To the gilded, painted chamber Of the House of Talkee-Talkee, Comes a crowd of various people, Comes a flock of noble ladies, Painted most, and all _decolletees;_ Come the Bishops and the Judges, Gravely taking up their places; Clad in their state robes, the Judges, Like to agéd washerwoman; In their puffed lawn sleeves, the Bishops, Fussy, like the hen that cackles Over new-laid egg or chicken; Come diplomatists by dozens, Blazing with their numerous orders, Which they gladly take, like bagmen; Come with their vermilion buttons And their petticoats of satin, Wond'ring much, the Chinese Envoys:-- Wond'ring why it is the ladies Care to sit squeezed up like herrings? How it is their faces glow so With the ruddy hues of nature? Wond'ring why it is the nobles Moon about with hideous cloaks on, Making them appear round-shouldered, Mute-like, "Jarvie-ish," ungainly? Why it is Lord Coleridge carries 'Neath the folds of his the head-gear Known in slang phrase as a "stove-pipe!" Why in swallow-tail of evening Mr. Pierrepoint walks at noon-day? Why the Primate greets profusely Fezzed Musurus when he enters? Why the latter comes to gaze on These ill-fated dogs of Christians That his former masters cheated? And their wonderment continues As they hear the _charivari_, See the entrances and exits, Watch staid men in green and silver, Rushing here and running thither. Others, clad in velvet small-clothes, Pottering in among the benches, Nought effecting but confusion. * * * * * Entered are at last the household, And the Queen comes through the doorway, Sits she in her dress of velvet On the throne, and all is silent. Only for a minute's space though, For, from down a distant lobby, Comes the sound of pattering footsteps, Like the rush of many waters, By the shore of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big Sea Water. Nearer, nearer, comes the pattering, Louder, louder grow the voices, More pronounced the hurried scuffling. Now it seems as though the sound wave Rolled close to the chamber's portal, And, 'midst loud complaints and laughter, Plainly heard by all who sat there, Comes unto the bar the Speaker; At his heels are Stafford Northcote, And Ward Hunt, the Tory giant, After them the deluge! Members Fight and push, and pull and scuffle; Loudly wrangle for their places, And protest with scanty measure Of politeness or good breeding; Whilst their premier, safe translated, Smiles a smile that's cold and selfish.