Besides the pushful young men in the ranks on the back benches, with their abounding sense of fitness for office, there are the veterans of the Front Opposition Bench, survivors of the Ministry of the Party when it was last in power. Some of these, it often happens, are men who have grown old and worn in the service, as their wrinkled faces, bald heads, and stooped forms testify; but their interest in public affairs has not in the least abated, and they still crave to be placed at the head of Departments. It might be supposed that the weighty responsibility of office is a burden to be avoided rather than coveted by old parliamentarians; the world has such pleasant delights, apart from politics, with which they might occupy the leisure of the close of their day. But that is an idle supposition. It is true that in the Senate of Rome, to which election was for life, there was a special law providing that no senator over sixty should be summoned to its meetings. Did any Roman ever willingly acquiesce in it except the physically incapable? In modern England human nature is exactly what it was in ancient Rome. The grievance of the Front Bench man approaching seventy would be, not that he should be dragged from seclusion and quiet to sit for hours of a morning in a room at Whitehall, reading documents, and attend at the House of Commons till late at night, but that he should be set aside in the distribution of offices when his Party has again triumphed at the polls. And he has tradition and custom at his back, in support of his desire, as well as his past services. It is held that a member of either House of Parliament who has already been in the Cabinet is entitled to high office again whenever his Party comes back to power; and that, should he be passed over, should he be put on the retired list, he has every reason to feel affronted.