  Possible but improbable Scene in the Upper House, which perhaps Mr. J-hn B-rns, M.P., may "regret he did not see." House of Lords, Tuesday.—Remember one night in years gone by, whilst Hartington was still with us in the Commons, he interrupted one of his own speeches by a portentous yawn. Complimented him on the feat; few men, I said, would have the pluck to do it; might yawn at other people's speeches, but never at their own. "Ah, Toby," said County Guy, "you don't know how dem'd dull the speech was. You only had to listen to some of it. I had to deliver it all." Supporting the Crown. Supporting the Crown. Thought of this to-night listening to old friend in Lords, now scarcely disguised as Duke of Devonshire. Spoke for nearly two hours. Those who read it will find speech admirable; one of the best, most weighty, indictments of Home Rule and the tactics that have brought it into position of Ministerial measure. But alack! for those who heard it, or, at least, sat through the two hours; not many, all told; an hour enough for The Macullum More; other Peers on both sides of House folded their tents like the Arab, and as silently stole away. The Markiss gallantly kept his place, sitting for some time with closed eyes, the better to concentrate his attention. Prince Arthur and Joey C.—lovely in the Commons, in the Lords not divided—stood sturdily on either side of the Throne. "The Lion and the Unicorn supporting the Crown," said Rosebery, glancing across at them. The Devonshire Yawn. The Devonshire Yawn. For the ladies in the gallery, mothers and daughters, Devonshire not so attractive a parti as was Hartington. Still, he is a pillar of the Union, a brand snatched from the burning pile to which the wicked hand of Mr. G. applied the traitrous torch. So they sat and listened—half an hour, three-quarters of an hour, an hour. Then was heard the light rustle of dainty dresses; doors softly opened along the Gallery; for a moment a fair figure stood framed in it, with guilty glance around to see if she was observed; then, with winning "back-in-five-minutes" look on innocent face, she hastily stepped out. The Duke saw none of these things nor cared for them. He had a duty to perform, and long before Old Morality was heard of, the Cavendishes did their duty. He plodded on through the melancholy night; stolidly turning over the pages of his notes; stubbornly repressing a growing tendency to yawn; catching his voice up when it wearily sank to the level of his boots; making most pathetic effort to keep it going. Usually it fell away at the end of the third or fourth sentence, to be pulled up with harsh jerk at commencement of one that followed. A good man struggling with the adversity of having to make a speech on a topic harried to death in the other House through course of over eighty days. "Yes," said the Member for Sark, waking up from gentle slumber indulged in in corner seat at end of Gallery; "but why didn't he halve his adversity? If he'd been content with an hour we should all have been grateful, and he would have been spared a moiety of his anguish." Business done.—Second Reading of Home-Rule Bill moved in House of Lords. Thursday.—Again a crowded assembly in Lords to-night to hear its most brilliant Member. The Bishops, in great force, clustered, a group of fluttering white lawn, on right of Woolsack. "The white flower of a blameless Parliamentary life," the Markiss says of them. Not an inch of red benches visible on Opposition side. Even Ministerial benches full, though, as was made clear in course of debate, not all who sit there are Ministerialists. Rosebery, looking more boyish than ever, sat amid the elders on Front Bench; makes no sign of intention to follow Selborne; takes no note nor betrays other evidence of uneasiness. Selborne preaches for hour and half. Understood to be sermon worthy of his fame; we Commoners in gallery over bar could hear only fragmentary portions of sentences. Reported that Selborne had lost his notes; Member for Sark recognises most kindly interposition of Providence. "If he speaks for hour and half with only recollection of his notes where would he have been if he had them?" Must get Weir to put that conundrum to Chancellor of the Exchequer. Grateful to Rosebery, since at least we can hear him, though he, too, now and then falls into habit of dropping end of sentence. This the less excusable, since none of them are heavy. A clever speech, scarcely obscuring what seems to be difficult position. "Dancing among the eggs," is Balfour of Burghley's commentary. Of all listeners in the brilliant throng none so attentive as the Markiss. Seems, on the whole, to like speech better than does Spencer. "Reminds me, Toby," Markiss says, "of what Lovelace wrote to Lucasta, 'on going to the wars.' How does it run? I could not love Home Rule so much Loved I not Gladstone more." In the Commons pegging away at estimates; occasional explosions; Joseph, popping in from Lords, said a few genial words just to keep matters going, and disappeared again. Came back after midnight in time to have a round with Squire of Malwood. 'Finished.' "Finished." Uneasy feeling prevalent consequent on announcement made early in sitting that charwoman employed in service of House has died of cholera. This regarded as being exceedingly inconsiderate. Questions usually every day about cholera at Grimsby and Hull. That all very well; an incident possible to regard with philosophical mind. But cholera in our own kitchen quite another sort of microbe. "I'm a family man," said Cobb. "It's no use denying it, and I will not attempt it. Was thinking of staying to see this out; begin to think the Session unduly prolonged. In short, if I may quote an old proverb adapted to the occasion, I would say, When cholera comes in by the window Cobb goes out by the door." Business done.—Third night Home-Rule debate in Lords. Supply in Commons. Saturday, 1 A.M.—All up with Little Bill-ee. His worst fears are realised. Whilst Captain Willyum: has been having a quiet, restful time among the heather, Guzzling Bob and Gorging Harty have worked their wicked will on the Innocent. Snickersees have been drawn; blows have been dealt; the hunger of Ulster has been satisfied; Little Bill-ee has been killed and eaten. "Just so," said the Lord Chancellor from behind his wig; "a meal eagerly partaken of. Now we've nothing to do but to wait awhile, and see how it agrees with them. You remember, Toby, the letters engraved on the tomb of her late husband by the sorrowing widow in Ohio? S. Y. L. 'See you later,' she explained to inquiring friends, was its portent. S. Y. L., Little Bill-ee, S. Y. L.!" Business done.—Lords throw out Home-Rule Bill by 419 Votes against 41. Sartorial."Naked and not ashamed" our "Interests" stand, "Scourge of our Toil, monopolist of our Land!" So someone says. But 'twill be found, if tested, These "naked" interests are mostly vested. A Real "Mayor's Nest."—The platform (presided over by the Mayor of Bristol) on the occasion of the opening of the Bristol Fine Art and Industrial Exhibition. (See Illustrated Papers passim.) Motto for a Man Reprieved from the Gallows.—No noose is good news.
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