Chapter 2

_Friday._--"It's the smiles of its AUGUSTUS and the heat of its July"--adapted quotation from "Old Song." "I cannot sing the old song"--except under a sense of the deepest and most unpardonable provocation; and when I do!!--_Cave canem, ruat coelum!_ I bring down the house as Madame DELILAH's SAMSON did. To-night _Manon_ is indeed warmly welcomed. "A nice Opera," says a young lady, fanning herself. "I wish it were an iced Opera," groans WAGSTAFF, re-issuing one of his earliest side-splitters. M. VAN DYCK strong as the weak _Des Grieux_, but Madame MRAVINA apparently not strong enough. "What made author-chap think of calling her _Manon_?" asks languid person in Stalls. WAGSTAFF, revived after an iced B.-and-S., is equal to the occasion. "Such a bad lot, you know--regular man-catcher; hooked a _man on_, then, when he was done with, hooked another man on. Reason for name evident, see?" The _Cavalleria Rusticana_ is the favourite for Derby Night. All right up to now, Sir DRURIOLANUS.

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TENNER SONG FOR DERBY DAY.--"_He's got it on!_"

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A VERY "DARK HORSE."

["The Country knows ... what it is we desire to do. What the Right Hon. Gentleman (Mr. GLADSTONE) desires to do no human being knows. If we have done our part, as we have done, to clear the issues, all we can ask him is to do his part, to lay before the electorate of this country in the same plain, unmistakable outline, the policy which he desires to see adopted."--_Mr. Balfour on Second Reading of Irish Local Government Bill._]

SCENE--_The Paddock, before the Great Race. Rising Young Jockey_, ARTHUR BALFOUR, _mounted on the Crack Irish Horse. Enter Grand Old Jockey, at the moment minus a mount._

_Grand Old Jockey_ (_aside_). Humph! Don't look so bad, now, despite the dead set That against him we've made since his very first running, Do they mean him to win after all? Artful set, That Stable! It strikes me they've been playing cunning. One wouldn't have backed him, first off, for a bob. His owner concerning him scarcely seemed caring. Eugh! No one supposed he was fair "on the job"; A mere trial-horse, simply "out for an airing." When he first stripped in public he looked such a screw, He was hailed with a general chorus of laughter; Young BAL seemed abashed at the general yahboo! And pooh-poohed his new mount! What the doose is he after? I'm bound to admit the Horse _looks_ pretty fit, And the boy sits him well, and as though he meant _trying_. I say, this won't do! I must bounce him a bit. Most awkward, you know, if his "slug" takes to _flying_!

_Rising Young Jockey_ (_aside_). Hillo! There's Old WILLIAM! He's out on the scoot. The artful Old Hand! Hope he'll like what he looks on! He slated this nag as a peacocky brute, Whose utter collapse they've been building their books on. How now, my spry veteran? Only a boy On a three-legged crock? Well, I own you are older, And watching your riding's a thing to enjoy; There isn't a Jock who is defter _and_ bolder; Your power, authority, eloquence--yes, For your gift of the gab is a caution--are splendid; But--the youngster _may_ teach you a lesson, I guess, As to judgment of pace ere the contest is ended.

_Grand Old Jockey_ (_aloud_). Well, ARTHUR my lad, in the saddle again! Is _that_ your crack mount?

_Rising Young Jockey._ The identical one, WILL.

_Grand Old Jockey._ Dear, dear, what a pity! It quite gives me pain To see you so wasted.

_Rising Young Jockey._ That's only your fun, WILL.

_Grand Old Jockey._ Nay, nay, not at all! Don't think much of his points. He's not bred like a true-blood, nor built like a winner. Not well put together, so coarse in his joints, In fact--only fit for a hunting-pack's dinner!

_Rising Young Jockey_ (_laughing_). Oh! "Cat's-meat!" is your cry, is it, WILLIAM? Well, well! We shall see about that when the winning-post's handy.

_Grand Old Jockey._ _You_ won't, my brave boy; that a novice could tell. You'll be left in the ruck at the end, my young dandy,

_Rising Young Jockey._ Perhaps! Still the pencillers haven't,--as yet-- Quite knocked the nag out with their furious fever Of hot opposition. Some cool ones still bet On his chance of a win.

_Grand Old Jockey_ (_contemptuously_). Ah, you're wonderful clever. But we have got one in _our_ Stable, my lad, Who can--just lick his head off!

_Rising Young Jockey_ (_drily_). Now have you indeed, WILL? I fancy I've heard that before. Very glad That your lot are in luck; and I hope you'll succeed, WILL, But bless me! yours seems such a _very_ Dark Horse! Oh! there, don't fire up so! Your word I won't doubt, WILL. You say so, and one must believe you, of course; But--_isn't_ it time that you _brought the nag out_, WILL?

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HISTORY AS SHE IS PLAYED!

_Questioner._ Why should M.V. SARDOU be called the Historian of the French Revolution?

_Answerer._ Because in _Thermidor_ he has given an entirely new version of the "Reign of Terror."

_Q._ Was the "Reign of Terror" very terrible?

_A._ Not very. At the Opéra Comique it had its comic side.

_Q._ How was that?

_A._ For instance, _les tricoteuses_ were represented by comely, albeit plump maidens, who seemed more inclined to dance round a Maypole than haunt a scaffold.

_Q._ Were ROBESPIERRE, ST. JUST, and the rest, cruel and vindictive?

_A._ I should say not; and I found my conclusion on the fact that they engaged an actor given to practical joking as an officer of the Public Security.

_Q._ From this, do you take it that ROBESPIERRE must have had a subtle sense of humour?

_A._ I do; and the impression is strengthened by his order for a general slaughter of Ursuline Nuns.

_Q._ Why should he order such a massacre?

_A._ To catch the heroine of _Thermidor_, a lady who had taken the vows under the impression that her lover had been killed by the enemy.

_Q._ Had her lover been killed?

_A._ Certainly not; he had preferred to surrender.

_Q._ Can you give me any idea of the component part of a revolutionary crowd?

_A._ At the Opéra Comique, a revolutionary crowd seems to consist of a number of mournful loungers, who have nothing to do save to take a languid interest in the fate of a tearful maiden, and a few _gens d'armes_ a little uncertain about their parade-ground.

_Q._ How do the mournful loungers express their interest in the fate of the tearful maiden?

_A._ By pointing her out one to another, and when she is ordered off to execution removing their hats, and fixing I their attention on something concealed behind the scenes.

_Q._ What is your present idea of the Reign of Terror?

_A._ My present idea of the Reign of Terror is, that it was the mildest thing imaginable. In my opinion, not even a child in arms would have been frightened at it.

_Q._ Do you not consider M. MAYER deserving of honour?

_A._ Certainly I do. For has he not removed (with the assistance of M. SARDOU and the Opéra Comique) several fond illusions of my youth?

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THE MORNING OF THE DERBY.--_Hamlet_ considering whether he shall go to Epsom for the great race or not, soliloquises, "Der-_be_ or not Der-_be_, that is the question." [N.B.--As to the other lines, go as you please. "The rest is silence."]

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"MARRIED AND SINGLE" should be played by Lady-Cricketers. No single young person under seventeen should be permitted an innings, as any two sweet sixteens would be "not out," and there would be no chance for the other side. Match-makers are only interested in the Single.

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LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--For the first time have I seen myself in print!--and I must say I think it very becoming--and so nice and cool too this hot weather! You are indeed a sweet creature for adopting my idea so readily--and I really must say that if these obstinate Members of Parliament who oppose Women's Suffrage would only alter their views, it would be much better for the Country--or worse--I don't know which!

Sir MINTING BLOUNDELL, whose criticism on my contribution to your well-written journal I invited, complimented me on my style, and suggested that when giving my selections it might be as well to refer to the "Home Trials" of the horses mentioned--but I venture to disagree with him! Goodness knows we all have home trials enough! (Lord ARTHUR and I frequently do not speak for a week unless someone is present)--but I do not think these things should be made public, and besides, it is an unwritten law amongst "smart" people to avoid subjects that "chafe"--which sounds like an anachronism--whatever that means! Having an opportunity of a "last word" on the Derby, I should like to say that, although my confidence in my last week's selection, _La Flêche_, is unshaken, I wish to have a second "arrow" to my bow in _Llanthony_--of whom a very keen judge of racing (Lord BOURNEMOUTH to wit) has formed the opinion that--in his own words--"he will be on the premises"! The premises in question being Epsom Downs, there will undoubtedly be room for him without his filling an unnecessarily prominent position, so I will couple _Llanthony_ with _La Flêche_ to supply the probable last in the Derby.

Meanwhile, I must say a word or two about the Ladies' Race at Epsom on Friday next. There is absolutely no knowing what will start for the Oaks nowadays until the numbers go up--and no Turf Prophet will venture a selection until the morning of the race--and _this_ is where the perspicuity of an Editor like yourself, _Mr. Punch_, scores a distinct hit--for such a paltry consideration as "knowing nothing about it" is not likely to daunt a woman who takes as her motto the well-known line from SHAKSPEARE: "Thus Angels rush where Cowards fear to tread!"--so herewith I confidently append my verse selection for the last Mare in the Oaks!

Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.

THE TIP.

'Tis the voice of the Sluggard, I hear him complain, You have waked me too soon--an unpleasant surprise! In an hour or so later pray call me again, When, if feeling refreshed, I will straightway "_Arise!_"

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QUITE IN KEEPING.--The Earl of DYSART has left the ranks of the Liberal Unionists and become a Gladstonian Home-Ruler. "What more natural?" asked one of his former Unionist friends. "Of course he's dysarted us!"

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, May 23._--REDMOND, Junior, said really funny thing just now. Rising to take part in resumed Debate on Irish Local Government Bill, he announced in loud angry tone that it would be waste of time to discuss a Bill the Government evidently did not intend to press through this Session, and he for one would be no party to such a farce. Then he went on to talk for half an hour.

Debate on the whole something better than last week's contribution. O'BRIEN delivered himself of glowing denunciation full of felicitous phrases, all got through in half an hour. CHAMBERLAIN followed; has not yet got over startling novelty of his interposition in Debate being welcomed by loud cheers from Conservatives; thinks of old Aston-Park days, when the cheering was, as WEBSTER (not Attorney-General) says, "on the other boot." Now, when JOSEPH gets up to demolish his Brethren sitting near, Conservatives opposite settle themselves down with the peculiar rustling motion with which a congregation in crowded church or chapel arrange themselves to listen to a favourite preacher. Pretty to watch them as CHAMBERLAIN goes forward with his speech, delighting them with surprise to find how much better is their position than they thought when it was recommended or extolled from their own side. JOSEPH not nearly so acrimonious to-night as sometimes. Still, as usual, his speech chiefly directed to his former Brethren who sit attentive, thinking occasionally with regret of the fatal shallowness of the pit, and the absence of arrangement for hermetically sealing it. If only--But that is another story. COURTNEY at end of Bench is thinking of still another, which has the rare charm of being true. It befel at a quiet dinner where JOSEPH, finding himself in contiguity with Chairman of Committees, took opportunity of rebuking him for his alleged laxity in repressing disorder.

"I should like to know," he asked, "whether, supposing I were to fire a pistol across the House, you would call it a breach of order."

"I don't think, CHAMBERLAIN," said Prince ARTHUR, who was sitting at the other side of the table, "that if you were going to fire a pistol in the Commons, you would point it across the House." TIM HEALY just back from Dublin, where he's been appearing in his favourite character of pacificator; followed CHAMBERLAIN, and later came SAUNDERSON. But even he suffered from prevailing tone of dulness, and WILFRID LAWSON, fast asleep in the corner by Cross Benches, did not miss much. _Business done._--More talk on Local Government Bill.

_Tuesday._--If anyone looking on at House of Commons at three o'clock this afternoon had predicted that within an hour it would be teeming with life, brimming over with human interest, he would have been looked upon with cold suspicion. NOLAN had taken the floor, and was understood to be expressing his deliberate opinion on merits of Irish Local Government Bill. He was certainly saying something, but what it might be no man could tell. LYON PLAYFAIR, who is up in all kinds of statistics, tells me 120 words per minute is the average utterance of articulate speech. NOLAN was doing his 300, and sometimes exceeded that rate. Not a comma in a column of it. A humming-top on the subject would have been precisely as instructive and convincing. Some twenty Members sat there fascinated by the performance. It was not delivered in a monotone, in which case one could have slept. NOLAN was evidently arguing in incisive manner, shirking no obstacle, avoiding no point in the Bill, or any hit made by previous speaker. His voice rose and fell with convincing modulation. He seemed to be always dropping into an aside, which led him into another, that opened a sort of Clapham Junction of converging points. One after the other, the Colonel, with full steam up, ran along; when he reached terminus of siding, racing back at sixty miles an hour; and so up and down another. Only guessed this from modulation of his voice and the intelligent nodding of the head with which he compelled the attention of ATTORNEY-GENERAL for IRELAND. For just over half an hour he kept up this pace, and, saving a trot for the avenue, fell back into his seat gasping for breath, having concluded a sentence nine hundred words long worked off in three minutes by the astonished clock.

An interval of T.W. RUSSELL, with one of his adroitly-argued, lucidly-arranged speeches. Then Mr. G. and transformation scene. House filled up as if by magic. In ten minutes not a seat vacant on floor; Members running into Side Gallery, nimbly hopping over Benches, to get on front line so as to watch as well as hear the last and the greatest of the old Parliamentarians. As suddenly and swiftly as the House had filled, the limp lay figure of the Debate throbbed with life. Scene of the kind witnessed only once or twice in Session. Six hundred pair of eyes all turned eagerly upon figure standing at Table, denouncing with uplifted arm, and voice ringing with indignation, the iniquities of the MARKISS, safely absent, and of his nephew, Prince ARTHUR, serenely present.

A great speech; an achievement which, if it stood alone, sufficient to make a reputation. And yet, when result of Division announced, it was found that majority of an iniquitous Government had run up to 92!

Everyone delighted to hear the interesting news from 27, St. James's Place, which gives an heir to the Spencer Earldom, and has spread a feeling of joy and contentment throughout Althorpe and Mid-Northamptonshire. The latest news, brought down just now by MARJORIBANKS, is "BOBBY is doing as well as can be expected." _Business done._--Irish Local Government Bill read Second Time, by 339 votes against 247.

_Wednesday._--Hail! Sir HENRY WIGGIN, Bart, M.P.; B.B.K., as ARTHUR ORTON called himself when resident in the wilds of Australia, and explained that the style imported Baronet of the British Kingdom. _Now_ we know what was the meaning of that foray upon the House the other day, when, with the Chairman in the Chair, and Committee fully constituted, the waggish WIGGIN walked adown the House, with his hat cocked on one side of his head, in defiance of Parliamentary etiquette. The Birthday Gazette was even then being drafted, and to-day the wanton WIGGIN is Sir HENRY, Baronet of the United Kingdom. _Not_ a more popular announcement in the list. An honest, kindly, shrewd WIGGIN it is, with a face whose genial smile all people, warming under it, instinctively return.

_Business done._--WIGGIN made B.B.K.

_Thursday._--Quite a long time reaching Vote on Account; two hours taken for discussion of Birmingham Water Bill; Gentlemen in Radical camp much exercised about size of fish in streams annexed for purposes of Birmingham water supply. CHAMBERLAIN, who has charge of Bill, says he never caught one longer than two inches. DILLWYN protests that fishing in same waters he rarely caught one less than a pound weight. Evidently a mistake somewhere. House perplexed, finally passed Bill through Committee.

Then Rev. SAM SMITH wants to know more about Polynesian Labour Traffic. The NOBLE BARON who has charge of Colonial affairs in Commons, whilst controverting all his statements, says "everyone must admit that the Hon. Member has spoken from his heart." "Which," NOVAR says, "it reminds me of the couplet _Joe Gargery_ meant to put on the tombstone of his lamented father, 'What-sume'er the failings on his part, Remember, reader, he were that good in his hart.'"

At length in Committee of Supply; Vote on Account moved; Mr. G. on his feet wanting to know you know; doesn't once mention the Dissolution; but puts it to Prince ARTHUR whether, really, the time hasn't come when House should learn something with respect to intentions of Government touching finance, their principal Bills, and, in short, "so far foreshadowing the probable termination of the Session?" Wouldn't on any account hurry him; any day he likes will do; only getting time something should be said. Prince ARTHUR, gratefully acknowledging Mr. G.'s kind way of putting it, agreed with his view. Some day he will tell us something; to-day he will say nothing. A pretty bit of by-play; excellently done by both leading Gentlemen; perfectly understood by laughing House.

_Business done._--Shadow of Dissolution gathering close.

_Friday._--I see TAY PAY, in the interesting Sunday journal he admirably edits, reproaches me because, in this particular page of history, "Mr. SEXTON," he says, "is derided constantly and shamefully." _Anglicè_: Occasionally when, in a faithful record of Parliamentary events, SEXTON's part in the proceedings must needs be noticed, it is gently hinted that among his many admirable qualities terseness of diction is not prominent. In fact he has been sometimes alluded to by the playful prefix WINDBAG. If TAY PAY had been content to administer reproof, it would have been well. But he goes on to discuss SEXTON's parliamentary style, and comes to this conclusion:--"Mr. SEXTON's one fault as a speaker is that he does not proportion his observations sufficiently at certain stages in his speeches; and that preparation sometimes has the effect of tempting him to over-elaboration." If TAY PAY likes to put it that way, no one can object. Only, space in this journal being more valuable, the same thing is said in a single word.

_Business done._--Small Holdings Bill sent on to the Lords.

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NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.