Chapter 3

This remark does not imply anything rude. Fact is FIELD, when at home in Dublin, holds lofty position of President of Irish Cattle-Traders' and Stock-Owners' Association. Similes from the stockyard come naturally to his lips. Promises to be acquisition to Parliamentary life. Is certainly lovely to look upon, with his flowing hair, his soft felt hat, the glossy black of his necktie contrasting with glossy white of his boundless shirt-front. Thought at first he was a poet; rather disappointing to find he's only a butcher. Whatever he be, he's refreshing to the eye, wearied with monotony of last Parliament.

Writs moved for new Elections consequent on acceptance of Office. Lobby seems full of new Whips, whom JACOB grimly eyes. CAUSTON with unusually troubled look on manly brow. "What's the matter?" I asked. "Afraid you'll be chucked?"

"Oh, no!" he said; "Southwark's safe enough. But they're such doose of fellows down there. Remember at General Election one took me neat. After I had made speech to crowded meeting, lot of questions put. Answered them all satisfactorily. At last one fellow got up, asked me, in voice of thunder, 'Are you, in favour of temperance?' Rather ticklish thing that, you know. As many against it as for it. Looked all round the room; seemed remarkably decent lot; the man who was heckling me a little rubicund as to the nose; but that might be indigestion. Anyhow, felt unless I could satisfy him, I'd lose his vote. 'Are you in favour of temperance?' he roared again. 'Yes, I am;' I said, heartily. 'Then I ain't!' he roared back; and stamped his way out of the room. That's the sort of fellows they are down at Southwark. Never know where you have 'em. Generally turns out they have _you_."

_Business done._--Thunderstorm and Prorogation.

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THE BUILDER AND THE ARCHITECT.

The sun was shining on the fog, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The London day look bright-- And yet it seemed as though it were The middle of the night.

The Builder and the Architect Were walking close at hand; They wept like anything to see Such eligible land: "If this were only built upon," They said, "it _would_ be grand!"

"Oh, Tenants, come and live with us!" The Builder did entreat, "And take a little villa in This countrified retreat, Where stand straight rows of houses, So very new and neat!"

The elder Tenants looked at him, But never a word said they; The elder Tenants winked their eyes, As though they meant to say, "Old birds, like we, are never caught By chaff in such a way."

But four young Tenants hurried up, Each eager to rent one; Their looks were pale, their faces white, Like muffins underdone-- Which was not odd, because, you know, They never saw the sun.

The Builder and the Architect Went on a year or so Building damp villas on damp ground Conveniently low: And still some little houses stood Quite empty in the row.

"I cannot think," the Builder said, "Why people should complain Of mortar made of mud from roads, Or roofs that let in rain, Or sewer-gas that comes from an Unventilated drain."

"A fair return," the Builder said, "Two hundred, say, per cent., Is all the profit that I want On anything I've spent, Now, if you're ready, Tenants dear, I'll take the quarter's rent."

"But not from us," the Tenants cried, "The houses are so new, They've made us all so very ill We don't know what to do." "The County Court," the Builder said, "Is very near to you."

"I tell you what," the Builder said, "I fear that I must seize Your furniture, unless you pay; So fork out, if you please." And even he, in that damp air, Began to cough and sneeze.

"Oh, Tenants," said the Architect, "Just think what I have done, Designing such æsthetic homes!" But answer came there none-- And this was scarcely odd, because They'd perished every one.

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UNDER CONSIDERATION, AUGUST 21.

No appointment could be more appropriate and in accordance with the fitness of things than to make a GARDNER the new Minister of Agriculture. Of course it has been suggested that a Rural Dean should succeed to the vacant Chaplincy.

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