“Here, here,” cried the Speaker, “make the memorandum here.”

At this critical juncture a fortunate diversion occurred.  A rap—­three times—­of no uncertain quality was heard at the door, and Mr. Brush Bascom hastened to open it.  A voice cried out:—­“Is Manning here?  The boys are hollering for those passes,” and a wiry, sallow gentleman burst in, none other than the Honourable Elisha Jane, who was taking his consular vacation.  When his eyes fell upon Mr. Crewe he halted abruptly, looked a little foolish, and gave a questioning glance at the Honourable Hilary.

“Mountain passes, Lish?  Sit down.  Did I ever tell you that story about the slide in Rickets Gulch?” asked the Honourable Brush Bascom.  But first let me make you acquainted with Mr. Humphrey Crewe of Leith.  Mr. Crewe has come down here with the finest lot of bills you ever saw, and we’re all going to take hold and put ’em through.  Here, Lish, I’ll give you a set.”

“Read ’em, Mr. Jane,” urged Mr. Crewe.  “I don’t claim much for ’em, but perhaps they will help to set a few little matters right—­I hope so.”

Mr. Jane opened the bills with deliberation, and cast his eyes over the headings.

“I’ll read ’em this very night, Mr. Crewe,” he said solemnly; “this meeting you is a particular pleasure, and I have heard in many quarters of these measures.”

“Well,” admitted Mr. Crewe, “they may help some.  I have a few other matters to attend to this evening, so I must say good-night, gentlemen.  Don’t let me interfere with those I mountain passes, Mr. Manning.”

With this parting remark, which proved him to be not merely an idealist in politics, but a practical man, Mr. Crewe took his leave.  And he was too much occupied with his own thoughts to pay any attention to the click of the key as it turned in the lock, or to hear United States Senator Whitredge rap (three times) on the door after he had turned the corner, or to know that presently the sliding doors into the governor’s bridal suite—­were to open a trifle, large enough for the admission of the body of the Honourable Asa P. Gray.

Number Seven still keeps up its reputation as the seat of benevolence, and great public benefactors still meet there to discuss the welfare of their fellow-men:  the hallowed council chamber now of an empire, seat of the Governor-general of the State, the Honourable Hilary Vane, and his advisers.  For years a benighted people, with a fond belief in their participation of Republican institutions, had elected the noble five hundred of the House and the stanch twenty of the Senate.  Noble five hundreds (biggest Legislature in the world) have come and gone; debated, applauded, fought and on occasions denounced, kicked over the traces, and even wept—­to no avail.  Behold that political institution of man, representative government There it is on the stage, curtain up, a sublime spectacle for all men to see, and thrill over speeches about