Tuesday.—Evidently in for another dull time. Welsh Disestablishment Bill off, enter Irish Land Bill. Time precious; business pressing; every quarter of hour worth a Chancellor of the Exchequer's ransom. Ministers anxious above all things to get along with business. John Morley, accordingly, sets useful example by delivering speech an hour and twenty minutes long. This, as he mentioned, followed upon exorbitant demands on patience of House when he introduced the Bill. Carson, not to be outdone, certainly not to be blamed, took up about as much time. Later came St. John Brodrick, astonished at his own moderation in speaking for only seventy minutes.
"This is not debating," Sark says. "It is just making speeches by the yard. Hasn't the remotest effect upon the human mind, still less upon deliberate action of House. Isn't even pretence of a fight; second reading will be passed without division; Bill will go to Committee in precisely same state as would have been the case had it been read a second time before dinner, and Members spent rest of evening in bosom of their families. Towards end of Session there will be complaint of nothing done. At least Treasury Bench mustn't lift up its voice in reproach at such conclusion. If right hon. gentlemen set us such evil example, they mustn't complain if we follow it."
House in desolate state throughout spirit-sapping performance. Tim Healy sat it all out. Contributed almost only token of life to the dull monotony. In dangerously explosive state. If anybody had sat on safety-valve would have burst to dead certainty. Happily got off a few life-saving grunts and groans. Played sort of chorus to Carson's speech and Brodrick's monologue. They severely ignored him—treatment which had no effect on his exuberance of spirits.
"Who are these Irish owners," Brodrick asked, looking severely across table at John Morley, "who want to buy their tenants' interest in order to sell it at a higher price?"
"I'll give you their names," cried Tim, after the fashion of the naughty boy safe at the outer edge of a crowd.
"I defy the right hon. gentleman to produce a single instance," Brodrick continued, taking no notice of Tim.
"I'll give you half a dozen," shouted Tim, ever ready to oblige, though leaving it in doubt whether the half dozen he offered were lashes or other instances. Then the policeman, in shape of Speaker, appeared on scene, and for awhile there was silence on the back benches, and dullness regained its sway.
Business done.—Second Reading Irish Land Bill moved.
Campbell-Bannerman and his National Emblem (Unsuited to the Convenience of a Button-hole).