Fight for the Report of the Royal Commission.
"Halloa!" said the Sage to himself, "here's a Duke; let's throw arf a brick at him!"
So, with innocent manner and pretty assumption of ignorance of the presence in Peers' Gallery of the highly favoured young gentleman with the walking-stick, the Sage traced all the evils of Central Africa, leading directly up to the quarrel with Portugal, to the action of the British South Africa Company, of which the Duke of Fife, he said, was a Promoter and Director.
"Very odd thing that, Toby," said the Duke, under his breath, as he left the Gallery on tip-toe; "most remarkable coincidence; odds seemed to be a thousand to one against it; and yet it came off. Don't look into Peers' Gallery twice a year; yet on very night I happened to be there for five minutes, Labby on his legs and talking about Me!"
Business done.—Debate on Address.
Friday.—A dull night, uplifted, at outset, by powerful speech from Parnell, and, towards finish, by Colonel Saunderson riding in, and slashing off heads all round. After him came Sheehy. Splendid fellow, Sheehy; must see more of him.
"What you want is blood!" Sheehy shouted across the House at Balfour, lounging, dull and depressed, on Treasury Bench; "I repeat the phrase—Blood!"
"Blood," said Saunderson, carelessly passing his hand through the black locks that crown his lofty brow, "is not exactly a phrase. Besides, after eight hours of this, a cup of black coffee would be more in Balfour's way. But a good deal must be conceded to Sheehy. What a nation we are for genders! We had an O'Shea, we have an O'Hea; and here's a Shee-he. I have occasional differences with some of my countrymen; but I am proud of my country."
Business done.—Debate on Address.