ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.
House of Commons, Thursday, November 2.—Began work again to-day as if nothing had happened from February to September. Understood to have had a recess; so short hardly worth mentioning. Considering all circumstances, attendance marvellously large. Marjoribanks got his men together as usual, crowding benches on Ministerial side. Opposition not in quite such a hurry to wash their spears; but muster creditable. Irish camp deserted. "You see," said Justin Mccarthy, "it isn't our funeral. But the bhoys are hanging round and will turn up if wanted."
Henry Fowler moved Second Reading Parish Councils Bill. Adroit and able speech; rather hard on Walter Long; to him deputed position of spokesman on Front Opposition bench. Brought down notes of convincing speech. Fowler getting in first anticipated all his objections; met them with benevolent alacrity that disarmed hostility. What did statesmen opposite want? Anything in reason should be conceded. "Give your orders, gents, whilst the waiter's in the room."
PARLIAMENT BY PROXY.
This an admirable stroke of business, but a little depressing from spectacular point of view. No more pyrotechnics; no further meetings on the floor; no more grips at close quarters. Hayes Fisher looked on moodily; Logan passed Front Opposition bench without once so much as looking at place where Carson is accustomed meekly to repose. Respectable elderly gentlemen like Francis Powell and Jeffreys took the floor. Even contumacious Cobb admitted soothing influence of the hour. Didn't want anything more than that Parish Councils should have power to take land wherever they found it, and divide it amongst the poor. As everybody agreed Bill in the main desirable, and since Fowler had promised fullest consideration of amendments in Committee, seemed natural thing to do was forthwith to read Bill second time, and fix date of Committee.
"No, Sir," said Stanley Leighton, "I trust the House of Commons is not yet sunk so low as that. Confess I myself feel depressed. Couldn't to-night adequately fill my favourite and popular part of The Man from Shropshire. At least I'll deliver House from disgrace of bringing debate to a close for the puerile reason that we're all agreed Second Reading shall be taken."
So he wandered on; was just warming into Man-from-Shropshire manner, when midnight sounded and Debate stood adjourned.
Business done.—Second Reading Parish Councils Bill moved.
Friday.—For middle-aged gentleman of long experience never saw man so discomposed as Jesse Collings was just now, when he let cat out of bag about future arrangements of the Unionists personal to himself. What is to be done with the Faithful One when Joseph comes into his own is favourite speculation in smoke-room. Sage of Queen Anne's Gate takes special interest in matter. Most men think Jesse should have Cabinet rank in Coalition Ministry.
"No," says the Sage, "he should be a Viceroy, either of India or Canada. Cut out for the place; and there would be no question of salary, such as, seven years ago, embittered his relations with Mr. G."
All these conjectures beside the point. Matter has, apparently, been settled in inner councils of party, and to-night Jesse accidentally, inadvertently, lifted the veil. "I have," he said, in course of luminous speech prefaced by addressing the Speaker as "Mr. Mayor," "something to say on that subject, but I will reserve my remarks for another place." House not very full at moment. But everyone knows meaning of House of Commons phrase "another place." Sensation profound. Bordesley soon to be bereft, for Jesse Collings is going to the Lords! Henry Matthews, a local authority on the subject, says even title been fixed upon. Nothing less than territorial style will do for the ex-Mayor and Radical Alderman. Soon the Upper House will greet Lord Bordesley of Birmingham.
Quiet night, with further talk round Parish Councils Bill. Mr. G. present, seated between Squire of Malwood and John Morley. Singularly subdued in manner; takes no part in discussion; goes off to dinner in good time, and House sees him no more.
"And to think," said the Squire, glancing sideways at the placid figure beside him, "that this is the man painted in red and blue by Unionist pavement-artists. Their stories of Mr. G. always remind me of a passage in a theme produced by a young gentleman invited to state what he knew of Cardinal Wolsey.
"'In the siege of Quebec,' he wrote, 'he ascended the mountains at dead of night, when his enemies were at rest, and took the town at daybreak. His home policy was conducted in a similar manner.'
"There is about that a picturesque air of circumstantiality, combined with a fanciful inaccuracy, equalled only by things one reads or hears with reference to my right hon. friend, and revered leader."
Business done.—Some papers on Parish Councils read.
Double Entente.
The Tzar, on peace and friendship all intent,
To France his Admiral Avellan has sent.
'Twere pity if this Russian olive-branch
Portended merely General Avalanche.
Mrs. R. is astonished to hear that "Count Taaffe, the Austrian Premier, is an Irishman and a Member of the British House of Lords." She says she is sure she has heard that "Taaffe was a Welshman, Taaffe was a ——," but she must have been misinformed!!!
A Strike-ing Suggestion.—The Pitt-coalition was a brilliant idea in its day. A coalition between masters and miners—a Pit-coal-ition, in fact—would solve the strike difficulty.
THE FRENCH FLAG.
AN AMICABLE APPEAL.
The Arab dhow to the chase is gone,
Chock-full of slaves you'll discover it;
And the British cruiser is artfully done
By the French Flag flying over it!
"Flag of France!" cries the British Tar,
"The Arab hound betrays thee.
Give him his due, at Zanzibar,
And all the world shall praise thee!"
The captain and crew by the Franks were tried,
And escaped—to the wide world's wonder!
Oh glorious Flag! Is it then its pride
That the slavers hide thereunder?
Let France disdain to sully thee,
With the curst kidnapper's knavery!
Thy folds should float o'er the brave and free,
And never protect foul Slavery!
Misnomer.
"Federation" seems aggravation,
Conciliation's dead!
While fights the "Miners' Federation,"
The Miners are unfed!
The Latest Autumn Fashions.—Parliamentary Sessions and Feather Trimmings. Both involving cruelty to bipeds "on the wing," and each "more honoured in the breach than the observance."
An Ulsterical Impromptu.
(By an Orange-hating Nationalist.)
In Parliament assembled see them move
Their resolutions lacking rhyme and reason,
Determined all at any cost to prove
The Ulster Parliament's a Cloak to Treason!