JOHN TYNDALL
but still further divide it. Upon this subject he conversed more energetically than upon any other—he was often vehement. At one time an admirer and supporter of Mr. Gladstone, he now had become one of his bitterest political foes. He wrote long letters to The Times, some of them so strong in tone that even that courageous newspaper would not publish them. I became frequently his courier, and carried the letters to London in order that they might reach sooner Printing House Square. Feeling ran higher and higher—one after another, Bright, Hartington, and Chamberlain seceded from the Liberal Party, and the Unionist Party was formed.
Tyndall has long been dead. We cannot know what he would now think of the Unionist Party, what he would think of Carson's surrender, of the acceptance of Home Rule by Ulster, of its probable rejection by the rest of Ireland, of the endless warfare.
Rising to a sitting position on his couch one day, after a more than usually vigorous denunciation of Home Rule, he burst forth, "Old as I am and ill as I am, the strength will be given to me to take that musket," pointing to an old gun on the wall, "and carry it across to Ireland to join the ranks of the loyalists."
Two portraits are the result of my visit to Hindhead. One was presented to the National Portrait Gallery by Mrs. Tyndall, and the other she retained. She thought she gave the best one to the nation, but I preferred the other.
Mrs. Tyndall made my visit agreeable and interesting. We drove to many places in the neighbourhood—to the James' really attractive rock garden, to hear Mr. Jackson play on his great organ.
My friend Walter Tyndale then lived in Haslemere,
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