The State trial ended on January 25th, 1881, the foreman of the jury stating: "We are unanimous that we cannot agree," as Mr. Parnell had assured me they would. He was in Court and loudly cheered as he hastened off to catch the boat to England. [1] That Captain O'Shea had left Eltham for Madrid. [2] To Captain O'Shea. [3] Captain O'Shea. {91} CHAPTER XI PARLIAMENTARY ASSOCIATIONS "_Live to-day--the past is registered--the future is unguessed--the instant ours._"--MORTIMER COLLINS. Forster's Coercion Bill was introduced on January 24th, 1881, and on the 25th Mr. Gladstone moved that it should have precedence of all other business before the House. Mr. Parnell fiercely opposed this motion, and kept his followers hard at work in opposition--thus forcing the House to sit from 4 p.m. on Tuesday until 2 p.m. of the next day. The details of these sittings have been recounted ad nauseam, and I need not repeat them here, but only record Parnell's fierce joy in these political fights, and my pride in him as I watched him from the Ladies' Gallery. Sometimes Willie would wish to give the seats he secured in the Ladies' Gallery to friends of his, and on such occasions I always knew that Mr. Parnell would ballot one for me. Of course, later on I could always secure a seat without ballot, if one was vacant, as I had to wait to receive messages from Mr. Parnell and Mr. Gladstone, and it was made known to the attendants that on any important occasion I held priority of place. As a rule, after an all-night sitting he used to drive down to Eltham in order not to become well known on the Eltham railway, and come through the conservatory into my sitting-room, where I would have supper ready for him before the fire, with his smoking-jacket and slippers ready to put on. He seldom spoke after his first {92} greeting. He would take off his frock-coat and boots, and, when I slipped on the others for him, he would eat his supper quite silently, thinking over the events of the night. I never worried him to talk. Supper finished, he would light a cigar and sit down in his own arm-chair, saying, "Well, Queenie, the Old Man spoke to-night," or "So-and-so spoke," and then slowly tell me of all that had passed during the sitting, and his opinion of the present and future, so far as politics were concerned. Sometimes when he had spoken himself he would say: "I did not speak well to-night," and sometimes it was: "I lost that quotation you gave me and brought it out sideways, and there it was all the time crushed up in my hand! Then I forgot the fellow's name and called him 'the poet.'" "Well, Shakespeare can be called 'the poet,'" I would return soothingly. "Yes? Is that so? It seemed to worry some of the reporters; one came and asked me what I meant! You must make me learn it better next time."