Chapter 4

Again--again--again! The moon rose, shimmering like a _Marron Glacé_ over Paris. Oh! Paris, beauteous city of the lost. Surely in Babylon or in Nineveh, where SEMIRAMIS of old queened it over men, never was such madness--madness did I say? Why? What did I mean? Tush! the struggle is over, and I am calm again, though my blood still hums tumultuously. The world is very evil. My father died choked by a _marron_. I, too, am dead--I who have written this rubbish--I am dead, and sometimes, as I walk, my loved one glides before me in aërial phantom shape, as on page 4, Vol. II. But I am dead--dead and buried--and over my grave an avenue of gigantic chestnuts reminds the passer-by of my fate: and on my tombstone it is written, "Here lies one who danced a cancan and ate _marrons glacés_ all day. Be warned!" THE END.

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QUITE EXCEPTIONAL THEATRICAL NEWS.--Next Thursday at the Vaudeville, the Press and the usual Free-Admissionaries will be let in for _Money_.

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MORE KICKS THAN HALFPENCE.

"The root of Volunteer inefficiency is to be ascribed to the Volunteer officer. The men are such as their officers make them ... The force is 1,100 officers short of its proper complement."--_Times_.

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MORE KICKS THAN HALFPENCE.

_VOLUNTEER OFFICER, LOQUITUR_.--

Yes, take back the sword! Though the _Times_ may expostulate, Tired am I wholly of worry and snubs. You'll find, my fine friend, what your folly has cost you, late, Henceforth for me the calm comfort of Clubs! To lounge on a cushion and hear the balls rattle 'Midst smoke-fumes, and sips on the field of green cloth, Is better than leading slow troops to sham battle, In stupid conditions that rouse a man's wrath.

Commissions, they say, go a-begging. Precisely! Incapables take them, but capables shy. For twenty-one years you have harried us nicely. And now, like the rest, we're on Strike, Sir. And why? The game, you old fossil, is not worth the candle, Your kicks for my halfpence? The bargain's too bad! If you want bogus leaders sham soldiers to handle, You'll now have to take duffers, deadheads, and cads!

The _Times_ wisely says you should make it attractive, This Volunteer business. But that's not your game. You're actively snubby, or coldly inactive: We pay, and you pooh-pooh! 'Tis always the same. We do not mind giving our time and our money, Or facing March blasts, or the floods of July; But till nettles bear grapes, Sir, or wasps yield us honey, You won't get snubbed men to pay up and look spry.

The "multiplication of camps and manoeuvres"? All right! Let us learn in a _soldierlike_ school; But what is the good of your Bisleys and Dovers. If the whole game resolves into playing the fool? To play that game longer and pay for it too, Sir, Won't suit me at all. I'm disgusted and bored. Your kicks for my halfpence? No, no, it won't do, Sir! And therefore, old Tapenoddle--take back the sword!

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LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY.

[CONTINUED.]

_March 11_.--I shall have to be pretty careful in my speech to the Council. Must butter up Billsbury like fun. How would this do? "I am young, Gentlemen, but I should have studied the political history of my country to little purpose if I did not know that, up to the time of the last election, the vote of Billsbury was always cast on the side of enlightenment, and Constitutional progress. The rash and foolish experiments of those who sought to impair the glorious fabric of our laws and our Constitution found no favour in Billsbury. It was not your fault, I know, that this state of things has not been maintained, and that Billsbury is now groaning under the heavy burden of a distasteful representation. Far be it from me to say one word personally against the present Member for Billsbury. This is a political fight, and it is because his political opinions are mistaken that you have decided to attack him"--&c., &c., &c. Must throw in something about Conservatives being the true friends of working-men. CHUBSON is not an Eight Hours' man, so I can go a long way. What shall I say next? Church and State, of course, Ireland pacified and contented, glorious financial successes of present Government, steady removal of all legitimate grievances, and triumphs of our diplomacy in all parts of the world. Shall have to say a good word for Liberal-Unionists. TOLLAND says there are about thirty of them, all very touchy. Must try to work in the story of the boy and the plum-cake. It made them scream at the Primrose League meeting at Crowdale.

By the way, Uncle HENRY said, "What about the Bar?" I told him I meant to keep on working at it--which won't be difficult if I don't get more work. I got just two Statements of Claim, and a Motion before a Judge in Chambers, all last year, the third year after my call. Sleepy. To bed.

_March 12_, _"George Hotel," Billsbury_.--Left London by 2.15 to-day, and got to Billsbury at 5.30. TOLLAND met me at the station with half a dozen other "leaders of the Party." One was Colonel CHORKLE, a Volunteer Colonel; another was Alderman MOFFATT, a Scotchman with a very broad dialect. Then there was JERRAM, the Editor of the _Billsbury Standard_, "the organ of the Party in Billsbury," so TOLLAND said, and a couple of others. I was introduced to them all, and forgot which was which immediately afterwards, which was most embarrassing, as I had to address them all as "you," a want of distinction which I am afraid they felt. Tipped two porters, who carried my bag and rug, a shilling each. They looked knowing, but old TOLLAND had hinted that the other side had got a character for meanness of which we could take a perfectly proper advantage without in any way infringing the Corrupt Practices Act. Must look up that Act. It may be a help. From the station we went straight to the "George." There I was introduced to half a dozen more leaders of the Party. Can't remember one of them except BLISSOP, the Secretary of the Association, a chap about my own age, who told me his brother remembered me at Oxford. There was a fellow of that name, I think, who came up in my year, a scrubby-faced reading man. We made hay in his room after a Torpid "rag," which he didn't like. Hope it isn't the same. I said I remembered him well. Dined with TOLLAND; nobody but leaders of the Party present, all as serious as judges, and full of importance. CHORKLE, who drops his "h's" frightfully, asked me "'ow long it would be afore a General Election," and seemed rather surprised when I said I had no information on the matter.

The meeting of the Council came off in the large hall of the Billsbury Beaconsfield Club. TOLLAND was in the chair, and made a long speech in introducing me. I didn't take in a word of it, as I was repeating my peroration to myself all the time. My speech went off pretty well, except that I got mixed up in the middle, and forgot that blessed story. However, when I got into the buttering part, it took them by storm. I warmed old GLADSTONE up to-rights, and asked them to contrast the state of England now with what it was when he was in power. "Hyperion to a Satyr," I said. Colonel CHORKLE, in proposing afterwards that I was a fit and proper person to represent Billsbury, said, "Mr. PATTLE's able and convincing speech proves 'im not only a master of English, but a consummate orator, able to wield the harmoury" (why he put the "h" there I don't know) "of wit and sarcasm like a master. _I'm_ not given to boasting," he continued. "_I_ never indulge in badinage" (query, braggadocio?); "but, with such a Candidate, we _must_ win." JERRAM seconded the resolution, which was carried _nem. con._ Must get local newspapers, to show to mother. She'll like that. Shall go back to London to-morrow.

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"FORTNIGHTLY" V. SO-CALLED "NINETEENTH CENTURY."--Change of Author's name. Mr. FREDERIC HARRISON to be known in future as "FREDERIC HARRASIN' KNOWLES."

(_Signed_) [Greek: Phrederik]

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MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN.

(_CONDENSED AND REVISED VERSION BY MR. P.'S OWN HARMLESS IBSENITE._)

NO. II.--NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE (ET DIKKISVÖIT).