New Peer drops on one knee, presents bundle of paper to LORD CHANCELLOR.  L.C., coyly turning his head on one side, gingerly takes roll, hands it to Attendant.  New Peer gets up; procession bundles back to table; here Gentleman in wig and gown gabbles something from long document.  New Peer writes his name in a book (probably promising subscription towards expenses of performance.) Garter King-at-Arms getting to the front trots off with comically short strides for so great a dignity; New Peer and escort follow, Black Rod solemnly bringing up rear.  Garter King makes for Cross Benches by the door; passes along one, the rest following, as if playing game of Follow-my-leader.  Garter King suddenly making off to the right, walks up Gangway to row of empty Benches.  Stops at the topmost row but one, and passes along.  New Peer wants to follow him.  Garter King prods him in chest with small stick, and tells him to go on to the Bench above.  This he does, with escort.  Meanwhile, Black Rod left out in the cold.  Garter King motions to three Peers to be seated; tells them to put on their cocked-hats; counts ten; nods to them; they rise to feet, uplift cocked-hats in direction of LORD CHANCELLOR on Woolsack.  He raises his in return of salute.  Three Peers sit down again.  Garter King counts ten; nods; up they get again, salute LORD CHANCELLOR; sit down once more.  “One—­two—­three—­four—­ten,” Garter King mumbles to himself.  Once more they rise; salute LORD CHANCELLOR; then Garter King leading the way, they march back to Woolsack.

Garter King now introduces new Member to LORD CHANCELLOR.  L.C. starts as if he had never seen him before; then extends right hand; New Peer shakes it, procession reformed, walks out behind Bar.  A few minutes later, another comes in, all the business done over again.  Impressive, but a little monotonous, and as soon as possible after its conclusion Noble Lords go home.

Business done.—­In Commons, Private Bill Legislation Bill read a Second Time.

Friday.—­WM. O’BRIEN, standing with tear-stained face on pier at Boulogne waving wet handkerchief across the main, has drawn away JUSTIN McCARTHY, who can’t be back till Monday.  PARNELL was to have come down to-day, and, making believe to be still Leader of United Irishmen, asked OLD MORALITY to set aside day for discussion of his Motion on operation of Crimes Act.  BRER FOX accordingly looked in shortly after SPEAKER took the Chair.

[Illustration:  Dr. Channing in the Pulpit.]

“Seen BRER RABBIT anywhere about, TOBY?” he asked.

So I up and told him about McCARTHY’s new journey to Boulogne.

“Oh, indeed,” said BRER FOX; “if that’s the case, I think I won’t trouble House to-night.  Got an engagement elsewhere; think I’ll go and keep it.  Not used to hanging about here, as you know; awful bore to me; but as long as BRER RABBIT comes here, I must be on spot to vindicate my position.  So I’ll say ta-ta.  No—­never mind ringing for fire-escape; can walk down the steps to-day.”