When Lord Rosebery, on October 30th, 1894, went to Bristol to unveil the statue of Burke (see page 4), the city seized the opportunity to make him a Freeman. In saying "Thank you" for the honour and the accompanying silver casket, Lord Rosebery (with distinct appropriateness) sang the praises of Civic as constrasted with Parliamentary life. He had himself at that time been Prime Minister a little more than six months; he has recently become an Epsom Urban District Councillor. The resultant pump can only be a matter of time.

THE HAPPY TOWN COUN

CILLOR

I AM not a member of the House of Commons, and I never have been a member of the House of Commons; but I confess when I attempt to imagine what that existence can be I am bound to say that in every respect, so far as I can judge, a business man, a man who is fond of his home and of the life of home, and who wishes to see something tangible accomplished by his own work and his own exertions, would infinitely prefer the career of a municipal councillor to that of a member of the House of Commons. You smile, but what, after all, is the career of a member of the House of Commons as judged by the life outside? After an election of an agonising character he may or may not be elected to

serve his country in Parliament.

If he be elected after a Session of the greatest exhaustion he employs his vacation, if he has a vacation at all, in travelling from village to village, or from ward to ward of his constituency, repeating a speech or repeating speeches which must become distasteful to himself and cannot be otherwise than distasteful to those who hear him. At the end of that recess, if recess there be, he is called back to his Parliamentary duties in London. For that he forsakes his home, forsakes his wife, forsakes his family, and if he have a business he becomes a sleeping partner in it. If he is a landlord he becomes an absentee, and for what? He sits on a bench in the House of Commons. He is conscious of ability and of powers of speech practised in the way I have described, but he is told by his Whip that on no account must he address the House though the debate, all the arguments in which he knows could be perfectly well exhausted in two hours, be prolonged for four or five days. During those days he witnesses the rising of right hon. friends and

opponents on the front benches to make their speeches, and also of those irresponsible bores whom no Whip and no Minister can soothe to silence. There he sits, conscious that if he had to do it all he could do it so much more ably, and then finally he is whisked away to the lobby, there to vote as he is told

to vote.

On the other hand, what is the life of a town councillor? He lives in his honie in a town to which he is accustomed. He is able to look after his business, to see his wife, and control the education of his children, and two or three times a week he goes to attend a practical piece of public work, the practical results of which he will see in his own lifetime. I do not wish to say anything disrespectful of members of Parliament, more especially in the presence of Sir Michael Hicks-Beach and other gentlemen here, but I do believe from the bottom of my heart that a man who is a town councillor can effect in his term of office some small, practical, and tangible good, such as even the erection of a pump, and at the end of his term of office he

has something infinitely more tangible and satisfactory to look upon than has a member of Parliament. He sees his pump; he sees the water flow; and he sees the monument of what he has done, and knows he has contributed to the health, welfare, and, possibly, the sanitation of his neighbours. But at the end of the Parliamentary Session what has the ordinary member of the House of Commons got to look at that can be compared with that? At any time the town councillor may rise to the position which you, Mr. Mayor, so worthily occupy. In that position he is looked upon by all his fellow citizens with respect, without envy, with a cordial wish to assist him in the discharge of his functions; and he is the undisputed chief of the community. But what is the future of the ambitious member of the House of Commons? It may be that ultimately, if his wildest dream be realised, he will become a Minister. There I draw the veil. The happiness of a career that has its culmination in becoming a Minister needs no criticism.