Mr.Labouchere talks classic English; was at a German university; has been in every part of the world; has written miles of French memorandums; has sung serenades in Italian; and, if he were not so confoundedly lazy, would probably speak more languages than any man in Parliament.

But yet he cannot pronounce either a final "g" or allow a word to end in a vowel without adding the ignoble, superfluous, and utterly brutal "er." When he wishes to confound Mr.Gladstone, he assaults about "Ugand_er_"; when the concerns of our great Eastern dependency move him to interest, he asks about "Indi_er_"; and he speaks of the primordial accomplishments of man as "readin'" and "writin'." [Sidenote: Sir Edward Grey.] Ugand_er_ gave Sir Edward Grey his first opportunity of speaking in his new capacity of Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs.

There are some men in the House of Commons whose profession is written in the legible language of nature on every line of their faces.

You could never, looking at Mr.Haldane, for instance, be in doubt that he was an Equity barrister, with a leaning towards the study of German philosophy and a human kindliness, dominated by a reflective system of economics.

Mr.
Carson--the late Solicitor-General for Ireland, and Mr.Balfour's chief champion in the Coercion Courts--with a long hatchet face, a sallow complexion, high cheek-bones, cavernous cheeks and eyes--is the living type of the sleuth-hound whose pursuit of the enemy of a Foreign Government makes the dock the antechamber to the prison or the gallows.
Sir Edward Grey, with his thin face, prominent Roman nose, extraordinarily calm expression, and pleasant, almost beautiful, voice, shows that the blood of legislators flows in his veins; he might stand for the highest type of the young English official.