_Tuesday._--Lord "Bob" Cecil, whose industry is equalled only by his ingenuousness, posed the Premier with awkward question. Wants to know "whether the Government propose to continue Sir Nevil Macready's appointment as resident magistrate; if so, whether he will be able in that capacity, in case of civil disturbance, to call upon himself as a military officer to give assistance to the civil power?" Suggests difficulty at first sight appalling. On historic occasion John Bright found himself in analogous quandary. As he then protested in ear of sympathising House: "I cannot turn my back upon myself." True that in the last three years of his political career he achieved the apparently impossible. But exception does not make a rule. More exact parallel found in case of eldest of _Dr. Blimber's_ pupils. _Mr. Toots_, we know, occupied his time at school chiefly in writing long letters to himself from persons of distinction addressed "P. Toots, Esq., Brighton, Sussex," which with great care he preserved in his desk. Thus, in case of emergency, Sir Nevil Macready, Resident Magistrate, might write to General Sir Nevil Macready in command of troops in Ireland a note something to this effect: "Sir,--From information received, I expect Ulster will be in a blaze before the end of the week. Please hold yourself in readiness to co-ordinate the action of your troops with that of the Royal Irish Constabulary.--Your obedient Servant, Nevil Macready, Resident Magistrate. To Sir Nevil Macready, General in command of troops in Ireland." Premier tried to explain away the situation. Remembering recreation of _Mr. Toots_, it is not really so bad as Lord "Bob's" earnest desire for preservation of law and order in Ulster leads him to fear. _Business done._--On motion of Prime Minister new Standing Order dealing with blocking motions carried _nemine contradicente_. _House of Lords, Thursday_,--The death of the Duke of Argyll leaves the House of Lords poorer by withdrawal of a quiet, gracious presence. I talked with him here a few days before the Easter recess. To-night the MacCailean Mhor, on his way to his last resting-place in the Highlands, sleeps amid the stately silence of Westminster Abbey, unawakened by the noiseless footsteps of the ghosts of great men dead. Thus in Plantagenet times the coffined body of the wife of Edward I., brought from Lincoln to Westminster, halted by the way, Charing Cross being the last of the nine resting-places of her bier.