Part 2

What do I even care if She May frown upon her wretched lover, And like another more than me? Such pangs I might in time recover. I do not care, I do not know; I'm aching now from top to toe.

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Mr. RUDYARD KIPLING has written another Barrack-room Ballad (see _Pall Mall Gazette_ of Thursday last). It is called _The Men that fought at Minden_, and is perhaps the most coarse and unattractive specimen of verse that this great young man has put forth yet--a jumble of words without a trace of swing or music. All this Tommy Atkins business, with its "Rookies" and its "Johnny Raws," and its affectation of intimate knowledge of the common soldier's inmost feelings, is about played out, and the interest in it is not likely to be revived by such jargon as _The Men that fought at Minden_. Besides, didn't Lord GEORGE SACKVILLE fight(?) at Minden?

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EXPLAINED AT LAST.--The (Zoo-) logical excuse given for the boa-constrictor when he swallowed his companion, was that "he only wanted a snack for luncheon." It had been hinted that he found "the other one" such a "boa" at meal times that he was determined to put him down. But this is not the fact.

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A LITTLE CHANGE.

Hang it all! They have blocked the street and are laying it with asphalte; just in May, as usual. From early morning the quiet of my rooms is disturbed by the noise of the work, when I go out I scramble over heaps of rubbish, past smoking cauldrons of pitch, and when I come home at night my cab drops me nearly a quarter of a mile away. Moreover, one neighbouring house is being painted, and the other is being rebuilt. I fly from falling dust and brickbats, only to run against ladders and paint-pots. It is awful. And now my Aunt JANE is coming up from Bath, and has invited herself to tea at my chambers. Her rheumatism prevents her from walking more than a yard or two, she cannot bear any noise, and the smell of paint makes her ill. She is very rich, and could leave all she has to the poor. Accurately speaking, that class includes me, but in my aunt's opinion it does not. She is very suspicious, and, if I made excuses and invited her to tea anywhere else, she would feel convinced that I was hiding some guilty secret in my dull, quiet, respectable rooms. She is very prim, and the mere suggestion of such a thing would alienate her from me for ever. Why on earth can't she stop in Bath? And I shall have to go with her to May meetings! It is impossible; I must fly. But where? She has a horror and suspicion of all foreign nations, except perhaps the steady, industrious Swiss. Good idea--Switzerland. But what reason can I give for rushing off just now? Someone must send me. I have it. She knows I try to write a little, so I will say my editor requires me to go at once to Geneva to write a series of articles in the Jardin Alpin d'Acclimatation on Alpine botany. Botany, how respectable! Geneva, how sedate! Makes one think at once of CALVIN and Geneva bands. These sound rather frivolous, something like German bands, but they are not really so, only, I believe, a sort of clerical cravat. Then I will start off to Paris, the direct way to Geneva.

Perhaps I shall never reach Geneva. Paris will do well enough. No streets there taken up in the Spring. No painting on the clean stone houses. No rebuilding on the Boulevards. No aunt of mine anywhere near. I shall escape all my troubles. I shall be able to smoke my cigarette lazily in the pleasant courtyard of the Grand Hôtel, and try to imagine that I see some of the people in _Trilby_--_Little Billee_, or _Taffy_, or the _Laird_--amongst the animated, cosmopolitan crowd. And the stately giant in the gilt chain will solemnly arrange the newspapers in all languages, and will supply me with note-paper. I must be careful not to write to my aunt a long description of the Jardin Alpin d'Acclimatation de Geneve on paper stamped "Grand Hôtel, Paris." And the attentive JOSEPH, with those long grey whiskers, sacred to the elderly French waiter and the elderly French lawyer, will exclaim, "_V'là, M'sieu!_" in all those varied tones which make the two syllables mean "Yessir!" "Coming, Sir!" "Here is your coffee, Sir!" "In a minute, Sir!" and so many things besides. And I shall be able to watch, assembled from all parts of the world, some younger and prettier faces than my Aunt JANE'S. That settles it. A regretful letter to my aunt. And to-morrow _en route!_

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CHANGE OF SPELLING?--Our dramatic friend known to the public through _Mr. Punch_ as ENRY HAUTHOR JONES appears to have recently altered the spelling of his name. He has left the JONES and the HENRY alone, but in the _Times_ of Friday he appears as "HENRY ARTH_E_R JONES," "U" out of it; and what was "E" doing there?

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PRESENTATION TO THE REV. GUINNESS ROGERS.--Last week this worthy minister was presented by his Congregationalists with an address and a cheque for a thousand guineas, Mr. GLADSTONE, ex-minister, being among the subscribers. In future the _bénéficiaire_ will be remembered as the "Reverend Thousand GUINNESS ROGERS."

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MUSIC NOTE (_after hearing Mr. J. M. Coward's performance on the Orchestral Harmonium_).--It would be high praise to say of any organist that "he attacks his instrument in a Cowardly manner."

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"VERY APPROPRIATE."--Last Wednesday the Right Hon. A. W. _PEEL_ became a "_Skinner_."

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A COMING CHARGE.

(_Prematurely Communicated by our Prophetic Reporter._)

Gentlemen of the Jury, for the last couple of years or so you have no doubt read any number of denunciations of the conduct of the man whose actions you are now about to investigate. You have heard him abused right and left. You have seen pictures of him, in which he has been held up to scorn and public ridicule. You have heard it announced in all quarters that he is a scoundrel and a thief. And as this has been the case, Gentlemen of the Jury, it is my duty to tell you that you must put aside the recollection of these attacks. You must treat the prisoner before you as if he were immaculate. In fact you must lay aside all prejudice, and give the man a fair trial; and, Gentlemen, it is my duty (sanctioned by precedent) to have the pleasure of informing you that I am sure you will! Yes, Gentlemen of the Jury, having regard to all the circumstances of the case, I repeat, I am sure you will!

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At the National Liberal Club, on Wednesday, Lord ROSEBERY told the company they were not dancing on a volcano. That may be true, but it is equally true that the Government, in proposing to remit the sixpenny duty on whisky, are riding for a fall in (or, shall we say, a drop of) the "crater."

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ON THE NEW STATUE.

["Her Majesty's Government are about to entrust to one of our first sculptors a great historical statue, which has too long been wanting to the series of those who have governed England."--_Lord Rosebery at the Royal Academy Banquet._]

Our "Uncrowned King" at last to stand 'Midst the legitimate Lord's Anointed? How will they shrink, that sacred band, Dismayed, disgusted, disappointed! The _parvenu_ Protector thrust Amidst the true Porphyrogeniti? How will it stir right royal dust! The mutton-eating king's amenity Were hardly proof against this slur. WILLIAM the thief, RUFUS the bully, The traitor JOHN, and JAMES the cur,-- Their royal purple how 'twill sully To rub against the brewer's buff! HARRY, old Mother Church's glory Meet this Conventicler?--Enough! The Butcher dimmed not England's story But rather brightened her renown. In camp and court it must be said, And if he did not win a crown, At least he never _lost his head!_

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Among Mr. LE GALLIENNE'S new poems there is one entitled _Tree Worship_. It is _not_ dedicated to the lessee of the Haymarket Theatre by "an Admirer."

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A MAY MEETING.

They met in a cake-shop hard by the Strand, He in black broadcloth, and she in silk. She had a glass of "fizz" in her hand, He had a bun and a cup of milk. She had a sunshade of burnished crimson, He had a brolly imperfectly furled, And a pair of _pince-nez_ with tortoiseshell rims on. He looked the Church, and she seemed the World.

They sat on each side of a marble table, His legs were curled round the legs of his chair. Around them babbled a miniature Babel; The sunlight gleamed on her coppery hair. She held a crumpled Academy Guide, Scored with crosses in bold blacklead; A pile of leaflets lay at his side, And he grasped a Report, which he gravely read.

His shaven lip was pendulous, long, Her mouth was a cherry-hued _moue mutine_, His complacent, uncomely, strong, Hers soft appetence sharpened with spleen. Her eyes scale-glitter, his oyster-dim, His huge mouth hardened, her small lips curled As he gazed at her and she glanced at him; He looked the Church, and she seemed the World.

"A holy spouter from Exeter Hall!" (So she mused as she sipped her wine.) "A butterfly in the Belial thrall Of Vanity Fair, all tinkle and shine!" So thought he as he crumbled his bun With clumsy fingers in loose black cloth; And the impish spirit of genial fun Hovered about them and mocked them both.

Mutual ignorance, mutual scorn, Revealed in glances aflame though fleeting; Such, in the glow of this glad May morn, The inhuman spirit of mortal meeting. The worm must disparage the butterfly, The butterfly must despise the worm; And Scorn, the purblind, will ne'er descry A common bond, or a middle term.

Modish folly, factitious Art? True, grave homilist, sadly true! But _Boanerges_ truculent, tart, What of the part that is played by you? You denouncing the "Snare of Beauty," She affecting to feel its spell,-- Which falls shortest of human duty? Shallow censor, can _you_ quite tell?

Meanwhile the lilac is blithely budding, And sweetly breatheth the nutty May, The golden sunshine the earth is flooding, And you--you echo the old, old bray Of _Boanerges_. A broader greeting Of brotherhood full, warm hearts, wide eyes Might lend a meaning to your "May Meeting" To gladden the gentle and win the wise.

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"WHAT'S IN A NAME? A ROSSA, &C."--Before being ejected from the House of Commons on Wednesday last, O'DONOVAN ROSSA shouted out that "A stain had been put upon his name." Where is the ingenious craftsman who did it? He might try his hand next time at gilding refined gold.

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QUERY.--Can a champagne wine from the vintage of "Ay" be invariably and fairly described as "Ay 1"?

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MODES AND METALS.

["Neckties made of aluminium have just been invented in Germany."--_Evening Paper._]

Visited my tailor's puddling works to-day. He has some really neat new pig-iron fabrics for the season. I am thinking of trying his Bessemer steel indestructible evening-dress suits.

Really this new plan of mineral clothing comes in very usefully when one is attacked by roughs on a dark night. Floored an assailant most satisfactorily with a touch of my lead handkerchief.

The only objection I can find to my aluminium summer suiting is its tendency to get red hot if I stand in the sun for five minutes.

I think I can now safely defy my laundress to injure my patent safety ironclad steel shirts.

I find, however, that there is no need of a laundress at all. When one's linen is soiled, sand-paper and a mop will clean it in no time.

My frock-coat has got a nasty kink in it; must send it to be repaired at the smelting furnace.

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ONCE CUT DON'T COME AGAIN!--It was said by _The Figaro_ last week that Japan would demand "an extra payment of one hundred millions of taels by China." But surely a hundred million Chinamen would evince a pig-headed obstinacy in parting with, or being parted from, their "tails" on any consideration.

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"A LIGHTSHIP SUNK."--Impossible! couldn't have been a lightship, it must have been a very heavy ship.

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, May 6._--Welsh Disestablishment Bill on. So is The Man from Shropshire. STANLEY LEIGHTON, as GEORGE TREVELYAN pointed out long ago, is irresistibly like the ruined Chancery Suitor of _Bleak House_. Always dashing into debate as The Man from Shropshire broke in on the business of the Court of Chancery. "Mr. Chairman!" he shouts, and waves his arms, as The Man from Shropshire cried aloud, "My lord! My lord!" and tried to seize the Lord Chancellor by wig or neck. After first ebullition, our Man from Shropshire quietens down. Argues with gravity of tone and manner that seem to imply he has something to say. Turns out he hasn't; but, on the Welsh Disestablishment Bill, that no matter.

Curious how this Church Bill brings to the front men who, if heard at all, certainly do not speak in chorus on any other question. After The Man from Shropshire comes TOMLINSON, who, early in proceedings, displays irresistible tendency to discuss points of order with SPEAKER. New SPEAKER has, however, already got hand in, and, before TOMLINSON, who remembers being on his feet addressing Chair, quite knows where he is, he finds himself sitting down again, CRANBORNE also on warpath, his very hair bristling with indignation at this fresh attack on the Church. Glib GRIFFITH-BOSCAWEN has a field-night; makes long speech on moving Instruction standing in his own name. His obvious, unaffected enjoyment of his own oratory should be infectious; but isn't.

Colonel LOCKWOOD, that pillar of the Church, was the first called on in Committee to move amendment. Colonel not in his place. Report has it the devout man is in library reading THOMAS À KEMPIS, or DRELINCOURT on Death. Here is opportunity for GLIB-GRIFFITH to make another speech. Dashes in; starting off with promise of good half-hour; desire for LOCKWOOD'S appearance irresistible. As ADDISON says, with hereditary disposition to drop into poetry, and the belief that he is quoting TENNYSON,

Better fifty words from LOCKWOOD Than a thousand from BOSCAWEN.

Scouts sent out in all directions. The Colonel discovered in sort of oratory he has contrived in far recess of library. Brought back to House; found BOSCAWEN bowling along. "This is my show," said the Colonel as he passed BOSCAWEN on his way to his seat. More fierceness in his eye than befit the man or the occasion. BOSCAWEN stared over his head, and went on with his speech. Opportunity too precious to be lost. If LOCKWOOD meant to move his amendment he should have been there when called upon. He wasn't: BOSCAWEN found it, so to speak, by roadside. Now it was his; would make the most of it; pegged along whilst the Colonel muttered remarks as he glared upon him. Some who sat by said it was a prayer. Others, catching a word here and there, said it was a quotation from THOMAS À KEMPIS. Whatever it might have been, Colonel seemed much moved. Hardly pacified when, at end of twenty minutes, GLIB-GRIFFITH sat down, and LOCKWOOD, finding himself in peculiar position of seconding his own amendment, delivered the speech he had prepared for moving it.

_Business done._--Got into Committee on Welsh Disestablishment Bill.

_Tuesday._--Pretty to see PRINCE ARTHUR drop down on GEORGE RUSSELL just now for speaking disrespectfully of SILOMIO. That eminent patriot, having in his newly-assumed character of Patron Saint of Japan, cross-examined EDWARD GREY upon latest Treaty negotiations, accused ASQUITH of nothing less than stealing a county. "Filching" was precise word, which has its equivalent in Slang Dictionary in sneaking. Idea of HOME SECRETARY hovering over the Marches in dead of night, and, when he thought no one was looking, picking up Monmouthshire, and putting it in his coat-tail pocket, amused scanty audience. But SILOMIO really wrath. "Always Anti-English this Government," he exclaimed, with scornful sweep of red right hand along line of smiling faces on Treasury Bench. "A stirring burst of British patriotism," GEORGE RUSSELL characterised it. JOHN BULL _in excelsis_. The more notable since, on reference to official record, he found the Knight from Sheffield was born in the United States, and descended from the Pilgrim Fathers.

"Which one?" inquired voice from back bench, an inquiry very properly disregarded. (A new phrase this, SARK notes, for use by retired tradesmen, setting up to spend rest of useful lives in retirement at Clapham or Camberwell. To trace their family tree back to transplantation at period of Conquest, played out. Instead of "Came over with the Conqueror," newer, more picturesque, equally historical to say, "Came over with the Pilgrim Fathers.")

PRINCE ARTHUR not in mood for speculation of this kind. Cut to the heart by remarks he suspected of slighting intent towards his friend and colleague. In SILOMIO PRINCE ARTHUR has long learned to recognise all the graces and all the talents. Apart from personal consideration, he feels how much the Party owe to him for having raised within its ranks the standard of culture and conduct. To have him attacked, even in fun, by an Under Secretary, was more than he could stand. So, in gravest tone, with no flicker of a smile on his expressive countenance, he declared that a more unfortunate speech he had never heard. "If the hon. gentleman intends," he added, "to take a considerable part in debate, I would earnestly recommend him either to change the character of his humour, or entirely to repress the exhibition."

Beautiful! In its way, all things considered, best thing PRINCE ARTHUR has done this Session. House grinned; but two big hot tears coursed down cheek of SILOMIO, making deep furrows in the war paint.

"That's tit for tat with GEORGIE RUSSELL," said HERBERT GARDNER to SOLICITOR-GENERAL, with vague recollection of a historic phrase.

"Quite perfect," said LOCKWOOD. "But what a loss the stage has sustained by PRINCE ARTHUR taking to politics? Tried both myself and know something about it." _Business done._--An eight hours day with Welsh Disestablishment Bill.

_Thursday._--TANNER'S curiosity inconveniently uncontrollable. At end of sitting given up to Scotland no one thinking about COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF or TANNER either. Successive divisions had carried sitting far beyond midnight, that blessed hour at which, in ordinary circumstances, debate stands adjourned. Quarter of an hour occupied in dividing on question whether they should divide on amendment. Proposal affirmed; another quarter of an hour spent in fresh division. Nothing possible further to be done, Members streamed forth, scrambling for cabs in Palace Yard. CONYBEARE in charge of a Bill dealing with false alarms of fire, managed to get it through Committee unopposed. Members little recked how near they were to real alarm of worse than fire.

Twenty minutes earlier, when last division taken, over 330 Members filled House. Now the tide ebbed; only the thirty odd Members in their places jealously watching SPEAKER running through Orders of the Day. TANNER bobbing up and down on bench like parched pea. Heard it somewhere whispered that Duke of CAMBRIDGE, worn out with long campaign, about to unhelm, unbuckle his sword, hang up his dinted armour. TANNER feels he can't go to bed leaving unsettled the problem of truth or phantasy. Not a moment to be lost. SPEAKER risen to put question "That this House do now adjourn." Then TANNER blurts out the inquiry, "Is it true?" "Order! order!" says the SPEAKER. Well, if they didn't like the question in the form he had first put it, he would try again.

"I would ask," he said, adopting conditional mood as least likely to hurt anyone's feelings, "whether a member of the Royal Family who has really" (most desirous of not putting it too strongly, but really you know) "been drawing public money too long is going to retire?"

"Order! order!" roared the few Members present.

"I would ask that question," repeated TANNER, still in the conditional mood, but nodding confidentially all round.

The Blameless BARTLEY happily at post of duty. Broke in with protest. SPEAKER ruled question out of order. But the good TANNER came back like a bad sixpence.

"Is his Royal Highness going to retire?" he insisted, getting redder than ever in the face. "Order! order!" shouted Members in chorus. Thus encouraged, TANNER sang out the solo again, "Is his Royal Highness going to retire?"

That was his question. The SPEAKER, distinctly differing, affirmed "The question is that the House do now adjourn;" which it did straightway, leaving Dr. TANNER to go to a sleepless bed haunted by an unanswered question.

"What I should like," said Lieut.-General Sir FREDERICK WELLINGTON FITZ WYGRAM, who served in the Crimea with H.R.H., has been in command of the Cavalry Brigade at Aldershot, and in other positions come in personal contact with the COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, "What I should like," he repeated reflectively, stroking his chin, "would be the opportunity, enjoyed from a safe distance, of hearing the Dook personally reply to TANNER'S interrogation."

_Business done._--Wrangle all night round Scotch Committee.

_Friday._--SQUIRE sat through dull morning sitting listening with air of pathetic resignation to Members talking round Budget. QUILTER led off with prodigiously long paper on the Art of Brewing Beer. Seems they fill up the cup with all kinds of mysterious ingredients. BROOKFIELD, looking round and observing both JOSEPH and JESSE absent, whispered in ear of sympathetic Chairman that Birmingham has reputation in the Trade of making and drinking beer containing minimum of malt, maximum of sugar, and warranted to do the greatest damage to the system. SQUIRE, momentarily waking up from mournful mood, observed that Birmingham is also headquarters of Liberal Unionism. Might be nothing in coincidence, but there it was. RASCH posed as the distressed agriculturist. JOKIM tried to walk on both sides of road at same time, and Government got majority of 24. _Business done._--Budget Resolutions agreed to.

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TO YVETTE GUILBERT AT THE EMPIRE.

YVETTE! your praise resounds on every hand. And those laugh loudest who least understand.

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Transcriber's Note:

Page 229: 'visistor' corrected to 'visitor'.

(_Knock._) Ah, here comes my visitor. (_Enter stranger._)

The illustration for 'The Old Crusaders' originally covered 2 pages, pp. 234 and 235 (centrefold/centerfold), with a blank page on either side.