| First Boy. "Give us a Bite of your Apple, Bob." | Second Boy. "Shan't." |
| First Boy. "What for?" | Second Boy. "'Cos yer axed me!" |
(After a pause.)
Small Boy. "Gi' me a Bite, Bob. I never axed yer!"
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday Night, April 8.—House to-night presented that appearance seen only on big occasions. Long unfamiliar in slough of despond in which present House been steeped since Session opened. Every seat on either side occupied. Members sitting on Gangway steps, flooding the side galleries, blocking the Bar, peopling even the steps of the Chair. Arthur Peel is leaving historic stage graced through eleven years in fashion that has added fresh fame to an illustrious name. On ordinary occasions when Speaker rises to address House on current topics of business, Members who chance to have their hats on keep them there. Now, when the stately figure is discovered standing under the canopy of the Chair, Members without concert, but with one accord, bare their heads. Throughout a moving scene, which crammed much into fifteen minutes, nothing more striking than this simultaneous, swift uncovering of the head, and the transformation that followed when the rare sunlight, streaming in from western windows, fell upon five hundred unshaded faces all turned towards the tall, gowned figure standing by the Chair.
The speech will be read to-morrow by millions, who will find it word for word and sentence by sentence in the newspapers. But the reader will gain but faint idea of the impression the delivery produced. The historic place, the animated scene, the electric current of such a gathering, were much. The effect was perfected by the elocution of the Speaker, perhaps the most perfect development of an attractive but dangerous art possessed by living man.