Lobby, I'll read you my speech."

Much touched at this kindness. Unfortunately had an engagement which
prevented my availing myself of it.

KENNAWAY and Alphabet COUTTS in same box as WYNDHAM; get out of it in
different fashion. They, also, had prepared speeches, unknowing what turn
affairs would take. Weren't going to waste them, so delivered them at
length. They had everything but an audience. House could not prevent them
reeling off their speeches, but wouldn't stay to listen. Everybody happy
all round, and evening agreeably wasted.

_Business done._--More talk round Address.

_Tuesday._--Pretty to see DON'T-KEIR HARDIE just now escorted into House
arm-in-arm with CHARLES EDWARD HOWARD VINCENT, C.B., formerly of the Royal
Welsh Fusiliers, now Colonel of the Queen's Westminster Volunteers. Some
talk of the two Members temporarily changing coats whilst they addressed
the House. This was HOWARD VINCENT'S suggestion.

"I fancy, Brother HARDIE," he said, "it would picturesquely emphasise the
situation, don't you know, if we thus made community of at least our coats.
That's rather a remarkable garment you wear. If I put it on, and you wore
mine, then House would see how thoroughly one we are. Do you mind?"

"Well," said HARDIE, dubiously, "there's a good many things in the pockets,
and they might get loose if you went mauling round with the coat. So I
think, if you don't mind, we'll go in our own duds."

"Oh, as you please," said the Colonel, coldly, a little hurt at this
evidence of lack of confidence on part of his new pal.

So DON'T-KEIR HARDIE, moving Amendment to Address, orated in his own
clothes, whilst HOWARD VINCENT sat above Gangway near him, and punctuated
his speech with persistent cry of "Hear! hear!" A notable figure his friend
made. Evidently in the ranks of the Unemployed in the DON'T-KEIR HARDIE
household are the comb and brush. Through a mass of black hair, matted on
head and chin, DON'T-KEIR looked on House of Commons. The coat HOWARD
VINCENT hankered after was rather a jacket, cut short, so as to hide little
of the effulgence of his murky mustard-hued trowsers. Pockets alike of
trowsers and jacket were bulging with letters and papers. You could see
when he stood up to speak that he had just posted a letter to himself,
sticking it in his waistcoat pocket, which only half concealed its surface.

"I don't exactly know how it is," said GORST, curiously regarding
DON'T-KEIR HARDIE, and his eruption