M. L-b-ch-re (thinking of Welsh Disestablishment, asks Mr. Ch-pl-n). "Did you say 'Mr. Ap Ollinaris?'"
Chaplin stared haughtily over Sage's head, and went on. So did fragments of audience, the latter towards the door, till, almost in solitude, there rolled forth the treasured peroration. This bad, but worse followed, when immediately succeeded an obscure Irishman, whom Chaplin vaguely remembers a few years back as a Committee Clerk, or something of that kind. Benches swiftly filled up, and an assembly that vaunts itself most critical audience in the world followed, with rapt attention, the simple sentences of obscure John Redmond, Ex-Committee Clerk—this same audience that had scornfully treated the portentous periods of the Right Hon. Henry Chaplin, sometime Cabinet Minister.
Business done.—Fifth Night's Debate.
Friday.—Prince Arthur, enumerating Statesmen anxious to speak in Debate, doling them out at the rate of one a day, omitted Cousin Cranborne. Doubtless accidental; Noble Lord has his revenge; worked off his speech to-night whilst Asquith addressing House. Consisted of only single word; effect instantaneous, startling. Into Asquith's fervent eulogium on Davitt, Cranborne dropped the additional description, "Murderer." Was only thinking aloud as he explained to House; just talking genially to himself; regretted he was overheard, and begged to apologise.
"It's the principle of heredity," said Tim Healy; "the father calls us all Hottentots; the son accuses one of us of murder."
Business done.—Sixth Night's Debate on Home-Rule Bill.