VOLUME III.--_Fast Asleep.

The poor patient at Slocum-on-Slush moaned. He had been practically awake for a month, and nothing could send him to sleep. The Doctor held his wrist, and as he felt the rapid beats of his pulse became graver and graver.

"And you have no friends, no relatives?"

"No. My only visitor was the man who brought that box of books from a metropolitan library."

"A box of books!" exclaimed the Doctor. "There may yet be time to save his life!"

The man of science rose abruptly, and approaching the casket containing the current literature of the day, roughly forced it open. He hurriedly inspected its contents. He turned over the volumes impatiently until he reached a set.

"The very thing!" he murmured. "If I can but get him to read this he will be saved." Then turning to his patient he continued, "You should peruse this novel. It is one that I recommend in cases such as yours."

"I am afraid I am past reading," returned the invalid. "However, I will do my best."

An hour later the Doctor (who had had to make some calls) returned and found that his patient was sleeping peacefully. The first volume of _Douglas the Doomed One_ had the desired result.

"Excellent, excellent," murmured the medico. "It had the same effect upon another of my patients. The crisis is over! He will now recover like the other. Insomnia has been conquered for the second time by _Douglas the Doomed One_, and who now shall say that the three-volume novel of the amateur is not a means of spreading civilisation? It must be a mine of wealth to somebody."

And Messrs. BINDING AND PRINT, had they heard the Doctor's remark, would have agreed with him!

* * * * *

All the Difference.

"THE SPEAKER then called Mr. LITTLE to order." Quite right in our wise and most vigilant warder. He calls us to order! Oh that, without fuss, The SPEAKER could only call Order to us!

* * * * *

* * * * *

"A LITTLE TOO PREVIOUS!"

["I desire to submit that this is a very great question, which will have to be determined, but upon a very different ground from that of the salaries of the officers of the House of Lords.... If there is to be a contest between the House of Lords and the House of Commons, let us take it upon higher ground than this."--_Sir William Harcourt._]

There was a little urchin, and he had an old horse-pistol, Which he rammed with powder damp and shots of lead, lead, lead; And he cried "I know not fear! I'll go stalking of the deer!" For this little cove was slightly off his head, head, head.

This ambitious little lad was a Paddy and a Rad, And himself he rather fancied as a shot, shot, shot; And he held the rules of sport, and close season, and, in short, The "regulation rubbish" was all rot, rot, rot.

He held a "bird" a thing to be potted on the wing, Or perched upon a hedge, or up a tree, tree, tree; And, says he, "If a foine stag I can add to my small bag, A pistol _or_ a Maxim will suit me, me, me!"

And so upon all fours he would crawl about the moors, To the detriment of elbows, knees, and slack, slack, slack; And he says, "What use a-talking? If I choose to call this 'stalking,' And _I bag my game_, who's going to hould me back, back, back?"

Says he, "I scoff at raisons, and stale talk of toimes and saisons; I'm game to shoot a fox, or spear a stag, stag, stag; Nay, I'd net, or club, a salmon; your old rules of sport are gammon, For wid me it's just a question of the bag, bag, bag!

"There are omadhauns, I know, who would let a foine buck go Just bekase 'twas out of toime, or they'd no gun, gun, gun; But if oi can hit, and hurt, wid a pistol--or a squirt-- By jabers, it is all the betther fun, fun, fun!"

So he scurryfunged around with his stomach on the ground (For stalking seems of crawling a mere branch, branch, branch). And he spied "a stag of ten," and he cried, "Hurroo! Now then, I fancy I can hit _him_--in the haunch, haunch haunch!

"Faix! I'll bag that foine Stag Royal, or at any rate oi'll troy all The devoices of a sportshman from the Oisle, Oisle, Oisle. One who's used to shoot asprawl from behoind a hedge or wall, At the risks of rock and heather well may smoile, smoile, smoile!"

But our sportsman bold, though silly, by a stalwart Highland gillie, Was right suddenly arrested ere he fired, fired, fired.-- "Hoots! If you'll excuse the hint, that old thing, with lock of flint, As a weapon for _this_ sport can't be admired, mired, mired!

"It will not bring down _that_ quarry, your horse-pistol! Don't _you_ worry! That Royal Stag _we_'ll stalk, boy, in good time, time, time; But to pop at it just now, and kick up an awful row, Scare, and _miss_ it were a folly, nay a crime, crime, crime!

"Be you sure 'Our Party' will this fine quarry track and kill; Our guns need not your poor toy blunderbuss, buss, buss. This is not the time or place for a-following up this chase; So just clear out and leave this game to us, us, us!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

IN MEMORIAM.

[Baron MUNDY, the founder of the valuable Vienna Voluntary Sanitary Ambulance Society, mighty foe of disease and munificent dispenser of charity, shot himself on Thursday, August 23, on the banks of the Danube, at the advanced age of 72.]

Great sanitary leader and reformer, Disease's scourge and potent pest-house stormer; Successful foe of cholera aforetime, Perfecter of field-ambulance in war-time; Dispenser of a fortune in large charity; _Vale!_ Such heroes are in sooth a rarity. Alas, that you in death should shock Dame GRUNDY! That we should sigh "_Sic transit gloria_ MUNDY!"

* * * * *

A CLOTHES DIVISION (OF OPINION).--It is said that Woman cannot afford to alter her style of dress, since her limbs are "all wrong." Clear, therefore, that however much Woman's Wrongs need redressing, All-Wrong Women don't!

* * * * *

* * * * *

"AUXILIARY ASSISTANCE" IN THE PROVINCES.

(_A Tragedy-Farce in several painful Scenes, with many unpleasant Situations._)

LOCALITY--_The Interior of Country Place taken for the Shooting Season. Preparations for a feast in all directions. It is Six o' Clock, and the household are eagerly waiting the appearance of_ MONTAGU MARMADUKE, the Auxiliary Butler, _sent in by Contract. Enter_ MONTAGU MARMADUKE, _in comic evening dress._

_Master_ (_looking at_ MONTAGU _with an expression of disappointment on his face_). What, are _you_ the man they have sent me?

_Montagu._ Yessir. And I answers to MONTAGU MARMADUKE, or some gentlemen prefers to call me by my real name BINKS.

_Master._ Oh, MONTAGU will do. I hope you know your duties?

_Mon._ Which I was in service, Sir, with Sir BARNABY JINKS, for twenty-six years, and----

_Master._ Very well, I daresay you will do. I suppose you know about the wine?

_Mon._ Yessir. In course. I've been a teetotaler ever since I left Sir BARNABY'S.

_Master_ (_retiring_). And mind, do not murder the names of the guests.

[_Exit._

[_The time goes on, and Company arrive._ MONTAGU _ushers them upstairs, and announces them under various aliases._ Sir HENRY EISTERFODD _is introduced as_ Sir 'ENERY EASTEREGG, _&c., &c._ _After small talk, the guests find their way to the dining-room._

_Mon._ (_to_ Principal Guest). Do you take sherry, claret, or 'ock, my Lady?

_Principal Guest_ (_interrupted in a conversation_). Claret, please.

[MONTAGU _promptly pours the required liquid on to the table-cloth._

_Master._ I must apologise, but our Butler, who is on trial, is very short-sighted.

_P. Guest._ Evidently.

[_The wine is brought round;_ MONTAGU _interrupting the conversation with his hospitable suggestions, and pouring claret into champagne glasses, and champagne into sherries._

_Nervous Guest_ (_in an undertone to_ MONTAGU). Do you think you could get me, by-and-by, a piece of bread?

_Mon._ Bread, Sir, yessir! (_In stentorian tones._) Here, NISBET, bring this gent some bread!

[_The unfortunate guest, who is overcome with confusion at having attracted so much attention, is waited upon by_ NISBET.

_Master_ (_savagely_). Can't you go about more quietly?

_Mon._ (_hurt_). Certainly, Sir. When I was with Sir BARNABY---- (_Disappears murmuring to himself, and returns with entrée, which he lets fall on dress of_ Principal Guest). Beg pardon, my Lady, but it was my stud, which _would_ come undone. Very sorry, indeed, Mum, but if you will allow me----

[_Produces a soiled dinner-napkin with a flourish._

_P. Guest_ (_in much alarm_). No thanks!

[_General commiseration, and, a little later, disappearance of ladies. After this,_ MONTAGU _does not reappear except to call obtrusively for carriages, and tout for tips._

_P. Guest_ (_on bidding her host good-night_). I can assure you my gown was not injured in the least. I am quite sure it was only an accident.

_Master_ (_bowing_). You are most kind. (_With great severity._) As a matter of fact, the man only came to us this afternoon, but, after what has happened, he shall not remain in my service another hour! I shall dismiss him to-night!

[_Exit_ Principal Guest. Master _pays_ MONTAGU _the agreed fee for his services for the evening. Curtain._

* * * * *

TO A PHILANTHROPIST.

You ask me, Madam, if by chance we meet, For money just to keep upon its feet That hospital, that school, or that retreat, That home.

I help that hospital? My doctor's fee Absorbs too much. Alas! I cannot be An inmate there myself; he comes to me At home.

Do not suppose I have too close a fist. Rent, rates, bills, taxes, make a fearful list; I should be homeless if I did assist That home.

I must--it is my impecunious lot-- Economise the little I have got; So if I see you coming I am "not At home."

My clothes are shabby. How I should be dunned By tailor, hatter, hosier, whom I've shunned, If I supported that school clothing fund, That home!

I'd help if folks wore nothing but their skins; This hat, this coat, at which the street-boy grins, Remind me still that "Charity begins At home."

* * * * *

Kiss versus Kiss.

On the cold cannon's mouth the Kiss of Peace Should fall like flowers, and bid its bellowings cease!-- But ah! that Kiss of Peace seems very far From being as strong as the _Hotch_kiss of War!

* * * * *

* * * * *

PAGE FROM "ROSEBERY'S HISTORY OF THE COMMONWEALTH."

(_With Mr. Punch's Compliments to the Gentleman who will have to design "that statue."_)

"You really must join the Army," said the stern old Puritan to the Lord Protector. "The fate of this fair realm of England depends upon the promptness with which you assume command."

OLIVER CROMWELL paused. He had laid aside his buff doublet, and had donned a coat of a thinner material. His sword also was gone, and hanging by his side was a pair of double spy-glasses--new in those days--new in very deed.

"I cannot go," cried the Lord Protector at last, "it would be too great a sacrifice."

"You said not that," pursued IRETON--for it was he--"when you called upon CHARLES to lose his head."

"But in this case, good sooth, I would wish a head to be won, or the victory to be by a head;" and then the Uncrowned King laughed long and heartily, as was his wont when some jest tickled him.

"This is no matter for merriment," exclaimed IRETON sternly. "OLIVER, you are playing the fool. You are sacrificing for pleasure, business, duty."

"Well, I cannot help it," was the response. "But mind you, IRETON, it shall be the last time."

"What is it that attracts you so strongly? What is the pleasure that lures you away from the path of duty?"

"I will tell you, and then you will pity, perchance forgive me. To-day my horse runs at Epsom. With luck his chance is a certainty. So farewell." Then the two old friends grasped hands and parted. One went to fight on the blood-stained field of battle, and the other to see the race for the Derby.

* * * * *

ON A CLUMSY CRICKETER.

At TIMBERTOES his Captain rails As one in doleful dumps; Oft given "leg before"--the bails, Not bat before--the stumps. The Genevese Professor YUNG Believes the time approaches When man will lose his legs, ill-slung, Through trams, cars, cabs, and coaches; Or that those nether limbs will be The merest of survivals. The thought fills TIMBERTOES with glee, No more he'll fear his rivals. "Without these bulky, blundering pegs I shall not fail to score, For if a man has got no legs, He _can't_ get 'leg-before.'"

* * * * *

SITTING ON OUR SENATE.

SIR,--It struck me that the best and simplest way of finding out what were the intentions of the Government with regard to the veto of the Peers was to write and ask each individual Member his opinion on the subject. Accordingly I have done so, and it seems to me that there is a vast amount of significance in the nature of the replies I have received, to anyone capable of reading between the lines; or, as most of the communications only extended to a single line, let us say to anyone capable of reading beyond the full-stop. Lord ROSEBERY'S Secretary, for example, writes that "the Prime Minister is at present out of town"--_at present_, you see, but obviously on the point of coming back, in order to grapple with my letter and the question generally. Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT, his Secretary, writes, "is at Wiesbaden, but upon his return your communication will no doubt receive his attention"--_receive his attention_, an ominous phrase for the Peers, who seem hardly to realise that between them and ruin there is only the distance from Wiesbaden to Downing Street. Then Mr. MORLEY "sees no reason to alter his published opinion on the subject"--_alter_, how readily, by the prefixing of a single letter, that word becomes _halter_! I was unable to effect personal service of my letter on the ATTORNEY-GENERAL, possibly because I called at his chambers during the Long Vacation; but the fact that a card should have been attached to his door bearing the words "Back at 2 P.M." surely indicates that Sir JOHN RIGBY will _back up_ his leaders in any approaching attack on the fortress of feudalism! Then surely the circumstance that the other Ministers to whom my letters were addressed _have not as yet sent any answer_ shows how seriously they regard the situation, and how disinclined they are to commit themselves to a too hasty reply! In fact, the outlook for the House of Lords, judging from these Ministerial communications, is decidedly gloomy, and I am inclined to think that an Autumn Session devoted to abolishing it is a most probable eventuality.

Yours,

FUSSY-CUSS EXSPECTANS.

SIR,--The real way of dealing with the Lords is as follows. The next time that they want to meet, cut off their gas and water! Tell the butcher and baker _not_ to call at the House for orders, and dismiss the charwomen who dust their bloated benches. If _this_ doesn't bring them to reason, nothing will.

HIGH-MINDED DEMOCRAT.

* * * * *

IN PRAISE OF BOYS.

(_By an "Old One."_)

["A Mother of Boys," angry with Mr. JAMES PAYN for his dealings with "that barbarous race," suggests that as an _amende honorable_ he should write a book in praise of boys.]

In praise of boys? In praise of boys? Who mess the house, and make a noise, And break the peace, and smash their toys, And dissipate domestic joys, Do everything that most annoys, The BOBS and BILLYS, RALPHS and ROYS?-- Just as well praise a hurricane, The buzzing fly on the window-pane, An earthquake or a rooting pig! No, young or old, or small or big, A boy's a pest, a plague, a scourge, A dread domestic demiurge Who brings the home to chaos' verge. The _only_ reason I can see For praising him is--well, that he, As WORDSWORTH--so his dictum ran-- Declared, is "father to the man." And even then the better plan Would be that he, calm, sober, sage, Were--_born at true paternal age_! Did all boys start at twenty-five I were the happiest "Boy" alive!

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE PULLMAN CAR.

(AIR--"_The Low-backed Car._")

I rather like that Car, Sir, 'Tis easy for a ride. But gold galore May mean strife and gore. If 'tis stained with greed and pride. Though its comforts are delightful, And its cushions made with taste, There's a spectre sits beside me That I'd gladly fly in haste-- As I ride in the Pullman Car; And echoes of wrath and war, And of Labour's mad cheers, Seem to sound in my ears As I ride in the Pullman Car!

* * * * *

QUEER QUERIES.--"SCIENCE FALSELY SO CALLED."--What is this talk at the British Association about a "new gas"? Isn't the old good enough? My connection--as a shareholder--with one of our leading gas companies, enables me to state authoritatively that no new gas is required by the public. I am surprised that a nobleman like Lord RAYLEIGH should even attempt to make such a thoroughly useless, and, indeed, revolutionary discovery. It is enough to turn anyone into a democrat at once. And what was Lord SALISBURY, as a Conservative, doing, in allowing such a subject to be mooted at Oxford? Why did he not at once turn the new gas off at the meter?

INDIGNANT.

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

From HENRY SOTHERAN & CO. (so a worthy Baronite reports) comes a second edition of _Game Birds and Shooting Sketches_, by JOHN GUILLE MILLAIS. Every sportsman who is something more than a mere bird-killer ought to buy this beautiful book. Mr. MILLAIS' drawings are wonderfully delicate, and, so far as I can judge, remarkably accurate. He has a fine touch for plumage, and renders with extraordinary success the bold and resolute bearing of the British game-bird in the privacy of his own peculiar haunts. I am glad the public have shown themselves sufficiently appreciative to warrant Mr. MILLAIS in putting forth a second edition of a book which is the beautiful and artistic result of very many days of patient and careful observation. By the way, there is an illustration of a Blackcock Tournament, which is, for knock-about primitive humour, as good as a pantomime rally. One more by-the-way. Are we in future to spell Capercailzie with an extra l in place of the z, as Mr. MILLAIS spells it? Surely it is rather wanton thus to annihilate the pride of the sportsman who knew what was what, and who never pronounced the z. If you take away the z you take away all merit from him. Perhaps Mr. MILLAIS will consider the matter in his third edition.

THE BARON DE B.-W.

* * * * *

WET-WILLOW.

A SONG OF A SLOPPY SEASON.

(_By a Washed-Out Willow-Wielder._)

AIR--"_Titwillow._"

In the dull, damp pavilion a popular "Bat" Sang "Willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!" And I said "Oh! great slogger, pray what are you at, Singing 'Willow, wet-willow, wet-willow'? Is it lowness of average, batsman," I cried; "Or a bad 'brace of ducks' that has lowered your pride?" With a low-muttered swear-word or two he replied, "Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!"

He said "In the mud one can't score, anyhow, Singing willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! The people are raising a deuce of a row, Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! I've been waiting all day in these flannels--they're damp!-- The spectators impatiently shout, shriek, and stamp, But a batsman, you see, cannot play with a Gamp, Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!

"Now I feel just as sure as I am that my name Isn't willow, wet-willow, wet-willow, The people will swear that I don't play the game, Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! My spirits are low and my scores are not high, But day after day we've soaked turf and grey sky, And I shan't have a chance till the wickets get dry, Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!!!"

* * * * *

INVALIDED!

_Deplorable Result of the Forecast of Aug. 23 on the "D. G." Weather Girl._

* * * * *

A Question of "Rank."

"His Majesty King Grouse, noblest of game!" So toasted Host. Replied the Guest, with dryness,-- "I think that in _this_ house the fitter name Would be His Royal _Highness_!"

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, August 20._--ASHMEAD-BARTLETT (Knight) is the CASABIANCA of Front Opposition Bench. All but he have fled. Now his opportunity; will show jealous colleagues, watchful House, and interested country, how a party should be led. Had an innings on Saturday, when, in favourite character of Dompter of British and other Lions, he worried Under Secretaries for Foreign Affairs and the Colonies. Didn't get much out of them. In fact what happened seems to confirm quaint theory SARK advances.

Says he believes those two astute young men, EDWARD GREY and SYDNEY BUXTON, "control" the Sheffield Knight. They are active and ambitious. Still only juniors. Moreover, things are managed so well both at Foreign Office and Colonial Office that they have no opportunity of distinguishing themselves. The regular representatives on the Front Opposition Bench of Foreign Affairs and Colonies say nothing; patriotically acquiescent in management of concerns in respect of which it is the high tradition of English statesmanship that the political game shall not be played. In such circumstances no opening for able young men. But, suppose they could induce some blatant, irresponsible person, persistently to put groundless questions, and make insinuations derogatory to the character of British statesmen at home and British officials abroad? Then they step in, and, amid applause on both sides of House, knock over the intruder. Sort of game of House of Commons nine-pins. Nine-pin doesn't care so that it's noticed; admirable practice for young Parliamentary Hands.

_Invaluable to Budding Statesmen._]

This is SARK'S suggestion of explanation of phenomenon. Fancy much simpler one might be found. To-night BARTLETT-ELLIS in better luck. Turns upon ATTORNEY-GENERAL; darkly hints that escape of JABEZ was a put-up job, of which Law Officers of the Crown might, an' they would, disclose some interesting particulars. RIGBY, who, when he bends his step towards House of Commons, seems to leave all his shrewdness and knowledge of the world in his chambers, rose to the fly; played BASHMEAD-ARTLETT'S obvious game by getting angry, and delivering long speech whilst progress of votes, hitherto going on swimmingly, was arrested for fully an hour.

_Business done._--Supply voted with both hands.

_Tuesday._--A precious sight, one worthy of the painter's or sculptor's art, to see majestic figure of SQUIRE OF MALWOOD standing between House of Lords and imminent destruction. Irish members and Radicals opposite have sworn to have blood of the Peers. SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE is taking the waters elsewhere. In his absence do the best we can. Sat up all last night, the Radicals trying to get at the Lords by the kitchen entrance; SQUIRE withstanding them till four o'clock in the morning. Began again to-night. Education Vote on, involving expenditure of six millions and welfare of innumerable children. Afterwards the Post Office Vote, upon which the Postmaster-General, ST. ARNOLD-LE-GRAND, endeavours to reply to HENNIKER-HEATON without betraying consciousness of bodily existence of such a person. These matters of great and abiding interest; but only few members present to discuss them. The rest waiting outside till the lists are cleared and battle rages once more round citadel of the Lords sullenly sentineled by detachment from the Treasury Bench.

When engagement reopened SQUIRE gone for his holiday trip, postponed by the all-night sitting, JOHN MORLEY on guard. Breaks force of assault by protest that the time is inopportune. By-and-by the Lords shall be handed over to tender mercies of gentlemen below gangway. Not just now, and not in this particular way. CHIEF SECRETARY remembers famous case of absentee landlord not to be intimidated by the shooting of his agent. So Lords, he urges, not to be properly punished for throwing out Evicted Tenants Bill by having the salaries of the charwomen docked, and BLACK ROD turned out to beg his bread.

Radicals at least not to be denied satisfaction of division. Salaries of House of Lords staff secured for another year by narrow majority of 31.

_Business done._--Nearly all.

_Wednesday._--The SQUIRE OF MALWOOD at last got off for his well-earned holiday. Carries with him consciousness of having done supremely well amid difficulties of peculiar complication. As JOSEPH in flush of unexpected and still unexplained frankness testified, the Session will in its accomplished work beat the record of any in modern times. The SQUIRE been admirably backed by a rare team of colleagues; but in House of Commons everything depends on the Leader. Had the Session been a failure, upon his head would have fallen obloquy. As it has been a success, his be the praise.

"Well, good bye," said JOHN MORLEY, tears standing in his tender eyes as he wrung the hand of the almost Lost Leader. "But you know it's not all over yet. There's the Appropriation Bill. What shall we do if WEIR comes up on Second Reading?"

"Oh, dam WEIR," said the SQUIRE.

JOHN MORLEY inexpressibly shocked. For a moment thought a usually equable temper had been ruffled by the almost continuous work of twenty months, culminating in an all-night sitting. On reflection he saw that the SQUIRE was merely adapting an engineering phrase, describing a proceeding common enough on river courses. The only point on which remark open to criticism is that it is tautological.

_Business done._--Appropriation Bill brought in.

_Thursday._--GEORGE NEWNES looked in just now; much the same as ever; the same preoccupied, almost pensive look; a mind weighed down by ever-multiplying circulation. Troubled with consideration of proposal made to him to publish special edition of _Strand Magazine_ in tongue understanded of the majority of the peoples of India. Has conquered the English-speaking race from Chatham to Chattanooga, from Southampton to Sydney. Now lo! The poor Indian brings his annas, and begs a boon.

Meanwhile one of the candidates for vacant Poet Laureateship has broken out into elegiac verse. "NEWNES," he exclaims,

"NEWNES, noble hearted, shine, for ever shine; Though not of royal, yet of hallowed line."

That sort of thing would make some men vain. There is no couplet to parallel it since the famous one written by POPE on a place frequented by a Sovereign whose death is notorious, a place where

Great ANNA, whom three realms obey, Did sometimes counsel take and sometimes tea.

The poet, whose volume bears the proudly humble pseudonym "A Village Peasant," should look in at the House of Commons and continue his studies. There are a good many of us here worth a poet's attention. SARK says the thing is easy enough. "Toss 'em off in no time," says he. "There's the SQUIRE now, who has not lately referred to his Plantagenet parentage. Apostrophising him in Committee on Evicted Tenants Bill one might have said:--

SQUIRE, noble hearted, shine, for ever shine; Though not of hallowed yet of royal line."

_Business done._--Appropriation Bill read second time. WEIR turned up. Sir WILFRID LAWSON and others said "Dam."

_Saturday._--Appropriation Bill read third time this morning. Prorogation served with five o'clock tea.

"Parleyment!" said one of the House of Commons waiters loitering at the gateway of Palace Yard and replying to inquiring visitor from the country. "Parleyment's horff." So am I.

_Business done._--All.