[Illustration: "Bless me!"]
Perhaps it was sight of this pathetic figure that sobered the MARKISS.
Anyhow, as we walked out together, found him in subdued mood, more
fitting the occasion than that assumed when addressing House. "All
over at last, TOBY," he said; "and I may go down to Hatfield, take
off my coat, and have a day's, or even a week's serene pleasure in my
workshop. I'm nobody of any account now, _ni_ Premier, _ni_ Foreign
Minister. Do you remember the lines written by an unknown hand on the
ruins of Berytus, which TRYPHON, King of Syria, sacked a hundred and
forty years before the Star rose at Bethlehem? I was thinking of them
just now, even when I was chaffing KIMBERLEY:--
'Stay not your course, O Mariners, or me,
Nor furl your sails--is not my harbour dry?
Nought but one vast, forsaken tomb am I.
But steer for other lands, from sorrow free,
Where, by a happier and more prosp'rous shore,
Your anchor ye may drop, and rest your oar.'"
"Not at all," I said.
Rather an inadequate remark, I see, when I come to write it down. I'd
say something better if the MARKISS would repeat the lines.
_Business done._--MARKISS announces Resignation of Ministry.
* * * * *
_House of Commons, Thursday._--House seems to have been meeting all
day.
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