Chapter 2

_Miss T._ Yes, and the great Amurrcan public are going to rise up in their millions and boom it. Only I don't believe they'd better start booming just yet, till there's something more than covers to that novel. And how you're going to collect material for an Amurrcan novel, flying round Europe, just beats _me_!

_Mr. V.B._ (_with superiority_). Because you don't realise that it's precisely in Europe that I find my best American types. Our citizens show up better against a European background,--it excites and stimulates their nationality, so to speak. And again, with a big subject like mine, you want to step back to get the proper focus. Now I'm _stepping_ back.

_Miss T._ I guess it's more like skipping, CHARLEY. But so long as you're having a good time! And here's Mr. CULCHARD will fix you up some sonnets for headings to the chapters. You needn't begin _right_ away, Mr. CULCHARD; I guess there's no hurry. But we get talking and _talking_, and never look at anything. I don't call it encouraging the scenery, and that's a fact!

_Mr. T._ (_later, to CULCHARD_). And you're pretty comfortable at your hotel? Well, I dunno, after all, what there is to keep _us_ here. I guess we'll go down again and stop at Lugano, eh, MAUD?

[_CULCHARD eagerly awaits her reply._

_Miss T._ I declare! After bringing all my trunks way up here! But I'd just as soon move down as not; they're not unpacked any. (_Joy of C._) Seems a pity, too, after engaging rooms here. And they looked real nice. Mr. CULCHARD, don't you and Mr. PODBURY want to come up here and take them? They've a perfectly splendid view, and then we could have yours, you know! (_C. cannot conceal his chagrin at this suggestion._) Well, see here, Poppa, we'll go along and try if we can't square the hotel-clerk and get our baggage on the cars again, and then we'll see just how we feel about it. I'm perfectly indifferent either way.

_Culch._ (_to himself, as he follows_). Can she be really as indifferent as she seems? I'm afraid she has very little heart! But if only she can be induced to go back to Lugano ... She will be at the same hotel--a great point! I wish that fellow VAN BOODELER wasn't coming too, though ... Not that they've settled to come at all yet!... Still, I fancy she likes the idea ... She'll come--if I don't appear too anxious about it! [_He walks on, trying to whistle carelessly._

* * * * *

WAR IN A FOG.

(_A RECORD OF THE NEXT CAMPAIGN OF THE COMING MOLTKE._)

Our Army was now advancing in good order. We had the "A" Division of the enemy on our right, and the "B" Division on our left, but of course we had lost sight of Division "C." It was the morning after we had taken the fortress that had unexpectedly appeared before us on our right front, and had found ourselves to our surprise by the side of a river. The Chief of my Staff entered my tent whilst I was engaged in studying a map not very successfully.

"General," said he, "military music can be heard in the distance, from which I take it it must be the other part of our Army." "This is most fortunate," I replied; "but are they supposed to be in this part of the country? I fancied they were besieging the enemy's metropolis.

"So it was reported," returned my subordinate; "but it appears that, taking the first turning to the right, instead of the second to the left, they lost their way, and instead of capturing the capital, surrounded a harbour, in which, to their astonishment, they found his fleet."

"I suppose that the movements of Division 'C' are shrouded in mystery?"

"They are," returned the Chief of the Staff, saluting. "It is presumed that the commander is wandering somewhere near the frontier. A spy from his Army says that he had entirely lost touch of the country, and was continually asking his way. But how about our friends, the remainder of our Army, who are now approaching towards us? What shall we do?"

"Give them a fitting reception," was my reply.

In a moment our Army halted and pitched their tents. Accustomed to State functions of every sort and description, it was no difficult matter to them to decorate the line of march appropriately. Suddenly there was the sound of firing, and five minutes later an officer wearing the uniform of the enemy entered my tent and surrendered his sword.

"General," said he, "I yield to your superior knowledge of military tactics. I had expected to find friends, and now I have come across foes. And you number more than half a million of men, do you not?"

"Well, no; you may mean my brother commander, who has that force under his orders. But we have only about twenty thousand."

"And I have given up my arms for nothing," said my visitor.

"To whom have I the honour of speaking?" I asked, haughtily. "I presume, the Captain of the 'A' Division?"

"The 'A' Division! Why, they are miles away! and so are the 'B' Division."

"Then, who on earth are you?"

"Why, surely you know we are the 'C' Division?"

At this moment the Chief of my Staff again appeared. "Sir," said he, "are we to advance or retire? I must know at once, with a view to arranging satisfactorily the requirements of the Commissariat."

"One moment, Gentlemen," I replied, and then entered an inner recess. I searched my pockets, and finding my tossing half-crown, spun it into the air. I eagerly ascertained the result.

"We will advance, Sir," said I to the Chief of the Staff on my return. And my tone suggested both strong determination and peremptory command.

* * * * *

LULLABY OF AN INFANT SPECULATOR.

1891.

(_A LONG WAY AFTER SIR WALTER SCOTT._)

[Packets called "Lucky Sweets," in which the bait is the chance of "prize gifts," are having a large sale amongst children.]

Oh, hush thee, my babie! thy sire is a "bear,"[1] Thy mother a "booky," both leary and fair, And the spirit of bold Speculation, I see, Heredity's taint hath stirred early in thee. Oh, two to one bar one! Heigh! dance, babie, dance! Oh, tiddley-um, diddley-um, back the off-chance!

Oh, hear not thy rattle, though loudly it goes; Oh, suck not thy fingers! Oh, count not thy toes! The "Last Odds" and "Share List" to thee shall be read To-night ere thou'rt cosily tucked up in bed. Oh, two to one bar one, &c.

Oh, hush thee, my babie! Thy sire will soon come, With "Surprise Packets" for thee. Oh, ain't it yum-yum? And "Lucky Sweets," babie, will catch thine off eye. Not "Hush-a-bye, babie!" but rather, "Buy! Buy!" Oh, two to one bar one, &c.

My lullaby, babie, 's not that of old nurse; The pillow for thee has less charms than the purse; It is not that "Sweets" from those packets you'd suck; No, babie, your yearning's to try your young luck. Oh, two to one bar one, &c.

You eagerly buy them, the "Prizes" to seek (You "blued" two-and-tenpence, my babie, last week), Those "Lucky Sweets," babie, are babydom's "play." But as for the sweets, why you chuck _them_ away! Oh, two to one bar one, &c.

Oh, princes may "punt," babie; nobles may "plunge," But, babie, that chubby fist's cynical lunge Means craving for nothing that babyhood _eats_: No, babie, you'd fain do a "flutter" in sweets. Oh, two to one bar one, &c.

The tuck-shops, my babie, are well up to date; They know Speculation now rules the whole State; It sways all the classes, all ages, each sex; So now we're provided with "Nursery Specs." Oh, two to one bar one, &c.

Shall Court, Camp and Counter all yield to the spell And Cradledom not be considered as well? Shall betting fire Oxford, and gambling witch Girton, And Infancy not put its own little shirt on? Oh, two to one, bar one, &c.

Oh, hush thee, my babie! the time will soon come When at Baccarat boards you'll sit sucking your thumb. Meanwhile "Lucky Sweets," babie, buy while you may, They will teach simple childhood the charms of high play. Oh, two to one, bar one! Heigh! dance, babie, dance! Oh, tiddley-um, diddley-um, back the off-chance!

[Footnote 1: In the Stock Exchange sense, of course.]

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE IDLE AND THE INDUSTRIOUS APPRENTICE.

(_AN OLD-FASHIONED APOLOGUE WITH A MODERN APPLICATION._)

GRANDOLH and ARTHUR were two young Apprentices, bound betimes to the ingenious and estimable Art or Craft of _Cabinet-Making_. Both of them were youths of a Sprightly Genius, and of an Alert Apprehension, attended, in the case of GRANDOLPH, with a mighty heat and ebullition of Fancy, which led early to a certain frothiness or ventosity in speech. ARTHUR, on the other hand, though possessed of excellent Parts, appeared to be of a more phlegmatic temperament, and took on a more languorous, not to say saturnine demeanour.

So it came about that for the time GRANDOLPH seemed to carry it over his fellow Apprentice, who indeed, amongst superficial observers, incurred the reproach of indolence and lackadaisical indifference, and although both were of creditable repute in the _Craft_, yet did GRANDOLPH shine the more prominently and give the greater promise of pre-eminence, ARTHUR seeming content, as men say, to _play second fiddle_ to the more pushing Performer.

'Tis, however, within the purview of the Wise and the common observation of the Judicious, that _things are not always as they seem!_

GRANDOLPH, at an early epoch in his Apprenticeship, did found a sort of Comradeny or Free Company, which, from the number of its constituent items, came to be intituled _The Fourth Party_, in the which ARTHUR modestly took subordinate place, with unobtrusive ease and languid resignation. This Party did push matters in the _Craft_ with a high hand and a talkative tongue. For as the ingenious Earl of SHAFTESBURY saith in his _Soliloquy_, "Company is an extreme provocative to Fancy, and, like a hot bed in gardening, is apt to make our Imaginations sprout too fast."

That GRANDOLPH was obnoxious to this charge of "sprouting too fast" may seem made manifest by the sequel. He indeed pushed himself into the front place by dint of copious verbosity, and militant oppugnancy. But (as the same SHAFTESBURY saith) where, instead of Controul, Debate, or Argument, the chief exercise of the wit consists in uncontroulable Harangues and Reasonings, which must neither be questioned nor contradicted; there is great danger lest the Party, thro' this habit, shou'd suffer much by Cruditys, Indigestions, Choler, bile, and particularly by a certain _tumour_, or _flatulency_, which renders him, of all men, the least liable to apply the wholesome _regimen_ of self-practice. 'Tis no wonder if such quaint practitioners grow to an enormous size of Absurdity, whilst they continue the reverse of that practice, by which alone we correct the Redundancy of Humours, and chasten the exuberance of Conceit and Fancy.

Whether this particular "quaint practitioner" (our Idle Apprentice, GRANDOLPH) plagued "the Party" too much with his "Cruditys, Choler," &c., or whether he found himself unable to correct his own "Redundancy of Humours," certain it is that, at the very Pinnacle of Promise, and Height of Achievement, GRANDOLPH broke his indentures of Apprenticeship, and _ran away!_

And now, indeed, came the Opportunity of the true Industrious Apprentice, the hitherto calm and languid-looking, but, in verity, valorous, and vigilant, and virile ARTHTUR. Whereof, to be sure, he made abundant use, burgeoning forth into full blossom with astonishing suddenness, seizing Opportunity by the forelock with manly promptitude, and gaining golden opinions from all sorts of people; so that, after brief probation, he slipped, by general acclaim, into that very premier place so strangely, suddenly, and intempestively abdicated by the Idle Apprentice, GRANDOLPH.

Concerning the latter, the latest reports are not reassuring. Like his celebrated prototype of fable, the ill-fated "Don't Care," he runneth a chance of being "devoured by lions"! At least he appears to have sought the company of those parlous beasts in their _native Afric wilds_. We hear that "the lions kept him tucked up one night," which same news (--gathered from a diurnal intituled the Johannesberg _Star_--) hath a fearsome and ill-boding sound. That he is--for the time at least--in every sense "tucked up," is only too obviously true. Peradventure he may yet think the better of it, correct his Frothy Distemper and Vagrant Disposition, and (as the agonising advertisements have it) return to his friends that all may be forgiven and much forgotten!

But the last accounts of him picture him as lying languidly asprawl upon a Mausoleum in Mashonaland, _playing dice with himself!_ The tomb would indeed appear to be, in the sombre words of the Mystick Poet:--

"The vault of his lost Ulalume,"

the runic-sounding word, "Ulalume," being taken perchance as the African synonym for "Reputation." Whether the cheering word _Resurgam_ will ever be appropriate to _that_ Tomb remaineth to be seen. But it would appear only too plain that GRANDOLPH (in the words of the aforesaid SHAFTESBURY) "hath been a great frequenter of the woods and river-banks, where he hath consum'd abundance of his breath, suffer'd his Fancy to evaporate, and reduc'd the vehemence both of his Spirit and Voice." In short, that the erst ambitious and aspiring GRANDOLPH is still content, for the time at least, to play the part of _The Idle Apprentice_.

* * * * *

* * * * *

"WHYS"--WISE AND OTHERWISE.

(_BEING QUEER QUERIES._)

I wonder why, whene'er a four- Wheeler advances to a door, (A common thing on Britain's shore,) I wonder why, At once some aged man will stand And stare until its inmates land, As if enchained by something grand, Or weird, or high.

I wonder why the powers that mend The streets should root them up, and rend The roads with giant pipes on end And bricks awry, Just when we turn to town again; Though nothing stirred while West Cockayne Lay waste--a huge, deserted lane-- I wonder why.

I wonder why athwart the Row Stray loafers linger, loth to go Past the mid-crossing, and are so Resolved to die, Hoping that, as you gallop near You'll maul them by your mad career-- I wonder why.

I wonder why, when theatre Stalls, Are "papered" by Professionals, And children arch in Thespis' halls Their gambols ply, Why the Box-office has the face To offer _me_, who book place-- A Stall that would the Pit disgrace, I wonder why.

I wonder why, whenever pressed A little money to invest In something which is quite the best Affair to buy, I _always_ read next morning that Not _I_, but it (in parlance pat Of City articles) was "Flat," I wonder why.

* * * * *

CONTRIBUTION TOWARDS NURSERY RHYMES.

(_FOR USE OF INFANT STUDENTS IN NEW SCHOOL OF DRAMATIC ART._)

'Tis the voice of the Prompter, I hear him quite plain; He has prompted me twice, Let him prompt me again.

* * * * *

THE PRETTY SIMPLETON.

[The _Spectator_ warns men against marrying simpletons, pointing out that "there is no bore on earth equal to the woman who can neither talk nor listen, and who has no mental interests in common with her husband."]

When fair BELINDA sweetly smiles, And airily before you trips, You're captured by her artless wiles, And must admire her rosy lips. You know that she is very fair, You see that she has splendid eyes; But ah, rash lover, have a care, And find out if BELINDA's wise.

For beauty, trust us, is not all A wife in these days should possess; Her conversation's apt to pall, If she can talk of naught but dress. She need not be too deeply read, You do not want a priggish bride; But still take care the pretty head Can boast some little brain inside.

In courtship all she said was sweet, For you had died to win a glance; Her little platitudes seemed neat, Breathed 'mid the pauses of the dance. You would have felt a heartless fiend To criticise, when by her side; Nor would the lady have demeaned Herself to answer, had you tried.

But when you've won her for a wife, And ante-nuptial glamour dies, What food for matrimonial strife Her crass inconsequent replies. How terrible to find her dense, And never grasping what you mean; You'll think one gleam of common sense Worth more than finest eyes e'er seen.

Days come when love no longer gives Illusions as in hours of yore; And hapless is the man who lives To find his wife become a bore. Then keep, if you'd avoid that day, The wise _Spectator's_ golden rule: Don't be by beauty led away, And choose for wife a pretty fool.

* * * * *

In the _Times'_ book advertisement column, the S.P.C.K. announces the following new publication:--

THE OUSE. By the Rev. A.J. FOSTER, M.A.

This, we suppose, is the first of a new unaspirated ARRY SERIES. The next Volume being _The Ome_, and, after that, _Books of Ighgate, Amsted, Olloway, and other Ills_.

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Baron recognises, with pleasure, the actuality of the dramatic scenes _In Cambridge Courts_, by Mr. LEHMANN. The dialogues during rehearsal at the A.D.C., and of the Classic Play, are about the best of the many best things in the book. Mightily disappointed is the Baron with Mr. J.H. SHORTHOUSE's _Lady Falaise_, which, beginning so strongly, ends so feebly. Powerful it promised to be; exciting it promised to be; but weak it becomes, and, now and again, wearisome. Sorry for this is

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

QUERIES FOR CANDIDATES (L.C.C.)

(_WHAT THEY MAY COME TO._)

As the County Council now has power over the Tramways of London, will you pledge yourself to see that smoking carriages, comfortable cushions, waiting-rooms at street-corners, and constant civility, are provided for passengers?

Will you abolish the irritating and nefarious Ticket System?

How long do you think it will be before the electric light is universally established in the cars?

What is your view as to the provision of suitable places for wet umbrellas?

Will you at once vote for "Free or Assisted Locomotion"?

If a wheel of your private carriage comes off owing to skidding in the Tramway line, will you pledge yourself not to bring any claim for compensation against the Rates?

Will you vote for the summary dismissal of any Conductor who proceeds to count the passengers after being informed that he is "full inside"?

Is it a fact that you have promised to introduce "Pullman Palace Restaurant Cars, with free lunches," on the Tram-lines? If so, do you contemplate providing the cost out of your own resources, or how?

You state in your Address to the Electors that you "are desirous of reducing the hours of Tram _employés_ to four a day, with two months' holiday in the year, and of giving a general rise of wages up to about £2 extra per week." Will you kindly say how you reconcile this desire with your expressed intention to "run the concern on the most economical plan, so as to save the pockets of the Ratepayers"?

It is reported that you have pledged yourself, if elected, to see that the Tram Conductors "get their Saturday to Monday at Brighton as a regular thing." How do you propose to carry out this part of your programme?

Do you consider yourself justified, in face of the above statements, in characterising the rival Candidate for the Council as "attempting to catch the Labour Vote by an impudent combination of insincere flattery, and fraudulent promises"?

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

"BELOW THE BELT!"

(_EXTRACTS FROM THE POLITICAL "FISTIANA" OF THE PERIOD._)

I.--_BY THE "BRUMMAGEM BANTAM" (AS REPORTED IN THE "INJUDICIOUS BOTTLEHOLDER")._

"The 'Arwarden Old 'Un, Gemmen? Lor bless yer, _he_ ain't no account, nohow. Can't 'it a 'ole in a pound o' butter, _'e_ can't. Allus _was_ a muff and a muddler; middling showy style, and a bit dodgy with his dooks, but neither a slogger _nor_ a stayer, and, atween you and me and the post, allus ready to hist the white feather when 'ard pressed. Wot's that you say? _His_ 'Travelling Company'? A reglar swindle, and a fair frost, Gemmen. Went 'round the country' on false purtences, and never did no good nowheres. Awful poor lot o' Pugs, _that_ gang. Not in it with the ''Atfield Combination Troupe,' as _can_ fight a bit, and 'as some smart scrappers in it. No, Gemmen, the 'Old 'Un' _allus were_ a fraud. Couldn't stand up to a Froggy, _'e_ couldn't. His Company muddled the 'ole bag o' tricks, and made a hawful mess of it. Ah, and _would_ agen, mark yer, if they got the chance. Should a'most like to see 'em _'ave_ another shy, if only for the bloomin' fun o' the thing; but it 'ud be a bit too expensive, and bring discredit on our Noble Hart, besides."

(_Comments of the I.B.H. "Brayco, Brummagem Bantam! His style of hitting is straight and smart, in the ring or out of it. Hope the over-rated Hawardian Old 'Un and his Company relish the pepper young JOE has administered to the shifty Veteran and his parasitic 'Items'!"_)

II.--_FROM THE "NEWCASTLE NOBBLER," ALIAS "HONEST JOHN."_

"Werry much surprised to see as that windictive Bounder, the 'Brummagem Bantam,' has bin a letting out wicious like at his old pals, the 'Arwarden Old 'Un and his Pugilistic Company. '_They_ was muffs and muddlers,' he sez. Well, he ought to ha' said 'we,' considerin' as _he wos one on 'em_!!! The Old 'Un was his first patron, and me and other members of the Company his pertikler pals, and _then_ he used for to crack us all up sky-high. _Now_ he rounds on us for 'making a mess of it.' Well, praps if _all_ wos knowed--but no matter! Only, to quarrel with your old pals, and then go about a-sneerin' and a-jeerin' at them for wot you yerself wos a party to, _I_ call 'hitting below the belt'"!

(_Comments of the I.B.H. "Bosh! 'Honest JOHN' is a shrew, and not a Practical Pug. Is one prizefighter never to criticise another's style because he's once been in the same Company with him? Might as well say he must therefore never improve his own style. Besides, any stick is good enough to beat the Grand Old Pug-dog with!"_)

III.--_REJOINDER OF THE "BRUMMAGEM BANTAM."_

"'Itting below the belt be jolly well blowed! Honest JOHN don't believe a word 'e sez--it's ony his narsty spite. Makes hisself the wiaduck for the 'Arwarden Gang's witrol and winegar, _e_' do. In course I wos one o' the Old 'Un's Company, wus luck! But I've larned a bit since then. Wot do _you_ think? When I larruped my old pals, and called 'em mugs, messers, and muddlers, in corse I included myself, tacit-like. _But there was no call for to say so!_ As to not showing of 'em up acos I wos one of 'em--Wal_ker_!!! If _that's_ the Newcastle Nobbler's 'theory' of fair-play, 'e may jest go 'ome and eat coke!"

(_Comments of the I.B.H. "The B.B. is quite right. If a Pug may not round on his old pals for doing what he helped them to do, it follows that he himself must never try to do better. Which is absurd! Go it, JOE!"_)