complaisant God of the British Social Status, there seems to be at present no cause for alarm that the Rustics whom my Husband, with unintelligent dumbness represents in the House of Commons will ever Rise! Chiefly inspired as they are by Drugged Beer, it is safe to presume that they will not easily awaken from their Public-House Torpor, or in a species of vulgar "horse-play" pull my Husband's seat from under him,—even as a lubberly child pulls away a chair from the Unsuspecting Visitor who would fain sit down upon it,—and so precipitate my Husband into the unenviable rank of Unimportant Provincials! I myself am ready to guarantee,—always with Thy support, O Favourer of Paid Parliamentary Press-Puffery,—that so dire a Catastrophe as this shall not happen! For My weight,—which is both materially and mentally Considerable,—would have to be thrown into the Balance,—whereby the tottering Seat, even if partially overthrown, would, and needs Must,—under the force of my impetuous Clutch,—regain the Perpendicular!
Being by unredeemed nature a Stupid Woman, I acknowledge freely and with gratitude Thy Omnipotent Guidance in Matters purely Snobbish! I praise and bless Thee for showing me the quickest way out of Things Intellectual into Things Conventional! I thank Thee for Thy unfailing assistance afforded to me in the beaten paths of County Flunkeydom, wherein I walk with virtuous circumspection, taking care to leave my impressive Visiting-Cards and likewise those of my Husband, on Houses only, and never on People! For People may be dangerous acquaintances, while Houses
