We made a strong show, for the Liberal Unionists, led by Mr. Charles and Mr. Edgar Flower, had accepted me wholeheartedly, and gave me very zealous support. The opening of the campaign was full of good augury. But I was certainly lucky. A few days later the dreaded Mr. Fell, for private reasons, retired from the contest, and the Radical party had to look about for a new candidate. Their choice fell upon Mr. Warmington, an outsider, and I felt that, however able he might be, I should still have a certain advantage over a carpet-bagger. And so it turned out. I won with a majority of more than seven hundred. It was not an easy constituency to contest. The distances were very great. Railways gave little help, and motors had not yet sprung into existence. It was very hard work, but my friends were very kind, especially the Flowers, and they lightened the burden as much as possible. I look back upon that election with much pleasure, in spite of its fatigue, as a time full of happy memories. Of these none is happier than the thought of the relations between my opponent and myself. Mr. Warmington proved to be the most courteous and kindly of men; and I don’t think that throughout the fight, which was pretty rough, there was an angry or even unfriendly word uttered by either of us. Our supporters were not so discreet, and there were one or two meetings which were distinctly unpleasant. Parliament met on the 4th of August, and on the 11th Lord Salisbury’s Government was turned out by a vote of want of confidence, led by Mr. Asquith. It was a most telling speech, for Mr. Asquith is a lord of language. But then, it is easy to preach to the converted. I have often heard it discussed whether a speech in the House of Commons ever turned a vote. The question was once put to Lord John Russell. He was equal to the occasion. Just as Mother Eve, according to Milton, was “the fairest of her daughters,” so Lord John was the most convinced of his own supporters. He did not hesitate. “Yes,” he answered. “My great speech in 1832 is known to have turned eighteen votes.” My three years as a member of the House of Commons were passed in what has been called the cold shades of Opposition. But those shades, chilly as they may be to the leaders, are warmth itself for the rank and file of the party. When the sun is shining, speech is the exclusive privilege of the front bench. The private member may not utter lest he encounter the steely glance of the Chief Whip and the bored inattention of Ministers. During an eclipse he may deliver pin-pricks as he chooses, and the sharper their points are the better the leaders are pleased. But when the light begins to blaze again, let not the poor little member think that he has earned the right of speech. If he has the misfortune to catch the Speaker’s eye, then he will learn to appreciate the arctic powers of a Ministerial frost.