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Dalziel another sturdy Scotch Radical is also satisfied; and so we have all the Liberal vote, with the single exception of Labby who quickly furtively almost shamefacedly rushes off into the Tory lobby. And now the division takes place.
In Eighteen Hundred Eighty, Bradlaugh was elected with Mr. Labouchere, whose views as to theology and the Established Church were one with Bradlaugh's. "Labby" took the oath quite as a matter of course, just as atheists everywhere kiss the book in courts, it being to them but an antique form of affirming that what they say will be truth.
"Yes, mother," said Gertrude, sadly. "I learned it, and it was a detestable lesson. I am SO tired of hearing that Titus Labienus was stationed on a hill!" "I know!" chimed in Phil. "I remember when I was in Caesar, about forty years ago, and Titus Labby was on the hill then. It's my belief he got stuck there, and was afraid to come down." "That is curious!" said Mrs. Merryweather, meditatively.
"Is it a little pig?" he inquired. "Yes, monsieur, quite a little one." "Is it a young pig?" pursued Labby, who was still dubious. The waiter hesitated, and at last replied, "Well, I cannot be sure, monsieur, if it is quite young." "But it must be young if it is little, as you say. Come, what is it, tell me?" "Monsieur, it is a guinea-pig!" Labby bounded from his chair, took his hat, and fled.
Goschen threw away his notes; Labby advised Sir Charles Dilke not to go to a division; the debate had not begun and then it was over, and all that followed was addressed to a House empty of everybody. The Old Man dexterous, calm, instinctive had spoken the right word to meet every view, and there was nothing more for anybody to say.
Labby intervened at this psychological moment by reading that extract from the account in the Pall Mall Gazette which fixed Mr. Fisher's responsibility under his own hand, and it was seen that something would have to be done. Then and not till then did Mr. Fisher speak and make his apology. Mr.
On the other side of the House there sat Labby full of that dogged, immutable Radicalism which will make no distinction between Liberal and Tory when his principles of foreign policy are at stake; and he was ready to pounce upon the Prime Minister if he had detected any departure from the narrow and straight path which leads to Radical salvation.
The point is that the observation could have been applied with much more truth to the speech of Mr. Chamberlain than to that of Labby; for Mr. Chamberlain's speech consisted, for the most part, of nothing better than the merest party hits the kind of thing that almost anybody could say that hundreds of journalists nightly write in their party effusions, and for very modest salaries.
Labouchere related, also, that on going one day into a restaurant and seeing cochon de lait, otherwise sucking-pig, mentioned in the menu, he summoned the waiter and cross-questioned him on the subject, as he greatly doubted whether there were any sucking-pigs in all Paris. "Is it sucking-pig?" he asked the waiter. "Yes, monsieur," the man replied. But Labby was not convinced.
Mr. Burdett-Coutts is always dull; but Uganda makes him duller than ever. Labby is usually brilliant; while he discoursed on Uganda he actually made people think Mr. Gladstone ought to have made him a Cabinet Minister he displayed such undiscovered and unsuspected powers of respectable dulness. Nevertheless, there was still room for excitement and drollery in the perennial question of the seats.
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