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 *ness of the ice and to gauge the temperature of the country."

So grateful was the idea to the mind of Mr. Williams that as he went into the lobby in search of John Endor he smiled pleasantly at his thoughts. By a happy chance, almost the first man he met was the member for Blackhampton.

"My dear Mr. Endor,"—in the humane art of patting on the shoulder the younger generation Slippery Sam had no peer—"permit me, if I may—without impertinence—to congratulate you—to congratulate you most sincerely on a fine—a really fine—effort."

"Thank you, sir," said the member for Blackhampton. "It is very good of you." Naïf young man, he could not withhold a little blush of pleasure! There was such a genuine ring in this voice of fatherly benevolence. Besides, to John Endor, anachronism as he was, the prime minister of England still meant something.

"Don't let me be fulsome"—the well modulated voice of Mr. Williams could achieve real charm on these occasions—"but do you know whom you brought back to the mind of an old man? Mr. Gladstone. As I sat listening to you, my dear sir, I thought of the long ago—alas, how long ago it seemed!—when Mr. Gladstone brought in his Bill for Ireland. But, as I say, don't let me be fulsome."

John Endor was dumb before these praises.

"Your grandfather the Duke," the prime minister