f no birth. I'd give my
ears, and my wife would not merely give them, but her diamond earrings as
well, to see her name in the _Court Circular_, or to get a ticket to Lady
Plantagenet's Sunday-evening parties. Promiscuously I hint this in the
Lobby, and lo! the magician's wand waves, and I and my wife enter the
stately portals we had long aspired to cross. If certain parties, in the
course of the parliamentary session, find there is nothing lost by
civility, where's the harm? But look round the Lobby; the electioneering
agent is there to discuss how to make things pleasant; the getter-up of
public companies comes there to catch a few M.P.'s as directors. There
is the local deputation of the Stoke Gas Company--limited
liability--whose Bill stand for reading a third time to-night; and there
is the Secretary of the United Metropolitan Association for making every
householder consume his own smoke. Smith from the provinces has caught
his member's eye, and has got an order for the gallery. Alas, Smith, the
gallery has been full this hour; and there are now fifty individuals,
fortunate holders of orders like yourself, waiting their turn. Here is
"Our Correspondent" gossiping with the door-keepers, attacking every
member with whom he is on speaking terms, in order that he may concoct
the luminous epistles which form the attraction of the paper whose
columns he adorns. This man is a spouter at public-house discussion
clubs, and fancies himself, as he stands surrounded by M.P.'s, almost an
M.P. himself. What does he here? I know not, except waste his time. A
grand debate is coming on; a ministerial crisis is imminent. How full
the Lobby gets; and how scrutinised is every action of hon. gentlemen as
they take a turn, as they all do in the course of the evening, in the
Lobby! There is the leader of the Opposition; he meets his bitterest
foe, and bows to him and smiles. In what agony are the quidnuncs to know
the hidden meaning of that bow and smile! The Ministerialist Whipper-in
has a little book in his hand, and is busy in his calculation. By the
twinkle in his eye I fancy it is all right; and now he may whistle
"Begone, dull care, I prythee begone from me." He need not fear next
quarter-day. Ah! that cheer which comes sounding to us through the glass
doors denotes that the Premier has concluded his defence, and that the
House is on his side. But out rushes the Sergeant-at-Arms. "Clear the
Lobby for a division,