"Torment 'em! Keep me here all night, I see." Samuel Banks Waddy--Pleader, Preacher, Parliamentarian (as he is designated in a work on M.P.'s)--continues preaching. He is followed by the Leader of the House. My soliloquising friend continues: "Ah, Old Morality--as Lucy calls ye--up at last. Move the closure, now then, that's right; speak of yer dooty to the House and Country. Set the Rads laughing, shut yer own mouth, and sit down. Oh lor! 'Ere's the Grand Old Muddler up. We're getting 'usky, old 'un; both of us have 'ad too much of this job. We're very much alike, Gladdy and me--both great eaters and great sleepers." [Illustration: "I FEEL SMALLER!"] Mr. Gladstone was telling the House all about black plaster, and gave three points why it should not be used in public hospitals. With the third point he landed a blow at Home Rule, and his ingenuity in doing so brought forth a derisive cheer from the Irish benches, which roused my neighbour. I looked up at him smiling, as much as to say, "Just like the Old Parliamentary Hand." "What are you?" he growled. "_Punch._" "Ticket?" Same reply and promise. Appeased, he continued: "Words, words, words--no 'ed no tail. Oh, of course you remember the introduction of white plaster--3rd of June, 1840--why didn't you say half-past two o'clock? More convincing. No doubt you got into some scrape and 'ad to use it. Won't you catch it from the old woman in the Gallery when you get home if you say so! Can't 'ear yer, thank goodness. Scribblers will take down any rot you talk. They want _me_, I suppose. Blowed if the country wants you." Again he rolls out of his seat, collects the reporters' copy, and gives it to the attendants. "Who are you? Ah, _Punch_. Don't forget yer ticket." Again he dozes. "'Icks Beach up! 'Ave all the Board of Trade chaps up, capping each other. Funny thing--Board of Trade chap says anything, all the Board of Traders must have a word in. Same with Local Government Board--new man says anything, old 'uns put in a word for theirselves, just to keep the place warm for them to return. Board!--I'm bored--joke there for Lucy. Thought the Irish lot couldn't keep quiet much longer. Tanner up,--ought to know more about plaster than politics. Rum fellers, these doctors in the House; leave their patients at 'ome, and come here to try ours--'nother good joke for Lucy--make his 'air stand on end. Tanner sticking to the plaster--now then, young Tories, jeer 'im down. The Doctor's goin' it. Order! order! That's right, Brand, turn 'im out,--wouldn't stand 'im in any place else. City Fowler's bellowing,--scene a-brewing,--good copy for these quill-drivers." Dr. Tanner had recited some harrowing tale about black plaster being used in his native town by a hospital surgeon on the scratched face of some old woman who had joined "the boys" in a street fight, although she protested that pink suited her complexion.