_The Dream._--I was seated opposite a lady, popular alike in the social and political world, whom I will designate as "Lady JAY." It was at a dinner-party, I _think_, though it might have been some other sort of entertainment, as there seemed to me to be, between Lady JAY and myself, the narrow width of a very long table, the ends of which were out of sight. This table was covered with a white cloth, not too clean; and there were no knives, forks, plates, or dishes. The room was inconveniently crowded by persons, inextricably mixed up, none of whom, however, incommoded us in the least, or, indeed, seemed to take the slightest notice of our presence. Somehow, this struck me as delicate conduct on _their_ part. Lady JAY was insisting that an Archimandrite could, or could not, do something or other officially. But, having more than once demonstrated to Lady JAY that this act, whatever it was, had no essential bearing on his clerical position, I continued to take very slight interest in the discussion; at least, I thought I did not, until, on Lady JAY suddenly becoming dreadfully in earnest, and most positive as to her being in the right, a Whip of the late Government, whose name I could not recall, but with whose lineaments I was perfectly familiar, interposed some conciliatory remarks. Then Mr. GLADSTONE, in the absence, unaccountably sudden, of both Lady JAY and the Government Whip, strode up and down on the hearth-rug, rubbing the back of his head with his left hand; whereupon I became aware that we were no longer wherever I had been until the appearance of Mr. GLADSTONE on the scene, but that we were in the library of the Prime Minister's official residence in Downing Street. I was seated in an odd sort of spider-legged arm-chair. Mr. GLADSTONE, bringing himself to a halt, turned round, and asked me, pointedly, "Whether I could play the piano." Being rather nettled at the tone of this inquiry, which seemed to imply a doubt of my proficiency as a pianist, I replied, somewhat testily, "Certainly; rather better than BEETHOVEN." Apparently satisfied with my answer, Mr. GLADSTONE said that "if I would oblige _him_ by not continuing my discussion with Lady JAY, in which I had been," he admitted, "absolutely right"--and here he made some facetious allusion as to ladies in general, of which I could not catch one word--"I should," he went on, "_have a seat in the Cabinet_." Oddly enough, this offer of his did not strike me as anything so very extraordinary; and I at once replied, "No, thank you, I'd rather not." But Mr. GLADSTONE would take no refusal; he said, "I have come to a decision on this subject," and then abruptly disappeared, through the wall. Whether it was a few minutes, or hours, afterwards, I could not for the life of me determine, being only conscious of some time having elapsed, before I found myself in an avenue on the Bayswater side of Hyde Park, walking up and down with Mr. JOHN MORLEY.