tion, punctuated with little taps,
each one of which left its crimson trace on the old gentleman's white
shirt-front, until the whole shilling's-worth was placed in position.
Mr. Bankes-Stanhope was too irate to notice these little manoeuvres; he
maintained his hectoring tone, and never glanced down at his
shirt-front. Finally Lord Charles left, and the old gentleman, still
puffing and blowing with wrath, struggled into his overcoat, and went
off to an official party at Sir Michael Hicks-Beach's, where his
appearance with twelve red penny stamps adhering to his shirt-front
must have created some little astonishment.

In the '86 Parliament there was a certain Member, sitting on the
Conservative side, who had the objectionable habit of removing his
boots (spring-sided ones, too!) in the House, and of sitting in a pair
of very dubious-coloured grey woollen socks, apparently much in want of
the laundress's attentions. Many Members strongly objected to this
practice, but the delinquent persisted in it, in spite of protests. One
night a brother of mine, knowing that there would shortly be a
Division, succeeded in purloining the offending boots by covering them
with his "Order paper," and got them safely out of the House. He hid
them behind some books in the Division Lobby, and soon after the
Division was called. The House emptied, but the discalced legislator
retained his seat. "A Division having been called, the honourable
Member will now withdraw," ordered Mr. Speaker Peel, most awe-inspiring
of men. "Mr. Speaker, I have lost my boots," protested the shoeless
one. "The honourable Member will at once withdraw," ordered the Speaker
for the second time, in his sternest tones; so down the floor of the
House came the unfortunate man--hop, hop, hop, like the "little hare"
in Shock-headed Peter. The iron ventilating gratings were apparently
uncomfortable to shoeless feet, so he went hopping and limping through
the Division Lobby, affording ample glimpses of his deplorably
discoloured woollen footwear. Later in the evening an attendant handed
him a paper parcel containing his boots, the attendant having, of
course, no idea where the parcel had come from. This incident
effectually cured the offender of his unpleasant habit. The accusation
of neglecting his laundress may have been an unfounded one. In my early
youth I was given a book to read about a tiresome little girl named
Ellen Montgomery, who apparently divided her time between