PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Surrey versus Notts. August 1st, 2nd, and 3rd 1887.

(By One of the Fifty Thousand.)

Enthusiastic Surreyite loquitur:—

"Over the Water With Lawson" (Change of Name).—Jack Tar to be known in future as Tom Fool.

House of Commons for August.

Disorders of the Day.

Legalised Duels (England) Bill—Report.

Shillelagh (Irish) Supply Bill—Second Reading.

Ways and Means (Assaults)—Committee.

Speaker's Wig Destruction Bill—As amended to be considered.

Questions.

Mr. Dillon.—Whether Her Majesty's Government contemplate allowing Mr. De Lisle to smile, and if so, whether any precautions will be taken to prevent his receiving a thrashing.

Dr. Tanner.—To ask the Chief Secretary of the Lord-Lieutenant whether he has any objection to tread upon the tail of his coat.

Colonel Saunderson.—To ask the First Lord of the Treasury as to the condition of the eyes and noses of certain Members of the Nationalist Party.

Notice of Motion.

Mr. T. Healy.—Physical Force, House of Commons (England)—Bill to facilitate the establishment of a Bear Garden in St. Stephen's.

A very interesting article appears in the current number of the Fortnightly Magazine, in which the favourite "quotations" of many celebrated persons are introduced with much effect. Always ready to take a hint, Mr. Punch has asked everyone he knows to furnish him with his predilections. The following is the result:—

Mr. Briefless, Junior, of Pump-handle Court writes, "I have carefully considered the circular you have forwarded to me, and am distinctly of opinion that my favourite reading is, 'With you the Attorney-General.'"

"Robert" says that his favourite phrase is, "'Ere's 'alf a sovereign for yourself, but you deserves more!"

"'Arry" says he can't think of anything more "fust class" than, "The 'orn of the 'unter is 'eard on the 'ill."

And (more or less) the whole world declares that there is no pleasanter announcement than "Punch, or the London Charivari, is published every Wednesday."

It cannot be in the interests of peace that we turn our swords into—corkscrews, and our bayonets into—button-hooks. That extremely secular reading of a sacred passage, appears to be the accepted one, however, in Ordnance Departments, and other places where they play the fool.

The Correct Card.

Mr. Goldwin Smith says:—"The one thing certain about Tory-Democracy, besides its origin, is, that it is the card of a political gamester." It may perhaps help the ponderous Professor, in a future philippic, to know, in addition, that the associations of Tory-Democracy at once suggest "Clubs," and the game it is playing, the "deuce."

Air—"Ballyhooly."

The zeal of the Actor who blacked himself all over to play Othello, is at last outdone—by Mr. Gladstone, who, it is stated, is learning the Welsh language, under the tuition of Mr. Richard, M.P., in order to deliver his speech at the forthcoming Eisteddfod in Taffy's own tongue. "Not for Cadwallader and all his goats," as Pistol says, would an ordinary politician go through such an ordeal for such an end. "Gallant Little Wales" will, however, no doubt be duly grateful, and, by lending its support to her adroit flatterer, enable him to say, with Gower, to the opponents of Home-Rule, "Henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition."

(What might have happened.)

Monday.—The Fleets started on their manœuvres. Before leaving, the Ironclads ran down, accidentally, all the unarmoured vessels in the harbour.

Tuesday.—Collision. Sinking of the Ajax.

Wednesday.—Mistake in steering. Foundering of the Minotaur.

Thursday.—Error in seamanship. Loss of the Neptune.

Friday.—Misapprehension of signal. Ramming of the Devastation.

Saturday.—Something wrong somewhere. The remainder of the Fleet goes to the bottom.

It is a charming characteristic of the Young Amateur Entertainer that—whether he possesses or not the smallest acquaintance with any language beyond his own—he is always prepared to impersonate a foreigner of any given nationality at a moment's notice; and Mr. Punch is confident that the most backward of his Pupils will be perfectly at home (and how his audience will envy him!) with the following Anglo-German recitation, which may be given under the following title:—

Professor Bompp Relates a Little Anecdote.

(To do this effectively, you must assume an air of childlike candour.)

Question. I understand that you are leaving Town. Why?

Answer. Because it is the fashion.

Q. Have you any plans?

A. I am a little undecided. At first I thought of going to an English watering-place, but abandoned the idea because the papers said I should be sure to be laid up with typhoid fever, German measles, or something equally pleasant.

Q. Had it not been for this dread, should you have gone?

A. I suppose so. We are acclimatised to the discomforts of seaside lodgings, the discords of second-rate German bands, and the disillusions of country views.

Q. For the sake of argument, abandoning the English watering-place—where shall you go?

A. My wife says Paris—and means it.

Q. Do you object yourself to the gay capital?

A. Well—just now—yes; chiefly because it is not gay.

Q. I suppose you would prefer the principal theatres to be open?

A. If I could attend them without being sure that I should find the "hot room" of a Turkish bath considerably cooler. Not that there would not be a risk of being grilled to death on the Boulevards and bored out of my life by running across hundreds of personally-conducted tourists.

Q. Then why should you go?

A. Because my wife wishes to see the bonnets.

Q. Could she see them nowhere else?

A. Not to her satisfaction, although I believe she could find their counterparts in Tottenham Court Road and the Westbourne Grove.

Q. After Paris where shall you go?

A. Either to Switzerland, Italy, or Holland.

Q. Do you expect much amusement?

A. Not much, because I know them by heart. Still I know the best hotels, or rather the best table d'hôtes.

Q. Is that all you care for?

A. Nearly all. However it is a languid satisfaction to compare St. Peter's with St. Paul's to the disadvantage of the former, and to think there is nothing in Switzerland to equal the Trossachs, Loch Maree and the Cumberland Lakes.

Q. But the Art treasures?

A. May be found en bloc at the South Kensington Museum.

Q. Then you travel in rather a gloomy mood.

A. Rather. Still I am buoyed up with a delightful prospect in the future.

Q. A delightful prospect! What prospect?

A. The prospect of returning home!

Scarcely "Butter."—To change the nickname of Madge to Margarine.

Some little while since a book was published for the exclusive benefit of the fair sex, which purported to teach men's mothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts, the advantages bestowed upon them by the Married Women's Property Act, and other statutes of a like character. No doubt the volume was an excellent guide to females fond of litigation; but still there are many who prefer, in spite of everything, to retain their own fixed opinion on the subject of law. For that feminine majority the following congenial hints are published:—

If a woman makes a will, she can never revoke it, and is likely to die soon afterwards, as it is not only unnecessary, but unlucky.

A marriage without bridesmaids is nearly illegal. This applies, in a lesser degree, to marriages where children, dressed in Charles the First costumes, are not employed to hold up the bride's train.

A mortgage is a sort of thing that causes a house to become the possession of a dishonest Agent, who is usually a Solicitor.

The best way of settling a County Court summons, brought in the absence of the master of the house, is to ask the man into the dining-room, and tell him about the accomplishments of the children. This will soften his heart, and get him to prevent the Judge from sending everyone to prison.

A nice Solicitor never contradicts a Lady, and therefore knows the law infinitely better than the disagreeable fogies, who are so obstinate. And, lastly, the best way to learn the real provisions of the law, is to study a modern novel by a lady Authoress.

"Salubrities at Home" (pace Mr. Atlas, who will recognise this temporary adaptation of his world-renowned title) I should say are Buxton (for most people), Bath (for some), Harrogate (for others), and,—besides a variety of North, South, East and West, too numerous to be mentioned in these notes,—Ramsgate for nearly all.

"Salubrities Abroad" are Homburg, Aix-les-Bains, Carlsbad, &c., &c., and Royat, where I find myself again this year. "Scenes of my bath-hood, once more I behold ye!" There is "A Salubrity at Royat," which people of certain tendencies cannot easily find elsewhere. It is a cure for eminent persons of strong Conservative tendencies. Lord Salisbury was here last year, and my friend Monsieur Ondit, who is in everybody's confidence, tells me that his Lordship will revisit a place where the traitement did him so much good. I believe he underwent the "Cherry-cure," at all events his Lordship was seen in public constantly eating them out of a paper-bag. What did he do with the bag? My answer is, "he popped it." Down went the cherries, and bang went the bag and fifty centimes. Well, did not Royat effect some change in his conservatism? What has been the result? But I am not here to talk politics.

Everybody is talking of the Boulanger-Ferry incident. This is Aug. 4, and nothing has happened.

I haven't time to proceed with this, but, so far, the idea is at any poet's disposition to continue as he pleases, my only stipulation being that the air to which it is to be sung shall be "Marlbrook."

My other friend, Benjamin Trovato, of Italian extraction, tells me that Boulanger is half English, and had an English education. Ben informs me that the General has never forgotten the rhythms he learnt in his happy English nursery; and that, when he read that M. Ferry had called him a "St. Arnaud de Café-Concert," he sang out, recollecting the old catch,—

in which his friends were unable to join, owing to their ignorance of the words and tune.

When driving through Clermont-Ferrand from the Station up to Royat, we (three of us) had a small omnibus to ourselves. One of the party (a wag, of whom, and of the circumstances of our meeting, more "in my next") insisted on our calling out, "Vive Boulanger!" We did this several times in the most crowded parts, but the cry obtained no response, and aroused no excitement, as, being uttered with the greatest caution (at my instance), nobody heard it.

But what a thing to fight about! If duelling were an English fashion, how fruitful of "incidents" this Session would have been. How often would Mr. Tim Healy have been "out"? And Mr. De Lisle's life would have hung upon a Lisle thread!

Note for strangers about to visit Royat.—The Continental Hotel has lost a little territory, as half of what was its terrace has been returned to the present proprietor of the hotel next door, with whom we Continentals have no connection, not even "on business," it not being "the same concern" and under one management as it was last year. But what the Continental Hotel has sacrificed in domain, Monsieur Hall, our obliging landlord, has more than made up in comfort and cooking. Dr. Brandt sees his patients in a charming Villa of Flowers. The weather is lovely.

We are all surprised at seeing one another here. Each person (or each couple or party) seems to think that he alone (or they alone) possess the secret of Royat's existence. We certainly are not a mutual admiration society at Royat. When we come upon one another suddenly, each exclaims, "Hallo! what are you here for?" is if the other were a convict "doing his time." Everyone thinks he knows what he is here for, but very few tell what he thinks he knows. And, by the way, the best-informed among us doesn't know very much about it.

In the Reading-room of the Cercle there ought to be (as advertised in a local journal) at least three English newspapers daily. I have not seen them as yet. The only London paper arriving here regularly, and to be purchased every day early at the Newsvendor's, is the Morning Post. Vive Sir Algernon! Can this be the attraction for Lord Salisbury? Why come out so far afield to read the Morning Post? Or wasn't it here, during Lord Salisbury's visit last year, and is he still ignorant of its having been subsequently demanded and supplied this season? And when he comes and finds it—"O what a surprise!"—no, thank goodness, we have escaped from this song—for a time, at least.

Too hot to write any more journal. The hundredth bell is sounding for the fiftieth déjeuner. My déjeuner is finished. There are bells here perpetually. All day and all night. In vain would Mr. Irving as Mathias, put his hands to his ears and close the windows. The bells! The bells! Distant bells, near bells, sheep-bells, goat-bells, a man with pipe (not tobacco but tune, or what he and the goats consider a tune), dinner-bells, guests'-bells, servants'-bells, church-bells (not much), chapel-bells (early and occasionally), horse-bells, donkey-bells, breakfast-bells, supper-bells, arrival-bells, departure-bells, tramway bells, crier's-bells, with variations on drum or trumpet, and several other bells that I shall notice in the course of the twenty-four hours, but have forgotten just now.

The "petits chevaux" have not been stopped by the Government; they are running as fast as ever. There are two bands, playing morning, afternoon, and evening. The Casino Samie is as lively as ever, or, as my waggish acquaintance at once expressed it, in that vein of humour for which he is so specially distinguished, "The Samie old game," and to sit out in the garden, with a fragrant cigar and coffee, before retiring for the night, is indeed a calm pleasure, or would be but for the aforesaid waggishness, of which more anon.

Soldiers about everywhere, Boulangering. Up in the hills is a splendid echo. This morning, having caught the very slightest cold, I went up into the mountains to get it blown away. Suddenly I sneezed. Such a sneeze! It reverberated all over the mountain like the firing of a battery. Again! again! These sneezes nearly shook me off the rock, and sent me staggering on to the plateau below. The effect must have been alarming, as the third sneeze fetched out the military, horse and foot, at full gallop, and the double. L'ennemi? C'était moi! They scoured the mountain sides, but I did not sneeze again. I have a sort of idea that my sneeze upset the entire preconcerted arrangements for a review. The Boulangerers retired—so did I.

'Tis the hour of douche. Richard, the attendant, will be there to give it me. Douche-ment, douche-ment. Gently does it! O Richard, O Mon Roy-at!... Au revoir!

Mrs. R. went to see the première of a new piece about which there had been considerable excitement in the theatrical world. "It was quite a novelty for me," said the good lady to a friend; "every literal person was there of any imminence, and my nephew, who is connected with papers himself, told me that the stalls were full of crickets. He pointed them all out to me. Most interesting."

Head of the House, loquitur:—

Supposing that when our soldiers and sailors were armed with worthless bayonets and useless cutlasses, a war had broken out.

And supposing that our Army had been defeated on account of those worthless bayonets.

And supposing our sailors had been slaughtered by hundreds on account of those useless cutlasses.

And supposing the country had been successfully invaded because the nation had improper arms of defence.

And supposing, wild with ruin, revenge, and misery, the remains of the Army and Navy had met Sir John Adye.

Supposing they had. Well, what then?

Prize Parliamentary Puzzle.—"The End of the Session."

Some more Holiday Inquiries.

NOVEL YACHTING EXPEDITION. UNIQUE CHANCE.—A Gentleman of marked nautical proclivities, who has lately, through the demise of a great-uncle, come into the possession of a Penny Steamer in a very fair condition of repair, is anxious to meet with one or two persons of similar tastes who would be disposed to start with him on a Summer Tour, for the purpose of leisurely navigating the vessel, in a tentative fashion, round the British Isles. As he would not take a Pilot with him, but proposes when in doubt either to ask his way from the nearest Coastguard by signal, or run in shore and get out and walk, he thinks the voyage would not be without excitement and variety, and would be likely to afford some novel seafaring experience to the naval amateur in search of pleasing adventure. The course, as at present mapped out, would be from Putney Bridge to Margate, Plymouth, Holyhead, Skye, Aberdeen, by the German Ocean past Hull, Yarmouth, Clacton-on-Sea, Southend, back again, finishing the journey at Battersea Reach, but it would probably be varied by wind and weather, the exigences of which would naturally have to be taken into account. The crew will consist of three experienced Channel stewards, a bargee, a retired pirate, and a cabin-boy, and will be under the command of the advertiser, who, though fresh to the work, has little doubt but that, with a friendly hint or two from his fellow-yachtsmen, he will be able to manage it. N.B.—Each Passenger provided with a Royal Humane Society's drag. For all further particulars apply to "Port-Admiral," 117, Rope Walk, Chelsea, S.W.

EXCEPTIONAL PSYCHOLOGICAL OPPORTUNITY. HAUNTED CASTLE TO LET.—A Baronet, in the North of England, who can himself stand residence in it no longer, is anxious to meet with a suitable Tenant for his Family Mansion likely to appreciate the mysterious horrors with which, owing to the crimes of his ancestors in times past, it is now nightly associated. The chief manifestation consists in the appearance, after midnight, in an oak-panelled bedroom, of a huge black wolf, accompanied by a little old man in a bag-wig and faded blue velvet coat, who, looking sadly at the occupant, and saying, in a mournful voice, "I've lost my return-ticket!" vanishes suddenly, together with his swarthy companion, into the linen-cupboard. As this apparition is frequently followed by the sound as of a man in a complete suit of armour falling head-over-heels down six flights of stairs, and ultimately, amidst prolonged and piercing shrieks, apparently lodging in the coal-cellar, a member of the Society for Promoting Psychical Research could not fail to find the whole experience a singularly pleasing one. Several people having already been frightened into fits through passing a night in the castle, a practical joker, who wished to have a little fun at the expense of an aged and invalid relative or two, could not do better than ask them down for a week, and let them take turns at sleeping in the bedroom in question. Address, "Baronet," Goblynhurst, Howlover.

TIGER-SHOOTING AT HOME. PRIME SPORT WITH BIG GAME.—A Country Clergyman, who, having taken charge of a Menagerie for an invalid friend, has had the misfortune to let nearly the whole of it escape and get loose in his parish, would be glad to have the assistance of several Sportsmen of wide Indian and African experience, who would be willing to join him in an effort either to kill, or, if possible, recapture it at the very earliest opportunity. Though the Advertiser has succeeded in temporarily securing three lions, a chimpanzee, a couple of hyænas, and a young hippopotamus in the Vicarage drawing-room, and has managed to envelope a boa-constrictor in a lawn-tennis net, yet, as five full-grown Bengal tigers, and about thirty other wild beasts of a miscellaneous character are at large in the village, and have, to his knowledge, already devoured the Postman, the Curate, a School Inspector, and both the horses of the Local Railway Omnibus, he feels that no time ought to be lost in replying to his appeal. One or two Experts, armed with Hotchkiss Guns, would be of use, and might write. Would be glad to hear from a Battery of Horse Artillery. Address, The Vicar, High Roaring, Notts.

AERIAL VOYAGE. ADVANTAGEOUS EXPERIMENT FOR THE SHORT-SIGHTED.—A Gentleman who has long been suffering from a chronic affection of the eyes, and has been recommended by his medical adviser to try the stimulating effect of mountain air, having conceived the idea of procuring it for himself by making an ascent in a second-hand and slightly damaged balloon that he has purchased for the purpose, will be glad to hear from one or two thoroughly skilled and experienced Aëronauts similarly afflicted, who would regard the beneficent results of being able to accompany him as an equivalent for the professional services they might render to the carrying out of the undertaking. As the Advertiser's idea is to start from some convenient Gas-Works in the Midland Counties, and keep a steady northward course by holding on, before the wind, with a line and grappling-hook to the system of telegraphic wires running alongside one of the great central railways, and as he proposes merely stopping occasionally en route to unroof the house of some local medical man when any of the party are in need of advice, he confidently anticipates that the trip will not be devoid of novel and exciting features that will invest it with a distinctively fresh and exhilarating character. For full and further particulars of the enterprise, which have been carefully thought out, apply, by letter, to "In Nubibus," Uppingham Lodge, Mount-Rising, Ayrshire.

THREE THOUSAND BLAZING ACRES TO LET.—A Scotch Laird, who has, by some accident in celebrating Her Majesty's Jubilee, managed to set fire to his entire property, the whole of which, after smouldering for a season, has since burst into a violent conflagration, which he can neither diminish nor control, would be willing to let it at a comparatively low rental to a London Sportsman sufficient novice in grouse-shooting not to be surprised at picking up his birds already roasted in the heather. As at the end of a day's trudging in the blinding heat of a Sahara through smoking covers, accompanied by a powerful steam fire-engine, he will probably discover that he has only succeeded in making a bag consisting of one singed "cheeper," the "shooting" is likely to prove more attractive to the amateur unfamiliar with the rifle, but accustomed to the tropical heat of a Central African Summer, than satisfactory to a professional marksman counting on dispatching from a breezy moorland fifty brace or so to his relatives and friends.—For terms, &c., apply to The Mac Salamander, Flaimhaugh, Glen Blayse, N.B.

(Song at the End of the great Cricket Week.)

Care Editor,—Sentio obligatus scribere ad te propter extraordinariam novam departuram quam Gubernator recenter fecit. (Scribo Latinè, quia si ille legit hoc, non poterit intelligere! Prætendit intelligere Classica perfectè, sed habeo graves dubitationes de illo. Hoc est inter nos.)

Sunt nostri holidies nunc, ut tu sine dubio es awarus; et, alio mane, Pater subito nunciavit suam intentionem detrahere me de Etonis, et mittere me ad aliquem Tutorem in Germaniâ, "in ordinem ut discam modernas linguas, sic importantes (ille ait) in cursu vitæ nunc-dies."

Fui attonitus, ut tu potes imaginare. Nam Gubernator, ut totus mundus noscit, semper fuit laudator Classicorum. ("Omne ignotum pro magnifico," intelligis; habeo illum illic, nonne? Hoc quoque est inter nos.) In facto, pro momento ego fui "percussus omnis cumuli," ut dictum est. Habere linquere Etonas, tam jolliam scholam! Et ire ad istos Teutones, qui non possunt ludere vel cricketum vel footballum, et sunt generaliter horribiles muffi! Id est nimis malum pro verbis.

Vide explanationem paternæ inconsistentiæ! Forsitan vidisti, O Punche, quomodo aliqui journales pestilentes recenter abusi sunt Classicas linguas. Bene, Gubernator legit hos journales, et nunc odit Græcum et Latinum. Ego ipse odi Græcum, sed Germanum est multo pejus, si possibile. Ut pro Gallico, non est ita difficile, exceptâ pronunciatione, quæ est bestiissima res umquam inventa. Sed "malo mispronunciare ad Etonas, quam in Continenti rectè dicere," ut Cicero dicit.

Protestavi contra novam ideam Gubernatoris tantum quam audeo; sed habeo esse cautus, quia Gubernator non amat contradictionem. Fit cereus, si contradicitur. Argui tamen ut obliviscar omnia mea Classica in Germaniâ celerius quam potes dicere "Johannes Robinson;" nam unum caput non potest tenere Græcum, Latinum, Germanum, et Gallicum. Gubernator iracundè respondit ut "meum caput non potest tenere aliquam rem, ut videtur." Hoc est abominabilis libellus (inter nos iterum).

Tunc posui ante eum pericula duellorum. Juvenes Teutonici omnes ineunt pro duellis, ut habeo auditum. Pater (crudelis!) fecit extremè leve hujus periculi. "Si redeam sine naso, quid tum?" dixi. "Erit propria pœna," Gubernator sarcasticè respondit, "pro negligente Nasonem ad scholam." Ille, percipis, "ridet ad cicatrices, quia nunquam sensit vulnus." Laudat Caput-Magistros Marlburienses et Harrovienses et Winchesterenses pro expellendo Græcum de Intranti Examinatione pro illis scholis. Sperat ut "in nullo tempore ero bonus Germanus scholaris"; sed ego dubito. Dixi ad eum ut sola Germana verba que nosco sunt "Die Wacht am Rhein." Gubernator respondit ut meus Tutor donaret mihi "die whacks am Rhein" si negligo curriculum studiorum. Jocus est extremè pauper. Admiror si Tutor verè donabit id mihi calidum? O care Editor, nonne potes facere aliquam rem pro retinente me ad Etonas? Tuus disconsolatus,

Tommius.

By John Bull à propos of the Naval Manœuvres.

"Bootiful."—The good people of Stafford have given Her Majesty as a Jubilee present a cabinet containing about two hundred pairs of boots and shoes. Evidently the stock is intended to last until Her Majesty reaches her next Jubilee, when, no doubt, the gift will be repeated!

Striking Effects.—For further particulars, apply to the Midland Railway Company.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

Monday Night, August 1.—Prince Louis of Battenberg had better be making inquiries as to return trains for Germany. W. Redmond "has had his attention called to him," and Pickersgill has his eye upon him. German Prince been appointed to command of Dreadnought over thirty British Officers who had precedence for promotion. W. Redmond elicited more general cheering than usually falls to his lot when he wanted to know what reason could be given for so extraordinary a mark of confidence? Georgy Hamilton explained that there was best possible reason. Prince Louis a heaven-born sea-Captain. No one like him among ordinary Britishers. Appointed to Dreadnought simply because he was best possible man. Then Pickersgill came to front. Couldn't object to First Lord's personal preference, but gave notice that if Prince Louis were confirmed in command of Dreadnought he would move that his salary be disallowed. More cheers. Idea of German Princeling holding office, however honourable, without drawing a salary struck Commons as comical. Subject seemed to drop here. But Commerell, having by this time had another question on other subject put and answered, collected his thoughts, rose and begged to say that "Prince Louis of Battenberg served under me, and a more efficient officer——" Here sentence came to abrupt conclusion. Angry cries of "Order!" stormed round gallant Admiral. Commerell a man of proved valour, as the Victoria Cross worn on his breast on Jubilee Day and other high festivities testifies. But his bronzed cheek blanched under this assault. He stared round a moment speechless, and resumed his seat.

House in Committee through long hours on Irish Land Bill. Dulness enlivened towards midnight by encounter between Chamberlain and Grandolph. Chamberlain began it; Grandolph by no means backward. Rebuked Chamberlain for "characteristic sneer," upon which Chamberlain smartly retorted. The interesting episode concluded by Hartington announcing his intention to vote against Chamberlain and with the Government. Harcourt much pleased.

[pg 72]"This is only the beginning," he said. "Grandolph and Chamberlain have evidently quarrelled. Hartington doesn't bind himself to go with Chamberlain; and altogether the Unionist Party seems a little disunited."

Business done.—Irish Land Bill in Committee.

Tuesday.—Questions over there was a pretty scene. John Dillon complained of allegation in provincial newspaper that he had applauded a statement that in a riot at Belfast several children and a young lady school-teacher, the daughter of Lord Sligo's Agent, were seriously hurt. Hadn't proceeded far with explanation when voice from neighbourhood of Treasury Bench called out, "It is true!"

"Who says it's true?" shouted John, flashing a baleful glance on Treasury Bench.

At first he thought the interrupter was Old Morality, but his air of perfect innocence repulsed suspicion. Was it De Worms, turning as, it is written, his family sometimes do? Edward Clarke looked more guilty, so John "named" him; denied the soft impeachment. Halsey admitted it, and was backed up by half-a-dozen Members, including Maclean. Bore personal testimony to having heard the applause when incident was mentioned.

"I say it is true!" they repeated one after the other.

"And I say it is false!" John Dillon roared, and proceeded to denounce Members opposite in language which speedily brought up the Speaker.

After a while Maclean again interposed. Demanded to be heard whilst he asserted in detail the general accuracy of the newspaper paragraph, whilst of course acquitting Dillon "if he said he did not join in applause." Parnellites, oddly enough, left all the fighting to John, who was finally put down by Speaker. After this pleasant interlude, House resumed Committee on Land Bill. Proceedings dolorous, and House empty. At one time sitting nearly brought to end by a Count.

Business done.—Irish Land Bill.

Thursday.—Enter Trevelyan; exit Edward Russell, the latter carrying with him the consciousness of that rare possession—popularity with both sides of the House. Everybody sorry he has gone, especially "the Dissentient Liberals." As Plunket says, "He was the gentlest-mannered Radical in the House." Crowded House. Trevelyan brings his sheaves (1401) with him, in shape of rattling majority won at Glasgow. Everybody there but Hartington and Chamberlain. Meeting in such circumstances with old colleague would have been too touching. But older colleagues, under wing of Gladstone, in full force. Determined to kill the fatted calf for the returning prodigal. Gladstone would, of course, play the part of Aged Parent; Trevelyan the repentant son. But who was to stand for the fatted calf? General impression that Harcourt best suited by natural gifts for the character. Harcourt's habitual modesty not to be overcome. "Wouldn't," he said, "like to play such a prominent part." Finally agreed that they should "imagine the calf." All went admirably well. Might have been managed by that veteran strategist the Sage of Queen Anne's Gate.

Childers and Cameron (both out of step with new Member) personally conducted him to Table. Enormous cheering, which Childers gently deprecated. "No, my good friends," he said. "This is very kind of you. But there's really no credit due to me. I bring our young friend up because I, too, am a Scotch Member. Perhaps my success at Edinburgh may have given fillip to Liberalism in the Lowlands. But pray don't mention it. Any little services I may have rendered are overpaid by this magnificent ovation."

More cheers when new Member was introduced to Speaker. Delighted to see him. Had often heard his name. Pleased with this opportunity of making his personal acquaintance. Should be sure to know him again if he met him. All this lively and entertaining. But great scene artistically conceived for end of play. Trevelyan, passing round back of Speaker's chair, proceeding in search of quiet seat, beheld strange spectacle on Front Opposition Bench. There was the Aged P. signalling from his tent. Signal taken up by retainers and carried down crowded bench. Only in the place of honour must the new Member sit. Never made so much fuss of before. Last time took oath and seat, no particular notice taken of double event. What had happened in meantime? Had he grown more eloquent; had he performed some conspicuous service; or had he increased in personal esteem of those who know him? The latter impossible. In the former no change. He had merely kicked over traces and was now come back to run in them. Thought of this with some bitterness. But reception well meant. There was the Aged P. violently beckoning with venerable forefinger, and the errant son made his way up to him, fell on his neck and kissed him——this of course in a Parliamentary sense.

Business done.—Army Estimates.

Friday.—House of Lords rent to its centre by deadly, blood-curdling, butter-melting controversy. Question is, shall it be Butterine or Margarine? The usually hostile camps streaked with enemies. A Noble Lord, who stands stoutly for Butterine, finds himself seated with another Peer, who swears by Margarine, and vice versâ. When division comes there is woful cross-voting. It is Basing who appropriately brings on subject, and Wemyss who moves that the compound be called Butterine, instead of Margarine. Everyone in high spirits, sustained by a free collation, served out at the door. This attraction rather militated against full success of debate. Noble Lords "asking for more," of course having to linger outside till they'd eaten it. Basing (long known to us as Sclater-Booth) revelled in his subject, and thanked the Markiss he was made a Peer in time to take part in discussion. Argyll brought his massive mind to bear on Butterine; Granville toyed with the subject; and Wemyss was more than usually emphatic. Bramwell had promised to speak for Butterine. Place empty when turn came.

"Where's Bramwell? He should be up next," said Wemyss.

"Ah," said Rosebery,

Messengers despatched to corridor and Bramwell brought in with his mouth full. A stirring debate, but Butterine was nowhere. Bramwell having demonstrated Margarine was "not the correct name for the substitute known as Butterine," their Lordships by large majority voted for Margarine.

Business done.—In Commons Land Bill again.

(By a thorough Port-soakian.)

Poetry of Parliament.—A debate in the House of Commons corresponding to the verse named Alexandrine—"Which, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along."

Seasonable Field-Sport.—Leather-hunting.

☞NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.

*** Transcriber's Note: "I" inserted into the beginning of the last line of the sixth stanza of "Glass Falling", page 66.***