Thursday, March 25th.—The Prime Minister was rather husky this afternoon. He had been having a strenuous time with the miners and possibly some of the coal-dust had got into his throat. But his spirit is unabated, and he flatly refused to withdraw his charge that the trade unions, by refusing to modify their regulations, are holding up the building industry.
In connection with the proposal to raise the Tube fares, Mr. Will Thorne inquired whether this would not mean an increase of two pounds a week in the expenditure of some families, and, on the figure being challenged, said that it was quite correct, for one of the families was his own. Members entered into rapid calculations on their Order Papers with the view of discovering how many olive-branches had sprung from this Thorne.
After Mr. Asquith's "prave 'orts" at the National Liberal Club the mildness of his criticism upon the Government's foreign policy sadly disappointed his more ardent supporters. His only concrete suggestion was that we should surrender our mandate for Mesopotamia and retire to the coast, and this did not meet with much approval.
THE INDIARUBBER BLOKE.
The train ran into Victoria Station and pandemonium.
A struggling mass of people trying to get out, another mass trying to get in; everybody pushing and muttering, grunting and groaning; and above all the howling of the Specially Selected Band of Hustlers in their now famous and unpopular performance:—
"'Urry up off the car, please. Wait till they're all off. Move right down the centre, please. Wot are you doin' there? Come orf it if you're comin' orf. Get a move on, please. 'Urry up on board. Come on there. Right behind."
A siren shrilled and we were moving again.
"Can't you set the kid down, Mother?" said a voice. "You can't carry her like that. Be quiet, 'Enry, will you."