'We. won't work
but on such and such terms, and, if we cannot get them, we will lie
down and die.' That I take it is the real argument of a strike. But
they never do lie down and die. If one in every parish, one in
every county, would do so, then the agricultural labourers of the
country might live almost as well as the farmers' pigs.
I was present the other day at the opening of Parliament. It was a
very grand ceremony, though the Queen did not find herself well
enough to do her duty in person. But the grandeur was everything. A
royal programme was read from the foot of the throne, of which even
I knew all the details beforehand, having read them in the
newspapers. Two opening speeches were then made by two young
lords,--not after all so very young,--which sounded like lessons
recited by schoolboys. There was no touch of eloquence,--no
approach to it. It was clear that either of them would have been
afraid to attempt the idiosyncrasy of passionate expression. But
they were exquisitely dressed and had learned their lessons to a
marvel. The flutter of the ladies' dresses, and the presence of the
peers, and the historic ornamentation of the house were all very
pleasant; but they reminded me of a last year's nut, of which the
outside appearance has been mellowed and improved by time,--but the
fruit inside has withered away and become tasteless.
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