“No, TOBY,” he said, wearily; “it’s not that; gave that up at once.  OLD MORALITY’s a good fellow, but he’s too subtle for me.  It’s this Police Question that bothers me; give up a good deal of time to mastering it.  Sort of thing seemed likely to suit me; heard all MATTHEWS’ speeches; tried to follow CUNNINGHAME GRAHAM; courted CONYBEARE’S company, and pursued PICKERSGILL with inquiries.  Thought I’d got a pretty clear notion of what it all meant; and now it turns out all to have led up to making PULESTON Constable of Carnarvon.  Never heard his name before in connection with the Police Question.  He took no part in discussions; had nothing to do with it I ever heard of; just when I was comfortably getting on another tack, the whole question centres on PULESTON.  It seems he was the Police Question, and now he’s Constable of Carnarvon.  Why Carnarvon?  Why not stationed in the Lobby or the Central Hall where he would be with old friends?  Suppose he’ll wear a blue coat, bright buttons, and a belt, and will shadow LOYD-GEORGE who now sits for Carnarvon?  If you write to him must you address your letters “P.C.  PULESTON”? and shall we have to change refrain of our latest National Hymn? instead of singing ’Ask a Policeman?’ shall we have to chant ‘Ask a PULESTON?’ These are the new problems; suddenly rushed in, bothering me to death when I thought I’d got pretty well through Session, Recess close at hand and no more difficult points coming up.  Don’t think, TOBY, I was cut out for politics; perhaps I take them too seriously; but like to know things, and there are so many things to know.”

Try to cheer up NICHOLAS; suggest to him that he should put his questions down on the paper; might address them to FERGUSON; a little out of the way of Foreign Affairs; but a conversation publicly conducted between NICHOLAS and FERGUSON would be interesting.

Business done.—­Votes in Supply.

Friday.—­House in rather strange condition to-night; things all sevens and sixes; Motion is that Anglo-German Agreement Bill be read Second Time.  Opinion very mixed on merits of measure; on the whole, no particular objection to it, even though with it goes Heligoland.  Still, an Opposition must oppose; but where is the Opposition?  Mr. G. came down last night; said he’d no particular objection to Treaty, but didn’t like the process of confirming it; so publicly washed his hands of the business.  Since the announcement appeared in papers, HERBERT tells me his illustrious father’s life has been a burden to him.  Every post brings him letters from rival advertising soap manufacturers, making overtures of business transactions.

“Sir,” runs one of these epistles, “alluding to your statement in the House of Commons last night that you publicly washed your hands of participation in the Anglo-German Treaty, would you have any objection to our stating that the substance used was our celebrated Salubrious Savon?  Anticipating your favourable reply, we assume that you would have no objection to our publishing a portrait of you using our soap, with its familiar label, ‘Does not wash collars.’  We have only to add that in the event of your favourably accepting this suggestion, we shall esteem it a favour to be allowed to gratuitously supply you and your family with specimens of our art for the term of your natural lives.”