Business done.—­Irish Land Bill in report stage.

Tuesday.—­House of Lords the scene of a thrilling performance to-night.  Usually meets for business at half-past four.  On Tuesdays, in order to give Noble Lords opportunity for preparing for exhaustive labours, public business does not commence till half-past five.

Punctually at that hour, a solitary pedestrian might have been observed walking up the floor of the historic Chamber.  A flowing gown hid, without entirely concealing, his graceful figure; a full-bottomed wig crowned his stately head, as the everlasting snows veil the lofty heights of the Himalayas.  He looked neither to the right hand nor to the left, but with swinging stride strode forward.  At the end of the Chamber stood the Throne of England, on which, in days gone by, HARCOURT’S Plantagenet fathers sat, and in which some day—­who knows?—­the portly frame of him who now proudly bears the humble title, SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, may recline.

But that is another story.  The gowned-and-wigged figure observed walking up the floor of the House of Lords at half-past five on a June evening, was not making for the Throne.  Before that piece of furniture stood a bench, in appearance something like the familiar ottoman of the suburban drawing-room.  It was the Woolsack, and the svelte figure, swinging towards it with the easy stride of superlative grace and comparative youth, was the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR!  Before him, at respectful distance, went his Purse-bearer, ready to produce the wherewithal should his Lordship desire a pick-me-up by the way.  Behind him came the Mace-bearer, and, a foot further in the rear, Black Rod.

[Illustration:  “Accommodated with a Seat.”]

Odsfakins! a stately procession, which ought to have been set in the centre of an admiring multitude.  But the LORD CHANCELLOR’S springy footfall echoed through an almost empty chamber.  DENMAN was faithful at his post, ready to move that some Bill be read a Second Time on that day nine months.  Here and there, on widely severed benches, perched a Peer, whilst from the Gallery, where he had been accommodated with a seat, the smiling mobile face of Mr. Justice DAY peered forth.  He had just looked in on his way home from the Courts, interested in a scene where some day he may take his place as Brother BRAMWELL and Brother COLERIDGE have done.

The keen eyes of the great LORD CHANCELLOR flashed round the chilling scene.  Clerk at the table mumbled something about Provisional Orders.

“Those that are of that opinion say ‘Content,’” observed the LORD CHANCELLOR.  “Contrary, ‘Not Content;’ the Contents have it.  This House will now adjourn.”

Then uprose the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR, and with the same stately swinging step, moved towards the doorway, with the Purse-bearer, the Mace-bearer, and Black Rod in his train.  It was twenty-five minutes to Six; full five minutes had elapsed since the House of Lords met.  Now House of Lords had adjourned, and the throbbing pulses of an Empire on which the sun never sets beat with steadier motion, knowing that all was well. Business done.—­House of Lords adjourned.