_Thursday._--A pretty kettle-of-fish. Electric organ of skate seems to have touched up Government; confusion at Carlton to-day. The MARKISS met his merry men; proposed that Bills not completed by Prorogation should be carried over to next Session and taken up at stage reached this year. Loud outcry in Conservative ranks; proposal denounced as revolutionary; wouldn't have it on any terms; meeting broke up without passing any resolution; OLD MORALITY due at House at half-past three to give notice of Resolutions on Procedure. "Where are they?" Mr. G. asks, beaming across the table. "Resolutions?" says OLD MORALITY; "bless you, Sir, I have none to move." Grim silence on Ministerial Benches. Jubilation in Opposition camp. OLD MORALITY plied with questions from all sides; forlornly shakes his head. Can't say anything now. Can't say when he will be able to say something. Perhaps on Monday; perhaps some other day. Baited for half an hour, and then mercifully allowed to escape. "The tail seems, after all, to have been wagging the skate," I said, humorously; really sorry to find him so low-spirited. Didn't seem to see the point of joke, and usually so apt at badinage. A curious state of affairs; perhaps a memorable day. _Business done._--In Committee on Compensation Bill. _Friday._--"Lo! a strange thing has happened." (W. BLACK.) Yesterday Conservatives in open revolt; Ministry seemed tottering; Opposition jubilant. To-day things righted themselves; the rebels say it was only their fun; Dissentient Liberals throw arms round neck of MARKISS; protest they would never desert him; Opposition depressed; Ministers elate. "The head seems to have got the better of the complicated mechanism in the rear of the skate," I say to OLD MORALITY, a little timidly, remembering failure of yesterday's flash of humour. Quick comes the beaming smile. "You're a funny dog, TOBY," says OLD MORALITY, looking ten years younger than yesterday. _Business done._--In Committee on Compensation Bill. * * * * * AT HIS MAYERJESTY'S. [Illustration: Harlequinade.] _Paris Fin de Siècle_, Mr. MAYER'S second transplantation from the Gymnase to Her Majesty's Theatre, is amusing from first to last--that is to say, from 8.15 to close on midnight. The Comedy rattles along, and carries the audience who understand French--who in their turn carry the audience who pretend to do so, but who don't--with it. The acting is excellent; and the dialogue is as bright as the looks and toilettes of the dozen or more ladies who have parts. It is not quite clear what "_fin de siècle_" means. If it is Paris of to-day that is pictured, it certainly cannot be the Paris of five years hence, and the century has yet ten years to run. But whatever is the purpose of the play, it satisfied the audience which, on the first night, included H.R.H. and the PRINCESS OF WALES, together with "all London."