tache,
"but I can't say things like that in the House."

"Why not?" asked Paul.

"If they heard me make an epigram, they would have a fit."

"Our side wouldn't. The Government might. The Government ought to have
fits all the time until it expires in convulsions."

"But this is a mere dull agricultural question. The Board of
Agriculture have brought it in, and it's such pernicious nonsense that
I, as a county gentleman, have to speak against it."

"But couldn't you stick in my little joke about the pigs?" asked Paul
pleadingly.

"What's that?" Colonel Winwood found the place in the script. "I say
that the danger of swine fever arising from this clause in the Bill
will affect every farmer in England."

"And I say," cried Paul eagerly, pointing to his note, "if this clause
becomes law, swine fever will rage through the land like a demoniacal
possession. The myriad pigs of Great Britain, possessed of the devils
of Socialism, will be turned into Gadarene swine hurtling down to
destruction. You can show how they hurtle, like this--" He flickered
his bands. "Do try it."

"H'm!" said Colonel Winwood.

Sorely against his will, he tried it. To his astonishment it was a
success. The House of Commons, like Mr. Peter Magnus's friend, is
easily amused. The exaggeration gave a cannon-ball's weight to his
sound argument. The Government dropped the clause--it was only a
trivial part of a wide-reaching measure--the President of the Board of
Agriculture saying gracefully that in the miracle he hoped to bring
about he had unfortunately forgotten the effect it might have on the
pigs. There was "renewed laughter," but Colonel Winwood remained the
hero of the half-hour and received the ecstatic congratulations of
unhumorous friends. He might have defeated the Government altogether.
In the daily round of political life nothing is so remarkable as the
lack of sense of proportion.

"It was the Gadarene swine that did it," they said.

"And that," said Colonel Winwood honestly, "was my young devil of a
secretary."

Thenceforward the young wit and the fresh fancy of Paul played like a
fountain over Colonel Winwood's and speeches.

"Look here, young man," said he one day, "I don't like it. Sometimes I
take your confounded suggestions, because they happen to fit in; but
I'm actually getting the reputation of a light political comedian, and
it won't do."

Whereupon Paul, with his swift intuition, saw that in the case of a
proud, ea