Part 2

I will suppose that the _Redacteur en chef of the Imperial Universe_ is seated beside the Fountain in the Temple, quietly smoking his cigar. The authoress of "_Tiger Songs_" (adapted from the original Norwegian) may see the Editor from afar off, and come dancing towards him with the airy gaiety of a _Morgiana_. She executes a _pas de fascination_, and, when he is completely captivated by the exquisite grace of her movements, causes him to seize a bundle of MS. When she has retired, and the Editor gradually resumes his normal composure, he discovers that the authoress of "_Tiger Songs_" has left him an article upon "Voyages to the North Pole." Subjugated by the poetry of motion, and further moved (almost to tears) by the soft, sweet strains of the Press Band, he reads the contribution, and accepts it.

Then recreation, combined with instruction, might be found for special correspondents by erecting steam roundabouts on the Thames Embankment. The "special" might mount his wooden steed, and career round and round until he has done a good twenty miles. Then he would be prepared to give his experiences, which should (if written in the proper spirit) be of exceptional value as "copy."

A thousand details will occur to those who take an interest in the matter, and may be filled in at leisure. I merely throw out the idea, leaving its development to others more worthy of the task than one who signs himself, in all humility, A PEN PLUS A LYRE.

* * * * *

THE WALKING ENGLISHWOMAN ON THE ALPS.

You who look, at home, so charming-- Angel, goddess, nothing less-- Do you know you're quite alarming In that dress?

Such a garb should be forbidden; Where's the grace an artist loves? Think of dainty fingers hidden In those gloves!

Gloves! A housemaid would not wear them, Shapeless, brown and rough as sacks, Thick! And yet you often tear them With that axe!

Worst of all, unblacked, unshiny-- Greet them with derisive boots-- Clumsy, huge! For feet so tiny! Oh, those boots!

* * * * *

THE ENGLISHMAN IN PARIS.

O "Englishman in Paris," do not think That I refer to your amusing book; I write of those who do not care "a tinker's cuss" for look!

Not you who dress in Paris as at home, Because the Frenchman is as good as you, Top-hat, frock-coat--in fact do all in Rome As Rome would do.

But you, attired in such eccentric ways, Who travelled here with tickets which you took Perhaps from enterprising Mr. GAZE, Or Mr. COOK.

And from some stupid, slow, suburban spot, Or prim provincial parish, come arrayed In clothes which your own gardener would not Wear for his trade.

Oh why offend the Frenchman's cultured sight With such a 'ARRY'S outin' sort of air? Do you consider knickerbockers quite The thing to wear?

The Frenchman, just as sensible as we, Calls "toppers" hateful, horrid, heavy, hot; In Paris, as in London, still you see The chimney-pot.

A linen collar hygiene abhors. And yet he wears it. You don't care a rap; You sport your flannel-shirt, and, out of doors, Your tourist cap.

Magnificent contempt for foreign lands! "Frog-eating Frenchy dress!" you say, and smile, "He imitates, but never understands True London style."

Unconquered Briton, you are right no doubt! Descendant of the woad-clad ones, that's true! And yet he never imitates a lout, A cad, like you.

* * * * *

HER PARLIAMENTARY KNOWLEDGE.--Mrs. R. is an intelligent student of the Parliamentary Reports in the _Times_. On Tuesday, in last week, her niece read this aloud--"8.30. _On the return of the SPEAKER, after the usual interval_"---- "That," observed the worthy lady, interrupting, explaining it to her niece, "is the interval allowed for refreshment--ten minutes I believe,--go on, my dear." Then her niece continued--"_Sir T. LEA, who was interrupted by a count_"---- "Stop, my dear!" exclaimed our old friend, indignantly. "What I want to know is, how did that Count come there? Was he in the Strangers' Gallery? And if he interrupted why wasn't he at once turned out of the House? On second thoughts," she added, "he must have been a foreigner, and so they made some excuse for him."

* * * * *

* * * * *

"A SAIL! A SAIL!"

(_Extracts from a New (Parliamentary) Version of "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner._")

[Sidenote: An Ancient Mariner meeteth a sorely-pressed M.P. hurrying to a Division, and stoppeth him.]

It is an Ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth an M.P. "By thy scant white hair and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

"The lobby doors are open wide, And if I don't get in, But give the slip to our stern Whip, Just won't there be a din!"

He holds him with his skinny hand. "There was a Ship!" quoth he. The Member pressed he beat his breast, Suppressing a big, big D!

[Sidenote: The sorely-pressed M.P. is spell-bound by the eye of the Grand Old Seafaring Man, and constrained to hear his tale.]

He holds him with his glittering eye; The Member pressed stands still. And listens, though exceeding wild-- The Mariner hath his will.

The Member pressed sits on a post, He cannot choose but hear; And thus speaks out that Grand Old Man, The bright-eyed Mariner--

[Sidenote: The Mariner tells how the good ship _H.M. Government_ sailed for Ireland with a good wind and fair weather till she reached a certain Line.]

The Ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, Merrily did we drop, Laden with many a blessed Bill From kelson to orlop,

The Sun of hope had left the left, Out in the cold they be. But it shone bright on the (SPEAKER'S) right When we put forth to sea.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Where the Ship is driven by a storm (of Opposition) toward the Poll.]

And now the Storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong. He struck with his opposing wings, And set our course all wrong.

With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the coat-tail of his foe And feeleth for his head, The Ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And Winterward we fled.

[Sidenote: Till a great lolloping, hindering, inopportune sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality--by our opponents.

And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of ill-omen, impeding the progress of the Ship in most aggravating fashion.]

At length did cross an Albatross: Through fog and frost it came; A noisy, rude, Obstructive bird; Devoid of sense or shame.

Day after day it blocked our way, As round and round it flew. In spite of it, by patient wit, Our helmsman steered us through.

When a fair wind sprang up behind, The Albatross did follow, And every day hindered our way, Despite the Mariner's hollo!

In mist or cloud it strove to shroud Our course athwart the brine, Night after night it led to fight, And kicking up of shine.

[Sidenote: The Ancient Mariner incontinently killeth the bird of ill-omen.]

"God help thee, Ancient Mariner! From the fiends that plague thee thus! What did'st thou do?" With my closure-bow _I shot the Albatross!!!_

* * * * *

[Sidenote: When the fog cleared his shipmates justified the same, and thus make themselves accomplices therein.]

Now round and red, like a Scotchman's head, The glorious Sun uprist: Then all averred I had killed the bird That brought the fog and mist. 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay That brought the fog and mist.

[Sidenote: The fair breeze continues; the Ship enters the Sea of Silence by the Straits of Gag.]

The fair breeze blew, the gag-saved crew, Were from Obstruction free; We were the first that ever burst Into that _silent sea_!

[Sidenote: The Ship is suddenly becalmed, and findeth that enforced silence means not peaceful progress.]

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 'Twas sad as sad could be; With flopping sail of what avail The silence of the sea?

Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.

[Sidenote: The Spirit of Obstruction had followed in spook-like silent, sub-marine secrecy.]

And some in dreams assured were Of the spirit that plagued us so; Nine fathom deep he had followed us, From the land of mist and snow.

If this be so, my shipmates said, What use that bird to shoot? We make no way, no more than if We were shackled hand and foot.

[Sidenote: The shipmates, in their sore distress, are tempted to throw the blame on the Ancient Mariner.]

Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young! My gain seemed loss, the Albatross Around my neck was hung.

II.

[Sidenote: The Ancient Mariner beholdeth a long-hoped-for sign in the element afar off.]

There passed a weary time. Each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye. A weary time! a dreary time! (Devoted to "Supply,") When, looking westward, I beheld A Something in the sky!

[Sidenote: It groweth and assumeth substantial shape.]

At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist: It moved, and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist.

A speck, a mist, a shape I wist! And still it neared and neared: As if it dodged some awkward question It plunged, and tacked, and veered.

[Sidenote: At its nearer approach it seemeth to him to be a ship, bearing the hopeful name of _Autumn Session_.]

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, We scarce could laugh or wail; Through utter drought all dumb we stood! I bit my tongue--it did me good-- And cried "A Sail! A Sail!!!"

[Sidenote: A flash of joy among his shipmates,]

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, Agape they heard me call. Gramercy! They for joy did grin, And all at once their breath drew in, As they were whistling all.

[Sidenote: And of anger amidst their foes.]

Our fierce foes' faces went aflame, They felt that they were done! Their thoughts were of the western main, Of moor, and dog, and gun, When that strange shape drave suddenly Betwixt us and the Sun.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: The Ancient Mariner postponeth the sequel of his strange story to a more convenient occasion.]

_Ah, Member pressed, I'll leave the rest Until--say next December! Whether that Sail did bring us aid, Or with my shipmate's wishes played; Whether it made them welcome Autumn, Or Tales of Hope to question taught 'em; Whether (as spook) that Albatross Appeared again our path to cross; If it portended gain or loss (Uncertain these, as pitch-and-toss!) I'll tell you when again we meet, On this same post, in this same street-- Oh, Member pressed--remember!_

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE BRITISH ATHLETE'S VADE-MECUM.

_Question._ What is the _specialite_ of a Briton?

_Answer._ That given him by belonging to a race of born athletes.

_Q._ Can any member of the human family outside the British Isles do anything in the shape of sport?

_A._ Only imperfectly. However, Australians are good at cricket, and Americans have been known to adequately train racehorses.

_Q._ Can you give any reason for their partial success?

_A._ Yes. Australians are our first-cousins, and Americans our first-cousins once removed.

_Q._ Then you consider them of the same stock as the true Briton?

_A._ Quite so. Hence their prowess in the field.

_Q._ What do you think of foreigners?

_A._ That they are typified by "Moosoo."

_Q._ When you speak of "Moosoo," to whom do you refer?

_A._ To the average French duffer, who has about as much knowledge of sport as a baby in arms.

_Q._ Are all foreigners duffers?

_A._ All; without exception.

_Q._ How do they go out shooting?

_A._ With a horn, a _couteau de chasse_, a toy game-bag, and a decorated poodle.

_Q._ Can they row at all?

_A._ Not seriously. They can paddle a little, but have no more idea of pulling than the man in the moon.

_Q._ And yet, did not a Paris crew beat a Thames Eight, on the Seine, early in the present year?

_A._ Yes; but that was because there was some good reason or other for the English defeat.

_Q._ It could not have been, of course, because the French Eight was better than their visitors?

_A._ Certainly not.

_Q._ But is not that the view you would adopt if you were dealing with two English crews?

_A._ Why, certainly; but this was a race between Britons and Frenchman, and the former could not naturally be beaten by the latter on their own merits.

_Q._ Why not?

_A._ Because, as a matter of fact, they couldn't.

_Q._ And so your opinion of the superiority of Britons over foreigners is unalterable?

_A._ Of course. I should not be a Briton if it were not so.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A DECAYED INDUSTRY.

(_From the Note-book of Our Prophet-Reporter._)

The HOME SECRETARY was seated in his room awaiting the arrival of the Deputation:--

"Well, I suppose I was right to allow them to interview me," he murmured. "The submerged Tenth have not the franchise to-day. Ah! but they may have it to-morrow!"

The HOME SECRETARY'S exclamation was caused by the appearance of a number of half-starved ragamuffins, who had lounged into the room, and were now standing respectfully before him.

"Beg pardon, Sir," said the spokesman of this strange-looking deputation, "but are you the 'OME SECKKERTERRY?"

"That is my position," replied the Cabinet Minister. "And now that you are here, what do you want?"

"Well, Guv'nor, truth to tell, we are out of employment. Our trade has gone to the dogs. Our business wos a removin' of superfluous cash from the pockets of the more inattentive of the public."

"Burglars!" exclaimed the HOME SECRETARY, in some alarm, and he hastily approached the handle of the bell communicating with the Messenger's Room.

"Stow it!" cried the spokesman roughly, then hurriedly lowering his tone, he apologised, and said he spoke from force of habit. "Twenty years ago our purfession was worth something. We could make a tidy living out of silk pocket-handkerchiefs, and sich like. But nowadays it's all changed. It wants capital, Guv'nor; that's where it is, it wants capital!"

"What wants capital?" queried the Minister.

"Why, our purfession, to be sure. Nowadays everythink's done on scientific principals. A burglar must know something of chemistry, and be up in things generally. Besides, all the real good things are worked by syndicates. Unless you can put in a 'underd pounds or so, why, you are nowhere. What are we to do?"

The HOME SECRETARY sat in deep thought.

"Look 'ere, Guv'nor," continued the spokesman, "'ere's a noshun. As we can't afford to be thieves, and haven't sufficient education to become burglars, why shouldn't we assist the Civil Power? Make us Peelers, Sir, you know--Coppers."

* * * * *

A month later the Police received some new recruits, and the title of the Force was officially changed to "The Unemployed."

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, August 7._--House brisked up to-day on approaching Report Stage Home-Rule Bill; over three hundred Members present, including JOSEPH, fresh from Birmingham; on whole, a melancholy gathering. At outset every appearance of collapse. Influence of Bank Holiday over it all. Ministers who should have been in places to answer questions not arrived. Worse still when Home-Rule Bill reached, and new Clauses called on. Turned out PRINCE ARTHUR was still dallying at Dulwich, HENEAGE 'appy at 'Ampstead, WOLMER tarrying by the giddy swing on Peckham Rye. BARTLEY, ever ready to sacrifice himself in interests of Empire, proposed to move new Clauses for absentees, but SPEAKER wouldn't have it; so passed on to PARKER SMITH. P. S., as sometimes happens in correspondence, proved most important part of letter. He had quite a cluster of Clauses; moved them in succession through long and dreary night.

Incidentally provided TIM HEALY with opportunity for making speech quite in old (of late unfamiliar) form. One of P. S.'s clauses designed for appointment of Boundary Commissioners, with view of what T. W. RUSSELL described as "ojus jerrymandering." TIM declared that scheme proposed by Bill would give Unionists a much larger representation than they were entitled to, leaving them, with exception of disfranchisement of Dublin University, in very much same numbers as they now stand. Demonstrating this, TIM cited in detail the constituencies affected. Totted them up to reach the total he had affirmed--certainly eighteen, possibly twenty-one.

"There's Armagh two," he said, "and Antrim four. Four and two are six," he added, turning with defiant look upon the placid figure of T. W. RUSSELL. Paused for a moment to give full opportunity for anyone getting up to deny this proposition. No response; TIM proceeded; "Very well, six. There's Belfast four. Six and four are ten!" he shouted triumphantly, looking across at JOSEPH. "Very well, ten," he added, in low growl; evidently disappointed at lack of spirit in camp opposite. "Down--North, East and West Down you'll have, I suppose? That's three. Three and ten's thirteen. Thirteen!" he shouted, turning with quick flush of hope in direction of seat of EDWARD OF ARMAGH. But Colonel not there. In fact not been seen in House since he went out after the great fight, holding bunch of keys to his bruised cheek.

Things looking desperate; still TIM plodded on. Surely age of chivalry not so finally gone that there was not left in an Irish bosom sufficient courage to deny to a political adversary that two and two made four? Perhaps TIM had been piling on the units too high. He would continue on a lower scale. "Very well, that's thirteen. Now North Fermanagh's one. Thirteen and one's fourteen." No pen can describe the acrimony TIM threw into this proposition. Still the craven blood did not stir. "Londonderry, North, South, and City--I suppose you expect to collar them all? That's three; fourteen and three are seventeen."

It was terrible. The SPEAKER, fearing bloodshed, interposed, ruling TIM out of order; only just in time. One could see by flush on MACARTNEY'S cheek that one step more would have been fatal, and that the proposition "Seventeen and two are nineteen" would have led to outbreak beside which the "regrettable incident" would have been meretriciously mild.

_Business done._--Took up Report Stage of Home-Rule Bill.

_Tuesday._--The Squires had regular set-to to-night. He of Blankney began it; SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, never loath for a tussle, cheerfully stepping into the ring. Order of the day was Report Stage of Home-Rule Bill. Members, though in languid mood, prepared once more to tread the dreary round, to pass a summer night

In dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing old in drawing nothing up.

SQUIRE OF BLANKNEY ordered matters otherwise. Has for some time had by him paper on Bimetallism, which he desired to read to House. Thought event might have come off on Vote on Account; ruled out of order; would fit in equally well on Indian Budget. But when will Indian Budget be taken? GORST and Echo answer "When?" SQUIRE, whilst willing to sacrifice all personal considerations on the altar of public interest, feels that duty to his Queen and country call him away for an interval of rest. He might leave his paper for DICKY TEMPLE to read; or he might have it printed and circulated with the votes. Whilst pondering on these alternatives, happy thought came to him. Why not move adjournment of House, and so work off speech? Of course wouldn't do to put the matter bluntly, and "ask leave to move the adjournment for the purpose of discussing a definite matter of urgent public importance, namely, HARRY CHAPLIN'S desire to get out of town." But for "HARRY CHAPLIN'S desire," &c., substitute "the closing of the Indian mints to the free coinage of silver," and there you are.

There we were indeed. Opposition didn't show up with the enthusiasm that might have been expected in such a cause. Question was indeed raised whether the necessary forty Members had risen to support application for leave. SPEAKER said it was all right, so SQUIRE OF BLANKNEY brought out his treasured manuscript and reeled off his speech. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD exceedingly angry that he should have occupied nearly an hour for the purpose. So angry that he took almost precisely same time in replying. Drew a lurid picture of the other Squire going about "endeavouring to make mischief in Hindustan." The poor SQUIRE OF BLANKNEY! No such fell design had filled his manly breast. He was guilty of no more direful purpose than that of availing himself of forms of the House to read a paper on Bimetallism prepared for a lapsed occasion, which might have been out of date had he kept it in his drawer till he came back from his holiday. It led to appropriation of four hours of the sitting; but if they had not been wasted in this way, they would have been squandered in some other, and House would have lost spectacle of this set-to between the MALWOOD MAULER and the BLANKNEY PET.

_Business done._--None to speak of.

_Thursday._--Seems BRODRICK didn't say at Farnham those naughty things about Mr. G. 'Tis true he had referred to failure of a popular local donkey to win a race owing to increasing infirmities, adding "it is quite time some of us should be turned out to grass." But he was not thinking of Mr. G. Of whom then was the Young Man thinking? Could it have been ----? But no, a thousand times no.