commissions and parliamentary committees that sat upon her case were
innumerable, and their reports would fill a library. Still the nature
of the disease, or the complication of diseases, was a mystery. Sundry
'boons' were prescribed, by way of experiment; but, though recommended
as perfect cures, they did the patient no good. She was either very
low and weak, or so dangerously strong and violent that she had to be
put under restraint. Whenever this crisis arrived, she arrested the
special attention of the state doctors. Consultations were held, and
it was solemnly determined that something should be done. Another
effort should be made to discover the _fons malorum_, and dry it up if
possible.

A diseased nation, subject to paroxysms of insanity, and requiring
30,000 keepers, was a dangerous neighbour, as well as a serious
financial burden. Yet many contended that all such attempts were
useless. It was like trying different kinds of soap to whiten the skin
of a negro. The patient was incurable. Her ailment was nothing but
natural perversity, aggravated by religious delusions; and the root
of her disorder could never be known till she was subjected to a _post
mortem_ examination, for which it was hoped emigration, and the help
of improving landlords, would soon afford an opportunity. In the
meantime, the strait waistcoat must be put on, to keep the patient
from doing mischief.

But at length a great physician arose, who declared that this state of
things should not continue; the honour, if not the safety, of
England demanded that the treatment should be reversed. Mr. Gladstone
understands the case of Ireland, and he has courage to apply the
proper remedies. Yet the British public do not understand it so well;
and he will need all the force of public opinion to sustain him and