“That beats you, BIGWOOD,” the Evesham Banker said, with a tartness of voice that betrayed his chagrin.

Rest of the 665 Members content to look in later.  By one o’clock House full, Lobby overflowing.  Difficult to move through the close ranks, and yet there were many gaps.  Ranks of old House more than decimated.  “There they go,” said my young but fiery friend FURNISS, whom I came upon in corner of Lobby, rapidly sketching with blurred eyesight.

“Who go?” I asked, remembering with a start I had left my gold-nobbed stick in the corner by the Post Office.

“The Members we shall miss,” he sobbed, lingering fondly over the truculent curl of HERMON-HODGE’s moustache.

But if gone are some familiar faces, others come back.  Glad to see MACFARLANE in his old place below Gangway, and to find him later in old seat in smoking-room.  MACFARLANE didn’t often speak in debate, but usually had something to say.  Was a Home-Ruler long before the majority found salvation.  Remember across the years how he put whole case in crisp sentence when he adjured the deaf Government of the day “not to attempt to enforce Greenwich-time at Dublin.”  If BRIGHT had said that, or DIZZY, or Mr. G., the happy phrase would have echoed down the corridors of time.  But it was only an Irish Member; MACFARLANE, then Member for Carlow.  So it passed unnoticed—­unremembered rather than forgotten.

Business done.—­Speaker elected.  ARTHUR WELLESLEY PEEL for the fourth time.  House evidently under impression it can’t have too much of good thing.

Friday.—­Pretty to watch growth of full-blown SPEAKER in New Parliament.  First stage—­enters in ordinary morning dress, and seats himself with other Members, diligently trying to look as if he expected nothing to happen.  Sore temptation for Members sitting near him.  Would like to slap him on the back, and ask how he got on through his Election.  Short of that, feel they must ask if he wants a pair?  Is he dining here?  Is he going to have a smoke, or a stroll on the Terrace?  Next day, having meanwhile been proposed, seconded, and inducted to Chair, SPEAKER-ELECT turns up in Court-dress, with Bob-wig.  This is Development-stage.  Having reached it, proceeds to the House of Lords, where he is patronisingly received by LORD CHANCELLOR.  ("HALSBURY,” SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE’S GATE says, “peculiarly well up in patronage.”) This done, returns to Commons; disappears behind Chair; SERGEANT-AT-ARMS counts twenty-three; presto! door re-opens; SPEAKER re-appears in butterfly-trim, with full-bottomed wig, silk gown, and shoon on which shimmer the sheen of silver buckles.

No trifling with SPEAKER when this final stage reached.  KEIR-HARDIE took early opportunity of trying a fall with him—­and got it.  HARDIE fresh from the coal-pit, represents West Ham; evidently determined to pose as Stage Workman.  “DON’T KEIR-HARDIE is my name,” he said, swaggering into House just now.  “Don’t keer a ——­ for SPEAKER, or any black-coated bloke.  I’m the true British Workman, and will soon make all you blooming gentry sit up.”