made all the show they could, to let everybody know how it was. Well, you know nobody has any right to be in the gallery during the session, and if any member notices them, the mere notice clears the gallery; only the reporters can stay after that notice.
One of the members said, “Before the member from Clare
opens his speech, let me call his attention to the gallery and the instance of that ‘ passive resistance’ which he is about to preach.”
“Thank you,” said O'Connell
: “Mr. Speaker
, I observe strangers in the gallery.”
Of course they left; of course the next day, in the columns of the London Times
, there were no parliamentary debates.
And for the first time, except in Richard Cobden
's case, the London Times
cried for quarter, and said to O'Connell
, “If you give up the quarrel, we will.”
Later down, when he was advocating the repeal of the land law, when forty or fifty thousand people were gathered at the meeting, O'Connell
was sitting at the breakfast-table.
The London Times
for that year had absolutely disgraced itself,--and that is saying a great deal,--and its reporters, if recognized, would have been torn to pieces.
So, as O'Connell
was breakfasting, the door opened, and two or three English reporters — Gurney
, and among others our well-known friend Russell
of Bull Run
notoriety-entered the room and said, “Mr. O'Connell
, we are the reporters of the Times
“And,” said Russell
, “we dared not enter that crowd.”
“Should n't think you would,” replied O'Connell
“Have you had any breakfast?”
“No, sir,” said he; “we hardly dared to ask for any.”
“Should n't think you would,” answered O'Connell
; “sit down here.”
So they shared his breakfast.
Then he took Bull Run
in his own carriage to the place of meeting, sent for a table and seated him by the platform,