Customer.Thanks. The fashionischanging a little, I fear. I don't want to leave you, and I won't go back to G.—if I can help it.If his brogue should become the vogue—but there, it's shocking to think of it. Give us a decent fit which we can wear in public without reproach, and we'll stick to you. But how about this boot?
Shoemaker (with effusion).Oh, we'll alter it toanyextent, to suit your taste, m'Lord, though it isn't exactly the cut upon which our House has always prided itself. There! Itwasa bit tight, but now I've eased it you'll be able to wear it with perfect comfort. We can't afford to loseyourcustom, m'Lord!
THE CONVENTIONAL MISSIONARYTHE CONVENTIONAL MISSIONARY WHO COULDN'T CONVERT THE SULTAN."SirDrummond Wolff'sMission is at an end."—Papers generally.
"SirDrummond Wolff'sMission is at an end."—Papers generally.
Dear Charlie,'Ow are yer, my arty, and 'ow does this Summer suityou?Selp me never, old pal, it's a scorcher!Ilap lemon-squosh till all's blue,And then feel as dry as a dust-bin. Want allSpiersandPond'supon trust,For it do make a 'ole in the ochre to deal with a true first-class thust.But it's proper, dear boy, yus it's proper, this weather is, took on the 'ole,And for 'oliday outings and skylarks it sets a chap fair on the roll.Where d'yer think as I spent my last bust up? I know you'd be out of the 'untIf you guessed for a 'ole month o' Sundays. I passed it, old pal,in a punt!"O Walker!" sez you, "that's 'is gammon!" No,Charlie, it's righteous, dear boy.It's quite true that to chivvy Thames hanglers is jest what we used to enjoy.Rekerlek that old buffer at Richmond, and 'ow we shoved foul of his swim,And lost him a middlin'-sized barbel and set his straw tile on the skim?Hangling isn't my mark, that's a moral, and fishermen mostly is fools;To chaff 'em and tip 'em the kibosh is one of my reglarest rules;And it ain't our sort only as does it, you take the non-anglers all round,An you'll find that in potting the puntist they're'Arriesright down to the ground.All our chicest stock-jokes and pet patter they mops up, like mugs as they are,For theymightcut their own chaff, eh,Charlie? not borrow it all from the bar.But I've seen little toffs in white weskits a slingingourlingo to rights,About colds, and cock-salmons, and shop 'uns; it's one of the rummiest sights.Of course they all trot outSam Johnson; you know the fine crusted old wheeze.I chucked it one day at a cove as lay stretched at the foot of some trees."Fool at one end and worm at the other"? sez he. "Ah! that's neat, andsonew,And as you seem to be wormandfool, one may say 'extremes meet,' Sir, inyou."'OwsomeverI've 'ad a day's 'ooking at last, and it wasn't arf bad.You know since I turned Primrose Leaguer I've mixed with the Toppers, my lad;And one on 'em, pal of the Prince, I believe, gotJack Joltera passFor some fine preserved waters; no pay, mate, and everythink fixed up fust-class.Jackarsked me andBell Bonsorto jine him, and seein' it didn't mean tin,And the 'ole thing seemed swell, with good grubbing and lots o' prime lotion chucked in.I was "on" like a shot.Bell'sa bloomer, andJack, though a bit of a jug,Is too long in the purse to let slip; so the game looked all proper and snug.Jack'sa straw-thatched young joker in gig-lamps, good-natured, and nuts on the sport.He turns up with four rods and two bait-cans, and tackle of every dashed sort.Such rum-looking gimcracks, my pippin; lines coiled up in boxes and books,And live-bait, and worms all a-wriggle, and big ugly bunches of 'ooks.Iwas a'most afraid to set down, for the things seemed all over the shop,AndBellshe kep startin' and squeakin', a-settin' me fair on the 'op;Fust a fish as dabbed flop on her 'at, then a 'ook as got snagged in 'er skirt,It was one blessed squork all the time, mate, though nothink much 'appened to 'urt.Pooty spot; sort o' lake green and windin', with nice quiet "swims" all about.Though I must sayImissed the Thames gammocks, the snide comic song, and the shout.No larks at the locks, no collisions, no landings for lotion, you know,And, but for MissBelland the bottle, it might a bin jest a bit slow.But the prog was A 1, and no kid. ThoughJackstuck to his tackle like wax,Belland me was soon stodging like winkles; that galdidmake play with the snacks."Strike!" criesJack—"you've abite!" "Yes, I know it," sez I, with my mouth full of 'am."Wot doyouthink, Miss B.?"—and she larfed till 'er cheeks went like raspberry jam.Jolterlooked jest a mossel disgusted, and turned a bit rusty, forhim,When we made the punt rock in our romps, which he said was "disturbing the swim."And when he had hooked a fine perch, and MissBellmade a dash at the line,And the fish flobbered back with a flop,Jack'sescape from a cuss cut it fine.Then he pulled in his "trimmer," and, scissors! a jolly big jack came aboard,Wich flopped round us, and showed his sharp teeth, till MissBonsorwent pasty, and roared.Reg'lar shark; made a grab at my pants when I tried to cut in toBell'said;And I'm blowed if she didn't turn raspy, and chaff me for beingafraid.Arter this things appeared to go quisby;Bell'sskirt 'ad got slimed, dontcher see.And she vowed it was spiled, whileJacklooked jest as though he could scrumplicate me.So sez I, "Let us turn up this barney, and toddle ashore for some grub;"And we pulled up the stone and the hanchor, and made a bee-line for our pub.The dinner soon smoothed down our feathers, thoughJack'ad a sad sort o' look.Selfish fellows these hanglers are,Charlie, they carn't keep their heye off the 'ook.Bless yer 'art, 'cos we struck arter dinner, and chucked up the perch for a spree,And took a turn round, me a pulling, thatJacklooked as blue as could be.'Owsomever we chaffed 'im a good 'un. MissBelland yours truly got thick,Wen I told 'er 'er lips wos true "spoon"-bait,shetwigged wot I meant pooty quick."Oh, I carn't abide anglers," she whispered, "they're flabby and cold like their fish,'Ow I wishJackwould jest sling 'is 'ook, and leave hus,—well,youknow wot I wish.""Oh. I'm fly, dear," sez I, with a 'ug. So I nobbled the Guard with a tip,And we managed to nip in fust-class, and so gave MasterJolterthe slip.It give 'im the needle in course, being left in the lurch in this way,But the petticoats know wot is wot, and so wot's your true dasher to say?Jack'as cut me since then at the "Primrose Club," bust 'im! I don't care a toss;Your angler isalwaysa juggins, sohe's no pertikler big loss.Bell Bonsoris mashed on me proper, andifI'd a fancy to marry,—Butifthere's a fish asain'teasy to 'ook it'sYours artfully,'Arry.
Dear Charlie,
Dear Charlie,
'Ow are yer, my arty, and 'ow does this Summer suityou?Selp me never, old pal, it's a scorcher!Ilap lemon-squosh till all's blue,And then feel as dry as a dust-bin. Want allSpiersandPond'supon trust,For it do make a 'ole in the ochre to deal with a true first-class thust.
'Ow are yer, my arty, and 'ow does this Summer suityou?
Selp me never, old pal, it's a scorcher!Ilap lemon-squosh till all's blue,
And then feel as dry as a dust-bin. Want allSpiersandPond'supon trust,
For it do make a 'ole in the ochre to deal with a true first-class thust.
But it's proper, dear boy, yus it's proper, this weather is, took on the 'ole,And for 'oliday outings and skylarks it sets a chap fair on the roll.Where d'yer think as I spent my last bust up? I know you'd be out of the 'untIf you guessed for a 'ole month o' Sundays. I passed it, old pal,in a punt!
But it's proper, dear boy, yus it's proper, this weather is, took on the 'ole,
And for 'oliday outings and skylarks it sets a chap fair on the roll.
Where d'yer think as I spent my last bust up? I know you'd be out of the 'unt
If you guessed for a 'ole month o' Sundays. I passed it, old pal,in a punt!
"O Walker!" sez you, "that's 'is gammon!" No,Charlie, it's righteous, dear boy.It's quite true that to chivvy Thames hanglers is jest what we used to enjoy.Rekerlek that old buffer at Richmond, and 'ow we shoved foul of his swim,And lost him a middlin'-sized barbel and set his straw tile on the skim?
"O Walker!" sez you, "that's 'is gammon!" No,Charlie, it's righteous, dear boy.
It's quite true that to chivvy Thames hanglers is jest what we used to enjoy.
Rekerlek that old buffer at Richmond, and 'ow we shoved foul of his swim,
And lost him a middlin'-sized barbel and set his straw tile on the skim?
Hangling isn't my mark, that's a moral, and fishermen mostly is fools;To chaff 'em and tip 'em the kibosh is one of my reglarest rules;And it ain't our sort only as does it, you take the non-anglers all round,An you'll find that in potting the puntist they're'Arriesright down to the ground.
Hangling isn't my mark, that's a moral, and fishermen mostly is fools;
To chaff 'em and tip 'em the kibosh is one of my reglarest rules;
And it ain't our sort only as does it, you take the non-anglers all round,
An you'll find that in potting the puntist they're'Arriesright down to the ground.
All our chicest stock-jokes and pet patter they mops up, like mugs as they are,For theymightcut their own chaff, eh,Charlie? not borrow it all from the bar.But I've seen little toffs in white weskits a slingingourlingo to rights,About colds, and cock-salmons, and shop 'uns; it's one of the rummiest sights.
All our chicest stock-jokes and pet patter they mops up, like mugs as they are,
For theymightcut their own chaff, eh,Charlie? not borrow it all from the bar.
But I've seen little toffs in white weskits a slingingourlingo to rights,
About colds, and cock-salmons, and shop 'uns; it's one of the rummiest sights.
Of course they all trot outSam Johnson; you know the fine crusted old wheeze.I chucked it one day at a cove as lay stretched at the foot of some trees."Fool at one end and worm at the other"? sez he. "Ah! that's neat, andsonew,And as you seem to be wormandfool, one may say 'extremes meet,' Sir, inyou."
Of course they all trot outSam Johnson; you know the fine crusted old wheeze.
I chucked it one day at a cove as lay stretched at the foot of some trees.
"Fool at one end and worm at the other"? sez he. "Ah! that's neat, andsonew,
And as you seem to be wormandfool, one may say 'extremes meet,' Sir, inyou."
'OwsomeverI've 'ad a day's 'ooking at last, and it wasn't arf bad.You know since I turned Primrose Leaguer I've mixed with the Toppers, my lad;And one on 'em, pal of the Prince, I believe, gotJack Joltera passFor some fine preserved waters; no pay, mate, and everythink fixed up fust-class.
'OwsomeverI've 'ad a day's 'ooking at last, and it wasn't arf bad.
You know since I turned Primrose Leaguer I've mixed with the Toppers, my lad;
And one on 'em, pal of the Prince, I believe, gotJack Joltera pass
For some fine preserved waters; no pay, mate, and everythink fixed up fust-class.
Jackarsked me andBell Bonsorto jine him, and seein' it didn't mean tin,And the 'ole thing seemed swell, with good grubbing and lots o' prime lotion chucked in.I was "on" like a shot.Bell'sa bloomer, andJack, though a bit of a jug,Is too long in the purse to let slip; so the game looked all proper and snug.
Jackarsked me andBell Bonsorto jine him, and seein' it didn't mean tin,
And the 'ole thing seemed swell, with good grubbing and lots o' prime lotion chucked in.
I was "on" like a shot.Bell'sa bloomer, andJack, though a bit of a jug,
Is too long in the purse to let slip; so the game looked all proper and snug.
Jack'sa straw-thatched young joker in gig-lamps, good-natured, and nuts on the sport.He turns up with four rods and two bait-cans, and tackle of every dashed sort.Such rum-looking gimcracks, my pippin; lines coiled up in boxes and books,And live-bait, and worms all a-wriggle, and big ugly bunches of 'ooks.
Jack'sa straw-thatched young joker in gig-lamps, good-natured, and nuts on the sport.
He turns up with four rods and two bait-cans, and tackle of every dashed sort.
Such rum-looking gimcracks, my pippin; lines coiled up in boxes and books,
And live-bait, and worms all a-wriggle, and big ugly bunches of 'ooks.
Iwas a'most afraid to set down, for the things seemed all over the shop,AndBellshe kep startin' and squeakin', a-settin' me fair on the 'op;Fust a fish as dabbed flop on her 'at, then a 'ook as got snagged in 'er skirt,It was one blessed squork all the time, mate, though nothink much 'appened to 'urt.
Iwas a'most afraid to set down, for the things seemed all over the shop,
AndBellshe kep startin' and squeakin', a-settin' me fair on the 'op;
Fust a fish as dabbed flop on her 'at, then a 'ook as got snagged in 'er skirt,
It was one blessed squork all the time, mate, though nothink much 'appened to 'urt.
Pooty spot; sort o' lake green and windin', with nice quiet "swims" all about.Though I must sayImissed the Thames gammocks, the snide comic song, and the shout.No larks at the locks, no collisions, no landings for lotion, you know,And, but for MissBelland the bottle, it might a bin jest a bit slow.
Pooty spot; sort o' lake green and windin', with nice quiet "swims" all about.
Though I must sayImissed the Thames gammocks, the snide comic song, and the shout.
No larks at the locks, no collisions, no landings for lotion, you know,
And, but for MissBelland the bottle, it might a bin jest a bit slow.
But the prog was A 1, and no kid. ThoughJackstuck to his tackle like wax,Belland me was soon stodging like winkles; that galdidmake play with the snacks."Strike!" criesJack—"you've abite!" "Yes, I know it," sez I, with my mouth full of 'am."Wot doyouthink, Miss B.?"—and she larfed till 'er cheeks went like raspberry jam.
But the prog was A 1, and no kid. ThoughJackstuck to his tackle like wax,
Belland me was soon stodging like winkles; that galdidmake play with the snacks.
"Strike!" criesJack—"you've abite!" "Yes, I know it," sez I, with my mouth full of 'am.
"Wot doyouthink, Miss B.?"—and she larfed till 'er cheeks went like raspberry jam.
Jolterlooked jest a mossel disgusted, and turned a bit rusty, forhim,When we made the punt rock in our romps, which he said was "disturbing the swim."And when he had hooked a fine perch, and MissBellmade a dash at the line,And the fish flobbered back with a flop,Jack'sescape from a cuss cut it fine.
Jolterlooked jest a mossel disgusted, and turned a bit rusty, forhim,
When we made the punt rock in our romps, which he said was "disturbing the swim."
And when he had hooked a fine perch, and MissBellmade a dash at the line,
And the fish flobbered back with a flop,Jack'sescape from a cuss cut it fine.
Then he pulled in his "trimmer," and, scissors! a jolly big jack came aboard,Wich flopped round us, and showed his sharp teeth, till MissBonsorwent pasty, and roared.Reg'lar shark; made a grab at my pants when I tried to cut in toBell'said;And I'm blowed if she didn't turn raspy, and chaff me for beingafraid.
Then he pulled in his "trimmer," and, scissors! a jolly big jack came aboard,
Wich flopped round us, and showed his sharp teeth, till MissBonsorwent pasty, and roared.
Reg'lar shark; made a grab at my pants when I tried to cut in toBell'said;
And I'm blowed if she didn't turn raspy, and chaff me for beingafraid.
Arter this things appeared to go quisby;Bell'sskirt 'ad got slimed, dontcher see.And she vowed it was spiled, whileJacklooked jest as though he could scrumplicate me.So sez I, "Let us turn up this barney, and toddle ashore for some grub;"And we pulled up the stone and the hanchor, and made a bee-line for our pub.
Arter this things appeared to go quisby;Bell'sskirt 'ad got slimed, dontcher see.
And she vowed it was spiled, whileJacklooked jest as though he could scrumplicate me.
So sez I, "Let us turn up this barney, and toddle ashore for some grub;"
And we pulled up the stone and the hanchor, and made a bee-line for our pub.
The dinner soon smoothed down our feathers, thoughJack'ad a sad sort o' look.Selfish fellows these hanglers are,Charlie, they carn't keep their heye off the 'ook.Bless yer 'art, 'cos we struck arter dinner, and chucked up the perch for a spree,And took a turn round, me a pulling, thatJacklooked as blue as could be.
The dinner soon smoothed down our feathers, thoughJack'ad a sad sort o' look.
Selfish fellows these hanglers are,Charlie, they carn't keep their heye off the 'ook.
Bless yer 'art, 'cos we struck arter dinner, and chucked up the perch for a spree,
And took a turn round, me a pulling, thatJacklooked as blue as could be.
'Owsomever we chaffed 'im a good 'un. MissBelland yours truly got thick,Wen I told 'er 'er lips wos true "spoon"-bait,shetwigged wot I meant pooty quick."Oh, I carn't abide anglers," she whispered, "they're flabby and cold like their fish,'Ow I wishJackwould jest sling 'is 'ook, and leave hus,—well,youknow wot I wish."
'Owsomever we chaffed 'im a good 'un. MissBelland yours truly got thick,
Wen I told 'er 'er lips wos true "spoon"-bait,shetwigged wot I meant pooty quick.
"Oh, I carn't abide anglers," she whispered, "they're flabby and cold like their fish,
'Ow I wishJackwould jest sling 'is 'ook, and leave hus,—well,youknow wot I wish."
"Oh. I'm fly, dear," sez I, with a 'ug. So I nobbled the Guard with a tip,And we managed to nip in fust-class, and so gave MasterJolterthe slip.It give 'im the needle in course, being left in the lurch in this way,But the petticoats know wot is wot, and so wot's your true dasher to say?
"Oh. I'm fly, dear," sez I, with a 'ug. So I nobbled the Guard with a tip,
And we managed to nip in fust-class, and so gave MasterJolterthe slip.
It give 'im the needle in course, being left in the lurch in this way,
But the petticoats know wot is wot, and so wot's your true dasher to say?
Jack'as cut me since then at the "Primrose Club," bust 'im! I don't care a toss;Your angler isalwaysa juggins, sohe's no pertikler big loss.Bell Bonsoris mashed on me proper, andifI'd a fancy to marry,—Butifthere's a fish asain'teasy to 'ook it's
Jack'as cut me since then at the "Primrose Club," bust 'im! I don't care a toss;
Your angler isalwaysa juggins, sohe's no pertikler big loss.
Bell Bonsoris mashed on me proper, andifI'd a fancy to marry,—
Butifthere's a fish asain'teasy to 'ook it's
Yours artfully,'Arry.
Yours artfully,'Arry.
MODEL LEGISLATION"MODEL" LEGISLATION.Wandering Student (to his Companion, after reading Poster)."'Class of Visi——' Well, I'm——What are the Arts in this Country coming to, Jimmey!?"[Exeunt depressed!
Wandering Student (to his Companion, after reading Poster)."'Class of Visi——' Well, I'm——What are the Arts in this Country coming to, Jimmey!?"[Exeunt depressed!
Question.So you have conscientiously done the Jubilee?
Answer.Certainly. For the last month I have scarcely ever been to bed.
Q.Why?
A.Somehow I have not retired to rest before it has been time to get up.
Q.Did you go to the Abbey?
A.That I did! Most touching! Shall never forget——
Q.Thank you. I think I can supply as much as you want of that sort of thing. I will not trouble you for any descriptions. Were you at the Guildhall Ball?
A.I was, and saw all the foreign Royalties.
Q.How did theLord Mayorget through it?
A.On the whole, well; although the Remembrancer, in a full-bottomed wig, rushing about, in a very energetic fashion, was suggestive ofFusbosinBombastes Furioso.
Q.Were you at the Royal AcademySoirée?
A.Certainly. It was a very large gathering.
Q.And who did you see there?
A.The same persons as those I had noticed in the Abbey.
Q.And they were——
A.The persons I had seen at the Reform Club Ball.
Q.And they?
A.Were subsequently found at the Inner Temple Ball, the Gray's Inn Maske, and the laying of the foundation-stone of the Institute.
Q.Was theMaske of Flowersa success?
A.A very great success; but it was all I could do to keep awake—I was so dead beat—in the Gray's Inn grounds at the Garden Party afterwards.
Q.And the Volunteer Review—how did you like that?
A.Oh, splendid! Nearly thirty thousand men all marching past.
Q.And the Review at Aldershot?
A.Magnificent! Nearly seventy thousand men marching past.
Q.Did they all pass you?
A.Yes, all. They took three hours or more in doing it. They were all alike. Seventy thousand men, all alike, for three hours. It was deeply interesting.
Q.Did you see theQueen?
A.I saw where she was, butHer Majestywas concealed from view by the Long Valley dust.
Q.Did you go to the Lincoln's Inn Garden Party?
A.To meet LordHerschell, his friends, and the Prince and Princess? Certainly. It differed from other Garden Parties in having in the grounds a sort of bath containing a fountain, ducks, and (to the best of my belief) turtles.
Q.Have you been to many Garden Parties?
A.Oh yes, to a large number. I have been to nineteen with Indian Princes complete, and two without.
Q.Did you go to the Naval Review?
A.Oh yes; in the middle of the night. I came back before the dawn on the following morning.
Q.Was it very beautiful?
A.Very—what I could see of it.
Q.What did you see of it?
A.Not much.
Q.Have you done anything else?
A.I have been in a chronic state of dinners, balls, operas, laying of foundation-stones, fireworks, and marches past.
Q.Are you at all confused?
A.So much confused, that I have just head enough left to try, in a feeble manner, to get back to the country.
Q.And if you do get back to the country, when shall you again visit town?
A.Well, it is my impression, not just immediately!
Ina deep and dark recess, among the sepulchral chambers of Sidon, on a splendid Sarcophagus in black stone, the delvers of the Palestine Exploration Committee lately discovered an ancient Phœnician inscription, which has been translated in a Beyrout newspaper as follows:—
"I,Talnite, Priest of Astarte, and King of Sidon, son ofEshmunazar, Priest of Astarte, and King of Sidon, lying in this tomb, say:—Come not to open my tomb; there is here neither gold, nor silver, nor treasure. He who will open this tomb shall have no prosperity under the sun, and shall not find repose in the grave."
"I,Talnite, Priest of Astarte, and King of Sidon, son ofEshmunazar, Priest of Astarte, and King of Sidon, lying in this tomb, say:—Come not to open my tomb; there is here neither gold, nor silver, nor treasure. He who will open this tomb shall have no prosperity under the sun, and shall not find repose in the grave."
If the explorers who unearthedTalnite'sepitaph had been able to read it, they might have been fit to shake in their shoes; only that no Archæologist now makes any bones whatever of rifling an ancient tomb. Hereafter, perhaps, the Australian emissary of a British Exploration Fund will not be deterred by a commination similar to the foregoing from opening the tomb ofShakspeare, and perhaps removing both that Sarcophagus and its contents, should he find any remaining, to a Melbourne Museum.
The Other "G. O. M."—G. Osbourne Morgan.("Mr. G." must copyright the initials.)
The Other "G. O. M."—G. Osbourne Morgan.("Mr. G." must copyright the initials.)
DR. SPEAKER BIRCH AND HIS YOUNG PARLIAMENTARY FRIENDSDR. SPEAKER BIRCH AND HIS YOUNG PARLIAMENTARY FRIENDS.GIVING IT THEM ALL ROUND.
Monday, July 18.—Pretty incident in Lords to-night. Debate on Third Reading of Coercion Bill. In middle of proceedingsDenmanremembered four other lines for quotation from late LordHoughton'spoems. Last time he recited from this source the reporters, as he complained, had not reproduced the quotation. Evidently in strong force in Gallery to-night; working away at high pressure. Now the time, or never. SoDenmanrose and began—
"My name isNorval——"
UnfortunatelyGranvillerose at same moment. Didn't seem at all interested in further biographical details, and recurred to Coercion Bill.Denmannot to be turned aside.
"——On the Grampian hills,"
he continued; whereupon the Markiss rose and moved formal Resolution thatGranvillebe heard.
Evidently some misunderstanding; butDenmantoo polite to insist on pushing himself forward; resumed his seat, and patiently awaited conclusion ofGranville'sspeech. Thereupon promptly rose again, and approached the table. So did the Markiss, and the two Statesmen stood and glared at each other across the table.
"My name——"Denmanbegan.
"My Lords," said the Markiss.
"Order! order!" shouted the Peers. ThenGranvilleremembered what the Markiss had done for him in similar circumstances, and, interposing, moved that the Markiss be heard. House agreed, andNorval, retiring from the Grampian hills, withdrew to the Lowlands by the Bar.
In CommonsGrandolphturned up in his favourite character as Economist. Crammed to the moustache. Figures which he rattled out show that First Lord and Board of Admiralty are spendthrifts. Quite a marvellous store of learning, which hamperedHamilton, baffledBeresford, riledReedand flurriedForwood.
This, the serious business of the sitting, prefaced by a privilege case which of course attracted much more attention.Longcomplained that on addressingTannerin Lobby after debate of Friday, Member for Mid-Cork had turned upon him and abused him in coarsest language. Old Morality moved thatTannerbe suspended for a month. Many Members of opinion that O. M. need not have been so precise. As theywerehanging him up, a month or two more or less would make no difference. Others laid the blame onLong, who opened the conversation.
"If a man touches pitch he must expect to be defiled," said LadyParker, gyrating coquettishly in the Lobby.Sextonmoved adjournment of debate till Thursday. In course of speech fell uponGent-Davisstanding at Bar, "smiling," asSextonbitterly said, "in such a superior manner." Finding a head there,Sextonbrought down shillelagh on it. Suddenness of assault took away G.-D.'s breath. Very indignant when he recovered.
"What business had he to attack me?" he asked. "I'll interpolate theSpeaker, and see if this, too, isn't a Breach of Privilege."
Business done.—Supply.
If a man touches pitch"If a man touches pitch," &c.
Tuesday.—SeemsTannernot the only Member who has been "saying things" in the Lobby. AldermanFowleraccused of having sinned in a similar way againstHowell. Irish Members gleefully taken up case.Sextongave notice that on Thursday, when Motion for suspension ofTannercomes on, he will move thatFowlerbe also suspended for a month. "They can go away together for a month in the country,"Tim Healysays; "or might take a trip to Norway. Anyhow, they'll be able to pair for the remainder of the Session."
Fowlermakes light of the threat, but not at all a pleasant thing. Parliamentary life, as a whole, getting rather a weariness to the flesh. Only the other day he was sat upon in connection with the manufacture of bogus petitions, now is to be brought up for using bad language in the Lobby. Wishes he'd been made a Jubilee Peer.
After questions, gallant little Wales came up, piping its eye. Thirty-one men been arrested in connection with Tithe Riots near Ruthin. Government, having got into swing in Ireland, proposed to change thevenue, and try prisoners by Special Jury.Ellismoved Adjournment in order to protest. Backed up byOsborne Morgan,Harcourt,Dillwyn, and others. On other side,Attorney-Generaljustified course taken, andSolicitor-GeneraldeclaredOsborne Morgan'sspeech "a scandal to the House of Commons." Idea ofOsborne Morgancreating a scandal shocked the House;Clarkeobliged to withdraw remark, and apologise.
Gem of the evening wasSwetenham'sspeech. Delightful the ease and fluency with which he pronounced such words as Llanymrech and Llansaintfraid, and others guiltless of a vowel. Delicious the way in which he ogledOsborne Morgan, slily insinuating his intimate knowledge of the criminal classes. What with his remarks, and the accusation of theSolicitor-General, House began to think there was more inOsborne Morganthan met the eye, and that it had, unawares, been nursing a viper in its bosom.
Business done.—Supply.
Scandalous"Scandalous!"
Thursday.—Dr.Tannerand AldermanFowlerboth in their places at Question Time. First business on paper was Adjourned Debate on Old Morality's Motion to suspendTannerfor a month.Sextongave notice to haul up the Alderman on charge similar to that which hung over meek head ofTanner.Tannerin apologetic mood, but the Alderman defiant. In course of debateHowell, alleged victim of Alderman's minatory observations, attempted to introduce the subject.Tannerdebate been on for hour and half; began to flag a little. Time seemed opportune for serving up the Alderman. ButSpeakerperemptorily interposed, and would have none of it. Sufficient for the day was theTannerthereof, and so the Alderman, a pillar of the Church, a mainstay of the State, must go down to posterity under charge of having used naughty words in the Lobby.
We've lost two hours' precious time"We've lost two hours' precious time."
Tannerepisode proved lively enough.Tannerapologised for language used toWalter Long, and duly expressed his regret. All eyes turned upon Old Morality. Expected, as Leader of House, to interpose, and bring unsavoury proceedings to swift close—and so, let us go to business. But O. M. letLongslip in with correction ofTanner'sversion of what had passed. Squabbled for half-an-hour as to what had really been said. House got its back up. Opportunity for controlling it passed. Storm grew higher as moments slipped by.Harcourtin his element, thumping the table and shouting at top of his voice in effort, sometimes vain, to make himself heard amid clamour on opposite benches. Finally,Whitbreadappealed toSpeakerto give his opinion. This awkward forSpeaker, who must needs offend one or other of angry parties. Acquitted himself admirably. With infinite tact expressed his opinion that, as contended from Opposition Benches,Tanner'sapology "formal, distinct, and unreserved." Rather a snub this for Old Morality andHartington, who had backed him up. But decision unanimously accepted, and the smile whichBigwoodreported he had "seen on the countenance of Dr.Tanner" when first addressed in Lobby byLong, returned.
"We've lost two hours' precious time," saidKennaway, walking out, "and the only person that's made anything out of it isTanner. A week ago was in low water, snubbed by his own friends, for whom his conduct was too bad. Now elevated to position of persecuted hero, made the subject of elaborate debate, dragged Government into fresh muddle, and brought upon them rebuke from highest authority in the House."
Business done.—Got into Committee on Land Bill.
Friday.—House assembled this afternoon at Waterloo Station, bound for Portsmouth and Southampton, to see the Review.
Business done.—Took return-tickets.
"Dearme!" said Mrs.Ram, "I always thought that Margarine was a foreign title. Wasn't there a Margarine of Hesse?"
By D. Crambo, Junior.
By D. Crambo, Junior.
Ham?—Steaks"Ham?—Steaks!"
Rich! mon'"Rich! mon'!"
Fin-donFin-don.
Little Time was lost in getting to the PostLittle Time was lost in getting to the Post.
Taking Inside PlaceTaking Inside Place.
Drawing Out ClearDrawing Out Clear.
pointing finger
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