House of Lords, Tuesday.—Remember one night in years gone by, whilst Hartington was still with us in the Commons, he interrupted one of his own speeches by a portentous yawn. Complimented him on the feat; few men, I said, would have the pluck to do it; might yawn at other people's speeches, but never at their own.
"Ah, Toby," said County Guy, "you don't know how dem'd dull the speech was. You only had to listen to some of it. I had to deliver it all."
Supporting the Crown.
Thought of this to-night listening to old friend in Lords, now scarcely disguised as Duke of Devonshire. Spoke for nearly two hours. Those who read it will find speech admirable; one of the best, most weighty, indictments of Home Rule and the tactics that have brought it into position of Ministerial measure. But alack! for those who heard it, or, at least, sat through the two hours; not many, all told; an hour enough for The Macullum More; other Peers on both sides of House folded their tents like the Arab, and as silently stole away. The Markiss gallantly kept his place, sitting for some time with closed eyes, the better to concentrate his attention. Prince Arthur and Joey C.—lovely in the Commons, in the Lords not divided—stood sturdily on either side of the Throne. "The Lion and the Unicorn supporting the Crown," said Rosebery, glancing across at them.
The Devonshire Yawn.
For the ladies in the gallery, mothers and daughters, Devonshire not so attractive a parti as was Hartington. Still, he is a pillar of the Union, a brand snatched from the burning pile to which the wicked hand of Mr. G. applied the traitrous torch. So they sat and listened—half an hour, three-quarters of an hour, an hour. Then was heard the light rustle of dainty dresses; doors softly opened along the Gallery; for a moment a fair figure stood framed in it, with guilty glance around to see if she was observed; then, with winning "back-in-five-minutes" look on innocent face, she hastily stepped out.
The Duke saw none of these things nor cared for them. He had a duty to perform, and long before Old Morality was heard of, the Cavendishes did their duty. He plodded on through the melancholy night; stolidly turning over the pages of his notes; stubbornly repressing a growing tendency to yawn; catching his voice up when it wearily sank to the level of his boots; making most pathetic effort to keep it going. Usually it fell away at the end of the third or fourth sentence, to be pulled up with harsh jerk at commencement of one that followed. A good man struggling with the adversity of having to make a speech on a topic harried to death in the other House through course of over eighty days.