very moment when the Old Man walked up the floor of the House to take
the oaths, and there was a great deal of noise and confusion; but his
advent was noted instinctively and rapidly, and there was a mighty cheer
of welcome.

[Sidenote: How he looked.]

Mr. Gladstone walks down to the House, unless on great occasions. Then
there would be an obvious danger, from the enthusiasm of his admirers,
if he were on foot. Whenever there is any chance of a demonstration,
accordingly, he comes down in an open carriage, with Mrs. Gladstone at
his side. On that 31st of January, the enthusiastic love of which he was
the object, had several times overflowed; it had brought a huge crowd to
Downing Street, and it had dogged the footsteps of the Prime Minister
wherever he was seen. With bare head--with eyes glistening--with a cheek
whose wax-like pallor was touched with an unusual gleam of colour--the
Grand Old Man came down to his greatest Session, amid a thicket of
loving faces and cheering throats. I fancy one of Mrs. Gladstone's
heaviest tasks is to look after the clothes of her illustrious husband.
He manages to make them all awry whenever he gets the chance. He may be
seen at the beginning of an evening with a neat black tie just in its
proper place; and towards the end of the evening the same tie is away
under his jugular--as though he were trying experiments in the art of
expeditiously hanging a man. But on these great occasions he is always
so dressed as to bring out in full relief all the strange and varied
beauty of his splendid face and figure. For nature--in the richness and
abundance of her endowment of this portentous personage--has made him
not only the greatest man in the House of Commons, but also the
handsomest. He was dressed in the solemn black frock coat which he
always wears on great occasions, and in his buttonhole there was a