Mr. ROWLAND HUNT IN HIS BEST FORM.
"I don't know [laughter] what honourable Members [renewed laughter] are laughing about [loud and prolonged laughter]."
Thursday.—Remarkable how Shakspeare (or was it Bacon?) wrote not only for all time but for all circumstance. The marvel came to light again in scene in House yesterday. Writing of the time of Romeo and Juliet Shakspeare reports dialogue between two fighting men of the houses of Capulet and Montague. Meeting Sampson in a public place in Verona, Abram truculently asks. "Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir?
Sam. I do bite my thumb, Sir.
Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir? Sam. (aside, to his comrade Gregory). Is the law on our side if I say ay?
Greg. No.
Sam. No, Sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Sir; but I bite my thumb.
Kinloch-Cooke, having put question to Wedgwood Benn, following it up by two supplementary inquiries, put a third when the Speaker interposed. Shrugging his shoulders in silent protest against this tyranny Kinloch-Cooke resumed his seat.
Said the Speaker sternly, "It is no good shrugging your shoulders at me."
This is prosaic account of incident given in this morning's papers. Refer to Hansard and see how it runs.
Speaker. Do you shrug your shoulders at me, Sir?
Kinloch-Cooke. I do shrug my shoulders, Sir.
Speaker. Do you shrug your shoulders at me, Sir?
Kinloch-Cooke (aside to Winterton). Is there anything in the Standing Orders that forbids my shrugging my shoulders at the Speaker?
Winterton (who is training for Speakership and has them all by heart). Yes.
Kinloch-Cooke. No, Sir, I do not shrug my shoulders at you, Sir; but I shrug my shoulders.
Speaker. Order! Order!
Business done.—Another plot that failed. For some weeks Opposition have not attempted to snap a division. Ministerialists, lulled into sense of security, off guard. Secret preparations sedulously made for trapping them this afternoon. Questions over, division challenged on formal motion. Ministerial Whips awake in good time to emergency. Urgent messages had been sent out to their men by telephone and special messengers. Arrivals watched with feverish interest. Ministerialists hurriedly drop in by twos and threes, presently by tens. Illingworth's massive brow, temporarily seared with wrinkles, smooths out. When, after division, Clerk hands paper to him indicating that ambush has been baffled, hilarious cheer rises from Ministerial benches. Renewed when figures read by the Speaker show that the motion is carried by 255 votes against 234.
"Not a high-class game in imperial politics," says Sark. "Rather akin to the humour of making a butter slide on the pavement for the discomfiture of unsuspecting passers-by. But boys will be boys."