Tearing up the Tithes.
Tithes Bill on for Second Reading. Picton rallied scattered forces of Opposition, and led them to attack. Slashing speech; soaring eloquence; trenormous energy.
"Reminds me," said Admiral Field, "of his grandfather, General Picton, who fell at Waterloo. Remember him very well; was in charge of Brigade of Marines there, you know; attached to Picton's Division. Never look on Member for Leicester without thinking of my old comrade in arms;" and the sturdy salt brushed away the reluctant tear.
Picton reminded Hicks-Beach of someone else—"his great predecessor in spoliation, Henry the Eighth."
"Yes, but better looking," said Plunket, always ready to put in a kind word.
Business done.—Tithes Bill Debate.
Friday Night.—Tithes Debate, which has had general effect of depressing the human mind, acted upon Cranborne like electric shock. Astonished and interested House to-night by vigorous speech delivered in favour of Bill. With clenched hands and set teeth declared that he "meant to fight for Established Church till death." He put it to the piratical Picton and other marauders, whether, seeing that in such case the conflict must necessarily be prolonged, they would not do well to seize this opportunity of settling Tithe question?
Business done.—Second Reading Tithes Bill agreed to by 289 Votes against 164.
"A (Not) at Home."—Last week a paragraph appeared in an illustrated paper contradicting the report (published in an earlier issue) that a certain titled Lady had been present at somebody's party. This novel departure should be useful as a precedent to the crême de la crême of suburban society. In future, such announcements as the following may be expected to be frequently found in the "Fashionable Intelligence" columns of the more aspiring of our Penny Socials:—"On Thursday last Mr. and Mrs. Madeira Top-floor Smithies entertained a small and select party at their new residence, The Hollies, 24A, Zanzibar Terrace, Peckham Rye, East. Amongst those present we did not notice H.S.H. the Prince of Teck, the Duke of Westminster, Lady Burdett-Coutts, and the Lord Chancellor. In the general circle, Lord Cross, the Countess of Clarendon, and the Bishop of London, were also conspicuous by their absence. It was rumoured that neither the Duke of Cambridge nor Mr. Gladstone were expected to join the company before the close of the entertainment."
Dinner Scarcely à la Roose.—Dear Mr. Punch,—I am a poor man, but I like a nice dinner. Now I have discovered how to enjoy a good meal, and yet keep the cost of living within reasonable limits. Here is my method. I order and eat, a lobster, two pounds of pork chops, a large-sized pot of pâté de foies gras, a dressed crab, and three plates of toasted cheese. Having finished this dainty little dinner, I find, that I can eat nothing more for at least a week! That the pleasing fare does not make me ill, is proved by my friends declaring that I look like a picture of health. They do not say whether the picture is a good or bad one—but that is a matter of detail.
Yours sincerely,
The Founder of the More-than-Enough Society.
Utopian.—Neither noise, vibration, nor dust! That's what the Bramwells, the Watkins, and the Galtons claim for that partly-developed but promising—much promising—invention of M. Girard's, the Chemin de Fer Glissant, or Sliding Railway. What a happy ideal! By all means, "Let it slide!"
A Chance for a New Member.—"Rookeries," said Mr. Henry Lazarus in his evidence at Marylebone, "abound in St. Pancras, and it is a scandal to civilisation that they should continue to exist." Now, Mr. Bolton, M.P., can't you have your legal and parliamentary finger in this Rook pie?
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