CAWMELL-BANNERMAN with the ruthless disregard of Shaksperian traditions that seems to suit the War Office, said "apothecaries are an expiring class," a way of putting it that suggested they had been dosing themselves. Their place was now filled by non-commissioned officers, who were called compounders of medicine. What a fall is here. Fancy _Romeo_ going about the moonlit streets of Mantua calling out, "What ho! Compounder of Medicine." This callous remark had such effect on Cap'en TOMMY that he laid aside his speaking-trumpet, and was heard, no more through the live-long night. _Business done._--Some Votes in Army Estimates. _Thursday_.--Looked in after dinner just now; startled to find HANBURY on his legs, with bit of dirty white rag held out in both hands towards Treasury Bench. Not many Members present; those on Liberal side vociferously cheering. CAWMELL-BANNERMAN looking in better temper even than usual; which was strange since Committee on Army Estimates been at it since four o'clock, and only one vote passed. WOODALL, only other occupant of Treasury Bench, been shewing how a man may smile and smile, and be a Financial Secretary to the War Office. Now the smile broadens till it stretches almost full length of Treasury Bench. As SARK says, it justifies RUDYARD KIPLING'S bold imagery of BOBS sitting on a bucking charger, With a smile round both yer ears, Ain't ye Bobs? CAUSTON just bustled in, holding telegram at arm's length. It is the reading of this that has broken the monotony of Committee with noise of cheering, and dashed a smile along the Ministerial benches like a sudden flash of sunlight. Only for this merry mood, one entering the House at this particular moment might fear the worst. HANBURY been at it hour after hour since Tuesday, when House got into Committee on Navy Estimates. CAWMELL-BANNERMAN, a person of imperturbable temper. But there are limits to human endurance; now they seem to have been reached. This telegram CAUSTON has brought in and handed to War Minister doubtless announces that all is ready; a file of soldiers waits on the Terrace; HANBURY will be seized, bound, carried forth, blindfolded, shot; and then the Committee will really get to business, and vote Supply. A sad fate for one only moderately middle-aged. _Tu l'as voulu_ ROBERT WILLIAM. Still, cannot withhold the tear of pity as the hapless man stands clutching at the extended white flag which announces his capitulation, his entreaty for pardon, his promise of better conduct in future.