EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Lords, Monday, July 9.—Playfair's leonine countenance habitually cheerful. But never saw him looking so pleased as when we walked through St. Stephen's Chapel on way to Lords just now. "From point of view of old House of Commons man the Lords are, I admit, a little unresponsive," my Lord said. "The chamber is, acoustically and otherwise, the sepulchre of speech. You remember the little lecture on margarine I delivered years ago in the Commons? Bless me, how delighted the House was to see the table covered with small white pots containing samples, with a bottle of best Dorset margarine hooked on to the Mace for greater convenience of reference. Often I've enchained an audience with my object lessons. Up to present time that monologue on margarine ranks as most successful. But I'll beat the record to-night. See that?" (Here he slapped a something bulging out from his trouser pocket.) "Guess what that is? Thought you couldn't. It's cultch. Know what cultch is?"
"Not unless it's the beginning of knowledge," I said, drawing a bow, so to speak, at a venture. "Positive cultch, comparative culture, eh?"
Playfair stared at me vacantly. "Cultch——" he said; "but no, that's part of the lecture. Come along to the Lords and hear it."
Suggested Statues for the Vacant Niches in the Inner Lobby.
No. I.—"The Majesty of the Law!"
House not in condition particularly inspiring for lecturer. Benches mostly empty; Stanley of Alderley completed depletion by rambling speech of half an hour's duration, modestly described in Orders as "a question." Wanted to know how many lighthouses in England and Wales paid Income Tax; how many were behindhand with their rates; were Death Duties applicable to some of them; if so, which; and whether the tenants compounded for rates or otherwise. These inquiries not without interest, but Stanley not chiefly remarkable for concentration of thought or conciseness of phrase.
At length Playfair's turn came. A flutter of interest amongst Peers as he was observed tugging at something in trousers pocket; hauled out what looked like empty oyster shell.
"Ah!" said Herschell, smiling, "I see the lawyers have been before us."