“Thank you,” said BEACH, with something more than his customary effusive manner.

JACKSON toying round the table, packing and unpacking papers, looking at his watch and the clock, vaguely whistling, and absently rubbing his hands.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.  “You seem out of sorts.”

[Illustration:  Mr. P-rn-ll turns his Back on Public Opinion.]

“Matter!” he cried.  “Why, twenty minutes to Six is the matter, and here’s all the work done and the House up.  It’s absolutely demoralising; portends something uncanny.  On Tuesday we got through the Address in a single short sitting; yesterday, after meeting at noon, had to adjourn for three hours and a half; filled up remainder of time with bringing in Bills; To-day we have an Irish Land Bill brought in and read a First Time, after a Debate confined to SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE’S GATE, and WILFRID LAWSON.  Nothing like it seen for sixteen years.  If this kind of thing goes on, you know, we’ll get all the work of the Session done in three months, and perhaps done better than when it took nine.  It’s the suddenness that knocks me over, TOBY.  They ought to be more considerate, and begin more gently.”

Great commotion in Irish circles.  Scene slightly shifted.  It seems that Irish Members in re-electing PARNELL on Tuesday, thought he would relieve them of difficulty by forthwith resigning.  Mr. P. doesn’t take that view; thinks it would be rude, after having been unanimously elected, to appear to undervalue such remarkable, spontaneous act of confidence; doesn’t care a rap for public opinion.

“J’y suis, et j’y reste,” he says, smiling sweetly round the table, where his friends forlornly sit.

“Begorra!” says Mr. O’KEEF, indignantly, “it’s bad enough to have him ruining us and the counthry, without using blasphaymious language.”

Business done.—­Everything on the paper.

[Illustration:  “Bless-you-my-child!”]

Friday Night.—­Louis JENNINGS made capital speech to-night on Motion challenging commutation of certain perpetual pensions.  Seems, among other little jobs, we, the tax-payers of Great Britain, with Income-tax at sixpence in the pound, have been paying pension of L2,000 a year to descendant of the late ELLEN GWYNNE.  Select Committee appointed by present Government to consider whole matter, recommended that no pension should be commuted at rate so high as twenty-seven years’ purchase.  JOKIM, generous with other people’s money, flies in face of recommendation, and comfortably rounds off one or two of these little jobs with gratuity of twenty-seven years’ purchase.  Cheerful to hear this sort of thing denounced in breezy fashion from Conservative Benches.  JENNINGS, amid loud cheers, hits straight out from the shoulder.  WALTER FOSTER quite delighted.  “Bless you, my child,” he says, “you ought to belong to the Radical Party.” Business done.—­Agreed that, up to Christmas, Government shall have all the time.