As Dillon urged this plea, T. W. Russell made a hurried remark in Joseph's ear. J. smiled grimly; the Lord had delivered the enemy into his hand. Some men would have maimed their chance, if not spoiled the game, by jumping up with hot interruption, and hurriedly exposed the blunder upon which Dillon had stumbled. Joseph never loses his head. He lay low, sayin' nuffin', but regarding the unconscious victim opposite with dangerously smiling face. When Dillon sat down, the crowded House plainly moved by his effective speech, Joseph literally leaped to his feet, and flung across the floor the most complete and dramatic blow ever dealt at a man in House of Commons. It was Mitchelstown, was it, that had rankled in Dillon's breast when he uttered the phrase he now regretted? Would the House believe that the massacre at Mitchelstown took place on September 9, 1887, and this speech at Castlerea was made on December 5, 1886?
"Remember Mitchelstown!" John Dillon had remembered it nine months and four days before it had taken place. Several moments the Unionists cheered, Joseph standing with accusatory finger pointed at John Dillon, who sat silent with folded arms, the habitual pallor of his face changed to a ghastlier white.
THE WEEK OF THE YEAR.
"My dear John," I said to him later, "how on earth could you make such a terrible mistake? The only amelioration it has is that it was so stupendous and obvious that it was plainly stumbled upon without intent or purport to deceive."
"Thank you, Toby," said John Dillon. "I suppose that is clear enough to the generous mind. But I know a blunder is sometimes worse than a crime. The fact is, about the time I spoke at Castlerea, things were so bad in Ireland, the police so little hesitating to shoot, that I got mixed up in my dates, and remembered Mitchelstown when I was thinking about something else."
Business done.—Home-Rule Bill in Committee.
Tuesday.—Tritton descending amongst the minnows has brought up Conybeare. Not much heard of late of that eminent legislator. Seems he's been compensating enforced silence in House by "saying things" of Speaker in letter to newspaper. More than hints Speaker, moved by political motives, has acted unfairly in Chair. Perhaps Tritton had done better to leave him alone. Comparatively few were aware of the little excursion into print. Now blazoned forth to all the world. Since 'twas done 'twas well 'twas done admirably. Speaker moved to one of those outbursts of passionate though restrained eloquence of which, upon occasion, he shows himself capable. As Baron Ferdy remarks:—"Since G.P.R. James was sent as Consul to Venice, the only city in the world where the solitary horseman of his many novels could not be 'observed,' nothing so quaint as condemning one of the few parliamentary orators of the day to the silence of the Chair."
Mr. G. delivered brief but magnificent speech, instinct with the true spirit of Parliamentarian. Prince Arthur said a few words; everybody looked round for Curse Of Camborne but unwonted access of modesty had seized him. Here was opportunity with crowded House waiting on his words. And where was he? Not in his place; so episode closed.