He proceeded to tell us, with his well-known clutching gesture, that while he had had many proud moments in his political career, none had been prouder than that at which he rose to address an audience so enlightened and so broad-minded as ours, in a political centre of such unique importance as this. We had met at a crisis in the history of our nation. Great issues hung in the balance, to be decided once for all, and to carry with them, in accordance with that decision, the dissolution of our Empire or its reconstruction on a nobler, a fairer, and a more permanent basis. (Here the gramophone was stopped for a few moments, and the statesman’s face was enlarged on the screen, to give us the full benefit of his expression.) There were some, there would always be some, who were ready to cry “Halt!” at the moment of victory, and to arrest the march of progress, if they could, in mid career. He hoped that those were not the feelings with which we had come into the hall to-night. For himself, he was convinced that we stood on the threshold of a newer and a fairer world. (Here a voice interrupted him with “What about McClosky?”—the bomb-thrower who was then under sentence of execution.) He naturally took no notice of the interruption. Unfortunately, a certain section of the audience were impatient to hear his views on this particular issue, and began to sing “And shall McClosky die?” in a very loud and threatening voice. It being impossible to disconnect the cinemaphone all at once, a large part of Mr. Holroyd’s sentiments were inaudible. The tumult subsided when the lights went up, but, as it proved, only temporarily. The film was no sooner released than a dastardly crowd began to hurl a varied assortment of missiles at the figure of the venerable statesman; which, however, fortunately did no damage, as the pictures were being thrown direct on to a concrete wall: an ink-pot left a slight but disfiguring blotch somewhere in the region of Mr. Holroyd’s waistcoat. The rowdy element, however, were not satisfied with this; several of them made an attempt to rush the cinema-operator. They were thwarted in their purpose and sand-bagged by the police; but the operator seemed to have lost his nerve, and from that time onwards the film was anything but a success. Again and again it was clear that the gestures on the screen were not accurately timed to correspond to the words; again and again the attempt was made to readjust the timing, but always unsuccessfully. At last, at the end of an impassioned period, my leader was seen to refresh himself with a drink of water. But, to our surprise, the glass which he took up in the picture was an empty one, and a moment later, to the vociferous delight of the whole audience, it became painfully clear that the film had been put in wrong end on! I cannot profess that the meeting after that was a wholly serious one, or that my speech was anything but a frost by comparison.