ouse of Commons, Tuesday, February 11.—"How do you do, Toby? A merry New Session and many of them."
It was Old Morality who spoke; his kindly face beamed on me; his friendly hand grasped mine. Walked up the floor together through the old familiar scene. Benches crowded, though a vacant seat here and there: Hartington's for example. Everybody sorry to hear he's been ill, and glad to think of him enjoying the sunlight of Monte Carlo. Grand Old Man more Grand and less Old than ever; just up from Oxford; passed very well, it is said. Comes into Parliament with every prospect of distinguishing himself; his maiden speech looked for with much interest.
"I think I'll put it off for a month or two, Toby," he said, blushing with the ingenuousness of youth. "You see I'm so fresh from college, that it would ill become me to plunge into public affairs. It's all very well for a young fellow like me to get up at the Union; but here it's different. You're very good to say that great things are expected of me; but, if you please, I'll keep in the background a bit. I'll feel my feet first, as they used to say in the nursery, in what seems only yesterweek."
Very nice this of him. Wish all young fellows fresh from the University, even when they have taken honours, were equally modest.
"Haven't seen you since we met at Greenlands' icy mountains in the Recess," Old Morality said, continuing our conversation interrupted by the cheers that greeted our arrival. "You remember how bitterly cold the day was? Rather thought you hurried away. Wish you could have stayed to luncheon. We happened to have something succulent. However, you must come and dine in my room behind the Speaker's Chair; Akers-Douglas will show you the way. We do it pretty snug there, I can tell you. What sort of a Session shall we have? Who can tell? Usual sort of thing, I suppose. We shall bring in a lot of Bills; Gentlemen opposite will talk some of them out; at Easter and Whitsuntide Recesses we shall squeeze a stage of some through, under pressure of the holidays; then three weeks in June and most of July will be wasted; and in August we'll suspend Standing Orders, and ram through everything we can. As for me, I shall endeavour to do my duty to the Queen, to the Country, and to the Members of this House, in whichever part they sit. Did you ever, dear Toby, consider how a kettle boils? The water nearest to the fire is first heated, and (being heated) rises to the top. Its place is supplied by colder portions, which are heated in turn, and this interchange takes place till all the water is boiling hot. That is how we shall get through the Session. The Report of the Parnell Commission, being most heated, will rise to the top first. Then the Tithes Bill, Land Purchase, the Education question, and one or two other little matters will follow, till we're all in boiling water. Good-bye now; don't forget to come across Akers-Douglas about Eight o'Clock."
Business done.—Session opened.
Killing for a Shilling.—Lord Wolseley (who seems to have read the regulations governing communications from soldiers to the Press in a very liberal spirit) has published an article on the British Army in the pages of an American Twelvepenny Magazine. The contribution is embellished with sketches of the costumes of Tommy Atkins and his predecessors. For the rest, some of the letterpress is sufficiently alarming to warrant "Our Only General" in assuming a title which he apparently appears to covet—that of a "Shilling Shocker!"