class="sc">Cadogan in good time at House of Lords to-day. Denman got first place with Motion for Second Reading of his Bill extending Municipal Franchise in Ireland. Cadogan to move rejection of Measure in name of Government.

"I must be firm," he said, as he turned up his trousers over his white spats. "Denman a terrible fellow when he's roused."

House pretty full when Denman appeared at table in position of Leader of Opposition. An ordinary Member not connected with either present or late Government, usually speaks from Bench on which he is accustomed to sit. Denman preferred conveniences of table. Most interesting speech, what could be heard of it. Good deal about Sir Robert Peel; occasional reference to Palmerston; some reminiscences of early journey in railway-carriage in Stephenson's time; a passing remark as to the weather, and probable state of the crops on this day six months. But, as Cadogan subsequently remarked, nothing whatever about the Bill. Lords in an awkward position. Had the scene been in the Commons, and the elderly grey-haired gentleman at the table been merely returned by a constituency, the case would have been different. Might have been howled down in a few moments. But with a Peer of the Realm, a hereditary legislator, a personage whose vote might in certain conceivable circumstances suffice to throw out a Bill which had received sanction of House of Commons, it is, as Granville says, une autre paire de manches. If anyone whispered that Denman had a tile off, whither would the admission lead us? A Peer is a man—or rather, a Being—of a special, superlative order. Admitted within that order, he becomes, ipso facto, a person of extraordinary intelligence, keen intellect, ripe judgment, irreproachable character.

A little awkward that Denman should seem to be rambling. If he were a Commoner, might even be called incoherent. Being a Peer, some forty or fifty other Peers sat through twenty minutes with polite assumption of listening. But there is a substratum of human nature even in the Peerage. When Denman, à propos of the Municipal Franchise in Ireland, began to talk about Columbus's egg, there was a murmur of impatience; when he slid into the Panama Canal the murmur grew to a shout. Awhile, amid stormy cries for the Division, the House of Lords resembled the House of Commons.

After brief struggle with unwonted elements, Denman resumed seat; Bill thrown out, and with regained equanimity noble Lords turned to next business. To their horror, Denman up again at table; forgotten to mention a particular circumstance connected with Columbus's egg. "Perhaps their Lordships——" But this too much. At whatever risk to Peerage as a body, Denman must be shouted down. So they roared at him with cries of "Order!" he standing regarding them with looks of pained surprise. Was it possible they declined to hear more about Columbus's egg? "Order! Order!" they roared, Bath leading the onslaught.

"It is you, my Lords, who are disorderly," said Denman, and with head erect, and tall figure carried with pathetic dignity, he strode back to Cross Benches, and sat down in seat of Prince Of Wales.

Business done.—Budget Bill in Commons.

Thursday.—All the blood of his great predecessor in spoliation, Henry the Eighth, just now swelled in the bosom of James Stuart Allanson Tudor Picton. Prince Arthur responsible for the flood. Question about meeting announced to be held in Mid-Tipperary next Sunday. Prince Arthur has, it seems, prohibited it. John Morley wants to know why? There was, he says, public meeting held in same place last month, addressed by English Members; that not proclaimed. What was the difference between meeting addressed by Irish Members, and another by English Members, that one should be taken and the other left?

Pease (with Honour).

"The difference is," said Prince Arthur, speaking with embarrassed air, as if the distinction was dragged out of him, "that the result of the meeting addressed by Irish Members was to produce intimidation, whilst the result of the other was, I should say, nil."

If James Stuart Allanson Tudor Picton had only lived in the times of his great predecessor, and wielded his power, Prince Arthur would forthwith have been conducted to Tower Hill, and shortened by a head. Why he (James, &c.) was at this meeting at Mid-Tipperary last month! He, standing on a butter-tub, had addressed the men of Tipperary; the echo of his eloquence still filled the dales, whilst the hills reverberated with the cheers of the men of Tipperary. For this insolent hireling of a Coercionist Government to speak in tones of studied slight of such a demonstration was more than J. S. A. T. P. could stand. If our two giants, John O'Connor and Henry Pease had not joined hands and held him back, gore would have sprinkled the precincts of the Treasury Bench. As it was, the subject dropped, and House proceeded to discuss Budget Bill.

Business done.—A good lead.

Friday.—House adjourned for holidays. "When we come back," says Old Morality, "we must really begin work. Playtime up to now; left most of the work over; must buckle to. We've been in some danger, and there may be more ahead. Why are persons sometimes killed by leaning over beer-vats? Because vats, when beer has been made, contain large quantities of carbonic acid gas, produced by the vinous fermentation of the beer; and when a man incautiously leans over a beer-vat and inhales the carbonic acid, he is killed thereby. It is, of course, not quite the same in respect of spirits. Still, when a Chancellor of Exchequer has clapped on sixpence a gallon on whiskey, it is as well for his colleagues to avoid looking a Scotch hogshead or an Irish puncheon in the face. Au plaisir, cher Toby. Come along, Jackson!"

The two Right Honourables go off together, Jackson evidently turning over in his mind Old Morality's observations on the beer-vat.

"A wonderful man," he says, "his mind stored with odd bits of information, which he draws upon for enlightenment upon ordinary events of daily life. Don't exactly see, though, how he rolled in that beer-vat. Must think it over during the Recess."

Everyone glad to hail Jackson "Right Honourable." A proud title, as yet not spoiled by indiscriminate distribution. Suffices for Gladstone, as it did for Peel; suits Jackson exactly.

Business done.—Winding up for Whitsuntide. Adjourn for holidays till Monday, June 2nd.

THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.

From the Note-book of Mr. Pips Senior.—Monday, May 19.—To the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. First night of the Season. The house infinite full, and the Prince of