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Computer software that takes up a large amount of memory but has, in proportion to the space it takes up, minimal functionality. For he has one Church, concerning which the same Apostle says, Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the Church. I make up for this by moving more vigorously. A sarcastic telegram. Introduction by Robert Kramer.

More by token," said Lady Flora, peering into the garden, "she is at this moment discoursing with Mr Astbury among the oleanders. Bareheaded too! I wonder if she knows that this is mid-day in the Tropics. She'll be cut off in the pride of her youth and beauty. As if any short cut to happiness lay that way! If you can't find a philosophy of life before marriage, you won't find it after.

It is shirking the question, not solving it. The girl swung round and revealed a laughing face and dancing eyes. I am really blissfully happy, happier than I think I've ever been before. But I want to make the most of this place, so I have a scheme to offer. Why should we not have a special conference on our own account? The discussions in the evenings will be the voice of age.

Let us have the voice of youth—you and me—in the mornings. I shall want to ask so many questions and have so many things explained to me. Shall we make it a bargain? As they shook hands on the compact the gong—aforetime the war-drum of a neighbouring tribe—sounded for luncheon.

Conversation at dinner was begun by a speech of some length from the Duchess of Maxton. In the afternoon she had been driven by Carey in an American buggy round a settlement of some fifty families from England. She had tried the same thing on her husband's Suffolk estate, where it maintained a precarious life, fed by frequent doles from her own purse.

Her first impression, therefore, had been that this was but another of Carey's extravagant hobbies, and she had been greatly astonished to learn that it paid him six per cent on his outlay. The vast fields of tobacco and maize, the strips of lucerne, the orchards, the plain substantial houses, the well-made roads, the schoolhouse, the buxom contentment of the women, the healthy colour of the children, and the hard well-being of the men—she did not know what the most to admire.

I made a point of having none but men who had got the love of the soil in them. I don't think of the place as an emigration experiment. I wanted my estate farmed to the best purposes, and I hunted about for the best tenants.

Eva Angelina Gif Images Die Screaming

It is true that in time all will own their own farms, but even as freeholders they will still be in a real sense my own people.

One man like you, Carey, is a godsend; a hundred would be a calamity. For, when all is said and done, you are feudalists and aristocrats at heart. Now I maintain that the basis of empire is a democratic one—that is to say, empire as understood in the free Colonies, which are its real support. Africa, if I may say so, has been too much monopolised by 'men of destiny'—Rhodes, for example, and yourself.

In Canada, in New Zealand, in Australia, you are inconceivable. I appreciate your work as much as any man, but I feel that it creates a false precedent. It is a precedent, I admit, which has small chance of being followed," he added, smiling. Carey nodded and looked across the table to Lord Appin. I think you will all agree that it is our first business to look at the condition of political thought in England, and incidentally at the position of political parties.

England, even Mr Wakefield will admit, is still the imperial centre of gravity. Our creed is, of course, not identified with any party formula, but we Imperialists must work through existing agencies. It is most important, therefore, to know what materials we have to deal with.

But it is one which lends itself most readily to a barren speculative treatment. As ours is a practical inquiry, I suggest that we keep very close to facts and disregard what I believe is called the metaphysical basis of politics. I mean that in discussing Liberalism we should not ask ourselves what Liberalism may imply in its ultimate analysis, but merely what it means to the several millions who have voted Liberal at the polls.

Otherwise we shall talk in a language which few of us can pretend to understand. We are not all philosophers like Lord Appin. Lord Appin mildly dissented. To be a philosopher it is not necessary that you should have formulated your creed in a system; it is sufficient if it governs your thought and conduct. I could label you all with your appropriate badges. I myself, for example, with certain private reservations, am a follower of Hegel.

You, Mr Wakefield, I should class without hesitation as a disciple of the much-esteemed and lately deceased Mr Herbert Spencer. Lord Launceston, if I recall his Oxford reputation rightly, agrees with me. Our host is as fine an instance as I know of the Transcendental Idealist, though I don't suppose he has ever read a page of Fichte.

Hugh, I think, is one of those peculiar people who go back to Kant and misunderstand that great man's meaning. Mrs Deloraine is a Platonist, and my sister is in her methods a crude Baconian. Even Sir Edward has a creed, and worships, with Nietzsche, the Superman. Did you ever hear his name, Teddy? I liked it so much that I called a horse of mine after the author—won the Oaks in '99, you may remember.

There was rather a muddle about it, for it was ridden by a jockey called Neish, and the sporting papers confused the two, and made him the horse and the other fellow the jockey. We have enough political metaphysicians in the world, and their works are to be found in the leading articles of the halfpenny Radical press.

We have ample knowledge in our party to reconstruct the policies of the globe. For Heaven's sake let us keep off windy generalities. Carey smiled benevolently during the interruption. If I were, I should still be managing a little mine on the Rand. But I agree with Mr Wakefield up to a point—we must take full account of the data we have to work upon.

That is why I propose that we should begin with the state of politics in England to-day. On this I have one remark to make, with which I think all will agree. The old creeds which still appear in the text-books are as dead as Julius Caesar. The Duchess looked uneasy. Born of high Tory stock, she had married the head of a great Whig house and had zealously adopted its politics.

It has won a victory unprecedented since the date of the great Reform Bill. And to appease you I will add that Conservatism—for Lady Amysfort's sake I will not say Toryism—is in the same position. I propose to ask Lord Appin, who still reads the newspapers, to quote to us definitions of Liberalism, prepared both by friend and foe, and then I will ask you if the thing has not long been decently buried, though its wraith still walks the earth.

Lady Amysfort will be kind enough to provide us with some account of that peculiar faith which she calls Toryism and proposes to identify with Imperialism. When we know what are the avowed creeds of the parties, we can fairly consider how much or how little of the vital spark is left in them.

Then we can talk of Imperialism and those new doctrines which are its real rivals. Our country is hungering and thirsting for a living faith. We are all like sick folk by the Pool of Bethesda, waiting for the angel to descend and trouble the waters. Let us all go and have our coffee there and talk. THE great log-fire in the outer hall threw strange shadows upon the walls, and made the lion heads grin like outlandish ogres.

Lamps were lit on the email tables, and the company settled in deep chairs, within the glow of the fire but outside its disquieting warmth. Lord Appin, who had seated himself near the centre of the circle, produced a little volume in which newspaper extracts were pasted.

In my belief no statesman can afford to neglect the ingenuous manifestations of it which from time to time appear in its popular organs. There you will find the will of certain classes of the community stated, no doubt with imperfect grammar and more imperfect taste, but still with all the frankness and confusion of the original.

So I subscribe to several press-cutting agencies, and my secretary, who knows my desires, keeps for me the more characteristic extracts. I ought, however, first of all to define what I mean by public opinion. Properly understood, it is the bed-rock, the cardinal fact of all democratic politics such as ours. It is the sum total of the instincts, traditions, and desires of our race, created not only by reasoned beliefs, but by those impalpable forces of persuasion which no contemporary can hope to diagnose.

I am no despiser of the average man. What he thinks at the bottom of his heart, when he thinks at all, is what is sooner or later going to happen. Now creeds are not necessarily public opinion. They are the attempts to interpret it made by its official interpreters—preachers, journalists, and politicians. When I quote from the Press, therefore, I do not profess to be quoting public opinion in its real meaning, but an interpretation of it which has a vogue among a certain section of the interpreting class.

The bright flamboyant style betrays its source: The white soul of our people turns towards its true sun. Once more the large and generous spirit of Liberalism is abroad. We are on the threshold of a new era, and behind us lies nothing but confusion. Foreign affairs have been conducted from hand to mouth without any perception of large issues; domestic affairs have been dominated by an obscurantism which, under the influence of momentary panic, blossomed forth into ill-considered experiments in reaction.

The heart of the nation needed a solemn purification, and by the grace of God that purification has come. Men go about in the streets to-day with a new light in their eyes—poor men who see at last a hope for their starving households, earnest men who have fretted in secret at the long reign of apathy, young men who have now before them a career of civic usefulness.

From warder to warder runs the challenge,'Brother, is it well with the State? Lord Appin paused. But let us look," he continued, "at what Liberalism has to give: Men's minds have been too long dazzled by the jingo generalities of empire. Imperialism battens on the basest attributes of humanity, the lust of conquest and power, the greed of gold, the morbid unsettlement and discontent of a degenerate age.

It is for Liberalism to bring back the people to the paths of political wisdom, which are also those of peace and pleasantness. Purity of character must be insisted upon in our public men. The heresies of a decadence must be expunged, and we must return to the sober and rational orthodoxy of our fathers. The House of Commons, the People's House, must be restored to its old prestige.

The overgrown burden of armaments must be reduced, and England must appear before the world as the herald of a truce between nations. The cost of administration must be lessened that the private comfort of the citizen may be increased. Provision must be made for the old and feeble of the land; the slums—that eyesore of our civilisation—must be opened up to the wholesome air and light; the workman must be placed on a level with the master in the economic struggle, and for that purpose raised above the caprice of juries; in the exploitation of her neglected assets, the State must find work for those who are squeezed out of the capitalist mill.

For each class of the community the way must be made plain for that development which is its due. Education must be freed from the blighting influence of clericalism; the liquor traffic must be curbed in the public interest; capitalism and the servitude it entails must be checked with a strong and earnest hand. In a word, Liberalism must lift again its old banner, on which its great master inscribed its never-to-be-forgotten creed—'Peace, Retrenchment, and Reform!

I propose to read as a pendant some remarks of my friend, the editor of the 'International Review. For ourselves, we can only see pathos in colossal travail with a ridiculus mus as the fruit of it. We have waited for a sign, and behold! A contemporary, which claims to be the exponent of the new gospel, has given us a long and turgid exposition, in a style adorned by imperfectly remembered fragments of the Sermon on the Mount and the culture of the Mechanics' Institute.

And the result? It is our old friend Gladstonianism with a more pronounced Nonconformist accent. The prophet of the future, it appears, is that poisonous politician—we dare not misuse the word 'statesman'—who, with the morbid conscience and purblind eyes of the egotist, was ready to sacrifice his country's honour to a fetish begotten of his own vanity. England, it seems, is to put her pride in her pocket and go whimpering among the nations as an apostle of peace, bleating about the grievous cost of her army and navy.

The poor are to be elevated by tinkering expedients of re-housing and pauperised by doles from the Exchequer, while the law will be so amended as to give carte-blanche to mob violence. Education will once more be flung into the hands of clerics, only the frock-coat will take the place of the cassock, and the snuffle of Little Bethel will oust the more scholarly tones of the Church.

The prestige of the Parliamentary "talking-shop," which all thinking men have long ago come to disregard, is to be revived and increased. An egregious economy will play havoc with our revenue system, and the deficit will be made up by the plunder, not of the rich parvenus, but of the unfortunate owners of ancestral lands. Our Empire, won by the blood and sweat of our great progenitors, and maintained by that class which alone is worthy of the name of Englishmen—our Empire, which gives to generous youth its only horizon, is to be lightly cast aside to satisfy the whimsies of a few dropsical pedants.

Not one constructive idea emerges from the chaos of absurdities. Not once do the propagandists dare to look at the facts of a living world. Let us re-shuffle the cards, they say; let us pull down a little here and add a little there; but for God's sake do not tell us that conditions can change, for we know that our great leader has laid down once and for all the principles of our English policy.

Let no man lay a finger upon that Ark of the Covenant! Lord Appin looked up from his book. Liberalism, so far as I can judge, is correctly described as a shuffling of the cards. One further quotation I cannot resist. My friend goes on to show that the Conservative party is equally barren of ideas, and he gives far from flattering portraits of some of those leaders—he calls them 'Mandarins'—who have just gone out of office, and in many cases out of Parliament.

He is, at least, untouched by the administrative incompetence of his former colleagues. He may choose to play the grand seigneur out of office, but once in the toils of a department he shows an industry as unwearied and a mind as acute as any statesman who has risen by merit alone. But he is cursed with a fatal temperamental weakness. He is intolerant of mediocrity, impatient of the pedestrian and the dull, and his shining gifts of intellect and character are available only in emergencies.

His metaphysical habit of mind interposes a veil between him and the will of the people. He will not condescend to join in the dusty squabbles amid which the political life must be lived. He will do brilliantly in the field if he is permitted either to issue orders from a luxurious tent in the rear or to charge some desperate position at the head of the Maison du Boi.

But he will neither fight in the ranks nor in their immediate vicinity. The result is that he has fallen out of the battle-line of public life. He might have ruled England as Disraeli ruled her, but he has chosen to make elegant speeches and write agreeable books. He has, definitely and of set purpose, given up to a coterie what was due to the Empire. He might have been a second Pitt; he has succeeded in becoming a second Lord Houghton.

The quotation was received with amusement by the company, with the exception of Mr Wakefield, who had listened to it with serious approval, glad of support for the views he had aired at the dinner-table. I do not propose to read it to you, for it is very long, and the gist of it can be put in a few words.

It is written by Ainsworth, and is an excellent piece of work. The Duchess made a mouth of disgust. He washes so seldom and so imperfectly. Oh yes, Flora! I know that your mother was foolish enough to take him up, and that she pretends to admire and understand him. But I have no patience with such a course. If the man hates us and is going to destroy us and all our belongings, then let us treat him as an enemy and not as a tame cat.

When he came to stay at Wirlesdon he wrote his letter of thanks on our own notepaper, and left it on his dressing-table. He claims that none of our old creeds are applicable, because the conditions have changed, and he asks for a fresh analysis. We shall, of course, differ from him profoundly as to the nature of the new conditions and the principles which govern their interpretation, but our general attitude is the same.

Provided the whole Empire is taken as the battle-ground, I am quite content to see Socialism and Individualism fight out their quarrel unhampered. So there remains for our present consideration only the wide word 'Conservatism. Indeed, I am far from certain if it ever existed to any large extent in modern times.

I am afraid that it was in the main, like the doctrine of Innate Ideas, a fiction of its opponents. It still makes an excellent Aunt Sally to knock down on the hustings, but a modern Lucian would have to go far afield to find an honest exponent of it. In the depths of the country, in vicarages and manor-houses, one or two very old or very stupid men and a few innocent women may still hold to it.

There is, however, a Conservatism—I beg Lady Amysfort's pardon, a Toryism—which is a more living creed, or perhaps we had better call it an attitude of mind. Lady Amysfort is going to be very kind and read us her confession of faith. The lady thus appealed to flung away her cigarette and, lying back in her chair so that the glow of the lamp was behind her head, opened a small manuscript.

You know the kind of thing—the local mayoress, the wives of rising tradespeople, and a sprinkling of the female clergy. But Henry Parworth, who read it, said that it would break up the Primrose League altogether, so I had to give them a chapter of 'Sibyl' instead. We hear much about administrative reform, the clearing out of this office or that, but our political charwomen give us no clue to the constructive principles of statecraft.

We see both our traditional parties seeking the will-o'-the-wisp of the moment, making their bow to the Dagon of to-day and the Baal of to-morrow, till it is hard for the unprejudiced spectator to detect wherein lies the difference in the articles of their faith. Yet the difference exists, we are told by Liberal writers. The Liberal party is conspicuously the possessor of a creed, of principles; if they accept a new doctrine it is because in some occult way it is part of their historic policy, and if they reject it the reason is the same.

They are the party of a continuous intellectual development, while Conservatives are hand-to-mouth office-seekers, attendant upon the movements of the traditional cat. The old creed of the party is by universal consent no longer binding. The Tory country gentleman who believed as his fathers taught him and held all reform the invention of the devil is an extinct being, though he may maintain a shadowy subjective existence in the minds of a few Liberal journalists.

But if this belief be gone, have we anything to take its place? Are our principles invented in the morning and discarded at the going down of the sun? Are our tenets bound up with no rational philosophy of human society, but merely the hasty maxims of clever adventurers? Mr Morley, in his book 'On Compromise,' has granted us some shadow of a creed, but our gratitude is moderated by the fact that it is not the creed of modern Conservatism.

Those principles to which he bids us be true, if we would call ourselves honest men and women, are so archaic, so tenderly romantic, that not even Disraeli in his youth could have wholly accepted them. But unless we are to court the charge of frivolity, it is necessary to provide some theory of Conservative statesmanship and the Conservative attitude.

On us lies the burden of definition. The fact of the Conservative temper in the nation is beyond cavil: If we shrink from a noisy confession of faith, there is all the more need for a recognition of the meaning of our attitude. We decline to dogmatise about politics, but we are compelled to dogmatise about our attitude towards them.

We must define our critical standpoint, though we hazard no further definitions, lest we fall into the old silliness and erect in our market-places altars to an Unknown God. Liberalism may be said to have devoted itself to the special cult of the political moralist. Now, to my mind, there is a vast distinction between conscience and conscientiousness, and that distinction is based upon the calibre of the accompanying intellect.

If a man appeals to his conscience, I am entitled to inquire if it be the conscience of a man or the conscientiousness of a fool. Moral earnestness, if accompanied by intelligence, is worthy of all respect; but, if not so attended, it is merely a pathological state, like hysteria or delirium. I find, however, that the moralist in politics is apt to put a value upon conscience in itself.

He pleads for a kind of finesse in ethics, a terrible finicking consistency, an abstract devotion to a very abstract creed. He refuses to allow the conscience to be ruled and directed by the mind: We maintain, on the other hand, that the primary condition of statesmanship is what Hilda Wangel calls a 'robust conscience. I mean the temper which allows the sense of right and the practical intelligence to go hand in hand, never subserving the former to the latter, but interpreting the one by the other.

It is the temper which looks at the essentials of virtue and not at its trappings. This is no plea for the unscrupulous man who sinks morality in statecraft. But it is a plea for the statesman who can sink himself in his people, who is less concerned with trying to save his soul than with trying to save his country, who can look at the great issues of life with eyes undimmed by any metaphysic of morality.

It is a protest against the saint in politics, that worthy, hypercritical, and useless type of mind which is incapable of single-hearted action. But his Guardian Angel argued thus: He must be judged by fitting standards, and if on the whole he followed righteousness we must forget his stumblings. The second is that such a mind must think and feel in accord with the traditions of the national character.

In this character there are certain clearly defined features. It is a temper naturally conservative, prone to keep up the form of things, though the spirit has gone, till they crumble to pieces from sheer age; slow to think; distrustful of novelties; intolerant of brilliance—the temper which in the individual spells mediocrity, but in the mass a kind of greatness. Against this great rock of English conservatism the spirits of a Bacon, a Cromwell, a Bolingbroke, a Canning, a Disraeli, like so many ineffectual angels, have beaten their wings in vain.

But the majority of them, being wise in their generation, recognised their barriers and turned their prison-house into a wall of defence. It is not like the conservatism of the Liberal, an absorption in a barren dogma; it is the conservatism of a national temperament, and therefore upon it true statesmanship must build as upon its foundation.

Ultimately, as most political thinkers have urged, the people in a blind, dumb way work out their own ideas, and these ideas are always right. There is a cant maxim among Liberal politicians that the statesman is the servant of democracy. So be it. But let a statesman serve the people by penetrating to their real interests and their real desires, and not by obeying any casual knot of agitators who clamour that their unintelligible patois is the voice of God.

When the great wave of reaction produced by the French Revolution had subsided, the era of Industrialism set in. New inventions lessened the cost of production. Manufacturers and mine-owners saw wealth, colossal wealth, in the near future. But there was the labouring class to be considered, a class to some extent tainted with the French restlessness, demanding better pay, shorter hours, happier conditions of life.

It was a unique chance for a constructive statesman, but Canning died and the Manchester school succeeded. With a creed made up of a few tags from dissenting ethics and a few dubious economic maxims, this school was in the main composed of capitalists and employers of labour. To secure a free development for the new industrialism was their aim, but in the meantime sops must be thrown to the Cerberus of the proletariat.

So they passed the Reform Bill of , that harmless excursion in academic reform, and they repealed the Corn Laws, which put money in their pockets, silenced for a moment the cries of labour, and effectually ruined agricultural England. Against Chartism, which was a crude but genuine scheme of reform, they fought with tooth and nail! Reform for reform's sake, provided it be not radical, change for change's sake, provided it be unnecessary—such has been the lofty tradition of this vicious and destructive theorising.

And thus the so-called Radicalism has advanced, professing a high ethical purpose, pandering to every fad of every clique of agitators, taking in vain the sacred name of Progress. And Conservatism? It, too, has forgotten at times that doctrine of positiveness which Canning taught, but throughout its moments of error and forgetfulness it has never quite lost sight of its ideal.

As the party which professes no abstract creed, but bases its duty upon a knowledge of national character and a conception of practical good, it has maintained that reform when it comes must be real, and that a trifling with change for its own sake is the last and fatalest heresy.

But, indeed, I object to the word Conservative. I should prefer to call myself a Tory. The former word implies that the centre of gravity lies in a dull conserving of institutions and creeds which may have outgrown their usefulness. Toryism is not the path of least resistance, but a living and militant creed, offering tangible results and based upon the vital needs of the nation.

I have read many 'Pleas for Unprincipled Toryism,' which were attempts to defend our supposed lack of a theoretical basis. But we have no need of such a defence. We have our basis, we have our principles, and they are none the less principles because we are not so arrogant as to confuse them with the laws of Sinai.

It seems to me that there is another duty incumbent upon the Tory party, which is perhaps of all its tasks the most arduous and the most vital. In our modern world we have Been inaugurated the reign of a dull bourgeois rationalism, which finds some inadequate reason for all things in heaven and earth and makes a god of its own infallibility.

Old simple faiths have been discredited, a spirit of minor criticism has gone abroad, and the beliefs of centuries are now in a state of solution. It is not a promising mood. National prejudices, deep inborn convictions for which no copy-book justifications can be found, are after all the conquering forces of the world.

The French Revolution destroyed the cult of Church and King; but it inspired an equally blind and passionate worship of certain civic ideals, and with these in their soul the raw levies of France conquered Europe. To the Tory the instincts of the people must always seem truer in the long-run than the little-reasoned disquisitions of a few professors. To the Liberal this is heresy; he demands a creed which shall approve itself to his superb intellect, for Liberalism is essentially the faith of the intellectual.

Against such an attitude it is the duty and the highest privilege of Tory statesmanship to wage implacable war. It may take many forms—attacks upon institutions which still fulfil their purpose though in a narrow way their basis may seem irrational, dogmas in economics and theories of reform which have only a speculative validity, a system of ethics made in the study or the lecture-room.

I know of few finer words in literature than those in which Burke swept away the sophistries which sought to abolish patriotism and defend certain vague cosmopolitan rights of man, or those in which Disraeli in the theatre at Oxford in '64 scourged the money-changers of popular science.

And so in our analysis of Conservatism we come back to something which is not unlike the beliefs of our grandfathers. Conservatism in their view was sworn to defend Church and Throne, in our view it is sworn to defend the things which lie at the back of Church and Throne, the instincts of a people, the character of a nation.

It is conservative, this attitude, but it is also reforming. A people develops unconsciously, and this development is on far other lines than the progress of Liberal illuminati. It is its duty to foster this popular development as against the vagaries of a clique or a caucus. It is its duty to conserve, while there is reason, and to destroy ruthlessly and finally when the justification has passed.

And it has a right to this attitude, for it bases its conduct upon the 'instant need of things' and upon no a priori creed. Its opponents, fixing their eyes upon falling stars, have no leisure to study the ground they walk on. Mistaking their own clientele for the nation and themselves for Omnipotence, they wander like children in the dark, and instead of the narrow path to the Celestial City follow the primrose path to that sinister personage who, as a great authority has told us, was the first Whig.

Lady Amysfort's cool accents had scarcely ceased before Mr Wakefield, who had listened with some attention, said loudly, "My dear lady, there is a great deal of sound sense in that and a great deal of nonsense. I detest your obscurantism, but on the main point I entirely agree with you.

We must be positive and practical in our work, and the metaphysician is every bit as bad as the Liberal doctrinaire. The Duchess had had her temper considerably ruffled by the matter, and still more by the manner of Lady Amysfort's discourse. She had an intense dislike of the Primrose League, and a suspicion of Disraeli, who had once said of her husband that his air suggested an "inspired rabbit.

She therefore fixed her opponent with an austere eye, and advanced to the attack. You both maintain that we Liberals are hag-ridden by formulas, and declare that the Conservatives are the only people who can look squarely at facts. To begin with, I think that you very much overstate your case.

Heaven is my witness that I do not love the style of the Radical press. I detest its loudmouthed generalities, and I think the way it drags the most sacred words of Scripture into its arguments simply blasphemous. It resorts so consistently to immense appeals on trivial occasions, that when the great occasion arises it has nothing further to say.

But in spite of all this folly you cannot maintain that you can do without dogma altogether, or that the dogmatism of the two factions differs otherwise than in degree. Take again this question of facing facts. I think the Liberal point is a perfectly good one. Things have gone hideously wrong under a Conservative Government, simply because it did not look at facts.

We may choose—foolishly, I think—to cloak our return to common-sense in Nonconformist language, but what we really mean is that our opponents did not understand their data, and we are going to try to understand them. We are not really quarrelling about principles but about facts, and it is only a bad debating trick to pretend otherwise.

I do not say that we shall read the facts correctly, any more than you did, but our sole justification is that we intend to try. When you maintain that the Conservatives look at facts, and the Liberal clings to principles, all you mean is that the different sides have different arts for capturing the popular fancy.

We are apt to claim a monopoly of the purer virtues, you of practical common-sense; but we both aim at common-sense, though my side invests it with the glamour of high principles, yours with the charm of an historic past. I honestly think that is the fairest way to look at our political records.

I quite agree with you that the difference at bottom is one of temperament. I have heard Bob's voice shake with emotion when he spoke of Chatham, and I have seen tears in Mr Calderwood's eyes when he spoke of Eternal Justice. I will confess that I would rather have politicians pat a little history book familiarly than the New Testament, but both are legitimate forms of appeal. Our faiths spring from the same source.

You think us foolish; we think you stupid; while the truth is that we are both rather foolish, rather stupid, and in the last resort rather wise. The Duchess's remarks met with the strong approbation of Lord Launceston, who had been crossing and uncrossing his long legs nervously while Lady Amysfort read.

They preach the same faith though in different accents. And all parties tend simply to shuffle the old cards at any crisis, instead of making a new analysis of the facts. It is the business of clear-eyed people to prevent this natural inclination.

Our common basis I should call democracy—English democracy, that is, with all its historical and racial colouring. It is not a dogma, but a fact, or rather the recognition of a fact—that under modern conditions Everyman governs. Now democracy is the great destroyer of shams.

It clears out the rubbish and leaves the truth tolerably plain to the single-minded inquirer. Besides, it opens up the way for superiority. I do not say that it means always an enlightened rule, but it gives scope at any rate for the true enlightener when he arrives. It is the best, indeed the only, basis for building anew on.

And here, curiously enough, it reaches the same result as Toryism. It used to be the old boast of the Tory party that it was loyal, and would always render faithful service to any leader who could capture it. The Liberal party, it was said, was too individualistic, too split up by the differences which come from honest but incomplete thinking independently, ever to make a good following.

Democracy does the work of Toryism on a wider basis. The people have no intellectual arrogance. They think slowly, not very clearly, and always on broad and simple lines, but when they once grasp a conception they are invincible. However, in the democracy which lies behind them both, there is a permanent instinct under proper guidance to revise the data of policy.

And here I may anticipate what I think Lord Appin intends to say. We may differ from them on what constitutes the data, we may differ still more profoundly on the interpretation, but our general attitude is exactly theirs. I opened a review the other day and found an article on their programme by one of their leaders.

He advocated a mission of labour delegates to the Colonies in order to confer with the Labour parties there and arrange a common programme. I confess that the proposal, crude as it was, cheered me greatly, as showing some kind of sense of imperial solidarity. Mr Wakefield spoke with an asperity which for the moment left the company silent.

The tension was relieved by Lady Flora, who, with an innocence not destitute of tact, inquired if a larrikin was the same as a bush parrot, since a pair had just been sent her. Upon which, with a paternal gravity and some humour, Mr Wakefield proceeded to explain to her in an undertone the exact distinction. For it recognises one cardinal truth, the enlarged basis of our problems.

It is simply looking at all the facts instead of at only a few of them. We begin by realising that we are not an island but an empire, and therefore, in considering any great question, we take the whole data into account. Imperialism, if we regard it properly, is not a creed or a principle, but an attitude of mind.

Lady Flora caught the last words in the midst of her lecture on bush parrots. Uncle George said it was a disgrace that he should be seen in such a place, and Charlie said it wasn't a place but an attitude of mind. April Fool: The March fool with another month added to his folly. A large primate moving very fast on his feet.

An astronaut with a leaky capsule. A man who will pull down a whole temple to have a stone to sit on. Arachnoleptic Fit: Fear of gay spiders. Arch Criminal: One who robs shoe stores. The science of digging around to find another civilization to blame ours on; 3. A man whose career lies in ruins. A person who loves to live in the past; 5.

The best husband a woman can have - the older she gets, the more interested he is in her. An ecclesiastical dignitary one point holier than a bishop. An expert who knows all about curves; 2. A person whose career lies in ruins. A collection of arches. One who drafts a plan of your house, and plans a draft of your money. People who now have to measure their patrons for the breakfast nook.

Where the two bees stayed after Noah brought them aboard. To make a big display of searching all your pockets when approached by a charity collector. There are two theories to arguing with a woman. Neither one works. A discussion where two people try to get the last word in first; 2. An exchange of ignorance see also Discussion - an exchange of knowledge.

Being able to count up to twenty without taking off your shoes. Possum on the half shell. Is a man with no arms has a gun, is he armed? A knight gown; 2. The kind of clothing worn by a man whose tailor is a blacksmith. Armor Plates: Dishes that knights ate from. Army Captain: A uniform with two chips on each shoulder. A rapid-firing crossbow. The story book kid with the big nose that grows.

What we should wash behind. What you take when you are tired; 2. What you need after running a marathon. Arrested Development: Prerequisite for success as a radio DJ or a social satirist. Arrow Margin: Milestone for an Archery contest winner. Arse Antlers: A tattoo just above the buttocks, having a central section and curving extensions on each side. Fire caused by friction between the insurance policy and the mortgage; 2.

A sure-fire proposition. A person who sets the world on fire, at least in a small way. A house that tries to be haunted; 2. Like morality, art consists in drawing the line somewhere. Art Gallery: Hall of frame. Art School: A place for young girls to pass the time between high school and marriage. Study of paintings. Twinges in the hinges. Strip tease with mayonnaise; 2.

The only vegetable you have more of when you finish eating it, than you had when you started. Artificial Insemination: Copulation without representation; 2. When the farmer does it to the bull instead of the cow. Artificial Intelligence: The goal of building a computer to think and learn like a human being.

Problem is, human beings are really stupid. Artisan Food: Food which is made by traditional, often labour-intensive methods and usually in small batches rather than by large-scale factory processing. What a television director thinks he is. Artist's Model: Attireless worker. Artistic Temperament: Artifical Insemination: Impregnation without representation; 2.

Procreation without recreation. A girl unsuited for her work. A coterie of artists. Newspaper reporter. Ash Tray: Something for a cigarette but when there is no floor. Any object against which a smoker habitually knocks out his pipe. An Iranian donkey. Rectum trouble. What a surgeon does about an asphalt. Where dead donkeys are cremated. A group of trainee secret service agents. Just assai told you.

A hired killer finished lunch. Assembly Language: Put tab A into slot B, then put tab C into Assembly Line: A little donkey. The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by kissing up to the boss rather than working hard. Associate Producer: About the only guy in Hollywood who will associate with a producer.

Assumed Decimal Point: Southern To interrogate or inquire, as when a revenue agent seeks information about illegal moonshine stills. It makes me mad. Mathematical name for a toilet seat. What you do if Dad says no. A whirled traveller - the only man who is glad to be down and out. Night watchman. A refuge where unusual people are protected from the world. Where you bury dead people.

A non-prophet organization. A man who has no invisible means of support; 3. A man who believes himself an accident; 5. One who prays when he can think of no other way out of his trouble. A dignified bunch of muscles, unable to split wood or sift ashes. What you pay before you cross a bridge. Male cat. Atomic Ache: What you get when you eat Uranium.

Atomic Bomb: An invention to end all inventions. An award given to those who do not exercise. Southern Contraction used to indicate the specific item desire. A brief period of inattention following the locating of a target item in a stream of visual stimuli. The act of associating horniness with a particular person.

Au Pis Aller: I have to go to the bathroom. Au Revoir: French leave. The man who proclaims with a hammer that he has picked a pocket with his tongue; 2. One who can equally and impartially admire all schools of Art; 3. Old auctioneers never die - they just look forbidding.. A collection of people willing to pay to be bored. A person who goes in after the war is lost to bayonet the wounded.

Aussie Kiss: Similar to a French Kiss, but given down under. A country lying in the South Sea, whose industrial and commercial development has been unspeakably retarded by an unfortunate dispute among geographers as to whether it is a continent or an island. Australian Kiss: Same as French Kiss, only down under. A fool who, not content with having bored those who have lived with him, insists on boring future generations; 2.

A person who is usually write; 3. A writer with connections in the publishing industry; 4. A person who can read and do imitations; 5. A man who lives on the royalties he expects; 6. A man you can shut up by closing a book. Auto Driver: A person who speeds up to get in front of you so he can slow down.

Auto Erotic: Lusting after a Corvette. A book that proves that the only thing wrong with its author is his memory; 2. An I-witness account; 3. A history of cars; 4. Fiction written by someone who knows the facts; 5. An unrivaled vehicle for telling the truth about other people; 6.

An obituary in serial form with the last installment missing. What you get when you cross Lee Iacocca with Count Dracula. A couple making love in a car. The science of doing it with machines at the plant so that men can have more time to do it themselves at home; 2. A guided missile; 2. A payment plan on wheels; 3. A vehicle which is rapidly dividing mankind into two classes: A machine that runs up hills and down people.

What there will be if I gain another 1, pounds. A second spring when every leaf is a flower. Piece of cloth that stops woman from looking so ugly; 2. Lace covering for the face. A mountain getting its rocks off; 2. One of the perils skiers face that needlessly frighten timid individuals away from the sport i.

A shout to alert people ahead that a hill is coming down the hill. Avenge Yourself: Live long enough to be a problem to your children. The poorest of the good and the best of the bad. Average Joe: Guys who have nothing better in their lives than to read joe-ks joe-ks. Average Man: The fellow who gets mad when you refer to him as the average man.

Average Person: One who thinks someone else is the average person. One side of a disputed story. The place where aviators sleep; 2. A house of trill repute. What a bullfighter tries to do. A dance for people who hate each other. Wow of silence; 2.

Showing respect with your mouth wide open. Awkward Age: When girls are too old to count on their fingers and too young to count on their legs. Southern An amber fluid used to lubricate engines. A thing that is so visible that it is not necessary to see it; 2. A statement that noone but George Bernard Shaw can contradict.

Cabs without ires, runks, and ransmissions. B Flat: An apiary. A degree which indicates that the holder has mastered the first two letters of the alphabet… backwards. A feminine noise, somewhat resembling the sound of a brook, but with less meaning. Angels whose wings grow shorter as their legs grow longer; 2. Little rivets in the bonds of matrimony; 3. Something which justifies having a really good cry.

Alimentary canal with a loud voice at one end and no responsibility at the other; 2. An angel whose wings grow shorter as his legs grow longer; 3. An inhabitant of Lapland; 4. A nocturnal animal to which everyone in a sleeping moment is eager to give a wide berth; 5.

Dad, when he gets a cold; 6. A tiny feather from the wing of love dropped into the sacred lap of motherhood; 7. Morning caller, noonday crawler, midnight bawler; 8. Something that gets you down in the daytime and up at night; 9. A perfect example of minority rule; A perfect example of minority rule.

Baby Boomer: A kid who just polished off six jars of raspberry jam. What the Preacher does during some sermons. One who accepts hush money; 2. A teenager acting like an adult while the adults are out acting like teenagers; 5. A small child who has not yet learned how to walk or crawl. Girls you hire to watch your television sets. A convenient deity invented by the ancients as an excuse for getting drunk.

Bach Chorale: The place behind the barn where you keep the horses. One who treats all women as sequels; 2. A fellow who has only himself to blame; 5. A fellow who usually wants one single thing in life - himself; 6. A guy with just a single thought: A guy who is footloose and fiancee-free; 8. A man who can be miss-led only so far; 9. A man who can get out of bed from either side; A man who can have a girl on his knees without having her on his hands; A man who can keep both a chequing account and a savings account; A man who can pull on his socks from either end; A man who can take a nap on top of the bedspread; A man who looks, but does not leap; A man who plays the field without ever fielding the play; A man who tries to avoid the issue; A man who, when he accomplishes something, gets all the credit himself; A man who will get married as soon as he can find a girl who will love him as much as he does; A man who would rather cook his own goose; A man who would rather wash a pair of socks than a sink full of dishes; A man with enough confidence in his judgement of women to act upon it; An eligible mass of obstinacy entirely surrounded by suspicion; An unmarried man who has been singularly lucky in his love affairs; A selfish, callous, undeserving man who has cheated some worthy woman out of a divorce; The most miss-informed man in town; The only species of big game for which the license is taken out after the safari; A selfish, inconsiderate rat who is depriving some deserving woman of her rightful alimony; A nice guy who has cheated some nice girl out of her alimony; A fellow who never finds out how many faults he has; A man who has taken many a girl out but has never been taken in; A thing of beauty and a boy forever; A person who believes in life, liberty, and the happiness of pursuit; The only man who has never told his wife a lie; A guy who has avoided the opportunity to make some woman miserable; A rolling stone who gathers no boss; A man who can take women or leave them, and prefers to do both; A young man who has perfected the delicate art of avoiding the issue; A man who goes through life without a hitch; One who never Mrs.

Bachelor Girl: A girl who is still looking for a bachelor. Just one un-darned thing after another. Married men may have better halves, but bachelors have better quarters. That part of your friend which it is your privilege to contemplate in your adversity. Back Four Seconds: Back Nine: The final 27 holes of an hole golf course.

Recommended if you meet a skunk in the woods. A mosquito. Game that pigs play. Backseat Driver: A driver who drives the driver. Sleeping face down. Backup Disk: Spare Frisbie. Entrance at rear of hospital. Backward Nation: Backward Poet: One who writes inverse. Back door of a cafeteria. Bad Decisions make good stories. Bad Driver: The person you run into. Bad Girl: Nothing but a good girl found out.

Bad Husband: The only thing that beats a good wife. Bad Luck: Bad Taste: Simply saying the truth before it should be said. Bad Times: A period when people worry about the business outlook instead of being on the lookout for business. A bad movie version of a good book Badify: To make something worse. Game played with the butcher.

The lady speaks. What mother did when she met father. An unsweetened doughnut with rigor mortis. Baggage Claim: The most difficult area of the airport to find. The original Scotch high bawl. Southern A supervisor. A style of fast dance music with hard-edged vocals, originating in Brazil, and with lyrics characterized by the ethos of the favelas or the slums of Rio de Janeiro.

A preparation that renders the hook more palatable. The best kind is beauty. Baiting The Hook: A catchphrase. A person who kneads the dough. Monarch of San Francisco. A law passed in the early s that made it mandatory to build all schools at least 15 miles from all future grandfathers. Very Greecy food.

Balanced Budget: When money in the bank and the days of the month come out together. Balanced Diet: What you eat at buffet suppers; 2. A cookie in each hand. Balanced Meal: One from which the diner has a fifty-fifty change of recovery. When one has less hair to comb but more face to wash. Bald Eagle: Large bird too vain to buy a hairpiece.

Bald-headed Man: One who, when expecting callers, has only to straighten his necktie. A rapidly receding hairline. Hair today and gone tomorrow; 2. Cure for dandruff. Dance performed to classical music in an elegant theater before tearful, enraptured wives accompanied by bored, distracted husbands.

Ballet Ruse: A Russian spy-dancer. A bad breath holder. A fellow who inflates balloons. A nursery for crying babies. Where some hemlines fall. Eye-pleasing, but extremely expensive and difficult-to-maintain type of rod, used primarily by anglers who fish for compliments. To convince an angler to purchase a bamboo fishing rod.

Banana Peel: A golden slipper. Time between slipping on a peel and smacking the pavement. The Rolling Stones. A fund-raiser for an orchestra. In computing: The girth of your tuba player. Bank Robber: A guy who gets alarmed easily. A pawn broker with a manicure; 2.

Emmerdale newbie discusses his mental health struggles Offset talks balancing his rap career and being a parent to daughter Kulture with Cardi B Family fun Leaving Neverland director slams celebrities defending Michael Jackson amid allegations of child sexual abuse Hitting back Rob Lowe, 55, regrets not releasing his sex tape 20 years later as it would have 'helped' his career: Kirsty Young smiles as she is seen in public for first time since stepping down from Desert Island Discs last year due to debilitating illness Kacey Musgraves says 'songs started pouring out' of her after she met husband Ruston Kelly 'After meeting this person who really allows me to just be myself' TOWIE star Shelby Tribble shares a friendly hug with ex-beau Pete Wicks as they film at the football Did Game of Thrones actor Aidan Gillen just shoot down a major fan theory about the show's upcoming final season?

Charles and Camilla head to Cayman Islands beaches as historic visit ends with a glass of rum and audiences with the ambassador Candice Swanepoel looks ready for summer as the model wears a scarf as a skirt before hopping onto her pal's shoulders Larking about Justin Bieber rocks a rainbow sweater and huge grin after 'trespasser' drama and announcing his break from music to repair 'deep rooted issues' Suits you!

What happens if Theresa May wins her vote? And will there really be an election if she loses? This is I'm past caring. It's like the living dead in here': Cabinet minister 'captures mood of the Dementia-suffering grandmother, 73, choked to death on a sandwich while care home staff desperately battled Lord Winston, 78, demands licence plates for cyclists after woman kicked him 'repeatedly' and threw his Scientists find gazing at an espresso, cappuccino or latte European parliament passes watershed resolution calling for reparations for crimes against Africa during The bedtime bra bust-up: Should women wear one a night?

Lorraine Kelly says yes, but here the experts give A cut above! Signs Sir Philip Green's empire is beginning to crumble as he prepares to shut as many as stores over Man, 32, is arrested over 'knuckleduster' attack on football legend Gary McAllister who 'lost three teeth Lead detective who first investigated the case claims The prison that gives inmates the KEYS to their cells: You can't believe your eyes!

Incredible optical illusion images will make you do a double take - including a GP reveals how spending too much time on social media is Sunny 66F heat is set to bathe Britain today and on Saturday Under starter's orders - the Tory Twit of the Year race takes to the field Boris Johnson takes 'painful' decision to vote for May's deal today admitting saying No could doom Brexit as The so-called Spartan who is in hot water after claiming he'd rather be 'shot' than back Hard Brexit rivals fire off first salvoes: As Boris and Raab allies trade early blows in battle for No 10, Labour 'hypocrites' vow to wreck split deal plan: Corbyn refuses to back withdrawal agreement as he claims Brussels steps up 'war games' to get ready for No Deal: Fisherman catches gigantic shark's head off of Australia - after the killer is eaten by an even bigger How the Duchess shunned 'frumpy' clothes for expectant mothers in favour of House prices in London fall at the fastest pace in a decade, but house hunters are back to take advantage of Teenager, 19, with a ticking timebomb brain tumour reveals doctors dismissed her blackouts as being down to Winding back the clock:

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A tall fir tree had been correctly placed in its stand and was already saturating the room with its delicious scent. Bad Times: One of a number of ski mountains in Europe; 2. A catchphrase.

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