less than a riot when the company assembled in the dining-hall. To my unfeigned astonishment, my fears proved to be utterly unfounded. There was a seat for everybody, and everybody got a seat, though to this day I have a shrewd suspicion that more than one gentleman who had paid five guineas for his place found himself relegated to a one guinea seat. But what did it matter? People had come to hear Mr. Gladstone, and so long as they succeeded in this they were indifferent to everything else. Mr. Gladstone's speech at the dinner was the famous one in which he discussed the Irish question, warned Mr. Parnell of the dangers of the course upon which he had embarked, and declared emphatically that the resources of civilisation were not exhausted. He did not take his seat at the high table in the hall where Sir James Kitson presided until dinner was over and the speeches were about to begin. I observed that when he did so, after having gazed with admiration upon the brilliant scene, he leant forward, and, covering his face with both hands, remained for some time in that attitude. On the following evening I sat next to Mrs. Gladstone at dinner at Sir John Barran's house. She asked me if I had observed this action of her husband's, and on my answering in the affirmative, she said to me, "He was praying. You know, he always prays before he makes an important speech, and he felt that speech very much. What do you think he said to me last night after he had gone to his dressing-room? 'My dear, if I were twenty years younger, I should go to Ireland myself as Irish Secretary.'" The speech was a great oratorical success, and at the close of the banquet, as I have said, an immense torchlight procession, which had been carefully organised by the local committee, conducted the Premier and his wife from the banqueting hall to the residence of Kitson at Headingley. The procession had to pass across Woodhouse Moor, and I do not think I ever witnessed a more effective spectacle of the kind.