Part 2

The sweet warbler, who, by the way, is a trifle hoarse and occasionally a little indistinct, tells several of these narratives--they are narratives--and I cut in with occasional observations more or less to the point, which are silently acknowledged by BIRLEY, but not by Sir ALEC, who seems bent upon getting on with his series, interspersed with anecdotes, to the exclusion of all other conversation. He begins with the fish, and his first story about somebody who rose from nothing and arrived at being something, lasts, with the assistance of several discursive but illustrative anecdotes, till we reach the merry Swiss cream and stewed fruit. With the coffee and cigars he opens volume two of his interesting and remarkable stories of great men--each biographical monologue being really interesting by itself, only taken together they ought to be spread over a considerable period, like the _Arabian Nights' Entertainments_, and still BIRLEY contentedly listens, gently inhaling his cigarette, and, when referred to, nodding corroboration. It occurs to me that as Sir ALEC has told all these before to JOHN BIRLEY, so the latter may have told most of his to Sir ALEC and to myself, and that that is why he is now so silent. At all events, he only rarely makes observations, and these of the curtest. I fancy he wants me to come out and amuse Sir ALEC, in return for Sir ALEC interesting me; and it occurs to me that I shall be ungrateful if I do not cut in with something new, just to save BIRLEY from hearing Sir ALEC'S stories all over again, and Sir ALEC from hearing BIRLEY'S, with which I presume, as they are such very old and intimate friends, he must be acquainted.

So I rouse myself, with a strong determination to shine or perish in the attempt. I make a sharp and apposite remark on some portions of the story which Sir ALEC is now recounting, whereat BIRLEY smiles, and Sir ALEC smiles too, but resumes his narrative at once, as if he were afraid of losing the thread in consequence of my interruption. I am conscious of having only glimmered; I have not yet shone. On he goes again; he is telling us of a wonderful silver tea-pot, how it was lost in a cart, how some one saw it outside the Old Bailey, how some one came up at that moment and a Judge said to an Alderman, "That's the tea-pot!" Now at this moment I remember that I have a story which neither of these two has ever heard of a Judge and an Alderman which will come in capitally here, and so as I am quite certain that if I keep it to myself and allow the opportune moment to pass, I shall forget it entirely, and so lose a magnificent chance of shining brilliantly in the presence of Sir ALEC (who if favourably impressed can be, I am aware, of the greatest possible service to me), I take advantage of Sir ALEC drawing strenuously at the last half-inch (he is a thrifty man evidently) of his expiring cigar, to say briskly, "By the way,--excuse my interrupting you--but that reminds me," and then I give my story of the Judge and the Alderman, which makes BIRLEY laugh, and brings a smile to Sir ALEC'S lips, though it seems to me there is a puzzled expression on his countenance, as though he couldn't quite understand the point, and was appearing to be amused chiefly out of politeness to me as being a friend of JOHN BIRLEY'S.

However, Sir ALEC does smile, and then forthwith resumes his narrative. When he has finished, as he has mentioned the names of some persons with whom I am acquainted, I ask him if they are so and so, and he replies, "Yes," and adds something which elicits from me a sharp remark that gets a roar from BIRLEY, and produces on Sir ALEC'S countenance another smile and the same sort of puzzled expression I had noticed before. I feel that I have shone, but that somehow I have not turned my light strongly enough on to Sir ALEC. I question him as to the identity of some other celebrated persons he has been mentioning, and he replies with something about them which doesn't seem to exactly correspond with my question; but once more--being in the happiest vein, and shining in a manner that positively astonishes myself, I let off another brilliant jest, which is received in precisely the same manner by my audience as were my previous conversational fireworks. I think to myself, "I am ingratiating myself with Sir ALEC. This will be a first-rate thing for me and for several members of my family, as a man in Sir ALEC'S influential position," &c.

Sir ALEC now starts another subject, and as I foresee that if he sticks to it, I have something which will cap everything, I at once question him as to something he has just uttered. He replies, but, as before, I am bothered by his reply, which seems to me utterly inconsequent. So I repeat my question. And he smiles, nods and says, "Well--yes--" doubtfully. But my question required quite a different sort of answer. It had been, "How many times did you say Lord GRANGEMORE sneezed on that occasion?" To which it is evident that a doubtful "Well--um--yes," is not a satisfactory answer. So I repeat the question, whereupon he turns towards me confidentially and says, "No, I don't think so. It was her sister he married." I look at him inquiringly to see if this is his fun, but at that moment I catch a wink from BIRLEY who is putting up his hand to his ear and intimating in the clearest possible pantomime for my private and particular benefit, that our entertaining friend Sir ALEC MCQUINCEY is uncommonly deaf!

Now I comprehend BIRLEY'S silence. Now I comprehend why Sir ALEC goes on talking, and why he looks puzzled at any interruption, and why he could only smile when he got the cue, as it were, from his companion, and was made aware that there had been something said which required to be smiled at.

I relapse into silence. I accept an excellent cigar from Sir ALEC, and I let him talk for the rest of the evening uninterruptedly, until he looks at his watch, says that nine-thirty is late enough for him, that he has enjoyed his evening with us amazingly, and goes off to bed.

"Agreeable old chap," says BIRLEY, stretching out his legs, preparatory to taking a short stroll. "Seen a lot of life has old ALEC. He's a capital Chairman at a Board-meeting. Just deaf enough when he doesn't want to hear any arguments. I let him talk on."

"So I see," I say, and we walk out to bid good-night to Mont Blanc.

"The Mons looks like a warrior taking his rest--his last rest," says BIRLEY, gravely, giving me a subdued nudge. "NAPOLEON THE GREAT, and his cocked hat, carved out of white stone. Ah!" and, meditatively we linger, and then walk slowly back to the Hotel.

"We'll take old ALEC to his warm bath at Evian-les-Bains to-morrow," says BIRLEY. "Good night." Then he pauses on the stairs, as with a wink full of fun, and last playful nudge, he says, "I suppose you'll let him have all the talk to himself, eh? Won't you? Ha! ha! I shall."

* * *

My friend SKURRIE to whom his own Plan of Return, which I have accepted, is as the law of the Medes and Persians, says he will give me three days more for GENEVA and BIRLEY, and that then we must emphatically start homewards as he insists on JANE and myself seeing Heidelberg _en route_ and every half hour of our time from Wednesday to Monday is so carefully adjusted that to miss one train will upset all the plans he has taken such pains and trouble to arrange for us. I am closeted with him for two hours, when he explains it all to me, gives me, so to speak, the key of the puzzle, insists on my verifying the items by _Cook's Tourist Train-Book_ (an invaluable work), and then reducing it to writing. After this I am headachey, and exhausted.

[P.S.--Revising this, long after the event, I say, "Beware of SKURRIE and his fixed plan of sight-seeing against time."]

* * * * *

GRASP YOUR THISTLE.

MR. PUNCH, SIR,--I would like to ask you, slick out, if you reckon it was all fair and square with that there _Thistle's_ keel. For to hear that interested parties in that race had gone down in a diving-bell the evening before and screwed themselves on to that yacht would not have surprised me. And, let me tell you had they done so, they would have considerably impeded her progress the following day. That Captain BARR was cute enough when he said, "he couldn't make out what had come to his ship." Take my word what had come to it was just that diving-bell, and I shouldn't mind calculating that the owner of the _Volunteer_ was boss of the interested parties fixed up inside of it. You ask "can such things take place in the States?" Wal--I guess they just can. Muchly so, when there's money on it. As to the diving-bell advantage, I speak feelingly, as I have assisted over a twenty-mile course in one myself. We were on that occasion found out at the finish. But it was all straight. The umpire, whom we had previously squared, and who was above reproach, gave it in our favour. It's knowing these things, coupled with the fact that I backed the _Thistle_ for two hundred dollars, that makes me just throw out these friendly hints to you, Sir, from,

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ATLANTIC.

* * * * *

A Point of Law.

(_By a Pun-propounding Gladstonophobist._)

He's "popping up again," despite our praying; Fools and fanatics flocking to his side. Him to suppress I'm sure would not be slaying, But "Justifiable G. O. M.-icide!"

* * * * *

BUTTER FOR AILESBURY.--The Jockey Club's decision!

* * * * *

REPORTERS AT THE REPORTERS' CONGRESS.--Scarcely Short-handed!

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* * * * *

THE LAST (SIGNAL) MAN.

VERITY IN A VISION.

(_With Apologies to the Shade of Campbell._)

"The effect of material progress, and of the growth of mechanical invention, is to place the lives and interests of an increasing number of people in the keeping of a single man. Responsibility becomes concentrated to a dangerous and a truly alarming degree."--_Times._

_Of all dark shapes of human doom, The lot of darkest dye Is his whose soul must sole assume_ RESPONSIBILITY!

I saw a vision in my sleep, The earth had swung with secular sweep To the last gulf of Time. I saw the last of human mould, Alone, unfriended, unconsoled As ADAM when the night first rolled O'er Eden's early prime.

The Sun's eye had a sickly glare, The Earth with age was wan; The wrecks of shattered thousands were Around that lonely man. Some had expired in pain,--its brands On clammy face and clutching hands,-- In sudden palsy some. Among them was no sound or tread Even of Death among the dead, Pain's very voice was dumb.

Still, statue-like, that lone one stood, With fixed earth-seeking eye, Silent as a flame-blasted wood When winds have all swept by. The last surviving unscathed One! His face was grey, his race was run, Cold as antarctic snow, Unmoved by hopes, untouched by fears, Left by the tide of human tears That never more may flow.

He moaned, "No more shall man let stand His power, his pride, his skill; The arts that made fire, flood, and land The vassals of his will. Yet shall _I_ mourn man's vanished sway, The Systems that have had their day? Out on the sordid arts, The triumphs with which earth once rang, The Progress which spared not one pang To trampled human hearts!

"No; let oblivion's curtain fall On me too, last of men. I would not if I could recall Life's tragedy again. Its burden I would not bring back, Responsibility's iron rack No more shall make me writhe; No lapse of vision, loss of word, Shall make me feel a man abhorred, Strew earth with slain as by War's sword Or Death's relentless scythe.

"No more with weary wandering eyes I'd watch, where, if I tire, Hundreds in hideous agonies May helplessly expire. No man that breathes mere mortal breath _Alone_ should stand at odds with Death. Systems? O learning lost! On nerve, sight, sinew--human all, And apt to fail at urgent call-- The bitter burden had to fall;-- Behold at what a cost!

"On me it fell, ah! not on Him, The Corporate Demon dark, Whose greed of gain gave systems dim Capricious action. Hark! The click, the crash! Nay, never mine-- Thank Heaven!--again to watch the line With chill and catch of breath. The knowledge that at last I fly Thy rack, Responsibility, Takes all the sting from Death!

"'Justice' no more shall hale me up To answer this wild waste Of human life. _That_ bitter cup At least I shall not taste. Go, Sun, and say,--if e'er thy face Shine on another earthly race,-- On what an ill-paid clod Man laid Responsibility-- Because its Justice ruled awry, And Mammon was its god."

* * * * *

Poor Old England!

These are hard times, and the oracles of the newspapers teem with thrifty suggestions. The last advice to the hard-pressed agriculturists is, to go in for cultivating mushrooms and blackberries. What a prospect for the country children! Fancy every mushroom-meadow tabooed to the early rural rambler, and all the blackberries strictly "preserved," in the sense of partridges, not of plum-jam. And what a fate for the land of the oak, the apple-tree, the wheat and the bearded barley, to come down, like tramps and village-urchins, to fungi and bramble-fruits!

* * * * *

POLITICAL ECONOMY.--Lord ROSEBERY, when next in power, will insist on the Government being "short-handed."

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* * * * *

CROSSING THE BAR.

MR. PUNCH--MY VERY DEAR SIR,

As on more than one occasion you have done me the honour of publishing some of my experiences, I feel that in you I am addressing a gentleman of keen intelligence, admirable judgment, and excellent sense. I am sure that you will not for a moment imagine that I am using language of exaggerated eulogy when I say that never in the course of what I may term my forensic life have I found an individual so eminently qualified to assume the highest duties inseparable from the Judicial Bench. Having this opinion of your merits, I cannot refrain from addressing you on a matter of the greatest possible importance to every member of the profession to which it is my pride to belong.

Sir, last week the Members of the Associated Chamber of Commerce had the audacity to affirm that every Counsel should be placed in the same position as any other agent in respect of his legal obligation to do the best he could for his employer. In other words, these gentlemen are anxious to prevent Barristers from accepting briefs unless they are sure of appearing in Court to conduct the cases to which they refer. Really nothing would be more monstrous! It is alleged, Sir, that we with a dozen cases in hand cannot do justice to them all! That we pick and choose, exerting ourselves in those which interest us most, and confer most distinction upon us, and neglecting the rest! This is a very old cry, and a very unfair one. I have been for very many years a Member of the Bar, and can assure yon that, in my own professional career (which is a typical one), I have never been guilty of the abuses credited to us. The Representatives of the Associated Chambers of Commerce can know very little of the matter to which they are pleased to call attention by their superficial observations. I should like some of these Representatives to attend with me in the Royal Courts in Term Time, to mark us as we labour in the cause of our clients, and then to accompany me to the House of Commons, to watch us as we attend to our Parliamentary duties. Amongst our number, I would show him Mr. WADDY, unexhausted from impassioned appeals to the Jury, standing with Blue Book in hand, ready to use his mighty voice in defence of those liberties so dear to the heart of every Englishman. And when they were weary of admiring that gentleman, I would beg of them to regard Mr. FINLAY, with his wig off and his gown discarded, giving gratuitous service to the best interests of the British Public. Their portraits should be hung up in every Chamber of Commerce, to remind our detractors that we have souls above fees, voices beyond the regulation of retainers! Moreover, I feel, Sir, that those who would attempt to degrade our social status by making us the peers of the commercial community are as short-sighted as they are ungrateful. It is said that we throw over our cases--that we do not appear when the names of our clients are reached in the Cause List! Has it ever occurred to these Associated Chambers that as litigation is admittedly to be avoided, the less law we give the Public the better? But I will not descend to an argument that should be kept in reserve when something infinitely stronger will serve my purpose better. From my name you will see that I can speak with authority. In that name I solemnly declare that I have never picked and chosen my cases, but have ever taken in all of them equal interest, and done to all of them equal justice.

I deny that, by running after _me_, the Public has been guilty of an insane action. At least in the sense attached by Mr. NORWOOD to the accusation. Further, I have yet to learn that the Public ever _has_ run after me. And if the Public has run after me, I absolutely and entirely contradict the absurd statement that it could get much better work done by others--_at any rate for a third of the money!_

I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient Servant, (_Signed_) A. BRIEFLESS JUNR.

_Pumphandle Court, Temple._

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

_A Secret Inheritance_ is the title of Mr. B. L. FARJEON'S latest, and only not his best, Romance, because his others have all been as absorbingly interesting and as exciting as this. Yet because in this the author adheres strictly to the point, without any carpenters' scenes, of humour, which are distracting and irritating, I am inclined to set this down as the best of all Mr. FARJEON'S,--in fact,--the best-by-Far-jeon. He is, for many reasons, better than BOISGOBEY.

In an admirably got up and well-arranged Jubilee volume about Pope LEO THE THIRTEENTH, by JOHN OLDCASTLE, we find an item of information which may be advantageously recommended to Emperors, Empresses, Monarchs of all they survey, Princes, Lord Mayors, and Aldermen. It is "the Pope's dinner." Listen, "A few minutes suffices for its consumption." "He does not spend a hundred francs a month for his table." Not one pound a week! Not three shillings a day on his food, wine included! He dines "at two o'clock: his mid-day meal lasts not longer than half-an-hour, and is very frugal, consisting of soup, one kind of meat, two dishes of vegetables, some fruit, and, by the doctor's orders, a glass of claret." His supper at 9.30 consists of "soup, an egg, and some salad." Is there a Radical living who could tax the Pope's bill of fare as exorbitant?

_The Red Spider_, by the Author of _Mehalah_, &c., is the _Un-read Spider_ as far as I am concerned, for I could not manage to get through it, and I did try.

BOOK WORM.

* * * * *

THE NU DIKSHONARY.

DEER PUNCH,

Az I speek, so I rite, az neerly az possibl. I hope that wunce popular soshial and intellectual recreashon meeting the "Spelling Bee," (_sic_) will soon be revived, with a difference. It may be expected to cum up agen under the name of a Fonetik Spelling B, and the auspices of the American Spelling Reform Associashun. A competishun in spelling English wurds acording to thare sound may divert superfishl hearers; but no dout menny of those who hav cum to scoff wil remane to spel.

The adopshun of fonetik spelling must tend to elevate the Masses in respect of orthografy to a level with the Classes, az it will enable the former to spel az they speek correctly, when they do speek so. But, for that matter the fonetik orthografy, wunce adopted, wil naturally be followd by an adaptashun of all the prezent rules of Grammer to popular uzage. Perhaps the aspirate wil be expeld from the Alfabet, and there wil be an end to the supersilius aristocrat's derizhun of the Peeple for dropping their h's.

However, an Act of Parliament mite be necessary to effect the rekwisit reforms of the QUEEN'S Inglish if possibl.

If the Republic of Letters cood be persuaded to employ those of the Alfabet fonetically, a popular system of spelling wood soon prevale. At leest all ordinary parts of speech mite by common consent be ritten as pronounsd. But a certin difficulty wood perhaps be prezented by proper names. I am afrade my friends who spel their own MARJORIBANKS, PONSONBY, GROSVENOR, POINGDESTRE, DECRESPIGNY, DALRYMPLE, and others whom I could mention, wood almost as soon be hanged as pen fonetik signatures. As for myself, however, I hav no such objecshun. I happen to inherit a name of which the tradishonal orthografy is COLQUHOUN. It is far too much of a mouthful to be pronounced az so spelt, and I, for my part, deferring all pride of pedigree to a great intellectual movement, do not hesitate to sine it, regardless of the double meaning it may convey to an American reeder,

COON.

P.S.--BEN JONSON'S signature is clearly fonetik. As for SHAKSPEARE, SHAKESPEARE, SHAKESPEAR, or SHAKSPERE, he seems not to have known how to spel his own name.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE MEDICAL NEW YEAR'S DAY.

[The London Medical Schools open in the first week of October.]

In the dim days of chilly October, When leaves are grown ashen and brown, Let us hope to be steady and sober, The Medicals come up to town. They will study all lore anatomic, To ease future patients from pains; And must vow that no "Champion Comic" Shall win them from muscles and veins.

With dissecting _extensor_ and _flexor_, They'll find work enough for the knife; While a _plexus_ of nerves a perplexer Will sometimes remain for all life. While that life as an "organisation In action," if critics speak truth, Will remain the supremest attraction For doctors in age or in youth.

In the summer their studies botanic Will take them to flood and to field; Well we know that the structures organic Serene satisfaction will yield. They will gauge both _corolla_ and _calyx_, Till examinations are o'er. May they find, with the study of _salix_, They need wear the willow no more.

Then _Materia Medica's_ charming, They'll learn all about Oil of Rue, And if _Tinct_: _Podophylli_'s alarming, They'll turn to their Squills and Tolu. In the _Hordeum Decorticatum_ They'll find an old friend when they're ill; While the _Ferrum_ that's dubbed _Tartaratum_ Is not quite the thing in a pill.