VOLUME II.

The die was now a-casting. Hurtled though devious windings far from ordered realms where the Syntax Queen holds sway, spinning this way and that like the whipped box-wood beloved of youth but deadly to the gout-ridden toes of the home-faring Alderman, now sinking to a fall, now impetuously whirled on a devil-dance, clamorous as Cocytus, the lost souls filling it to the brink, at last the meaning glimmered to the eye--not that wherein dead time hung just above the underlids, but the common reading eye a-thirst for meanings, baffled again and again and drooping a soporific lid slowly, nose a-snore, and indolent mind lapped in slumber. They discussed it.

"Am I a Literary Causerie?" breathed AMINTA.

"No, but food for such."

"And if I am?" she said.

"Turgidity masquerading as depth. Was ever cavalry general so tortured into symbolism?"

"I remain," she insisted.

"I go to Paris," was his retort.

"My aunt stays with me."

"Thank Heaven!" he muttered.

The design was manifest. Who should mistake it? For a fencer plays you the acrobat, a measure he, poised on a plum-box with jargon-mouth agape for what shall come to it. Is the man unconscious? The worse his fate. For the fact is this. All are Meredithians in dialogue, tarred with one brush abysmally plunged in the hot and steaming tank, a general tarred, a tarred tutor, a tarred sister, aunt reeking of the tar and General's Doubtful Lady chin-deep in the compound, and no distinction.

Clatter, crash, bang. Helter-skelter comes dashing Lady CHARLOTTE, a forest at her heels dragged in chains for all a neighbour may pout and fret and ride to hounds. She switched him a brat-face patter-down of an apology tamed to the net-ponds of a busk-madder, blue nose vermilion, mannish to the outside, breathing flames and scattering apish hop-poles like a parachute blown into space by the bellows of a hugger-mugger conformity. "I can mew," she said. "Old women can; it's a way they have. The person you call ... but no--I pass it. Was ever such folly in a man? And that man my brother ROWSLEY. But you have seen her you say--a Spaniard--_Ay de mi; Señorita_, and the rest of the gibberish. What is her colour?"

The question flicked him like a hansom's whip, that plucks you out an optic, policeman in helmet looking on, stolid on the mumchance. Out it goes at whip-end and no remedy, blue, green, brown or bloodshot. Glass can imitate or porcelain, and a pretty trade's a-doing in these, making a man like two light-houses, one fixed as fate, the other revolving like the earth on its axis.

"BROWN," he answered, humbly.

"MORSFIELD's after her," said Lady CHARLOTTE.

"Let him."

"But he's dangerous."

"I can trounce such. Did it at school, and can remember the trick."

A lady came moving onward. She had that in her gait which showed command, her bonnet puckered to the front, a fat aunt trailing behind. They came steadily. It was AMINTA with her aunt.

Lord ORMONT, his temper ablaze like his manuscript, thirty-four pages, neither more nor less, fortifications planned, advice given gratis to the loutish neglecting nation, stepped forward.

"You must remove her," he declared to WEYBURN.

"But the aunt?" questioned MATEY.

"She must go too. See to it quickly!" He fell back, the irrevocable quivering in his eyeball, destiny mocking with careless glee, while MORSFIELD and a bully-captain saw their chances and just missed the taking.

Away they clattered, MATEY and AMINTA, leaving the PAGNELL to her passion-breathing MORSFIELD.

END OF VOL. II.

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THE END OF THE OPERA SEASON.

_Solo and Chorus._

The Opera time began in May, And ended but last Satur_day_. We hope it has been made to pay _Chorus._ AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS! _Solo._ Not in the days of MARIO Was there an _Impresario_, Arranger of _scenario_, Who knew so "where he are!" he o- peratical campaign can plan With sure success! no better man For operatic venture than _Chorus (in unison)._ AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS!

_All._

The Opera time, &c. (_as above_).

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MAXIM FOR CYCLISTS.--"_Try_-cycle before you _Buy_-cycle."

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, July 23._--Quite like old times to hear TIM HEALY saying a few plain things about landlords; PRINCE ARTHUR replying; TIM growling out occasional contradiction; whilst O'BRIEN hotly interrupts. To make the reminiscence complete JOSEPH contributes a speech in which he heaps contumely and scorn on representatives of Irish nationality. TIM reminds him how different was his attitude, how varied his voice, at epoch of Kilmainham Treaty.

TIM has a rough but effective way of fastening upon a name or phrase, and even blatantly reiterating it. Thus, when OLD MORALITY, in his kindly manner, once alluded to a visit paid to him at a critical time by his "old friend Mr. WALTER," TIM leaped down upon it, and, characteristically leaving out the customary appellation, filled the air with scornful reference to "my old friend WALTER." To-night, desiring to bring into sharp contrast JOSEPH'S present attitude towards Ireland and the landlord party with that assumed by him twelve years ago, he insisted upon calling the Arrears Bill of 1882 "the Chamberlain Act." It wasn't JOSEPH'S personal possession or invention any more than it was the SQUIRE OF MALWOOD'S. But that way of putting it doubly suited TIM'S purpose. It permitted him, without breach of order, to allude by name to the member for West Birmingham; there's a good deal in a name when the syllables are hissed forth with infinite hate and scorn. Also it accentuated the changed position _vis-à-vis_ Ireland to which further reflection and honest conviction have brought the prime mover in the Kilmainham Treaty.

Irish Members, forgetting their own quarrels with TIM as he fustigated the common enemy, roared with delight. A broad smile lighted up the serried ranks of the Liberals. PRINCE ARTHUR wore a decorous look of sympathy with his wronged right hon. friend. The Duke of DEVONSHIRE,--"late the Leader of the Liberal Party,"--from the Peers' Gallery surveyed the scene with stolid countenance. JOSEPH, orchid-decked, sat in his corner seat below the gangway, staring straight before him as one who saw not neither did he hear.

_Business done._--TIM HEALY goes on the rampage. Evicted Tenants Bill read second time.

_Tuesday._--As has been noted on an earlier occasion, Britannia has no bulwarks, no towers along her steep. It is, consequently, the more comforting to know that ELLIS ASHMEAD-BARTLETT (Knight) keeps his eye on things abroad as they affect the interests of British citizens. The Member for SARK tells me he has a faded copy of the _Skibbereen Eagle_ containing its famous note of warning to NAPOLEON THE THIRD. Was published at time of the irruption of Colonels. These gentlemen, sitting on boulevards sipping absinthe, used to twirl their moustache and--_sacrrée!_--growl hints of what they would do when they as conquerors walked down Piccadillee, and rioted in the riches of Leestar Square.

NAPOLEON THE THIRD did not escape suspicion of fanning this flame. Howbeit the _Skibbereen Eagle_ came out one Saturday morning with a leading article commencing: "We have our eye on NAPOLEON THE THIRD, Emperor of the French."

Thus ELLIS ASHMEAD-BARTLETT (Knight) digs eagle claws into the aerie heights of the Clock Tower, and watches over the interests and cares of an Empire on which the sun rarely sets.

"All the kinder of him," SARK says, "since they cannot be said directly to concern him. In an effort to redress the balance between the Old World and the New, United States has lent us ASHMEAD. The temporary character of the arrangement makes only the more generous his concern for the interests of the Empire in which he lodges."

In the peculiar circumstances of the case those able young men, EDWARD GREY and SYDNEY BUXTON, might be a little less openly contemptuous in their treatment of the Patriotic Emigrant. Hard to say at which office door, Foreign or Colonial, ASHMEAD bangs his head with more distressful result. He takes them in succession, with dogged courage that would in anyone else excite admiration. Of the two janitors, perhaps EDWARD GREY'S touch is the lightest. He replies with a solemn gravity that puzzles ASHMEAD, and keeps him brooding till SPEAKER stays the merry laughter of the House by calling on the next question. BUXTON is more openly contemptuous, more severely sarcastic, and sometimes, when ASHMEAD'S prattling, of no consequence in the House, might possibly have serious effect when cabled to the Transvaal where they think all Members of Parliament are responsible men, he smartly raps out. Between the two the Patriot--made in Brooklyn, plated in Sheffield--has a bad time of it. Has long learned how much sharper than a serpent's tooth is the tongue of an Under Secretary of State.

_Business done._--Second Reading of Equalisation of London Rates Bill moved.

_Thursday._--Lords took Budget Bill in hand to-night. MARKISS asked for week's interval. This looked like fighting. At least there would be a reconnaissance in force led by the MARKISS. House full; peerless Peeresses looked down from side gallery; MARKISS in his place; DEVONSHIRE in his--not Chatsworth; that going to be shut up; but corner seat below gangway; ROSEBERY hovering about, settled down at length in seat of Leader. Clerk read Orders of the Day. "Finance Bill second reading." "I move the Bill be read a second time," said ROSEBERY, politely taking his hat off to lady in gallery immediately opposite. Then he sat down.

Here was a pretty go! Expected PREMIER would make brilliant speech in support of Bill; the MARKISS would reply; fireworks would fizz all round, and, though perhaps Budget Bill might be saved, SQUIRE OF MALWOOD would be pummelled. ROSEBERY takes oddest, most unparliamentary view of his duty. The Lords, he said, when last week subject was mooted, have nothing to do with Budget Bill, unless indeed they are prepared to throw it out. "Will you do that?" he asked. "No," said MARKISS, looking as if he would much rather say "Yes." "Very well then," said ROSEBERY, "all speeches on the subject must be barren."

This to the Barons seemed lamentably personal.

ROSEBERY illustrated his point by declining for his own part to make a speech. Still there was talk; barren speeches for three hours; audience gradually dwindling: only a few left to witness spectacle of HALSBURY'S blue blood boiling over with indignation at sacrilegious assault on landed aristocracy.

"If you want to make your flesh creep," says SARK, "you should hear HALSBURY, raising to full height his majestic figure, throwing the shadow of his proudly aquiline profile fiercely on the steps of the Throne where some minions of the Government cowered, exclaim, 'My Lords, I detect in this Bill a hostile spirit towards the landed aristocracy.'"

"A HALSBURY! a HALSBURY!" menacingly muttered FEVERSHAM and some other fiery crusaders.

For the moment, so deeply was the assembly stirred, a conflict between the two Houses seemed imminent. But Black Rod coming to take away the Mace the tumult subsided, and Lord HALSBURY went home in a four-wheeler.

_Business done._--Budget read second time in Lords.

_Friday._--Scene in Commons quite changed; properties remain but leading characters altered. After unprecedented run, Budget Bill withdrawn; Irish Evicted Tenants Bill now underlined on bills. JOHN MORLEY succeeds the SQUIRE; Irish Members take up the buzzing of the no longer Busy B's.

As for the SQUIRE, he takes well-earned, though only comparative rest; preparing for congratulatory feast spread for him next Wednesday. Like good boy whose work is done is now going to have his dinner. Also RIGBY and BOB REID, who bore with him the heat and burden of the day. It's a sort of Parliamentary Millennium. The CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER sits down with the ATTORNEY-GENERAL; the SOLICITOR-GENERAL puts his hand on the cockatrice's den (situate in the neighbourhood of TOMMY BOWLES); and FRANK LOCKWOOD has drawn them.

_Business done._--In Committee on Evicted Tenants Bill.

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Mrs. R. observes in a newspaper that a man was summoned for "illegal distress." She is much puzzled at this, as she thought England was a free country, where people might be as unhappy as they liked!

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OUR CHARITY FÊTE.