The fact is manifest:  I feel I have been living more or less uselessly.  It is a fat time.  There are a certain set of men in every prosperous country who, having wherewithal, and not being compelled to toil, become subjected to the moral ideal.  Most of them in the end sit down with our sixth Henry or second Richard and philosophise on shepherds.  To be no better than a simple hind!  Am I better?  Prime bacon and an occasional draft of shrewd beer content him, and they do not me.  Yet I am sound, and can sit through the night and be ready, and on the morrow I shall stand for the county.

I made the announcement that I had thoughts of entering Parliament, before I had half formed the determination, at my sister’s lawn party yesterday.

‘Gilbert!’ she cried, and raised her hands.  A woman is hurt if you do not confide to her your plans as soon as you can conceive them.  She must be present to assist at the birth, or your plans are unblessed plans.

I had been speaking aside in a casual manner to my friend Amble, whose idea is that the Church is not represented with sufficient strength in the Commons, and who at once, as I perceived, grasped the notion of getting me to promote sundry measures connected with schools and clerical stipends, for his eyes dilated; he said:  ’Well, if you do, I can put you up to several things,’ and imparting the usual chorus of yesses to his own mind, he continued absently:  ’Pollingray might be made strong on church rates.  There is much to do.  He has lived abroad and requires schooling in these things.  We want a man.  Yes, yes, yes.  It’s a good idea; a notion.’

My sister, however, was of another opinion.  She did me the honour to take me aside.

‘Gilbert, were you serious just now?’

‘Quite serious.  Is it not my characteristic?’

’Not on these occasions.  I saw the idea come suddenly upon you.  You were looking at Charles.’

‘Continue:  and at what was he looking?’

‘He was looking at Alice Amble.’

‘And the young lady?’

‘She looked at you.’

I was here attacked by a singularly pertinacious fly, and came out of the contest with a laugh.

’Did she have that condescension towards me?  And from the glance, my resolution to enter Parliament was born?  It is the French vaudevilliste’s doctrine of great events from little causes.  The slipper of a soubrette trips the heart of a king and changes the destiny of a nation-the history of mankind.  It may be true.  If I were but shot into the House from a little girl’s eye!’