which came later on.  Jimmy, nevertheless, went on to discuss the item as if nothing had been said.  Then the long-suffering Chairman had to be called in, and he ruled—­as every human being would have been bound to rule—­that Jimmy was out of order.  Was Jimmy put down?  Not the least in the world.  He made an apology, and, as the apology was ample and his deliverance is slow, the apology enabled him to consume some more minutes of precious Government time.  And then, having failed to find fault with the estimate for what it did not contain, he proceeded to assail it for what it did contain.  Here again he was out of order, for the estimate was prepared exactly as every other estimate had been prepared for years.  This answer was given to him.  But Jimmy went on—­gulping and obstructing, obstructing and gulping.  It is amusing, perhaps, to you who can read this description as part of an after-dinner’s amusement, but what is one to think of a Parliamentary institution that can be so flouted, and nullified by mere beef-headed dulness?  This is a question to make any one pause who has faith in Parliamentary institutions.

[Sidenote:  Mr. Balfour keeps away.]

During all these performances, Mr. Balfour keeps steadily away from the House.  He never was a good attendant, even in his best of days, and now that he is relieved of responsibility, he naturally seeks to take advantage of it.  But he doesn’t take so much advantage as one would expect.  He who used to be so indolent, has developed a feverish activity.  He seems during some portions of every sitting to be ready to rise to his feet at the smallest provocation, and to interfere in the smallest matter of detail.  It is this tendency which has hurried him into some of those ridiculous errors, which he has made so frequently.  The explanation of it all, is that curious figure that sits so silent, remote, and friendless on the front Opposition bench.  Lord Randolph is still the riddle which nobody can read.  Whenever Mr. Balfour appears Lord Randolph does his best to efface himself, even in the places which men select on the front bench.  Here is a hint of that eternal conflict and play of ferocious appetites and passions which is going on in the House of Commons.  Everybody who has ever visited the House of Commons must have observed that pair of boxes which stand on the table in front of the Speaker’s chair.  These boxes mark to the outward world the positions of the most important men in the House of Commons—­the Leader of the House and the Leader of the Opposition.  Mr. Balfour, whenever he is in the House, sits opposite his box, and so proclaims to all the world the lofty post he holds.  And when this is the case, it is