Comes the blind Fury."
Nothing in the world less like a blind Fury than our dear Leader, as he sits on Treasury Bench bearing brunt of protest from every side. Very sorry; desirous of meeting convenience of Hon. Members in whatever part of House they sit. But duty has first call. Duty to Queen and country demands partial sacrifice of Tuesdays.
Motion carried, and this the last Tuesday Private Members will enjoy. Must make the most of it. Compton on first, with Motion setting forth grievances of Postal Telegraph Clerks. Excellent Debate, and Division over by eight o'clock. Still four hours' work. Mark Stewart has next place. Stewart has Marked necessity for Reform of Constitution in proceedings of Fiars Courts in Scotland. Thinks functions of Fiars' Juries should be extended. Rare opportunity for House of Commons to master this question. True, it is dinner-time; but what is dinner compared with the national interest smouldering under these Fiars? Besides, it's our last Tuesday.
"We must make the most of this," says Albert Rollit to Richard Temple. "Yes," says Richard Temple, with effusion. "Glad you're staying on. Wouldn't do to be Counted Out to-night."
Rollit, thinking he's got Temple all right, walks off by front hall door; Temple, certain that Rollit will stay, executes strategic retreat by corridor, leading past dining-room to central hall. Same thing going on in a hundred other cases, "Must see this through," One says to the Other. "By all means," the Other says to One. Then One and the Other saunter out of the Lobby, quicken their steps when they get into outer passage, and speed out of Palace Yard as quick as Hansom would fly.
Mark Stewart still puffing away at the Fiars; House gradually emptying, till no one left but the Lord Advocate and George Campbell. Presently Campbell strides forth. Somebody moves that Lord Advocate be Counted. Speaker finds he's not forty. ("I'm really forty-five, you know," Lord Advocate pleads.) No Quorum. So at a quarter past eight House Counted Out. "Hard on you, Stewart," the Lord Advocate said, as the two walked through the deserted chamber. "Must have spent good deal of trouble on your speech. Subject so interesting, too; pity to lose it; advise you to have it printed in leaflet form, and distributed. So in your ashes would live your wonted Fiars, as was appropriately remarked by Burns." Stewart said he would think about it.
Business done.—Compton's Resolution declaring position of telegraphists unsatisfactory negatived by 142 votes against 103.
Thursday.—"Better have a nip of something short," said Jackson, friendly Bottle Holder, to Chancellor of the Exchequer, he too in Jokim's room finally revising notes for Budget Speech.
"No," said Jokim, shaking his head, and wistfully regarding the Port decanter; "it wouldn't do. Think of what I have to say in my speech about the drink traffic. It's drink that has created our Surplus. Can't help the Surplus, but must say a word in condemnation of drink. Would never do to have me enforcing my argument with sips out of a tumbler. Suppose, when I came to the question, 'Who drinks the rum?' Tanner were to point to the tumbler and shout across the House, 'You do.' Where would we be? Where would Her Majesty's Government be? No, Jackson, old fellow, you mean well, and a sip of Port, with or without an egg, in course of three hours' speech, is a comfort. But it mustn't be;" and Jokim turned resolutely away from decanter.
