extinction of a State Church,—­these were among the principal articles in Mr. Turnbull’s political catalogue.  And I think that when once he had learned the art of arranging his words as he stood upon his legs, and had so mastered his voice as to have obtained the ear of the House, the work of his life was not difficult.  Having nothing to construct, he could always deal with generalities.  Being free from responsibility, he was not called upon either to study details or to master even great facts.  It was his business to inveigh against existing evils, and perhaps there is no easier business when once the privilege of an audience has been attained.  It was his work to cut down forest-trees, and he had nothing to do with the subsequent cultivation of the land.  Mr. Monk had once told Phineas Finn how great were the charms of that inaccuracy which was permitted to the Opposition.  Mr. Turnbull no doubt enjoyed these charms to the full, though he would sooner have put a padlock on his mouth for a month than have owned as much.  Upon the whole, Mr. Turnbull was no doubt right in resolving that he would not take office, though some reticence on that subject might have been more becoming to him.

The conversation at dinner, though it was altogether on political subjects, had in it nothing of special interest as long as the girl was there to change the plates; but when she was gone, and the door was closed, it gradually opened out, and there came on to be a pleasant sparring match between the two great Radicals,—­the Radical who had joined himself to the governing powers, and the Radical who stood aloof.  Mr. Kennedy barely said a word now and then, and Phineas was almost as silent as Mr. Kennedy.  He had come there to hear some such discussion, and was quite willing to listen while guns of such great calibre were being fired off for his amusement.

“I think Mr. Mildmay is making a great step forward,” said Mr. Turnbull.

“I think he is,” said Mr. Monk.

“I did not believe that he would ever live to go so far.  It will hardly suffice even for this year; but still coming from him, it is a great deal.  It only shows how far a man may be made to go, if only the proper force be applied.  After all, it matters very little who are the Ministers.”

“That is what I have always declared,” said Mr. Monk.

“Very little indeed.  We don’t mind whether it be Lord de Terrier, or Mr. Mildmay, or Mr. Gresham, or you yourself, if you choose to get yourself made First Lord of the Treasury.”

“I have no such ambition, Turnbull.”

“I should have thought you had.  If I went in for that kind of thing myself, I should like to go to the top of the ladder.  I should feel that if I could do any good at all by becoming a Minister, I could only do it by becoming first Minister.”

“You wouldn’t doubt your own fitness for such a position?”

“I doubt my fitness for the position of any Minister,” said Mr. Turnbull.