Chapter 2

_Miss T._ The fact is, Poppa, HYPATIA isn't just sure that Mr. PRENDERGAST wouldn't object.

_Bob P._ I--object? Not _much_! Just what I should _like_, seeing Verona with--all _together_, you know!

_Miss T._ Then I guess _that's_ fixed. (_Aside, to Miss P., who is speechless_). Come, you haven't the heart to go and disappoint my poor Cousin CHARLEY by saying you won't go! He'll be perfectly enchanted to be under vow--unless you've filled up _all_ the vacancies already! (_Aloud, to VAN B., as he approaches_.) We've persuaded Miss PRENDERGAST to join our party. I hope you feel equal to entertaining her?

_Van B._ I shall be proud to be permitted to try. (_To Miss P._) Then I may take it that you agree with me that the function of the future American fictionist will be-- [_They move away, conversing._

_Podb._ (_To CULCH._) I say, old fellow, we're to be travelling companions again, after all. And a jolly good thing, too, _I_ think!... eh?

_Culch._ Oh, h'm--quite so. That is--but no doubt it will be an advantage--(_with a glance at Van B., who is absorbed in Miss P.'s conversation_)--in--er--_some_ respects. (_To himself._) Hardly from poor dear PODBURY's point of view, I'm afraid, though! However, if _he_ sees nothing--! [_He shrugs his shoulders, pityingly._

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Pocket-books for next year are coming in. Which for choice? "_Solvitur ambulando_" should be the resolution of the difficulty, given by one firm at least, that firm being "WALKER." They are handy, and conveniently pocketable, but to "The chiels amang ye taking notes," plain leaves, and no fruit, and no dates, we should say, would be preferable. They're reasonable prices, and you can't expect to get 'em for nothing; if you do--"WALKER!"

The Baron highly approves of Messrs. DE LA RUE's pocket-books. It is pleasant to have something in one's pocket, even if only a book. As to account-books and diaries--well enter nothing therein but what has been pleasant and profitable, and most diarians who adopt this rule will not find their memoranda overcrowded at the end of the year. "Letts be happy, while we can, and good luck to you, Ladies all, in 1892. Leap year!" quoth the Baron. "Over you go like the villagers in the German story, after the sheep, into the sea of matrimony, where may you all get on swimmingly." _À propos_, Mesdames BLYTHE and GAY say that the Christmas Number of _Woman_, produced by a number of women, is as full of attractive power as the Magnetic Lady herself.

"ARROWSMITH's Shilling Sensational, by 'a New Author,'" quoth the Baron, "would, methought, serve _pour me distraire_." The "New Author" uses the remarkably new device of a mole on the lost child's breast. Isn't that original? _Miss Box_ and _Miss Cox_ are lost, and found. "Have you a mole on your left breast?" "Yes!" "Then it is both of you!" Charming! So useful is the explanation that "Hanwell is a little village, a few miles from London." Perhaps it is the locality, there or thereabouts, where this thrillingly interesting tale--which could have been told in fifty pages, and needn't have been told at all--was written. Well, well, "All's Hanwell that ends Hanwell," and "I've galloped through a worse story before now," quoth the Baron, yawning, and so to bed.

In _John Leech, His Life and Work_ (BENTLEY) Mr. FRITH quotes from an anonymous but obviously not an original authority, the dictum, "It is the happiness of such a life (as LEECH's) that there is so little to be told of it." Mr. BENTLEY has produced two handsome volumes worthy the reputation of his ancient and honourable house. They enshrine admirable reproductions of some of LEECH's best work, selected by the trained hand and sympathetic eye of Mr. FRITH. These are and will remain the chief attractions of a work to which the Baron, in common with the civilised world, has been looking forward to with interest, and of whose realisation he regrets to hear so disappointing an account from his trusty "Co." It is difficult to find dates in this higgledy-piggledy chance-medley of facts and opinions. But we all know that LEECH died in October, 1864. It was in _Mr. Punch's_ pages that he found the true field for his heaven-born genius For twenty years at least he was one of the most prominent, best known, and best liked men in England. Surely within that period there must lie to the hand of the dilligent seeker material for a memoir worthy to be linked with the name of JOHN LEECH. Mr. FRITH has not given us such a book, and criticism is only partly disarmed by the comical reiteration of confession that he has failed in his appointed task. For what he has to say in the way of making known to the world the man JOHN LEECH, a very thin volume would have sufficed, even had he included the more useful of his remarks on LEECH's work and his method. But there being two volumes to fill, Mr. FRITH genially summarises _The Physiology of Evening Parties_, by Mr. ALBERT SMITH; _Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour_, and other not very high-class literature, whose only claim to being remembered is that LEECH illustrated them. Of _The Marchioness of Brinvilliers_, ALBERT SMITH's attempt to rival the attractions of the _Newgate Calendar_, Mr. FRITH positively gives two whole chapters! He allots one to the _Bon Gaultier Ballads_, and nineteen mortal pages to telling the _Story of Miss Kilmansegg_, with copious extracts from that easily accessible work.

This is not Memoir-writing, it is book-making. The reader can skip these chapters, and, diligently searching, will find here and there a ray of light thrown on this beautiful placid life, weighed down as it was from earliest manhood by family circumstances at which Mr. FRITH delicately hints. "Give, give!" was, truly, the cry of the daughters of the horseleach. There are, however, several other anecdotes contributed by personal friends of LEECH's, who have come to Mr. FRITH's assistance, and succeed in the main in making the book an interesting one, as giving the outside world some glimpses of a sweet and manly character. The volumes are crowded with illustrations. These are LEECH's own work, and make the volumes worth more than their published price.

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO.

* * * * *

TO EVANGELINE.

Oh, come and be my Queen, And share my lot In some artistic cot At Turnham Green, EVANGELINE!

The painted tambourine Shall grace its wall, And many a table small And folding screen Shall on its floor be seen, EVANGELINE!

Your beauty's dazzling sheen Upsets me quite-- Of late my appetite Has wretched been, EVANGELINE!

I shun the soup tureen And pine for you; At pudding, joint, and stew My face turns green-- What do the symptoms mean, EVANGELINE?

If Fate should come between My Love and me, This countenance will be No more serene, EVANGELINE!

With nitro-glycerine I'll speed my flight, Or else I will ignite Some Magazine-- Some _Powder_ Magazine, EVANGELINE!

* * * * *

AN AUNT AT WILL.

[A lawsuit has been occasioned in India through white ants devouring a will.]

It is usually supposed that Australia is topsey-turvey mad, but in India it seems that matters also go by contraries, when compared with their mode of procedure at home. A lawsuit has been occasioned in Calcutta through white ants devouring a will. In England our Aunts (who are generally whites) make wills (bless them!) and _we_ devour them, or at least live on the proceeds.

* * * * *

* * * * *

KATHLEEN AND PETRUCHIO;

OR, SHAKSPEARE BALFOURISED.

_Kathleen_. HIBERNIA. _Petruchio_. Mr. BALFOUR. _Grumio_.... Mr. JACKSON. _Haberdasher_.. Mr. GLADSTONE.

_Petruchio_. Thus have I politicly begun my reign, And 'tis my hope to end successfully; My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty; And, till she stoop, she must not be full-gorg'd, For then she never looks upon her lure. Another way I have to man my haggard, To make her come, and know her keeper's call; That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites That bate, and beat, and will not be obedient. She plays no tricks to-day, nor none shall play; Last Session she ruled not, nor shall next Session; Resolute government is the only way To smooth these stormy spirits.

All the same, _After_ the hurly-burly, I intend All shall be done in reverend care of her; And, in conclusion, she shall have her rights, If she will cease to rise, and rail, and brawl, And with her clangour keep the world awake. This is the way to kill her wrath with kindness, And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.-- He that knows better how to tame a shrew, Let him speak out! 'Tis time the kingdom knew!

* * * * *

_Kathleen_. The more my wrong the more his smile appears! How doth he madden me--and master me!-- I--I, who never knew how to submit, Nor never fancied that I should submit,-- Am starved for strife, stupid for lack of struggle, With Law kept bridled, and with Order saddled: And that, which spites me more than all these stints, He does it under name of perfect love; As who should say, if I should have my will, 'Twere deadly sickness or else present death.

* * * * *

_Petruchio_. KATHLEEN, thou mend'st apace! And now, my love, Will we return unto thy father's house, And ruffle it as bravely as the best, With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings, With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things; With orange tissue trimmed with true-blue bravery, Eschewing wearing of the green,--that's knavery. See GRUMIO there! He waits thy loving leisure To deck thy body with his boxed-up treasure. A cap of mine own choice, come fresh from town; It will become thee better than a crown. 'Tis my ideal. (_Enter_ Haberdasher.) Well--what would _you_, sirrah?

_Haberdasher_. Here is the hat the lady did bespeak!

_Petruchio_. Why, this was moulded on a foreign block, A Phrygian cap. Fie, fie! 'tis crude and flaunting. Why, 'tis a coal-vase or a bushel-basket, A fraud, a toy, a trick, a verdant fool'scap: Away with it! Come, let me have a smaller!

_Kathleen_. I'll have no smaller: this doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear such hats as these.

_Petruchio_. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, But of another pattern.

_Grumio_ (_aside_). Mine, to wit.

_Kathleen_. Why, Sir, I trust I may have leave to speak: And speak I will. I am no child, no babe: Your betters have endured me say my mind, And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the craving of my heart, Or else my heart, concealing it, will break; And rather than it shall, I will be free E'en to the uttermost,--at least in words!

_Petruchio_. Why, so thou art. But 'tis a paltry hat This Haberdasher would fob off on thee. I love thee well, but _he_, he loves thee not.

_Kathleen_. Love me or love me not, I like the hat, And it I will have, or I will have none.

_Grumio_ (_aside_). Then is she like to go bareheaded long!

[_Left arguing. Sequel--some day._

* * * * *

OUR OLD FRIEND ONCE MORE.--Mrs. RAM has lately taken to theatre-going. She says, however, that she doesn't much care about going on first nights of new pieces, as the Stalls are full of Crickets.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

PAUL PRY IN THE PURPLE.

(_EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS FOUND IN A GERMAN POST-BAG._)

_TO A BISHOP._

It has occurred to me that your sermons are not quite as good as they should be. You do not seem to grasp your subject with sufficient strength. I have not time to come to listen to you, as I have other pressing engagements, and consequently write from hearsay. Still, I believe I have good reason for my strictures. However, that you may have an excellent example upon which to model your discourses in the future, I will myself visit your cathedral at a near date, and occupy your pulpit. I will wire ten minutes before I arrive with my sermon.

_TO A GENERAL._

I congratulate you upon the success of the recent manoeuvres. Nothing could have been finer than the manner in which the entire Army saluted me on my approach. Perhaps the bands might have played the National Anthem half-an-hour longer or so, but for all that, the effect was excellent. And now I have got a really splendid idea. And you must help me. I want to order all the troops to another part of the country without telling their officers, and then, when they least expect it, you and I will order a general assembly. It will be such a joke to see the commanders when they appear on parade without any soldiers! They will be so surprised! And sha'n't we laugh! But mind, not a word to anyone until we have had our fun. As an old soldier who has deserved well of his Fatherland, I rely on your discretion.

_TO A THEATRICAL MANAGER._

I was at the performances in your play-house the other evening, and, as I told you at the time, was not at all satisfied with the representation. I informed you that when I had time I would jot down my complaints, and I am now keeping my promise. I don't like the costume of the Tragedy Queen--her heels are too high and why does she wear gloves? The Low Comedian does not make the most of his part. He has to walk about with a band-box. Now why does he not seize the opportunity to place it on a chair and sit upon it? This would have a very comical effect. I have seen it done, and it made me laugh. Please let him sit upon the band-box for the future. If he sits down accidentally the effect will be heightened. It will be very funny. By the way, let all the box-keepers give programmes free of charge to officers and ladies under forty. I shall soon be at the theatre again to attend a rehearsal. I will wire ten minutes before I come, so that you may have proper time to call your company together. Till then, you incompetent sausage, you can enjoy your Lager and pipe in peace!

_TO A DOCTOR._

I have been reading some of the Medical Journals, and I am not quite sure whether I think your manner of cutting off a leg is the proper way. It may be, but, on the other hand, it may not. Before you cut off another leg communicate with me, and I will fix a date (as early as I can--probably within six months), when I can see your patient, and give you my opinion. By the way, do not go your rounds until you hear from me, as I may want to see you at any time.

_TO A COACH-BUILDER._

You don't know how to make a carriage. The other day I thought of a capital idea, but, for the moment, cannot remember it. However, I fancy it had something to do with square wheels. At any rate you had better not make any more carriages until I call. I will come as soon as I can--probably before Spring twelvemonths.

_TO A RELATIVE._

Had not time to answer your letter before. I do not in the least agree with you. I hate people who do not mind their own business. Why not attend to your own, and leave mine alone? If you do not take care, _I will arrange to visit you in State!_ So you had better mind what you are about!

* * * * *

PROGRAMME OF THE CYCLOPÆDIC CIRCUS.

(_UNDER THE IMMEDIATE PATRONAGE OF LORD SALISBURY._)

The Members of the School Board of Little Peddlington have the honour to announce that, in deference to the expressed opinion of the

PREMIER OF THE UNITED KINGDOM,

that it would be wise to substitute Circuses for school-rooms in the provinces, have arranged for the holding of

A GRAND SCHOLASTIC GALA,

on a scale of unprecedented magnificence. The Members have engaged, at considerable expense, that admirable Artist,

THE COURIER OF BOTH THE GLOBES,

who will, during a rapid ride on a retired cab-horse, exhibit and explain a series of gigantic maps of

EUROPE, ASIA, AFRICA, AND AMERICA.

This Star Artist will be followed by that talented _troupe_ of relatives who for many years have drawn enormous crowds to their performances under the assumed but appropriate name of

THE BOUNDING BROTHERS OF THE SPELLING-BEES.

They will go through their marvellous feats in tossing barrels (bearing on their sides painted letters), and thus combining amusement with instruction. Their last act will be to keep in simultaneous motion a sufficient number of labelled milk-cans to spell the sentence, "Farewell to all kind friends in front." This marvellous double quartette will be followed by

THE ARITHMETICAL BICYCLIST,

who will ride his favourite two-wheeled vehicle while he sings a song introducing in a pleasing manner the Multiplication Table. This sweet-toned vocalist will be succeeded by

_THE STAR-LOVING PIG ATTENDED BY COMICAL HERSCHEL._

In which the former will spell out (with the assistance of card-board letters) a number of interesting astronomical facts at the instigation of his mirth-provoking master and proprietor. This talented performer will be followed by

THE UNIVERSAL KNOWLEDGE QUADRILLE.

In which the entire _troupe_ will appear on horseback, and go through the programme of studies (proficiency in which is required by the Tenth Standard) without a single mistake.

The performances will then be brought to an appropriate and jubilant conclusion by

_A SILVER COLLECTION IN AID OF THE RATES!_

* * * * *

QUEER QUERIES.--OUR DEFENCES.--I am informed that Mr. STANHOPE is expected shortly to go abroad, "in order to recruit." Can even the blindest military optimist any longer deny that the British Army is a nefarious imposture, when the Minister for War is forced into an ignominious attempt to raise a body of foreign mercenaries by his own personal efforts?

HALF-PAY PATRIOT.

SCIENTIFIC.--Could you kindly tell me what "the Great Ice Age" means? My Pater took me to hear some fellow lecture about it the other day, but I couldn't understand much of what he said. I thought he was going to talk about strawberry ices and lemon ices, which I like awfully, but he didn't even mention them! Don't you think _twelve_ is the great Ice Age--I mean the age when boys ought to be allowed to eat as many as they like? N.B.--I am just twelve.

TOMMY.

* * * * *

WORTH SEEING.--"We understand that to the Exhibition of "Instruments of Torture," and now on view in London, have been lately added the Medici Collar, a Piano Organ, and a "Shakspeare for the use of Schools."

* * * * *

MEM. BY "THE OFFICIAL RECEIVER."--"Firm as a Rock" will not be henceforth a proverb of universal application.

* * * * *

* * * * *

TRAN-SLATED.

(_BEING A NEWLY-DISCOVERED FRAGMENT OF AN OLD GREEK PLAY, SUPPOSED TO BE A VERY EARLY_ "_AGAMEMNON_.")

* * * * *

_Cly._ The coals I bought as Wallsend are not so.

_Ag._ Thus groundless hopes vanish--like coals in smoke.

_Cly._ You speak in words Mysterious, lacking sense.

_Ag._ The sense is patent to the reasoning mind.

_Cly._ And yet I paid for them upon the nail.

_Ag._ What matter, if the price was far too low?

_Cly._ Then call you eighteen shillings low for coal?

_Ag._ Yes, for "Prime Wallsend"--what could you expect?

_Cly._ Listen! In passing 'long the public way I saw a notice telling of these coals. It called them "ever-burning": said no skill Could put them out when once they were alight, Because they were "the best the world produced." I purchased some. Ai! ai! They turned out slates. My household maidens by Prometheus swear _They_ never saw such stuff for lighting fires. What of it is not slag, that part is slate, And slated should they be that sold it me. Moreover, when with anger I remarked To those who bore the sacks upon their backs, Within our cellars to deposit them, That they had better bear their loads away Seeing I ordered coals, not lumps of slate, They answered that, if they refused to burn, They might be useful for a Rockery! So now _they_ have the shillings, _I_ the coals.

_Ag._ And having them, we have no household fires.

_Cly._ What then to do? _You_ sit with idle hands.

_Ag._ I cannot turn to Wallsend bits of slag.

_Cly._ But you can seek the Archon, and denounce The man whose cunning robs our hearth of flame.

_Ag._ (_going out_). In what you say not nothing I perceive. Women, in hunting cheapness, capture costs.

CHORUS. STROPHE.

The puny race of men Soars, in imagination, to the skies; While tackling Science and Theosophy Their hands the coal-scoop grasp!

CHORUS. ANTISTROPHE.

From high Olympus Zeus Smiles at the perjuries of coal-heavers. Not always is the cheapest article The one that turns out best.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A BOARD-SCHOOL CHRISTMAS.

(_AN ANTICIPATION OF THE NOT VERY DISTANT FUTURE._)

It was a very unseasonable Yule-tide. Instead of the old-fashioned mild weather that had been the constant companion of Christmas for many years, the ground was covered with snow and the river blocked with ice. However, thanks to modern improvements, the artisans had not been impeded in executing their four hours of labour as provided by a recent statute. They had been sitting at their Club (supported by the State), reading the newspapers purchased out of the rates, and were only annoyed that no food and drink was supplied them free gratis and for nothing.

"It would never do," said an old workman, who remembered the eight-hour day that used to prevail at the end of the Nineteenth Century. "You see were we to have beer at will, the brewers' draymen might complain. It was once attempted, but the Licensed Victuallers made such a disturbance that the idea was abandoned."

"There is something in what you say," observed a second workman; "but, for the life of me, I don't see why the Nation shouldn't provide bread."

"No, there you are out!" cried a third. "I am a baker, and anything that interferes with my industry won't do."

And so they talked, discussing this and that, until all the subjects of the leaders in the daily papers had been exhausted. It was then that one of the workmen suggested a walk and a pipe on the Embankment.