Part 2

Then there's the effect on the man on deck. Don't know who he is; fancy he must be the Supercargo. At first shriek of the earliest whistle, he puts on the heaviest boots (those with the clump of steel at the toes, the wedges of iron at the heel, and fat-headed nails all over the sole). He gives preliminary stamp precisely over your head; all right; steam-whistle shrieks; others respond; Supercargo is off; stamps to and fro just the length of the deck immediately over your berth; leaps up height of two feet; drops exactly over your head; steam-whistles go faster; Supercargo clatters off; fetches from somewhere a plank, a rough-hewn plank studded with nails; this he dashes on the deck over your head; got the range to a nicety; never misses; steam-whistles go off simultaneously; maddening effect on Supercargo; he rages to and fro, charges over your berth, banging the plank with mad delight. You get out of your berth, dash to side; just going to plunge over; when Quartermaster seizes you and leads you back to cabin, locking you in.

And SARK says he doesn't care for early morning effects in Hamburg harbour!

_Saturday Morning._--Steaming down Elbe, meaning to anchor at its mouth. (Not at its elbow, as SARK told the pilot. Pilot didn't see joke. Stared at him, and said, "_Hein?_" which made SARK look foolish.) Last night citizens of Hamburg entertained us at dinner. Banquet spread in what they call the Zoologischer Garten. Odd how the way of pronouncing a familiar word grows upon some people after dinner.

Feeding time seven. No extra charge to the public, who are kept outside. Excellent dinner; but general arrangement more suited to time of Methuselah than our shorter-lived day. Sat down at 7.30; finished by 11.30. Peculiarity of _menu_ was the interpolation of cold speeches among the hot dishes. As soon as we swallowed our _Klare Schildkrötensuppe_, and toyed with our _Forellen, blau mit Butter_, Chairman rose and proposed toast to Emperor. Next came on the table (sideways, of course) _Helgoländer hummer auf amerikanische Art_. Before the dish was removed, another gentleman on his legs proposing health of Mr. G. So on through the meal: first a bite and sup, then a speech. Practice interesting, though apt to induce a coolness on part of some of the dishes. Suppose cook calculates that gentlemen proposing particular toast will speak for ten minutes; he takes twenty, or, if of a fearless nature, half an hour. Where's your next dish? Why, cold or burnt. Nor can system be recommended on score of economy. Consequence of sitting through four hours dining off sort of speech-sandwich, is that you begin to get hungry again. The absent-minded man, offered an ice, says he usually begins his dinner with soup. If two hundred follow his example, and insist upon going all through the dinner again, it is not only embarrassing, but becomes costly.

_Off Jutland, Sunday._--Don CURRIE last night gave return banquet on _Tantallon Castle_ to Hamburgers. Done in princely style. Over two hundred sat down in brilliantly lighted saloon. Had our speeches, as usual with _nous autres_, served with the dessert instead of as _entrées_. Few, short, pithy, and one historical. Don CURRIE proposed toasts to his fellow Sovereigns, the Queen of ENGLAND and Emperor of GERMANY. Burgomaster of Hamburg toasted Mr. G., who responded in speech, lofty in sentiment, eloquently simple, admirable in delivery. Dog and pup, I have, during the last twenty years, heard nearly every one of his great speeches in the House and out. Declare that in all the qualities that go to make a perfect oration, it would be hard for even his record to beat this impromptu speech, delivered amid such strange surroundings.

After dinner, a dance on deck. The waltzing and polkaing commonplace enough. But pretty to see JOHN LENG, M.P., and the LORD OF THE ISLES do a sword dance, whilst RAMSAY, M.P., like them, clad in national garb, played the bagpipes. This struck the German guests more than anything. Their papers full of it.

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_Copenhagen, Tuesday._--King and Queen of DENMARK, with rest of Royal Family, had day out to-day. Came aboard _Tantallon Castle_ for luncheon.

"You talk about your Roshervilles, _cher_ TOBEE," his Majesty said, as we smoked cigars with our coffee; "but to my mind, the place to spend a happy day is the _Tantallon Castle_."

"There is," I said, "the drawback of the absence of shrimps. But then even kings cannot have everything."

"True, TOBEE," said the grandfather of our kings-to-be and of other people's. And for a moment the royal brow was "sicklied o'er with pale cast of thought."

It cleared as he caught sight of our two rival Kodakesses, who had simultaneously got him in focus. Pretty to see King arrange his hair, give little twist to moustache, and assume look of abstraction, just as common people do when they suspect someone is taking a snap-shot at them. As SARK says, "One snap of the Kodak makes the whole world kin."

Oddly enough, there were speeches at the luncheon. Mr. G. having got his hand (or rather his voice) in at mouth of the Elbe, delivered two charming addresses. One in proposing health of King and Queen of DENMARK, the other in responding to toast to his own health, given by King. A new thing this for Old Parliamentary Hand to serve as after-dinner speaker. Listening to his graceful, gracious phrases, one almost regrets he should have given up so much time to Irish Land Bills, Home Rule, and the like.

After luncheon a stroll on deck, and, incidentally, a memorable scene. In addition to the Kodakesses, who have taken everyone on board, except each other, we have a regular artist with a camera. Don CURRIE, having a moment to spare, thought he would have his likeness taken. Got into position; operator's head under the cloth fixing him; in another moment it would have been done. As SHAKSPEARE wrote long ago, "Nothing escapes the eye of royal Denmark." The King, seeing what was going on, quietly led up the Queen, and stood by her in focus; the rest of the Royal Family, as our toast lists have it, closed in, forming a group near the Don; and when the astonished operator removed the cap and exposed the plate he found upon it the Royal Family of Denmark and one simple Highland gentleman distinguished in such company by his plain estate.

In afternoon, Don CURRIE having entertained Kings and Queens and Crown Princes, threw open all the gangways of the ship to the people of Copenhagen. They flocked in by hundreds, increasing to thousands. In endless streams they passed along the decks peering and poking their noses into every nook and cranny. On upper deck they had a great find. Sitting in his state cabin, with door open, was Mr. G. reading about the Vikings in their own tongue, which he has lately added to his list of acquired foreign languages. The Danes, men, women, and children, stood there at gaze. Mr. G., with his back turned to door, read on, unnoticing. Crowd growing unmanageable with ever-increasing numbers, a handy quartermaster rigged out ropes, and made sort of handrail, guarding either side of cabin, keeping back crowd. But it filled the deck all through the afternoon, ever changing, but ever one in its passionate, yet patient desire to catch a glimpse of that figure in the cabin, that went on reading as if the world outside were a mere wilderness.

_Wednesday._--At Kiel. Harbour and approaches filled with fleets of all nations, every ship bristling with guns, and longing to be at somebody. For the closing years of the nineteenth century of the Christian Era, this is, as SARK says, most encouraging. It is the completest achievement, the proudest thing civilisation has to show us.

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From the _Manchester Guardian:_--

SIR CHARLES HALLE'S CHOIR PICNIC. FINAL REHEARSAL and for TICKETS at Messrs. &c.

How is a picnic rehearsed?

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THE LEADING MOTIVE OF THE "W. O.," WITH VARIATIONS.

_The General Idea_ (_supplied at Pall Mall_). That, although the British Army costs (exclusive of extras) £57 per man, the War Office is the best _bureau_ in the world. The establishments over which the Secretary of State and the Commander-in-Chief preside, are necessarily incapable of improvement, as they are absolutely perfect. This being so, nothing more need, can, and should be said.

_Commentary No. 1_ (_supplied by Printing House Square_). That the General Idea of the War Office is ridiculous. That were Pall Mall to be occupied by the staff of a merchant's office, the nation would be saved millions, and the £57 (exclusive of extras) per man arrangement would soon be regarded as an extravagant product of the wasteful past.

_Commentary No. 2_ (_supplied by a military writer_). That civilians cannot possibly know anything about the working of a Government Office. As Pall Mall says it is perfect, it is to be presumed that it is. Why not leave well alone? And as for £57 (exclusive of extras) per man, why, is not that arrangement less than £60?

_Commentary No. 3_ (_supplied anonymously_). Opinion of military writer not worth the paper containing it. Look abroad. Does the foreign service cost £57 per man, exclusive of extras? Not at all. Then what can be done on the Continent, can, and should be done in England.

_Commentary No. 4_ (_supplied by the working-classes_). What! pay, £57 (exclusive of extras) for a soldier? Much better abolish the Army, and reduce the price of beer!

_Commentary No. 5 and last_ (_supplied by_ Private THOMAS ATKINS). What, I cost £57 a year, exclusive of extras! Well, all I can say is, that precious little of the money or the perquisites gets into _my_ pockets! Worse luck to it!

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MRS. R. ON THE POLITICAL SITUATION.--"What's this I hear about Mr. G.?" inquired Mrs. R. "That he is returning to the House in town, and giving up his Villiers in the country?"

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ARS EST CELARE NATURAM.

The German EMPEROR having expressed a wish to visit a non-existing island at Hamburg, the tasteful citizens have constructed one by means of wirework, canvas, plaster, and cement.

It is stated that the SULTAN is bored by the Bosphorus. The whole surface of the water will therefore be covered with planks, painted green, to represent meadows.

The KING of the BELGIANS is said to have remarked that Brussels would be improved by a distant view of the sea. The municipal authorities propose to cover the high ground, seen from the palace windows, with tin-foil. It is hoped that this will give the effect of the sea gleaming in the sunshine.

The PRESIDENT of the French Republic having thought that it would be a pleasing compliment to Russia if some specimens of Russian architecture could be erected in Paris, it is believed that the _Commission des Monuments Historiques_ will cover the Louvre with laths and canvas, painted to represent the Kremlin, and by similar means will transform the Champs Elysées into the Nevsky Prospect, and will give to Notre Dame the appearance of the forts at Cronstadt.

The KHEDIVE has expressed an opinion that the Pyramids look old and shabby. If the English and French government will authorise the expenditure, the whole surface of the stone will be made perfectly smooth, will be painted and grained in imitation of oak, and will finally be varnished. The face of the Sphinx will be washed, and will then be used for an advertisement of an English soap. The enormous rent paid for this will be added to the KHEDIVE'S pocket money.

The Queen of HOLLAND is dissatisfied with the flat surroundings of the Hague. It has been pointed out to HER MAJESTY that the city contains a hill, called, we believe, the Vijverberg, which rises at least three feet above the level of the sea, but she has replied that this is not enough. It is therefore proposed to surround the whole city with a gigantic panorama of the Bernese Oberland.

The other day the King of SPAIN perceived a reflection of the moon in a pond, and was much annoyed when his attendants failed to bring it to him. It has now been arranged that all the ponds in the neighbourhood shall contain an aluminium moon, which can be pulled out by a specially appointed Grandee of Spain, if commanded by HIS MAJESTY.

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"B-O-M-B--BOMB!"

FRIDAY, June 21. The Duke of CAMBRIDGE resigned his Commander-in-Chieftaincy, and the Government was suddenly scattered by a "_Brodrick Patent Cordite Exploder_," which reduced the Secretary of War's salary by a hundred pounds.

"A hundred pounds! Ha! Thou hast touched me nearly."

_The Critic._

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The Witness Protection Society and General Legal Reform Union has been holding its Annual General Meeting. Among the numerous objects of this estimable body the chief appears to be to protect witnesses in law courts from insult by counsel. Captain PARKIS, having expressed himself as willing, was voted to the chair, and the members settled down to have a good time. "Heated discussion," "further disturbance," and a well-sustained fire of "protests," lent an air of gaiety to the proceedings, which culminated in "various gentlemen abusing one another across the table." With such excellent practice, the members of the W. P. S. G. L. R. U. should be able to hold their own in court. The Bar trembles. Even the Bench feels a little uneasy.

L-CKW-D, no longer drawing, will be drawn, Even the piercing eye of CL-RKE will quail, C-RS-N be "spacheless," G-LL will almost fawn, And sturdy W-BST-R falter and turn pale, Because the witness, taking heart of grace, Will "go for him" with candour strangely new, And brandish, cross-examined, in his face The W. P. S. G. L. R. U.!

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"MEMORABLE SAYINGS AND HISTORICAL EVENTS."--There must now be added to the long list Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT'S languidly jocose remark on Friday night last. "Thank Heaven," he is reported to have said, "there is one night on which we need not fear a crisis." And while yet the laugh was on their lips, the bells rang, and subsequently the Four Tellers announced what could not have been Fore-told. And who laughs last?

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ROUNDABOUT READINGS.

Messrs. ARKWRIGHT, CUNLIFFE, and WARNER have received their blues from the Captain of the Oxford University Eleven. In other words, these gentlemen will help to represent their University in the cricket match against Cambridge. My congratulations, though they come late, are none the less hearty and sincere. Can any years of success in after life efface the memory or outrival the delight of that crowded moment of glorious life which comes to a young man when his Captain tells him he may get his blue? Thenceforward he is made one with the great company of old blues, who year by year meet and exchange reminiscences, the honour of his University is in his hands, his father becomes less rigorous in his financial views, and his mother is confirmed in her opinion that her darling is the brightest and best and handsomest of created beings. These keen joys come but once in a lifetime, and only to a few.

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That man's a good bat who can time, judge, and mark right The ball as it flies from the right hand of ARKWRIGHT. And the Oxford men cheer as they see the stumps fall When the Magdalen bowler delivers the ball. "My team," said G. MORDAUNT, "requires only one lift; If I get it the Cantabs may go and be Cunliffed." And I think he was wise in awarding, don't you, To this tricky left-handed young bowler his blue. And lastly the Captain, he put in his thumb, For he very much wanted to pull out a plum: "I have it," he cried, like a modern Jack Horner, And he promptly scored one as he pulled out Plum WARNER.

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When I was a freshman at Cambridge (_eheu fugaces!_) I remember being both impressed and terrified at having pointed out to me a tutor of a certain College who was said to be the hero of a Bacchanalian incident. The story went that the tutor, returning from some feast with a party of friends, fell, by mischance, into one of the narrow streams of water that flow at the side of the Cambridge streets. Striking out vigorously, he shouted, "Save the rest, I can swim." No doubt the story is still told, for the supposed hero of it is still alive. Indeed, when a caricature of him was published some years ago in _Vanity Fair_, the biography by JEHU JUNIOR closed with the words, "He can swim." Yet the story, as affecting Mr. DASH, of Blank College, is manifestly false, for it is older than the century. The curious may find it in its original form in the lately published volume of S. T. COLERIDGE'S letters. The poet relates it of an undergraduate of his day who had taken part in a drunken revel.

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But the ways of stories are at all times inscrutable. I have myself--I confess it without a blush--deliberately invented and spread abroad a story about a semi-public dinner. I did so merely because it struck me as containing elements of humour. Besides, it not only might have happened, but ought to have happened. A year or two later six gentlemen, who had been present when the incident did not occur, related it back to me, each one with a little special embellishment of his own. Some of them were magistrates, most of them were fathers of families, and all were honourable men. Yet they were all prepared to stake their reputations on the absolute veracity of this myth; and, what is even more curious, they retailed it to its inventor and disseminator.

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Lytham is troubled. I read that "the musical attractions at the Pier Pavilion have been fairly patronised, and dancing on the pier is to be resumed." This latter attraction, it appears, has not met with the entire approval of the Lytham people, who contend that it will bring Lytham into disrepute. "The Ratepayers' Association have had the matter under consideration, and have disclaimed any connection with the innovation. The directors, however, have had the question under discussion, and have decided to continue the dancing."

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Said the pier-man to the tourist, "Lo, the tide is flowing free; Won't you come and join the dancers in our Temple by the sea? See how mazily the Harries and the Harriets advance, Will you won't you, will you won't you, won't you join the dance?

"We have cornets, flutes and fiddles, and we always play in time, And the triangles at intervals triangularly chime. Hark, the bold bassoon is booming, every dancer gets a chance, Come and trip it, pretty tourist, in our gay Pavilion dance."

But the tourist paused a moment; then addressed the pier-man, "Brute, Such proceedings bring poor Lytham into awful disrepute, Besides, I'm here for pleasure, and I do not want to prance. As the rest of them are doing, in your gay _al fresco_ dance."

And the ratepayers considered it, and angrily replied, "There is another shore, you know, upon the other side: Take your dancers far from England, take them bodily to France; We disclaim the least connection, and we will not join your dance."

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I note from a correspondence in _The Scotsman_ that a considerable amount of feeling has been aroused by the erection of the new North British Railway Hotel in Princes Street. Lord WEMYSS, apparently, has declared not only that it will spoil the view, but also that it will "pierce the vault of heaven." Another correspondent adds that it will have "a Jennerised, unreposeful front." That ought to settle the matter at once. Someone else complains of "those terrible advertisements of drugs and fluid beef which extend in gigantic letters along the side of the lower part of the Carlton Hill, and which catch the unwilling eye of anyone looking from the Bridges, from the Mound, and indeed from any part of the Old Town." What with advertisements of drugs and fluid beef, and a new hotel possessing a Jennerised, unreposeful front, obviously Edinburgh is in a bad way.

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Mr. C. J. WALTON, of Wolverhampton, writes to the _Birmingham Daily Gazette_ with reference to a recent appeal on behalf of the victims of the "Liberator" frauds. "I fail entirely to see," he says, "how a member of the Church of England can be expected to make the slightest sacrifice (except on the principle of Christian charity), seeing that the whole idea of the 'Liberator' scheme was to find funds for the agitators whose sole aim was the robbery and destruction of the Church of England as a national institution, and to get hold of its funds for secular and non-religious purposes." Dear me, dear me, how strange, how terrible, how muddle-headed. This poor politician has evidently got mixed up between the Liberator and the "Liberation Society." Let him take the hint, and send in his subscription.

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

_The Convict Ship_, CLARK RUSSEL'S latest novel (CHATTO AND WINDUS), is redolent of the sea. There is no writer, not forgetting MARRYAT, who has such close companionship with the sea in its multiple forms and its many moods. The temptation to transfer some of the ever-varying pictures of the sea which sparkle in these pages is great but must be resisted. Here is a glimpse of night at sea, chosen not because it is best, but because it is shortest:--

"The mighty shadow of the ocean night was majestic and awful, with the wild, flashful colouring of lightning in the south, and the dustlike multitude of stars over the three glooming spires of our ship."