Mr. Brodrick, however, got off his speech, and the local paper came out with its verbatim report, a concatenation of circumstances not always achieved. In the high tide of the Parnell invasion of the House of Commons, there happened an accident that excited much merriment. Mr. O'Connor Power--one of the ablest debaters the early Irish party brought into the House, a gentleman who has with equal success given up to journalism what was meant for the House of Commons--had prepared a speech for a current debate. Desirous that his constituents should be at least on a footing of equality with an alien House of Commons, he sent a verbatim copy in advance to the editor of the local paper, an understanding being arrived at that it was not to be published till signal was received from Westminster that the hon. member was on his feet. It happened that Mr. O'Connor Power failed on that night to catch the Speaker's eye. Mr. Richard Power was more successful, and the local editor receiving through the ordinary Press agency intimation that "Mr. Power opposed the Bill," at once jumped to the conclusion that this was the cue for the verbatim speech. Mr. Power was speaking; there was not the slightest doubt that Mr. O'Connor Power, when he did speak, would oppose the Bill. So the formes were locked, the paper went to press, and the next morning County Mayo rang with the unuttered eloquence of its popular member, and Irishmen observed with satisfaction how, for once, the sullen Saxon had had his torpid humour stirred, being frequently incited to "loud cheers" and "much laughter." [Sidenote: SIR ELLIS ASHMEAD-BARTLETT'S DILEMMA.] In this same debate on the Second Reading of the Home Rule Bill, where the energy and enterprise of the provincial weekly Press was incidentally illustrated in connection with Mr. Brodrick's speech, there happened another episode which did not work out so well. Sir Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett broke the long silence of years by delivering a speech in the House of Commons. It was a great occasion, and naturally evoked supreme effort. It was, in its way, akin to the wooing of Jacob. For seven years that eminent diplomatist had worked and waited for Rachel, and might well rejoice, even in the possession of Leah, when the term of probation was over. For nearly seven years Mr. Ashmead-Bartlett had sat on the Treasury Bench wrapped in the silence of a Civil Lord of the Admiralty. Now his time was come, and he threw himself into the enjoyment of opportunity with almost pathetic vigour. It was eleven o'clock when he rose, and the debate must needs stand adjourned at midnight. When twelve o'clock struck, Sir Ellis was still in the full flow of his turgid eloquence. His speech was constructed on the principle of, and (except, perhaps, in the matter of necessity) resembled, the long bridge in Cowper's "Task"-- That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood.