Now hour has struck; he may come to the front, and, with habitual modesty of men, indicate rather than describe the imperishable service he has done the Commons.  House, all unconscious of what is in store for it, wantons at play.  Innumerable questions on paper.  SUMMERS coming up fresh with batch of new conundrums.  PATRICK O’BRIEN “having had his attention called” to some verses by SWINBURNE, proposes to read them.  House wickedly delighted at prospect of SWINBURNE being haltingly declaimed with North Tipperary accent localised by companionship with the Town Commissioners of Nenagh; SPEAKER thinks it might be funny, but wouldn’t be business; so PATRICK:  having begun, “Night brings but one red star—­Tyrannicide,” is sternly pulled up.  OLD MORALITY says he’s never seen “the publication;” has asked friends near him, and everyone says he has neither seen, heard, nor read of it.  “The House,” says the SPEAKER, by way of crushing ignominy, “has no control over the poet SWINBURNE.”

[Illustration:  W.H.  SMITH AS “THE ROVER OF THE SEAS.”

“ONCE MORE ON BOARD THE LUGGER, AND I AM FREE!”]

So House deprived of its anticipated lark; all the while HANBURY, with hands in pockets, sits staring gloomily forth, rather pitying than resentful.  House of course does not know what is in store for it; still this trifling at the very moment when, though all inconspicuously, the Commons have been saved from contumelious outrage, racks the soul that carries with it the momentous secret.

At last HANBURY’S opportunity comes!  Rises slowly, solemnly, to full height; in deep base tones, asks permission to make personal statement.  House instantly alert, and attentive; baulked of its fun with PATRICK, here is promise of fresh larks.  HANBURY, his profound base notes sometimes trembling with emotion, proceeds to unfold his story; reads long letter from Dartmouth; Members, discovering that the portentous business relates to some trumpery correspondence in the newspapers, begin to cough, shuffle their feet, and even cry “Agreed!” HANBURY stops aghast.  Can it be possible?  When he has been vindicating privileges of Commons, can Members thus lightly treat incident?  But he will read them another letter, one he wrote to Lord DARTMOUTH.  Anguished roar burst forth from House; louder cries of “Agreed!  Agreed!” HANBURY, gasping for breath, looks round from side to side.  They cannot understand; will read them another letter; begins; storm increases; HANBURY persists.  Surely House will be delighted to hear his final rejoinder to DARTMOUTH?  On the contrary, House will have no more; and HANBURY, pained and panting, resumes his seat, and business goes forward as if he had not interposed.

Business done.—­A sudden rush.  All contentious Bills through final stage.