He had gone to his interview with Henslow in a somewhat depressed state of mind, and its result had not been enlivening.

Were all politics like this?
Was the greatest of causes, the cause of the people, to be tossed about from one to the other, a joke with some, a juggling ball with others, never to be dealt with firmly and wisely by the brains and generosity of the Empire?
He looked back at the Houses of Parliament, with their myriad lights, their dark, impressive outline.

And for a moment the depression passed away.

He thought of the freedom which had been won within those walls, of the gigantic struggles, the endless, restless journeying onward towards the truths, the great truths of the world.

All politicians were not as this man Henslow.