"Yes," I replied, "a thousand pities,--you see, you are inside and I am outside.
My introduction to Mr. Christopher Furness a day or two afterwards was in a way similar, but rather more embarrassing.
Perhaps there are not two men with surnames so similar and yet so different in every other way than that great man of business, Sir Christopher Furness, and myself. He has an eye for business, but not one for his surname--I have an "I" in my name, and two for art only. When Mr. Furness was first returned to Parliament, plain Mr., neither a knight nor a millionaire, _then_ he asked to see me alone in one of the Lobbies of the House of Commons. He held a note in his hand, _strangely_ and nervously,--so I knew at once it was not a bank-note.
"I--ah--am very sorry,--you are a stranger to me, I--a--stranger to the House. This note from a stranger was handed to me by a strange official. I read it before I noticed the mistake. It is addressed to you."
"Oh, that is of no consequence, I assure you," I said.
"Oh, but it is--it must be of consequence. It is--of--such a private nature, and so brief. I feel extremely awkward in having to acknowledge I read it,--a pure accident, I assure you!"
He handed me the note and was running away, when I called him back. It read:--
There were more "scenes" in Parliament in the few sessions that I have selected to write about in this volume than there were in the rest of the last century put together. This was largely due to the climax of Irish affairs in the House. For effect in debate the English and Scotch Members,--not to speak of the Welsh Representatives,--are failures compared with those Members from across the water. No matter how hard the phlegmatic Englishman, the querulous Scotchman, or the whinings of those from gallant little Wales may try for effect, they have to give way to the Irish in the art of making a scene in the House. Occasionally, as when Dr. Kenealy shook some pepper over the House, and in the case of Mr. Plimsoll--or some other honourable gentleman--who went so far as to hang his umbrella on the Mace, an English Member causes a sensation which might almost excite a pang of envy in the breast of Dr. Tanner or Mr. Healy. No Englishman, however, has exceeded Mr. Bradlaugh in the persistent quality of sensationalism in Parliament, which now is sadly in want of another political phenomenon to enliven its proceedings.