It must have been a disappointment to him--it was certainly a disappointment to his many friends--that he was not a member of the Ministry which he did so much to bring into existence. But the very day the House met after the formation of the Government, Labby was in his old place on the front bench below the gangway as if nothing had occurred--just as ready as ever to take his share in the proceedings of the House of Commons. And every succeeding evening saw him in his place--listening with commendable piety to the exhortations of Holy Writ--given forth in the fine resonant voice of Archdeacon Farrar--ready to seize a point--to take advantage of a situation, eagerly interested in everything that is going on. Some people may regard this as a very common gift. It is nothing of the kind. I know no place in the world which is a severer test of a man's tenacity of purpose, than the House of Commons. I suppose it is because we see the men more publicly there than elsewhere; but I know no place where there are so many ups and downs of human destiny as in the House of Commons--no place, at all events, where one is so struck with the changes, and transformations of human destinies. The man who, in one or two Sessions, is on his legs every moment--who takes a prominent part in every debate--who has become one of the notabilities of the House--in a year or two's time has sunk to a silent dweller apart from all the eagerness and fever of debate, sinks into melancholy and listlessness, and is almost dead before he has given up his Parliamentary life. Staying power is the rarest of all Parliamentary powers; Labby has plenty of staying power. [Sidenote: Sir Charles Dilke.]