called upon to pay rent for that outlay which was his own, as well as for the land which was not his own,—­Mr. Monk thought that it was possible that if a man would look hard enough he might perhaps be able to see his way as to that.  He had spoken to two of his colleagues on the subject, the two men in the Cabinet whom he believed to be the most thoroughly honest in their ideas as public servants, the Duke and Mr. Gresham.  There was so much to be done;—­and then so little was known upon the subject!  “I will endeavour to study it,” said Mr. Monk.  “If you can see your way, do;” said Mr. Gresham,—­“but of course we cannot bind ourselves.”  “I should be glad to see it named in the Queen’s speech at the beginning of the next session,” said Mr. Monk.  “That is a long way off as yet,” said Mr. Gresham, laughing.  “Who will be in then, and who will be out?” So the matter was disposed of at the time, but Mr. Monk did not abandon his idea.  He rather felt himself the more bound to cling to it because he received so little encouragement.  What was a seat in the Cabinet to him that he should on that account omit a duty?  He had not taken up politics as a trade.  He had sat far behind the Treasury bench or below the gangway for many a year, without owing any man a shilling,—­and could afford to do so again.

But it was different with Phineas Finn, as Mr. Monk himself understood;—­and, understanding this, he felt himself bound to caution his young friend.  But it may be a question whether his cautions did not do more harm than good.  “I shall be delighted,” he said, “to go over with you in August, but I do not think that if I were you, I would take up this matter.”

“And why not?  You don’t want to fight the battle singlehanded?”

“No; I desire no such glory, and would wish to have no better lieutenant than you.  But you have a subject of which you are really fond, which you are beginning to understand, and in regard to which you can make yourself useful.”

“You mean this Canada business?”

“Yes;—­and that will grow to other matters as regards the colonies.  There is nothing so important to a public man as that he should have his own subject;—­the thing which he understands, and in respect of which he can make himself really useful.”

“Then there comes a change.”

“Yes;—­and the man who has half learned how to have a ship built without waste is sent into opposition, and is then brought back to look after regiments, or perhaps has to take up that beautiful subject, a study of the career of India.  But, nevertheless, if you have a subject, stick to it at any rate as long as it will stick to you.”

“But,” said Phineas, “if a man takes up his own subject, independent of the Government, no man can drive him from it.”

“And how often does he do anything?  Look at the annual motions which come forward in the hands of private men,—­Maynooth and the ballot for instance.  It is becoming more and more apparent every day that all legislation must be carried by the Government, and must be carried in obedience to the expressed wish of the people.  The truest democracy that ever had a chance of living is that which we are now establishing in Great Britain.”