"
[Illustration: Feeling his Way through the Fog.]
BRAMSTON BEACH's face during this subtle discourse a study; remained
very quiet for rest of sitting; told me at ten minutes to eleven he
thought he was beginning to grasp OLD MORALITY's meaning. "Yes," he
added, with more cheerfulness, "I'm feeling my way through the fog."
_Business done_.--STANSFELD's Franchise Resolution negatived by 291
Votes against 189.
_Thursday_.--In Lords to-night, three white figures fluttered down
gently on to red Benches, like virgin flakes of snow. But, unlike
snow, they didn't melt. On close examination, turned out to be three
new Bishops; two of them old friends, with new titles.
"Like _Bottom_, translated," BRAMWELL growls.
Dr. MAGEE, walking out Bishop of Peterborough, comes back Archbishop
of York. The ceremony of their installation not nearly so comic as
that of ordinary Peers of Parliament. Garter King-at-Arms does not
appear; nor Black Rod; nor is there any game of Follow-my-leader round
the Benches.
"No, no," said the MARKISS, who Mr. G. quite unjustly says has no
strain of reverence in his disposition, "that would never do. Must be
careful with our Bishops."
[Illustration: The Inflammable Liquor Bill.]
So the three new-comers, having paid their respects to the
LORD-CHANCELLOR, straightway took their seats on the Episcopal Bench,
folded their hands over their surpliced knees, and lent an added air
of peace and purity to the precincts.
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