with last drop of blood; Radical Separatists rapped on knuckles for suggesting handing over; then we wake up, and find it's been handed over, and by the Markiss! Tell you what it is, Toby, think I shall cut this business; not brought up to politics; find them a little weakening."

The Ladies' Man.

Old Morality announced programme for remainder of Session. In bulk something exceeding ordinary programme when brought in in February. Now it is the so-called June; every prospect of sitting till October; House groans and growls; terrible charges flying round; Winterbotham darkly accuses Cabinet Minister of keeping a public-house. Hicks-Beach admits soft impeachment, but pleads it's "only a little one, brings me in only £20 a-year rent." "Miserable!" says Newnes, who owns Tit Bits.

General feeling of sympathy with Beach. Winterbotham apologises; if he'd known it was only £20 wouldn't have said anything. Old Morality, in his kind way, presses Beach's hand; has troubles of his own to bear; but a man who owns a public-house and draws only £20 a-year from it, takes precedence in sympathy.

Over stern conflict and cantankerous sitting, Plunket sheds beam of genial humour. Tim Healy asks if there could not be lift arranged to Ladies' Gallery. "Too expensive," says Plunket. "Too dear, he means," murmurs Howorth, who runs Dick Temple close in his devotion to the Ladies. "Why," objects George Campbell, whose eye nothing escapes, "there is already a lift for coal. Why not substitute Ladies for coal?"

"You see," said Plunket, smilingly, "we cannot do either without coal or without Ladies, and it is difficult to combine them in a lift."

George Campbell not sure. When he has time to withdraw his thoughts from Central Asia, will look into the matter.

Business done.—In Committee on Compensation Bill. Ministerial majority reduced to 29.

Thursday.—"I really can't do it," said Maclure. "Oh, you must," said Chaplin; "hard work, I know, but put on a spurt and there you are."

"Wish I was there," said Maclure, mopping his forehead. "All very well for slim young thing like you; but seventeen stun isn't the form for a short spin, especially with these confounded steps." Scene—passage by Cloak-room into House of Commons; time 5·19 P.M.; bell ringing furiously; Division imminent; Penrose Fitzgerald with jacket shorter than ever, trousers turned up with a grace that maddens with envy. Bobby Spencer and Lewisham, on watch at top of staircase.

"Come along!" he shouts; "dividing on First Clause of Compensation Bill; Sage of Queen Anne's Gate sprung a mine on us; got all their men here; ours down at Ascot; wouldn't be you for a quarter's salary, Chaplin. Hurry up! hurry up! Put your best leg forward, Maclure!"

"That's all very well," said Maclure, testily; "but which is my best leg?"

On Outpost Duty.

The two heavy-weights pounded gallantly along; been to Ascot; thought they'd be back in plenty of time for Division; and here's Division-bell at its last shake. Hartington come up with them; striding ahead; wins easily; Chaplin reaches door of House just as it is closing; with tremendous effort, Maclure pulls himself together; throws himself on doorway; nothing could stand rush like that; door bursts open; Maclure and Compensation Bill saved. A very close shave. When Division taken, 228 vote for Government, 224 against; majority Four—the four who raced up the staircase hot from Ascot.

Crowded House in wild excitement. Sage of Queen Anne's Gate consumed in bitterness of spirit. "If we'd divided half an hour ago we should have had majority of 25; a quarter of an hour ago, ten minutes ago, five minutes ago, sixty seconds earlier, we'd have won. But those Irish Shylocks must have their pound of verbosity. Couldn't resist temptation of putting an extra question, even for certainty of defeating Government. When they're once started on subject of shadowing, they go off by the hour."

"Well, never mind," said Gorst; "you know it isn't the first time in history that men have sacrificed the substance for the shadow."

Business done.—The Government's—very nearly.

Friday.—Home Secretary in the Dock; Sir William Harcourt, Q.C., instructed by Mr. Henry Fowler (Messrs. Corser, Fowler, & Langley, Wolverhampton), prosecuted. Prisoner, who was accommodated with a seat, conducted his own defence. After long consultation, Jury could not agree, and were discharged without a verdict.

Business done.—Metropolitan Police Vote agreed to.

THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.

Monday.—Carmen. Zélie is the accepted Carmen this season—no better; and Maggie Macintyre as Michaela, which, being an awkward name to pronounce, might be abbreviated to Mickie. Dan Drady the Dramatic, excellent as Escamillo. One singer in a season plays many parts, and one part is played by several singers. How would a theatre succeed conducted on this plan, so that the same play should be produced on certain nights with a different cast? Here is Dan Drady, for example; he plays Escamillo, tragi-comedy, one night; another time he is the noble San Bris in Les Huguenots; another, he is Figaro the loquacious Barber of Seville; another, he is the devil-may-care gallant Don Giovanni; and, though best in serious parts, he is good in all of them. On other occasions, when Carmen is given, the cast will be changed; some other singer will represent Escamillo, or someone will replace Maggie as Mickie; Ravelli the Reliable will have been Don José once, and then Montariol or Ybos (why Boss? Can't yet make this out), or even Jean de Reszké may represent the nincompoop soldier. Suppose A Pair of Spectacles, with a change of cast, Mr. Hare out of it occasionally, and Mr. ... Ah! there's the difficulty, Mr. Who, taking his part. Imagine Faust without Irving as Mephistopheles. What a big Company it would require! No; better leave well alone.