and patriotic bearing of our political head, yet the unmoved chief was quite equal to the occasion; and at the annual Guildhall dinner, which happened opportunely just then, he cheered up and delighted an enthusiastic audience with the assurance that, even if war did come, England's great fund of capital could survive that of any other country, and could carry us through, not one campaign merely, but, if necessary, two or even three in succession, to the utter prostration of any or all opponents. And, indeed, no doubt was entertained by any reasonable person, that if England were minded to spend her last shilling and throw her last man into glorious war, she could give a good deal of trouble to any opponents. But, in the present case, there was specially India concerned—India, so all-important, especially in her future; the further the future, the greater the present importance.
Under all these circumstances, a note was forwarded to the allied opposition, couched in terms of a dignified independence, which was purposely made conspicuous, while still formulated under the profoundest diplomatic courtesies. That style of thing promises, on the one side, a glorious success, where the other side may happen, from any cause at the time, to be more quiet and forbearing; and had our bold political adventure thus happily ended, there was doubtless much fame in store for the courageous premier. But what if the other side should prove to be imbued like ourselves with the full idea of a dignified independence? This unluckily proved, in the present instance, to be the case. In fact, to make matters all the worse, the Franco-German response seemed almost
