The MacGregor retires to his Cave.
Mr. W-r. "Mon, if I hadna thocht he was jokin', I wad ha' gone mysel',—to be even wi' 'im!"
It may be singular, but so is the number of the friends. Cranborne, in one of his fiery speeches, made it clear just now that the Eldest Sons are divided on the question which General George Curzon, Quartermaster-General St. John Brodrick, and the late Army (now gone to another place) made their own. This defection from within not made up by sustentation from without. Joseph, having got a little mixed between what he said on Coleridge peerage case, and the exact reverse put forward by him with equal confidence on the Selborne case, judiciously absented himself to-night. Courtney also absent. Prince Arthur sat ominously silent on Front Bench, whilst Dick Webster backed up Squire of Malwood in denouncing position assumed by General George and Quartermaster-General St. John. As for the Army, multitudinously alluded to as "the Hon. William Waldegrave Palmer, commonly called Viscount Wolmer, now Earl of Selborne," it was withdrawn, interned as garrisons are at particular crises of civic life. House gladly ordered issue of new writ for West Edinburgh. Constitution remains unreformed, and William Waldegrave—to quote with slight variation from the appropriate source of tombstone literature—
Called hence by early doom,
Lives but to show how sweet an Earl
In House of Lords may bloom.
Business done.—Clause III. added to Welsh Disestablishment Bill.
Thursday.—The Bashful Bartley, temporarily overcoming a constitutional weakness that is the despair of his friends, and has proved a serious block in the way of his public advancement, put himself forward just now. Is disturbed by dalliance of Lord Brassey, sometime ago appointed Governor of Victoria. Bartley has conviction that if, in good time coming, his party should acknowledge faithful service by appointing him to Governorship, he would lose no time in entering upon his new sphere of usefulness. That course Lord Brassey might be expected to follow. "Instead of which, he goes about the country—stealing ducks," Bartley, impelled by swing of the quotation, was about to add. Pulling himself up in time, he added, "making party political speeches in favour of candidates at elections."
Sydney Buxton, in his most Severe-Young-Man-manner, informed the not quite Blameless Bartley that Brassey not yet set out to undertake Governorship of Victoria because he is not yet Governor. Hopetoun's term does not expire till September, and unless it were desired to run the risk of a sort of colonial Box and Cox scene, it would be well he should await the due date of his succession.
Bartley blushed, said nothing—at least, not aloud. To himself muttered, "They may say what they like; but, after all, bashfulness is the best policy."
The Tiresome Tomlinson so affected by this repulse of an esteemed friend and neighbour that when, later in sitting, Bartley, forgetting his pious resolve, moved amendment to Budget Bill exempting a wife's revenues from income-tax, T. T., rushing out to support him in division lobby, lost the way. When he arrived at lobby door, found it locked. Rattled at handle; kicked panel. For only reply came whisper through keyhole, in voice he recognised as Tommy Bowles': "Too late. Go away, you foolish virgin."
"Bad enough," said T. T., "to lose chance of voting against the Government. But why Tommy Bowles should call me a foolish virgin, I don't know. Do I look like one?"
Business done.—Scotch Grand Committee set up. Opposition straightway go and gather sticks wherewith to knock it down.
Friday.—Came across little group in lobby just now steeped in brackish waters of tribulation. Only three of them, but they seemed to have all the trouble of the world divided amongst them.
"What's the matter?" I asked. "Been listening to two hours' debate on Budget Bill in Committee?"
"Worse than that," said Hart Dyke. "Haven't you heard? Carmarthen, riding out on his bicycle, came by sudden turn on steam-roller. Bicycle shied; pitched Dolly off."
"Poor Dolly!" said John Penn, mopping his eye with a J pen-wiper. "He fell on his head."
Hart Dyke and Mark Lockwood (together)—"Oh, then he's not hurt." Sudden brightening of faces as load of apprehension removed from mind; walked off quite cheerfully.
Gracious, kind-hearted comrades! So pleasant, amid turmoil of political warfare, to come upon idyllic scene like this, and learn how sweet a thing is friendship.
Business done.—Budget Bill through Committee.
