But hush--not yet. There are still some of the hard Radicals from Scotland who have never wavered in the idea that the Irish members ought to remain at their full total. They have been partially relieved by what Mr. Sexton had said. But then Scotchmen are proverbially tenacious of opinion; and not even his appeal--joined to the appeal of their leader--will altogether change the purpose of those rugged sons of bonnie Scotland. And so, Mr. Shaw, the member for Galashiels, gets up to ask a question. He plainly declares that according to the answer given to this question, his vote would be given for or against the Government. So we are still in all the agonies of possible delay, for we know that seven Parnellites will go against the Government--that counts fourteen on a division; and if only seven or ten more go the same way, there is a majority against Mr. Gladstone, and we are lost. Mr. Mellor has to answer this fateful question, and everybody cries "Order, order," which is the House of Commons way of saying that people are very anxious to hear what is about to be said. Mr. Mellor gives an answer that satisfies Mr. Shaw. Mr. Dalziel--another sturdy Scotch Radical--is also satisfied; and so we have all the Liberal vote, with the single exception of Labby--who quickly--furtively--almost shamefacedly--rushes off into the Tory lobby. [Sidenote: Hoisting the numbers.] And now the division takes place. There have been several speeches--usually of a minute each--before the final hour comes; but we are all so anxious to know what fate is in store for us, that we cannot stand the strain any longer. The division--the division--let us know the worst. Be it good, or be it ill--let it come at once. The Whips from the two lobbies enter almost simultaneously--this shows plainly enough that it has been a very near thing; then a dreadful hush as the numbers are announced; we have won--aye, but we have by only fourteen! There is a burst of cheers from the Irish Benches; Sir William Harcourt laughs aloud in his triumph; the composure of the Old Man's face remains unchanged; you see he has gone through a great many things like this; and that great heart and sane mind are prepared for any fate. Mr. Chamberlain says nothing; but looking into the recesses of his amendment paper, attempts to hide the choking rage of disappointment that has come over him at this final defeat of his brightest hopes of trampling his former friend and his former chief in the dust. [Sidenote: A squabble.]