"Obstruction!"
Lord Advocate coming back from visiting him, finds passage obstructed by Arthur Balfour. Shall he jump over, or crawl under? Either difficult on August day for a stout gentleman. So whispers across barricade that "Smith's much cut up," and sits down on hither side.
Business done.—All Scotch.
Thursday.—Very small attendance in Commons. Considerably over forty remain on Opposition Benches to support Sage of Queen Anne's Gate's demand for Adjournment, in order to discuss cost and consequences of Drummond Wolfe's pic-nic in the East. Soon as gained consent, general exodus, and Sage cheerfully chats across deserted floor with Goschen, who takes incessant notes. John Dillon, who, what with intolerable interposition of Scotland yesterday, has not made speech since Tuesday, breaks in and shows that, next to Ireland, Egypt is most distressful country that ever yet was seen. Conversation drags along till after Ten o'Clock, when it dies of sheer inanition. Then Government Allotment Bill on. Harcourt makes discovery that it promises only one acre and no cow at all. Goschen hauled up again to whipping-post. Taunted with sudden conversion to principle of compulsion. True, didn't like compulsion. Had always said so, but "impossible for a single member of a Government to carry out his views on every point;" whereat Opposition grinned.
Business done.—Allotments Bill read Second Time.
"Clywch! Clywch!"
Friday.—Some sensation in moderately crowded House at Question Time, when report ran round Benches that Sir John Puleston, Knight, was approaching. Slight reaction of disappointment when he entered. Vague, though prevalent notion, he'd come down in knightly costume, with vizor down (or up, as the case may be), armed "cap and pie," as Gent-Davis says, with lance in rest, and Squire in attendance. On contrary, lounged in just as if nothing had happened, with slightly preoccupied look and little start of surprise when congratulated on honour Government had done itself. "Oh! ah! yes! Know what you mean. Thanks. It's very hot, ain't it?" he said, making way through throng of congratulators. "Clywch! Clywch!" roared Abraham, humorously looking over newspaper announcing Knighthood.
"What's the matter with you?" I asked. "What are you clucking about?"