Parnellite Proverb (applied to the Baleful Balfour).—Give him an inch (of law) and he'll take a (National) League.
THE MORNING'S REFLECTIONS.
Scene—Breakfast-table of an Illustrious Statesman of stalwart proportions and "Gladstonian" politics. Illustrious Statesman discovered, admiringly perusing three closely-printed columns of leading Morning Paper.
I. S. (soliloquising). Hah! Really reads very well, very well indeed. Points neatly put, hits smartly delivered! They shan't call me the "Champion Slugger" for nothing. American pugilist, named Sullivan, original bearer of that honorific title, I believe. Should like to see Sullivan. A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous—curious. Not kind, always, or Joseph and William—but no matter.
Hm—m—m! Hm—m—m—m! Excellent! Sparklers calculated to illuminate Lewes, startle Sussex, electrify thecountry. Slugging and sparkling my specialities. One or two decent speakers about; "our distinguished leader" can—distinguish, at great length and with considerable verbosi—I mean eloquence. Randolph can rattle, and Morley can pound, and Rosebery twitter pleasantly. But they can't coruscate and crush. The power of the bolt, which at once shines and smashes, is Jovian—not Rhodian, as Dizzy once nastily suggested. "My thunder," and I'm proud of it.
By the way, wonder what the other "Thunderer" thinks of it. Touches a tender chord, the chord of memory. Lost chord now, indeed. But no matter, let's see.
[Turns paper.
Hm—m—m! Hm—m—m—m! Hah! Too bad! "His bludgeon, or—considering his present connection—may we say his shillelagh?" Tut-tut! The Cloud-Compeller as a bludgeon-man, the Titan-queller flourishing a blackthorn like a tenth-rate Theseus, a Hibernian Hercules! Absurd! No sense of keeping whatever. "Swashbuckler," too! Nasty, and not even new!