violence, exhibits a hackly fracture.  Its colour comprises various shades of gold yellow.  Its specific gravity varies from 14.8 to 19.2.  It is commonly alloyed by copper, silver, and iron, in very small proportions.  I mean, if I may say so, to unalloy it”; and, swinging the pick round his head with a dexterity that testified to natural aptitude combined with diligent practice, GRANDOLPH chipped a fragment out of the marble mantelpiece, and, picking it up, eagerly examined it, as if in search of a hackly fracture.

I wished him good luck, and went back to the House, where I found BIDDULPH smiling behind SPEAKER’s chair, watching ATKINSON illustrating the working of his Duration of Speeches Bill by ringing a muffin-bell, borrowed from a Constituent.

Business done.—­Miscellaneous.

Thursday.—­Should have been at work to-night on Army Estimates; but things getting a little mixed.  Nearly 150 Members picknicking at Portsmouth; all the Colonels, the Bo’suns, the Captains, and the Admirals.

“Capital opportunity to get on with the Estimates,” JACKSON whispered in OLD MORALITY’s ear.

“No,” said that pink of chivalry, “I will never take mean advantage of a man, even of an Admiral.  Let us put on the Factories and Workshops Bill; won’t take long; keep us going till they get back from Portsmouth.”

[Illustration:  “That evening bell!”]

So HOME SECRETARY moved Second Reading.  “Mere formality, you know,” he explained; “shall refer Bill to Committee on Trade, and there it will be thrashed out and shaped.”  But floodgates once opened not easily shut.  The Factories and Workshops mean the Working-Man; Working-Man has Vote; General Election not far off; must show Working-Man who’s his true friend.  Everybody his true friend.  Speeches by the dozen; COMPTON, after long sitting in patient attitude at last caught SPEAKER’s eye.  “A milk-and-water Bill,” he scornfully characterised HOME SECRETARY’s measure.

“Ah!  COMPTON knows what the Working-Man likes,” said WILFRID LAWSON.  “A rum-and-milk Bill is more to his taste.”

LYON PLAYFAIR delivered one of his luminous Lectures; full of reference to “certifying surgeons,” and “half-time children.”

“What’s a half-time child?” I asked CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN.

“Fancy it’s one prematurely born,” he whispered back.  “But really don’t know; not on in this scene; ask MUNDELLA or pleeceman.”

LYON PLAYFAIR knew all about it and much else.

“Wonderful man!” said the Member for SARK, gazing admiringly on his massive brow.  “Always reminds me of what SYDNEY SMITH said about another eminent person.  ’Look at my little friend JEFFREY.  He hasn’t body enough to cover his mind decently with.  His intellect is indecently exposed.’”

Business done.—­Factory and Workshops Bill read a Second Time.

[Illustration:  Waiting for Opportunity.]