Nor furl your sails—is not my harbour dry?
Nought but one vast, forsaken tomb am I.
But steer for other lands, from sorrow free,
Where, by a happier and more prosp'rous shore,
Your anchor ye may drop, and rest your oar.'"
"Not at all," I said.
Rather an inadequate remark, I see, when I come to write it down. I'd say something better if the MARKISS would repeat the lines.
Business done.—MARKISS announces Resignation of Ministry.
House of Commons, Thursday.—House seems to have been meeting all day. Began at three o'clock: Sitting suspended at half-past; resumed at 4.30; off again till nine; might have been continued indefinitely through night, only thunderstorm of unparalleled ferocity burst over Metropolis, and put an end to further manœuvring. "Bless me!" tremulously murmured Lord SALISBURY's Black Man, as a peal of thunder shook Clock Tower, and lighted up House of Lords with lurid flame, "if these are home politics, wish I'd stayed in far-off Ind."