Mr. T.P. O'CONNOR now enjoys the distinction of being the "Father" of the House of Commons, having sat there uninterruptedly since the General Election of 1880. Perhaps his new dignity sits rather heavily on his youthful spirit, for his speech on the Irish Estimates was painfully lugubrious. He took some comfort from a statement in _The Times_ that "We are all Home Rulers now," but as a veteran journalist he is probably aware that what _The Times_ says to-day it will not necessarily say to-morrow. "Leave politics alone and give us decent houses for our people and better education for our children" was Sir EDWARD CARSON'S prescription for invalid Erin; and Mr. IAN MACPHERSON, making his first speech as Chief Secretary, indicated that he meant to apply it. But the patient is suffering from so many disorders at present that she must have a tonic--with iron in it--before her Constitution can be regarded as completely restored. * * * * * P.B. Oft when the world was bent Solely on killing Heard we in Parliament PEMBERTON billing. Now the Dove hovers near, Now the League's brewing, May we not hope to hear PEMBERTON cooing? * * * * * MACEDONIA. The Allies having won the War, and myself having been released from the hands of the Hun, I spent a happy repatriation leave, and began to think about soldiering again. My orders were to rejoin my reserve unit in the North of England. Before the time came, however, a friend of mine, an educational staff officer in Ireland, wrote to me and suggested that I should go over and give him the assistance of my superior intelligence. I replied that I would be delighted. He then wrote:-- "My dear K----,--I am so pleased that you are willing to come over to Macedonia and help us. You had better ask War Office for a week's extension of leave, by which time my application for you will probably have filtered through. That will save you the trouble of rejoining your reserve unit." I thought this an excellent plan and went to the War Office to see about it. After the customary wait I was granted a few moments of a Staff Officer's precious time. "What do you want?" said the Staff Officer. He seemed used to meeting people who wanted things, and familiarity had evidently bred contempt. I humbly explained. "Have you got a written authority to support your application?" he asked. I produced my friend's letter, which was endorsed with the stamp of his Command Headquarters. The Staff Officer, standing (not out of politeness, I am sure), read the letter. Then he looked up, suspicion in his eye and in the cock of his head. "I don't understand this," he said. "You told me you wanted to go to Ireland. This letter distinctly refers to your going to Macedonia." "Macedonia!" I echoed (I had forgotten my friend's Biblical way of expressing himself).