cool penetration of his judgment intact and his physical vigour going
during those six terrible years.

The Lord Chancellor might appear to be an exception to the rule. This is
very far from being the case. It is true that his temperament knows no
mean either in work or play. One of the most successful speeches he ever
delivered in the House of Commons was the fruit of a day of violent
exercise, followed by a night of preparation, with a wet towel tied
round the head. And yet he appeared perfectly fresh; he has the
priceless asset of the most marvellous constitution in the British
Empire. Kipling's poem on France suggests an adaptation to describe the
Lord Chancellor:

"Furious in luxury, merciless in toil,
Terrible with strength renewed from a tireless soil."

No man has spent himself more freely in the hunting-field or works
harder to-day at games. Yet, with all this tendency to the extreme of
work and play, he is a man of iron resolution and determined
self-control. Although the most formidable enemy of the Pussyfooters and
the most powerful protector of freedom in the social habits of the
people that the Cabinet contains, he is, like Mr. Bonar Law, a
teetotaler. It is this capacity for governing himself which is pointing
upwards to still greater heights of power.

Mr. McKenna is, perhaps, the most striking instance of what
determination can achieve in the way of health and physique. His rowing
Blue was the simple and direct result of taking pains--in the form of a
rowing dummy in which he practised in his own rooms. The achievement
was typical of a career which has in its dual success no parallel in