"I 've noticed that. John Burns, are you under any delusions about popularity? I think you are not."
"I 'm not," said Burns. "When the crowds are cheering their loudest, I am asking myself how soon they will hang my carcass on the outer walls."
"A cheering and useful inquiry," observed Meredith. "My impression is that you have a long course to cover. But leaders of the people are wisest when they remember that there are outer walls for the hanging of carcasses."
"The confessions of Radicals strengthen the soul," said I.
"These are not confessions; they are articles of faith," exclaimed Burns.
I intimated that my faith in a political sense was as a grain of mustard seed, human nature being what it was, and political stupidity unconquerable. Gladstone being mentioned by our host, I asked Burns to tell his Gladstone story, that is, what the G.O.M. said to him, and what he said to the G.O.M. at their first meeting.
"It was in the lobby of the House of Commons," Burns explained, "soon after my election. You know I was not what might be called a worshipper of that wonderful man. A bit too independent for his liking, perhaps."
"And the only thing he would dislike, perhaps," said Meredith, smiling.
"Well, you know. I was in the lobby, talking with a front-bench Liberal when the great man passed. The member with whom I was talking took me up to him and presented me. The G.O.M. bowed, and we shook hands. He said:
"'It gives me pleasure, Mr. Burns, to see you here, to welcome you to the House of Commons.'