"I don't think so," said Solicitor-General, sadly. "Look again what happened just now. House unexpectedly goes into Committee. Can't find Mellor. 'You take the Chair,' says the Squire; 'you'll fill it admirably.' No time for hesitation; I take the Chair; Clerk claps Bill into my hand. I say, 'Question is, that I do report progress, and ask leave to sit again.' Shouts of 'Aye,' and 'No.' 'I think the Ayes have it,' I say, in deep chest-notes, with persuasive fall of eyebrows. 'The Noes have it!' they shout. Very well; first duty of Chairman is to be impartial; so I say, 'The Noes have it.' Again they roar with laughter. Woodall, in charge of Bill, feels for sword of Financial Secretary to War Office. Fortunately, can't find it. Otherwise, Chair of Committees might have been steepled with my gore. What shall I do next? 'Put question again,' Clerk hoarsely whispered. 'Question is, that I do report progress, and ask leave to sit again. Those who are of that opinion say Aye; the contrary, No. I think the Ayes have it.' That would at least get me out of the Chair, and you certainly won't find me asking for leave to sit again. But what follows? In all parts of the House, just now opposing progress, hilarious shout of 'No! No!' rises up. That means I'm to go on with the Bill; but I know if I declare 'the Noes have it,' they'll turn round to the 'Ayes.' So, after standing for moment irresolutely, Bill in hand, I'm not ashamed to say I bolted from table, taking Bill with me. House roared louder than ever. Seem to have discovered excellent joke. But I don't see it, Toby. If this is House of Commons life, give me the dignity and quiet of the Chancery Bar."
APPLYING FOR THE CHILTERN HUNDREDS.
Quite a procession of new Members took their seats on election. Honours of the day with Harry Lawson, who, after stubborn fight, has won Cirencester. As young Harry, with his beaver on, marched to table, Liberals temporarily relieved themselves from imputation that they don't know how to cheer.
Business done.—Local Veto Bill brought in.
Tuesday Night.—"It's a natural temptation," said Charles Russell, "for the human mind to believe that Mr. G.'s latest performance at table of House of Commons excels all he has done before. There is a phrase—you are probably familiar with it in Horace—which speaks of the Laudator temporis acti. But the other impulse is certainly, in this connection, quite as strong, I, therefore, hesitate to affirm that that's the best speech Mr. G. ever made; but certainly it's among the best."
