"All the kinder of him," Sark says, "since they cannot be said directly to concern him. In an effort to redress the balance between the Old World and the New, United States has lent us Ashmead. The temporary character of the arrangement makes only the more generous his concern for the interests of the Empire in which he lodges."
In the peculiar circumstances of the case those able young men, Edward Grey and Sydney Buxton, might be a little less openly contemptuous in their treatment of the Patriotic Emigrant. Hard to say at which office door, Foreign or Colonial, Ashmead bangs his head with more distressful result. He takes them in succession, with dogged courage that would in anyone else excite admiration. Of the two janitors, perhaps Edward Grey's touch is the lightest. He replies with a solemn gravity that puzzles Ashmead, and keeps him brooding till Speaker stays the merry laughter of the House by calling on the next question. Buxton is more openly contemptuous, more severely sarcastic, and sometimes, when Ashmead's prattling, of no consequence in the House, might possibly have serious effect when cabled to the Transvaal where they think all Members of Parliament are responsible men, he smartly raps out. Between the two the Patriot—made in Brooklyn, plated in Sheffield—has a bad time of it. Has long learned how much sharper than a serpent's tooth is the tongue of an Under Secretary of State.
Business done.—Second Reading of Equalisation of London Rates Bill moved.
Thursday.—Lords took Budget Bill in hand to-night. Markiss asked for week's interval. This looked like fighting. At least there would be a reconnaissance in force led by the Markiss. House full; peerless Peeresses looked down from side gallery; Markiss in his place; Devonshire in his—not Chatsworth; that going to be shut up; but corner seat below gangway; Rosebery hovering about, settled down at length in seat of Leader. Clerk read Orders of the Day. "Finance Bill second reading." "I move the Bill be read a second time," said Rosebery, politely taking his hat off to lady in gallery immediately opposite. Then he sat down.
Here was a pretty go! Expected Premier would make brilliant speech in support of Bill; the Markiss would reply; fireworks would fizz all round, and, though perhaps Budget Bill might be saved, Squire of Malwood would be pummelled. Rosebery takes oddest, most unparliamentary view of his duty. The Lords, he said, when last week subject was mooted, have nothing to do with Budget Bill, unless indeed they are prepared to throw it out. "Will you do that?" he asked. "No," said Markiss, looking as if he would much rather say "Yes." "Very well then," said Rosebery, "all speeches on the subject must be barren."
This to the Barons seemed lamentably personal.
Rosebery illustrated his point by declining for his own part to make a speech. Still there was talk; barren speeches for three hours; audience gradually dwindling: only a few left to witness spectacle of Halsbury's blue blood boiling over with indignation at sacrilegious assault on landed aristocracy.
"If you want to make your flesh creep," says Sark, "you should hear Halsbury, raising to full height his majestic figure, throwing the shadow of his proudly aquiline profile fiercely on the steps of the Throne where some minions of the Government cowered, exclaim, 'My Lords, I detect in this Bill a hostile spirit towards the landed aristocracy.'"
"A Halsbury! a Halsbury!" menacingly muttered Feversham and some other fiery crusaders.
For the moment, so deeply was the assembly stirred, a conflict between the two Houses seemed imminent. But Black Rod coming to take away the Mace the tumult subsided, and Lord Halsbury went home in a four-wheeler.