Chapter 2

"THE FLOWERS THAT BLOOM IN THE SPRING" may now be seen in all their glory at the Crystal Palace Show. The excellent arrangements there made for their exhibition prove that they have been designed and carried out by a clever "Head"-Gardener.

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Seeing that _A Wild Wooing_ (published by F. V. WHITE & CO.) is by FLORENCE WARDEN, authoress of _The House on the Marsh_, the Baron anticipated a real treat. But he was somewhat disappointed. The novel is in one volume, which is an attraction, and that volume is of a portable size, which is another note in its favour; also it is not illustrated, which is an undisguised blessing. The story is interesting up to a certain point, which, however, does not take you very far into the book, and, after this point, the murmurings behind walls, the moving and dragging of heavy bodies under the floors, the insecure rope-ladders, the trap-doors, cellars, underground passages, smugglers, murderers, victims, and all sorts of mixed mysteries, become tiresome. There is yet another fault, which is, that the story is not told in so convincing a style as to make the reader feel quite sure that the authoress is not "getting at him" all the time, and just trying to see what quantity of old melodramatic stuff he will patiently stand.

Henceforth FLORENCE WARDEN will do well to get away from the rusty bars, bolts, chains, trap-doors, and cellars, from ruined castles, as grim as that of _Udolpho_, "of which," as Sir WALTER said in his preface to _Waverley_, "the Eastern wing had long been uninhabited, and the keys either lost, or consigned to the care of some aged butler or housekeeper, whose trembling steps, &c., &c." Accidentally, turning from "White" to "Black," the Baron took up the first volume of the excellent re-issue of the _Waverley Novels_, by Messrs. ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, called _The Dryburgh Edition_, and commenced reading the introductory chapter of _Waverley_, which at that time, gave the death-thrust to the melodramatic horrors of romantic tales, whether evolved from the inner consciousness of English writers, or openly acknowledged as "taken from the German."

In view of the sensational romance of the present day, towards which, when really good, the Baron owns to having a decided leaning--it is interesting to note how brave Sir WALTER defied the existing fashion in novels of his own time, spurned the sentimental "Mordaunts," the "Belvilles," and such like played-out names of ancient chivalry, laughed at the heroine "with a profusion of auburn hair and a harp," and, like the Magician of the North that he was, boldly gave to the world his historic novels, in which, where History doesn't suit the requirements of fiction, it is so much the worse for History. Are there very many of the present generation who have not read Sir WALTER SCOTT'S novels? If there be any--and there must be, or where would be the demand to occasion this new and admirably devised supply--let them at once put aside modern sensationalism, and commence WALTER SCOTT as a study. The Baron knows personally one man of mature years, who has read neither _Waverley_ nor several others of the series, and him he envies, for, as the student in question has already set himself to the task, he has the greatest literary pleasure of his life yet to come. Type, size of book, excellent as a library edition; and the illustrations, so far as they have gone, are good, and not too distracting. And so, after this unequivocal expression of his sentiments, he signs himself,

THE BOLD BARON DE B.-W.

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* * * * *

BACK TO SCHOOL; OR, DOCTOR BLIMBER-GLADSTONE AND HIS "LIT-TLE FRIENDS."

(_Dombeyish Fragments, with a smack of "The Mikado."_)

Whenever a young gentleman was taken in hand by Dr. BLIMBER-GLADSTONE, he might consider himself sure of a pretty tight squeeze. The Doctor only undertook the charge of a limited number of young gentlemen at a time, but he had always ready a supply of "cram" for a hundred, on the lowest estimate; and it was at once the business and delight of his life to gorge "his young friends," few or many, to their utmost capacity, and sometimes beyond it.

In fact, Dr. GLADSTONE'S establishment was a great Hothouse, in which there was a forcing apparatus incessantly at work. All the boys blew before their time--or so said the Doctor's rivals and foes. Mental Green Peas were produced in February, and intellectual Scarlet-Runners in March. Mathematical Great Gooseberries were common at untimely seasons, other than the appropriate Silly one.

This was all very pleasant and ingenious, but the system of forcing was attended with its usual disadvantage. There was sometimes not the right taste about the premature productions, and they didn't always keep well.

The Doctor's was a mighty fine House, fronting the river. Not always a joyful style of House within; sometimes quite the contrary. The seats were in rows, like figures in a sum. The sitters also were often in rows--with a slight (phonetic) difference. The House was well provided with Hot Water, on the "constant-supply" system. But somehow this seemed rather to conduce to discomfort than to real cleanliness,--like the too frequent and tumultuous "turning-outs" of an over-zealous housewife. A "Spring Clean," at St. Stephen's School, was a thing to remember, and shudder at. It was not a quiet House at the best of times. It seemed ever haunted by the Banshee of Noise, and disturbed by the cacophonous ghosts of dead Echoes. At the peacefulest periods it was pervaded by a baneful Spook called the "Party Spirit," and always by the dull booings of unwilling young gentlemen at their lessons, like the raucous murmurings of an assemblage of melancholy rooks, or of kites and crows cawing and screaming in the intervals of their clamorous scufflings.

* * * * *

Holidays? Oh dear yes! If there was one thing Doctor GLADSTONE'S "young friends" _did_ care for, it was Holidays! The Doctor himself seemed as though he could--and were it possible--would do without them. But the Doctor's "lit-tle friends," however docile, could never be brought to see _that_. They did not usually commence their Spring "term" until February. And they were rips, even rampant, for a long "Recess" at Easter. When the Doctor, using his well-beloved formula, said, "Gentlemen, we will resume our studies upon----" they hung upon his words, and, if the conclusion of his formula showed any disposition to cut the Holidays short, they howled loudly in chorus, like hungry wolves disappointed of their quarry.

* * * * *

It was a sight to see Doctor GLADSTONE'S little friends returning to School _after_ the Easter Vacation. The Doctor, looking complacently expansive, cheerily anticipative, welcomed them on the doorstep. _They_ did not welcome _him_. Oh, dear no! Look at them; the five senior pupils in front, headed, of course, by that overgrown and somewhat ungainly Irish boy, Master PATRICK GREEN, cock of the School, and prime favourite of Doctor GLADSTONE! Can you not fancy them singing--after a famous original--the following quintett?

_The Five._ Five little boys for school are we, Back from a very short ho-li-dee; All as reluctant as well can be,-- Five little boys for School! _Master Green._ Holiday's over, there's no more fun! [_Groans._ _Master Hodge._ Only just started! Wish I was done! [_Snivels._ _Master Bung._ As for _me_, wish I'd never _begun_! [_Howls._ _The Five._ Five little boys for School! _All_ (_shrinking_). Five little boys who, all unwary, Entered old GLADSTONE'S big seminary, Slaves to his Genius tutelary---- _The Five_ (_suddenly demure, on catching sight of the Doctor_)-- Five little boys "back to School!.!"

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* * * * *

SONGS OF SOCIETY. II.--A LETTER OF ADVICE.

_From Miss Belinda Bullion at Monte Carlo, to Miss Angelina Veaudor, in Mayfair._ (_Being a Pendant to a celebrated Poem by Praed._)

They tell me you've "landed" a lover (Don't pout at the slang, dear, 'tis _chic_), Before your first Season is over, Before I have left you a week. I learned the good news through my mother. Who _is_ he? I wish I could guess. If it's dear Lord FITZ-FRUMPINGTON'S brother, My own ANGELINA, say "Yes."

_Tres chère_, we know Fortune and Fashion Are sensible girlhood's sole guides, Smart maidenhood ridicules passion, And sentiment calmly derides. I gave you "Bel Ami" as token That we were not victims of "glow;" You gave me your vow--is it broken? My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

We vowed, dear, no matter at what age, By Sentiment not to be hooked, Or cheated by Love in a Cottage, Or Shepherds enchantingly crook'd. Too well, dear, _we_ know modern men's tone, Of "briar" the pipes which _they_ blow. Say, have you gone soft _à la_ SHENSTONE? My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

Remember the cynic romances We read in that Devonshire glen! We are not the slaves of girl-fancies, We've learned far too much about Men! 'Tis nice, with your head on his shoulder, To whirl through the waltz with FRANK LOWE, But should poor Adonis grow bolder, My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

You know without wealth and a carriage Life's just a prolonged fit of spleen, So don't let me mourn o'er your marriage With any poor BROWN, JONES, or GREEN. You swore mere romance should not thrill you, Nor gold-less good looks make you glow; And you will not go back on it--will you? My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

We're parted, but sympathy's fetter Unites us, I'm sure of it, still. I read your last laughable letter, And see you are steering with skill. True Love is all fiddlededee, love, Full coffers count only, below. If he's not what your husband should be, Love, My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

If he's over polite in his wooing, If his heart is too plainly a-throb, If he scarce seems aware what he's doing, If he speaks with a blush or a sob; If he is not "dead nuts" on his dinner, If his voice or his spirits run low; If he seems getting paler or thinner, My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

If he gives too much time to his Tennis, Neglectful of dear L. S. D., If he chatters of WHISTLER and Venice, If he cares about Five o'clock Tea; If he's not sometimes rude or capricious (All swells who have money are so), Such signs are extremely suspicious; My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

If he shows a contempt for "the City," And drops little jeers about Jews, If he talks of "the People" with pity, Or rails at the Sweaters as "screws," These things prove a "popular leaning," And popular leanings are low; Soft heart, and slack purse, are _their_ meaning-- My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

If he prates about Property's duties In diction at all Gladstonese, If he's down on Society Beauties, If he has not a stare that can freeze; If he does not abuse Foreign Powers, And vote all philosophy slow, If he's one of the time's "big Bow-wowers," My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

He must walk like a Cit in his glory, Of Money the true modern test, He must be--yes, of course, dear--a Tory, (As _partis_ that party are best) If he knows not the old Carlton's portal, Then--unless you've a Duke for a beau-- I beg you--for girls are but mortal-- My own ANGELINA, say "No!"

Don't bother about his extraction Although there's a charm in good birth, But Wealth yields life's sole satisfaction, So find out, dear girl, _what he's worth_! He may be but an oil-striking Yankee, Eccentric in manners and dress, But, if he has tin worth a "thankee," My own ANGELINA, say "Yes!"

* * * * *

MISTER JACKY'S VADE MECUM FOR THE EASTER HOLIDAYS.

_Question._ What is the chief object you wish to attain during the Vacation?

_Answer._ To have the best time possible under the most favourable conditions.

_Q._ Is the comfort of your relations and friends to be taken into serious account in attaining this desirable end?

_A._ Certainly not; the details to which you refer are unworthy of a moment's consideration.

_Q._ Have you any objection to upsetting all the household arrangements on your arrival?

_A._ Unquestionably no. If a morning performance commences at an hour early enough to require luncheon to be discussed at 12:30, why the _déjeuner à la fourchette_ (as the French would say) must be partaken within half-an-hour of noon. In like manner, if an evening representation begins at seven, the dinner-hour must be put back to half-past five.

_Q._ If these alterations cause any disturbance of your father's habits, how would you deal with the matter?

_A._ I would not deal with the matter at all. I would leave all purely necessary explanations to my mother.

_Q._ During the time of your vacation will you approve of any dinner-parties?

_A._ I have a rooted objection to such entertainments when the guests are of my parents' selection. However, I have no objection to a few fellows, say, like SMITH Major, or BROWN Minor, dropping in to supper on a Sunday.

_Q._ Assuming that the hour you mention is your parents' favourite time for peace and quiet, does such an invasion suggest any reflection?

_A._ No. If my parents have become slow during my enforced absence from home in the search of knowledge, it is time they should have the benefit accruing from contact with my revivifying characteristics.

_Q._ Supposing your father expostulates with you, and advances the fact that you have received greater advantages than he himself enjoyed--for instance, that you have been to Eton--what should you reply?

_A._ Practically nothing. However, in the cause of justice and truth, it might be advisable to answer his statement of fact that "he had never been to Eton" with the reply, "Anyone could see that."

_Q._ If he complains that you do not rise until eleven, smoke cigarettes in the dining-room before lunch, smash the grand piano in the drawing-room, lame his favourite cob in the Row, and upset all his documents in the study, what answer would you make?

_A._ That you were not responsible for the training which he had taken under his personal control. He must be satisfied with the broad result of your bringing-up.

_Q._ If he declares his intention of addressing the Superintendent of your scholastic career on the matter, what would you do?

_A._ Explain that your present position in the school, to which you supposed you would have to reluctantly return, was lacking in the element of popularity, and that any further move in the direction of increased reduction in that element might possibly lead to your expulsion. Deprecate personal objection to expulsion, but suggest that such a course might, by preventing your getting employment in the Church, Army, or Bar, lead to your being on your parents' hands for life.

_Q._ When the time has all but arrived for your return to school, what should you do?

_A._ Promptly catch the whooping-cough, the influenza, or measles. You will then afford a sufficient reason for extending the length of your vacation indefinitely.

* * * * *

* * * * *

NOBLE SELF-SACRIFICE.

"The Duke of DEVONSHIRE has arranged to return from Monte Carlo on Saturday," so said the _Morning Post_, "in order to address a political meeting at Glasgow on April 14th." His Grace having torn himself away from delightful Monte Carlo, will then attempt to turn the tables on the _Liberales Gladstonienses_. But fancy renouncing sunny Mount Charles--"O Charley Mount is a pleasant place," as sang _Miles na Coppaleen_, who was, by the way, miles away from Monte Carlo--with its azure sky, its deep blue sea, its verdant green-cloth table land, its delightful _promenades à pied_, and its frisky _gambols à la roulette_, where the sunset and sunrise are _rouge_, and _noir_ is only "on the cards." Fancy renouncing these gay southern delights to live a laborious day in dry, hard, northern Glasgow! "O swallow, swallow, flying, flying South," how would you like to be checked in your holiday-making airy career in order to be brought back to the cold and cruel North? Such a self-sacrifice as this is indeed memorable.

* * * * *

LOVE BY THE SEA. WIND N.E. BY E.

"We do not speak as we pass by!" But tears down trickle from our eye! Alas! Our love remains untold---- For each has got a thundering cold!

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BOOKS THAT OUGHT TO APPEAR.

_I Banish the Street Organs!_ By the Author of _I Forbid the Banns!_

_A Boy's Present._ (Birthday Book.) By the Author of _A Girl's Past_.

No. 1 of _The Domestic Lyre_, as a Companion to _The Family Storyteller_.

* * * * *

YET THEY LOOK SO INNOCENT!--In the Language of Flowers, what species should always express untruths?--Li-lies.

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday Night, March 27._--The Lowther Arcade not getting on so well as thought when projected. The Master Builder been diligently at work, but result disappointing. On Friday he got terribly snubbed by SPEAKER. Comes up to-day to make personal explanation. That a bait at which House usually jumps; always ready to be amused, or interested with scandal about Queen ELIZABETH and other persons. These things usually promised by personal explanation. To-day no flutter of excitement moved crowded House. JEMMY, approaching table with most judicial air, received with mocking laughter, and ironical cheers. Some difficulty in quite making out what he was at. Evidently something to do with SQUIRE of MALWOOD; but SQUIRE so inextricably mixed up with Supplementary Estimates, couldn't make out which was which. JAMES pounded along in most ponderous style; SQUIRE contemptuously replied; no one else inclined to join in conversation, and the Master Builder gloomily resumed his seat.

"Never mind," I said, not liking to see an old friend cast down; "Rome wasn't built in a day, nor the Cave of Adullam excavated in a week. These things grow. You must have patience, and the Lowther Arcade will still flourish. Let me see, whom you have got? There's BARTLEY, HANBURY, and TOMMY BOWLES. LOWE, forming his Cave, hadn't so many to start with."

"Yes," said the Master Builder, "that's all very well; but, fact is, you can't reckon upon these fellows as being, so to speak, colonnades in the Arcade. They are all on their own hook; fighting for their own hand; won't take the lead from me; must go foraging for themselves. HANBURY thinks he can boss a show better than most men. BARTLEY'S obstreperous. TOMMY BOWLES would be all right if he were left to himself, free from the companionship of designing men. He is young, ingenuous, not wholly lost to a sense of regard for his pastors and masters, lack of which is the curse of modern Youth. I believe TOMMY respects me, and, only for the evil communications to which he is subject on the back bench, would work loyally with me in establishing the Arcade."

There was unwonted moisture in the Master Builder's eye as he turned round, and regarded the Member for King's Lynn what time he softly whistled to himself the old Jacobite air, "_Tommy make Room for your Uncle_."

_Business done._--Vote of Censure moved by Prince ARTHUR; Government majority runs up on division to 47; Ministerialists, fresh from meeting at Foreign Office, agree that, on whole, have spent a happy day. Debate spasmodically dull. Prince ARTHUR could not lift it out of the rut, nor GRANDOLPH either. Only Mr. G. shone with effulgent light through gloom of evening. Principal result of manoeuvre, beyond giving fillip to majority, is that a day will be filched from meagre holidays, and House must needs sit on Thursday.

_Tuesday._--Mr. G. looked in in time to say a few words in reply to Prince ARTHUR'S inquiries as to business arrangements. Later he came back, and delivered excellent speech; brief, and direct to point. House been talking all morning round Vote on Account. MACFARLANE done Rule-of-three sum, to show how twelve hundred days are lost every week by necessity imposed upon Members of coming down two hours in advance to take their seats. Some disposition shown by practical Members to argue question whether there could be twelve hundred days in any week, even in Leap-Year.

"I know I'm right," said MACFARLANE, and the sceptics, gazing respectfully at his flowing beard, withdrew from controversy.

House divided on Motion by LEGH to reduce Foreign Office Vote. Ministerial majority run up at a jump to 225. Time by Westminster clock, 6.10 P.M.; in twenty minutes, sitting will be suspended; Vote must be through Committee to-day; TOMMY BOWLES (who hasn't made a speech for a quarter of an hour) on his feet; sheafs of manuscript in his hand; would certainly oblige to extent of twenty minutes; BARON DE WORMS also has a few remarks to offer; probable length of Channel Tunnel. Mr. G. interposes. "Mr. MELLOR," he said, addressing Chairman, "I claim to have the question now put."

Ringing cheers went up from Ministerialists. TOMMY resumed his seat; gruefully glanced at notes. The Noble Baron saw in this manoeuvre fresh proof that Mr. G. had sold himself to Germany; having completed preparation for separation of the Empire on the side of the Irish Channel, would immediately after, by medium of WATKIN'S Tunnel, place what was left of the country at the mercy of a foreign foe. Meanwhile Closure moved; what's more, carried on division by swingeing majority of over a hundred. So Vote agreed to; Mr. G. gets off for short drive before dressing for dinner.