"Hoightytoighty!" said John William. "What does the man mean? What is he doing at the bar if he objects to the smell of what he calls drains, meaning nips? What is the particular flavour that offends his sensibilities? Is it whiskey or rum? Who is he that he should interfere with the private tastes of hon. Members? To complain of the smell of drains at the bar at a time when the British electorate have, by overwhelming majorities, declared against any tampering with The Trade interests, is too much from a man who has shared in the benefit derived on our side by the wholesome current of public opinion."
Never saw John William so put about. Usually brimming over with good living and fine feeling.
Business done.—Some votes in Committee of Supply.
Wednesday.—Stanley delivered maiden speech. Did it very well, too. A double contribution to success. First, subject (slave trade in Africa) one of which he knows something. Second, he made no effort to orate. Hooked his arm, so to speak, with that of Chairman of Committees; walked him up and down, talking in colloquial fashion. Has good voice, which doesn't need uplifting; in the higher notes one catches the faint echo of a foreign tongue.
Sharing pleasure of Committee at his speech, he volunteered a second. Dangerous experiment this. But particular incentive gave it a turn of fresh attraction. Parker Smith, criticising first speech, and differing from its conclusions, accused Stanley of trading on his reputation. Ever seen a boy in the playing-ground go up to another, clench his fists, hoist his right shoulder, and ask him to "say that again"? Thus Stanley to Parker Smith, sitting on same bench near him. Of course he put thing in Parliamentary fashion.
"I don't recollect," he drawled, "saying anything to inspire my hon. friend to make such a charge, and"—here he bent over P. S., fixing him with glittering eye—"I beg he won't make any such remarks in the future."
Before fervered fancy of Member for Partick there lashed a vision of two new books from pen of the great explorer. The first volume was entitled How I Found Parker Smith. The second bore the legend How I Left Him. Only one thing to do. Apologise. This P. S. did with alacrity.
Stanley Falls—on his feet!