Thursday.—Sexton made five speeches to-night, each sufficient of itself to lay foundation of parliamentary reputation. Had he spread them over the Session, or even distributed them throughout a month, would have scored great success. Unhappily worked them all off at single sitting, without other interval than succession of long pauses, arbitrarily introduced. Fancy he felt he must do something to maintain ancient reputation. Grandolph and John Morley spoke for two hours each, whilst few, having caught Speaker's eye, let go under ninety minutes. Sexton must needs beat record; did it, talking for two hours and half by Westminster clock! Had an hour and a half served, speech would have been worthy to rank with those of Asquith, John Redmond, and Davitt. As it is, case one of oratorial suicide. Carson followed; quite moderate in comparison. Spoke for little over an hour. When he sat down, it was after eight o'clock; more that one-half of possible length of sitting exhausted; only two Members taken part in Debate.
"Debate d'ye call it," said Lord Morris, looking on from the Peer's Gallery. "It's preaching rather—pragmatical prosing, the death of useful Parliamentary discussion."
THE PARLIAMENTARY POLKA. "PAIRS PLEASE!"
House left in almost comatose state. Someone faintly moved Count; Marjoriebanks, who had not suffered the four hours' talk, and who, by comparison with rest, seemed supernaturally active, managed to bring in what was left of forty Members, and conversation drowsily proceeded to appointed hour of closing. Business done.—Eleventh Night.
Scheherazade. "And so, my Lord, he drew his scimitar, and was about to—— But excuse me, Sultan, I observe, through the oriel window, something that looks remarkably like the streak of dawn, and, if you don't mind, I'll continue the story to-morrow night."
Schahriah, Sultan of Persia. "Thank you, no my dear, I have some dim recollection that, in a former state, this sort of thing went on for a Thousand and One Nights, ending in the most agreeable manner to the principal personages concerned. But that, you will admit, was in other circumstances. The world, and we, were younger then. Eleven nights of this is enough for me, and, if you would be so good as to step into the next room, I will give instructions for your being—excuse this yawn—bowstrung."
(Extracted from "The Newest Arabian Nights.")
