responsive smile.

"Well," said he, "of all the rollicking dogs I ever came across, there never was a pack to equal Her Majesty's Ministers in the hour of defeat."

Business done.—Buchanan's Right of Way Motion carried against Government by 110 against 97.

Wednesday.—"I like this quite quiet hour, Toby," said the Speaker, as I sat on the Treasury Bench, he at Table, waiting for a quorum. "It gives me opportunity of reading in Freeman's Journal verbatim reports of speeches by Tanner, Sheehy, and William Redmond. Heard them delivered, of course; but there are some pleasures one likes to renew."

Should have begun business at twelve; now getting on for one. Albert Rollit in charge of Bankruptcy Bill with back to wall waiting for a quorum. "Must see," he says, "if I can't frame Clause dealing specially with Parliamentary proceedings. We shall shortly be bankrupt here if this sort of thing goes on. Composition of four and a-half hours' sitting on Wednesday afternoon scarcely enough to justify honourable discharge."

Everything comes to man who waits. Quorum came for Rollit. Numbers increased as he proceeded with singularly lucid address, investing even Bankruptcy with subtle charms. Gave the tone to thoroughly business Debate; and, even in less than the maimed period of time allotted, had carried his Bill through Second Reading.

Business done.—Bankruptcy Bill read Second Time.

Thursday.—John O'Connor pervading House with profoundest mystery. When Orders of Day called on, John rose to his full height (6 foot 4 of human kindness and geniality), and said, "Mr. Speaker!" Motion was, that House should go into Committee of Supply. According to New Rules, Speaker leaves Chair without putting Question; Question not put, obvious no one could discuss it. But here was John insisting on catching the Speaker's eye.

"Mr. Speaker!" he repeated, "I want to discuss some of the irregularities of the Government."

But Speaker had executed strategic retreat; Chair empty; John standing on tiptoe, followed retreating figure with despairing cry, "Mr. Speaker!" House half hoped Speaker would return; dying with curiosity to know what fresh irregularity on part of Government John had discovered; but no help for it. Chair empty; technically "No House;" and John, slowly subsiding, shutting up like a reluctant telescope, resumed seat.

Prince Arthur, back from Golf at Eastbourne, looking better for his holiday, lounged on Treasury Bench watching scene. "Alas!" he cried, eyeing John with dreamy glance, what time the fingers of his hand—a strayed reveller—fitfully played with the rolled copy of his Orders, as if it were his cherished Mandoline—