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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

[Illustration: (H)]

_House of Commons, Tuesday, February_ 9.--House met to-day for what,
the SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE tells me, must needs be last Session
of present Parliament. Appropriately funereal air over scene and
proceedings. Usually Members return to work in highest spirits.
Remember, in years gone by, before the blight of neglect in high
places fell upon him, how dear old PETER RYLANDS enjoyed himself
on these occasions. What long strides he used to take, bustling to
and fro! What thunderous slaps of friendly welcome he bestowed on
shrinking shoulders! What digs of deep and subtle humour he dealt to
unresponsive ribs!

If PETER were with us to-day, it is probable that even his
effervescence of natural spirits would droop under prevalent gloom.
The familiar place is a House of Mourning. Members tread softly, lest
they should disturb the sick or wake the dead. Everyone has had the
influenza, fears he is going to catch it, or mourns someone whom it
has snatched away.

When SPEAKER took Chair and business commenced, a glance round crowded
benches brought back memory of much that has happened in the Recess.

"'Tis not alone this inky cloak, good TOBY, worn in sign of public