Effect of Bill upon Caldwell a little painful to Members sitting near him. Lashed himself into appalling fury. Desiring, with national economic instinct, to make one effort simultaneously serve two purposes, he pitched his voice in a key upon which, whilst ostensibly addressed to Speaker in Chair, it might be heard in Glasgae. Something weird-looking about Caldwell when he thus from his seat in House of Commons whispers in ear of constituents in far-off Lanark. The startled stranger crossing Palace Yard and hearing the voice grow more thundrous as he advances, pictures to himself a man in a towering rage. Reaching House he will find upright behind Treasury Bench a man decently dressed in black, without the slightest flash of expression on his face, roaring with volume of sound that would cause to blush any stray bull of Bashan meditatively making its way down Sauciehall Street, pricking up its ears at the reverberation brought northward across the timorous Tweed.
As Cawmel-Bannerman, suffering on the bench below, observed, "It really doesn't seem fair that a man should, with perfectly placid face and mien, continuously roar in this fashion. If he were in Glasgae under this Police Bill, he would immediately be wrapped up in a decent cloth and fined forty shillings."
Business done.—Asquith moves for leave to bring in Welsh Disestablishment Bill. "Sheer political cant of the most nauseous kind," was Hicks-Beach's genial description of Home Secretary's argument.
Tuesday.—"The world," said Chesney, speaking just now in debate on Everett's motion, "is divided into two classes, people who understand the subject, and people who do not. The former are all bimetallist, the latter are gradually going over."
I fancy I must be going over; certainly I don't understand the subject. Thankful, therefore, for opportunity to hear Everett discourse on it. A tall, grave-looking man, with a touch of sadness suggestive of long brooding over bimetallic theories. In fullness of design to instruct House, went back all the way to Julius Cæsar. Finally arrived in Garden of Eden; recalled fact that originally, in time of primeval peace and prosperity, two people walked in it. This principle of duality ran through everything. "There are, for example," said Everett, swinging his pince-nez between finger and thumb in convincing manner, "white corn and red corn, white grapes and black grapes." ("White sand and grey sand," hummed Wilfrid Lawson, waking up out of sleep.) "Nature has given to each of us two eyes for the common purpose of sight, two ears to hear withal, two hands and two legs." ("What about the Isle of Man?" asked Rochfort Maguire. "Understand they have three legs there.")
"We are created in two sexes," Everett continued, half closing his eyes and paying no attention to the voice of the scorner; "whose highest purpose is fulfilled only when they are married."
Here he opened his eyes and glanced significantly at Maguire. Rochfort blushed. Wished he hadn't interfered.
These arguments, new in controversy of long standing, proved surprisingly conclusive. Squire of Malwood spoke for hour and a half, vehemently declaring that he would have nothing to do with bimetallism, would not touch it with a pair of tongs.
"Sorry to interrupt the right hon. gentleman," said Everett; "but he has just alluded to another instance of the infinitude of the principle of duality. Did any hon. Member ever see a tong? No, always a pair. Toujours two, as the French say."