(Lord Curzon and Lord Lansdowne.)
It happened thus. On opening night Lord Londonderry, making his way along Peers' Gallery in Commons, came upon extraordinary sight. A stranger on front seat overlooking sacred quarter allotted to Peers, finding himself incommoded by hat and overcoat, neatly folded up the latter, dropped it on the Peers' bench beneath and carefully placed his hat upon it. Hadn't Lloyd George demonstrated that the land belonged to the people? Here was undeveloped space. As a free man he claimed it for his own uses.
Londonderry, halting, angrily regarded the incumbrance. Turned about with evident intention of calling attendant's notice to unparalleled liberty. At that moment his eye fell on the countenance of the stranger. Could it be? Yes; it was the school proprietor whose patriotic offer of aid to Ulster in approaching civil war he had a few days earlier reported to an admiring nation. Letter offered to provide for two sons of any Ulster volunteer who fell in battle with the myrmidons of an iniquitous Ministry. As sometimes happens, pearl of the letter was hidden in the postscript. Writer explained that he could not very well go to the war himself but would send his partner.
Recognition placed new aspect on little affair. Londonderry perceived it was simple ignorance of customs of the place that led to apparent indiscretion. So with genial nod passed on to seat over the clock.
Few minutes later outraged attendant, catching sight of the bundle, peremptorily ordered its removal.
Business done.—By 243 votes against 55 Lords carried Middleton's amendment to Address demanding immediate dissolution. Willoughby de Broke communicated to the Member for Sark his conviction that this hide-bound Government will take no notice of the mandate.
"Reminds me," said the Bold Baron, brushing away a manly tear, "of a hymn I learned in the nursery:—
'Tis not enough to say
You're sorry and repent
If you go on in the same way