pt us here unto this last.

"And now I'm off," said SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE. "I don't know how
you'll get on without me, dear boys."

"We'll try, we'll try," murmured the Conservatives gathered in the
smoke-room for the last cigarette.

"You see," the SAGE continued, "some lives are valuable to the
country, and must be cared for, whatever violence is done to private
feeling. For my part, I would much rather be here, but RUSTEM ROOSE,
He-who-is-to-be-Obeyed, has ordered me to Marienbad, and I go. 'But,'
like ATKINSON and another ancient Roman (of whom you may have read in
school-books), 'I return.' In the meanwhile, take care of Mr. G. Don't
let him overwork himself, or ruthlessly endanger his health. It is
precious to all of us, more especially to some of his colleagues on
the Front Bench. I often think of what will happen when he retires
from the scene. I fancy there will be a kind of Suttee. There are
quite a lot of old wives in his political establishment, who cannot
resist, what must, indeed, be their natural inclination, the call to
immolate themselves on the funeral pyre. There's ----, and ----, and
---- ----." (Wild horses couldn't drag these names from me. Anyone
interested should write to the SAGE, _Poste Restante Marienbad_.)
"They could not think of lingering on the political scene after the
retirement of the head of the family. I shall certainly attend the
Suttee. It will be an interesting and ennobling spectacle. It will,
moreover, make some room on the newly constructed Treasury Bench."

_Business done_.--SAGE goes off by the Club train. The two muffled-up
figures seen in the background of the station are emissaries of
AKERS-DOUGLAS charged with the mission of ascertaining whether he's
really gone.

[Illustration: An Idea.]

_Saturday_.--House sitting to-day. Should have prorogued yesterday at
latest; but, somehow, drifting on; Members, for their part, drifting
off; affairs reached lowest level; business practically wound up; but
House must needs sit another week in order that Appropriation Bill may
be got through all its stages, and so the Constitution saved.

Looking round the dull and deadly scene, discover WADDY, Q.C., with
legs engagingly intertwined, and the forefinger that has wagged
a verdict out of many juries resting on his massive brow. "Got a
headache?" I asked, that being the most natural thing under the
circumstances.

"No, I've got an idea. I'll pair go off for my well-earned hol