“SUMER IS Y-CUMEN IN.”
Sir Robert Horne welcomes a useful ally.
Only Mr. Kipling could do full justice to the story of the abduction, pursuit and recapture—all within thirty-six hours—of an English lady at Peshawar. Even as officially narrated by Mr. Montagu it was sufficiently exciting. The most curious and reassuring fact was that all the actors in the drama, abductors and rescuers alike, were Afridis. It is to be hoped that this versatile community includes a cinematograph operator, and that a film will, like the lady, shortly be “released.”
The miners’ representatives made an unselfish protest against the increase in the price of coal. Although it would justify them in demanding a further increase in their present inadequate wage they did not believe it was necessary or, at any rate, urgent. Sir Robert Horne assured them that it was, and that the present moment—the season in happier days of “Lowest Summer Prices”—had been selected as the least inconvenient to the public.
Thursday, May 13th.—Ireland maintains its pre-eminence as the land of paradox. Among the hunger-strikers recently released from Mountjoy prison were (by an accident) several men who had actually been convicted. The House learned to its surprise that these men cannot be re-arrested, but are out for good (their own, though possibly not the community’s); whereas the untried (and possibly innocent) suspects may be re-arrested at any moment.
The new Profiteering Bill, which, to judge by the criticisms levelled against its exceptions and safeguards, will be about as effective as its predecessor, was read a third time. So was the Health Insurance Bill, but not until a few Independent Liberals, led by Captain Wedgwood Benn, had been rebuked for their obstructive tactics by Mr. Myers and Mr. Neil Maclean of the Labour Party. As the small hours grew larger this split in the Progressive ranks developed into a yawning chasm, and the Government got a third Bill passed before the weary House adjourned at six o’clock.
Sergeant. “’Old yer ’eads up! All the fag ends was picked up long afore you—— ’Ere, what the——?”
Old Soldier (who has produced a small note-book). “All right, Sergeant, I’m only keeping a record of the ‘fag end’ joke. I’ve now heard it two thousand four hundred and seventeen times.”