Chapter 2

_Mr. Badgerer, Q.C._ (_pleasantly_). "_Que Messieurs les assassins commencent!_" Then we will presume that your predilection for City chops is so great, that you went a couple of miles out of your way to get one, and that your reason for dropping in at the establishment of Messrs. BLANK, Goldsmiths, and offering them half-a-dozen dessert-plates--

_The Judge_ (_interrupting_). Oh, really, this is not at all--

_Plaintiff._ Quite the reverse. I won't stay here to be insulted by anybody!

[_Exit hurriedly._

_Mr. Badgerer, Q.C._ I am afraid the Police Officers who are waiting outside to arrest our friend who has just left the box will also be denounced as "legal bullies." But after all one can't cross-examine a rogue on rosewater principles. And if we Barristers sometimes do make things rather rough for innocent Witnesses, by dragging out unpleasant incidents in their careers, or suggesting some that never occurred, by so acting we provide a powerful inducement to people to avoid having such unpleasant incidents to be dragged out. And if the fear of cross-examination prevents actions being brought, it thereby also prevents would-be litigants ruining themselves in law expenses. With submission, m'Lud, and if your Ludship pleases, I would say that we "legal bullies" are public benefactors in disguise.

_The Judge._ There's something in what you say, Mr. BADGERER. But the disguise need not be so complete as it is. I suppose it's a verdict for the Defendants? _With_ costs, yes. Gentlemen of the Jury, I can't sufficiently express my sense of the nobility of your conduct in listening to the evidence as you have done--though, of course, if you had _not_ listened, I should have committed you all for contempt in double-quick time--and you will now return a verdict for the Defendants.

[_Left sitting._

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"THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS."--No. XXVI. next week.

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TO POLICE CONSTABLES SMEETH AND TAPPIN.

[In endeavouring to capture a gang of burglars at Greenwich, these two constables were dreadfully battered. But they kept up the pursuit until the ruffians were secured.]

Your hand, Mr. TAPPIN, your hand, Mr. SMEETH. To the men who protect us we offer no wreath. They face for our sakes all the rogues and the brutes, Getting cracks from their bludgeons and kicks from their boots.

They are battered and bruised, yet they never give in, And at last by good luck they may manage to win. Then, their heads beaten in all through scorning to shirk, Scarred and seamed they return without fuss to their work.

O pair of good-plucked 'uns, ye heroes in blue, As modest as brave, let us give you your due. Though we cannot do much, we'll do all that we can, Since our hearts throb with pride at the sight of a Man.

Mr. SMEETH you're a man, Mr. TAPPIN's another; _Mr. Punch_--pray permit him--henceforth is your brother. We are proud of you both, and we'll all of us cheer These Peelers from Greenwich who never knew fear.

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MORE BONES TO PICK WITH THE SCHOOL BOARD.

We see there has been some churlish cavilling in some quarters because the School Management Committee of the London School Board passed a requisition in November last, sanctioning the purchase of an articulated skeleton for the Belleville Road School, at the very reasonable sum of £8 16s. Why make any bones about the matter? What more ornamental and indeed indispensable article of school-furniture than a human skeleton nearly six foot high? Still, should the past system of expenditure be continued in the future, _Mr. Punch_ would suggest that excellent and infinitely cheaper substitutes for skeletons will be found in the persons of the rate-payers themselves.

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CUPID'S TENNIS-COURTS.--Under the heading "Tennis in the Riviera," the _Daily Telegraph_ recently gave us some important news, which should largely influence the Matrimonial Market. The names of Ladies and Gentlemen, both "singles" (a not strictly grammatical plural, by the way, but what's grammar in a game of Thirty to Love?) were given. There was, however, no mention of "ties" or of matches to come.

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A CORRESPONDENT SIGNING HIMSELF "MINCING LANE" WRITES,--"Sir,--The _Saturday Review_ complained of Mr. TREE's gait as _Hamlet_, 'which,' said the Critic, 'reminds one too much of AGAG.' Most cutting comparison for an actor sticking rigidly to the Shakspearian text! If there were interpolations in the text of Mr. BEERBOHM TREE's own introduction, then indeed he might remind them of _A-gag_; that is, if he were continually a-gagging.--M.L."

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NEW BOOK.--Soon may be expected, _A Guide to the Unknown Tongs_, by the Author of _A Handbook to Poker_.

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TAKE CARE!

A SONG OF CONVALESCENCE AFTER INFLUENZA.

_BY AN IMPATIENT PATIENT._

AIR--"_Beware!_"

"I feel as well as well can be!"-- _Take care!_ La Grippe's deceptive dontcher see, Beware! Beware! Trust it not, 'Twill be fooling thee;

It's just three weeks since I was "down!"-- _Take care!_ "I'm wanted very much in town." Beware! Beware! Run no risk, 'Tis humbugging thee!

"_I_ feel all right,--as well as you!"-- _Take care!_ What feeling tells you is not true! Beware! Beware! Pneumonia waits To be nipping thee!

"You Doctors are such funny chaps!"-- _Take care!_ We know the dangers of Relapse. Beware! Beware! Flout me not, _I'm_ not fooling thee!

"Too long you pillow us and pill us!"-- _Take care!_ You don't half know that blarmed bacillus. Beware! Beware! Brave it not, 'Twill be flooring thee!

"The fever's gone, the aches seem vanished." _Take care!_ They come back when you think 'em banished. Beware! Beware! Trust 'em not, They'll be dodging thee!

"Oh, come, I say, look here, you know!"-- _Take care!_ Your pulse is yet two beats too slow. Beware! Beware! Trifle not, Sense is schooling thee!

"Three weeks have I been on my back!"-- _Take care!_ You don't want to _renew_ the rack. Beware! Beware! East winds are out, They'll be cooling thee!

"It is a _beast_ of a complaint!"-- _Take care!_ Don't storm! Your pulse is fluttering, faint. Beware! Beware! Worry not, Think of _syncope_!

"Tush! Taking Care's the awfullest worry!"-- _Take care!_ For "Complications" punish hurry. Beware! Beware! Resist him not, Who'd be ruling thee!

Keep warm indoors, take lots of rest. _Take care_! That of all counsels is _the_ best. Beware! Beware! _Out_? Cert'nly _not_! For two weeks--or _three_!

[_Left fuming._

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"ON THE SLY."--The name of Mr. J.E. SLY was mentioned in the _World_ last week as a candidate for the office of High Bailiff of the City of London Court. Quite a Shakspearian name is _Sly_. "Look in the Chronicles," quoth _Christopher_ of that ilk, "We came in with RICHARD Conqueror." We drink success to him in "a pot of the smallest ale" and "Let the _World_ slip,"--whether it did slip or not, the event will prove,--"We shall ne'er be younger."

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"CHARLES, HIS FRIENDS."--The Gentlemen who sought to adorn King CHARLES's statue with wreaths on the 30th January, are not to be beheaded. Like the White Rose League, their Jacobark is worse than their Jacobite.

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Tuesday, February_ 9.--House met to-day for what, the SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE tells me, must needs be last Session of present Parliament. Appropriately funereal air over scene and proceedings. Usually Members return to work in highest spirits. Remember, in years gone by, before the blight of neglect in high places fell upon him, how dear old PETER RYLANDS enjoyed himself on these occasions. What long strides he used to take, bustling to and fro! What thunderous slaps of friendly welcome he bestowed on shrinking shoulders! What digs of deep and subtle humour he dealt to unresponsive ribs!

If PETER were with us to-day, it is probable that even his effervescence of natural spirits would droop under prevalent gloom. The familiar place is a House of Mourning. Members tread softly, lest they should disturb the sick or wake the dead. Everyone has had the influenza, fears he is going to catch it, or mourns someone whom it has snatched away.

When SPEAKER took Chair and business commenced, a glance round crowded benches brought back memory of much that has happened in the Recess.

"'Tis not alone this inky cloak, good TOBY, worn in sign of public mourning," said WILFRID LAWSON, strangely subdued; "the House of Commons has had its losses."

"Yes," I say, looking across at the Treasury Bench, where in the last weeks of July we were wont to see the kindly anxious face of OLD MORALITY, never more to cheer us with his little aphorisms, and incite to following his pathway of duty to his QUEEN and country. In his place, alert, youthful, strong, with ready smile breaking the unfamiliar gravity; of face and manner, sits the new Leader, still blushing under effect of ringing cheer that welcomed him to his high position.

Lower down, filled up by another, is the place whence used frequently to arise a tall, almost gaunt, figure, which, with voice and manner indicating close associations with the Church pulpit, read from manuscript neatly-constructed answers designed to crush HENNIKER-HEATON. A kindly man and an able was RAIKES, who did not obtain full recognition for his administration of the office to which he was called.

On the other side of the House a great gap is made by the withdrawal of PARNELL from the scene. A second, of quite other association, yawns where genial DICK POWER used to sit, and wonder what on earth he did in this galley, when he might have been riding to hounds in County Waterford. HARTINGTON gone, too, an unspeakable loss to gentlemen on the benches immediately behind. Many are the weary hours they have wiled away wondering whether, at the next backward jerk of the head of the sleeping statesman, his hat would tumble off, or whether catastrophe would be further postponed. In HARTINGTON's place sits CHAMBERLAIN, much too wide awake to afford opportunity for speculation on that or cognate circumstance.

In his old corner-seat, in friendly contiguity, with his revered friend on the Treasury Bench, GRANDOLPH lounges contemplative. Met him earlier in afternoon. Passed us in corridor as I was talking to the MARKISS, who was anxious to know how the dinner went off last night, at which nephew ARTHUR appeared in character of the New Host at Downing Street. The MARKISS looked narrowly at GRANDOLPH as he passed with head hung down, tugging at his moustache.

"You remember TOBY, what HEINE said of DE MUSSET? 'A young man with a great future--behind him.' There he goes."

"Don't you believe it, my Lord," I said, with the frankness that endears me to the aristocracy. "You'll make a grave mistake if you act upon that view of GRANDOLPH's position."

"Ah, well," said the MARKISS, a little hastily; "I must go and see STRATHEDEN AND CAMPBELL about this Portugal business."

As he strode off I thought how precise and graphic remains Lord LYTTON's description of him, written before he came to the Premiership:--

"The large slouching shoulder, as oppressed By the prone head, habitually stoops Above a world his contemplative gaze Peruses, finding little there to praise."

Sorry I vexed him.

Some disappointment at GRANDOLPH's appearance. Hoped he might do honour to occasion by presenting himself in the attire clad in which he of late roamed through Mashonaland. It would have been much more picturesque than either of the uniforms in which mover and seconder of Address are obviously and uncomfortably sewn up preparatory to reciting the bald commonplace of their studiously conned lesson.

"He might at least," said CHAPLIN, who, as Minister for Agriculture, takes an interest in specimens of animal produce, "have brought with him the skin of one of those nine lions he shot from the oak in which CHARLES THE FIRST took refuge."

GRANDOLPH affects not to hear this whispered remark. It was addressed to NICHOLAS WOOD, who, leaning over back of Treasury Bench, laboriously explains that CHAPLIN is a little mixed; that the oak-tree to which he alludes was grown on English ground--wasn't it in Worcestershire?--and therefore could not afford a safe place of retreat whence lions might be potted in Central Africa.

"There is," said NICHOLAS, emphatically, "no gun made that would carry so far."

"Pish!" said CHAPLIN, somewhat inconsequentially.

GRANDOLPH looks across at Front Opposition Bench, and wonders how Mr. G. is enjoying himself in the Sunny South. "Younger than any of 'em," GRANDOLPH admits. "Odd that with a general sweeping away of the Leaders in their places last Session, only he should be left. Expect he'll see us all out."

"Order! order!"

'Tis the voice of the SPEAKER. I thought he'd complain.

"Notices of Motion!" he calls, in sonorous voice. Then the dreary business begins, MILMAN having all the fun to himself as he pulls a lucky number put of the Ballot Box, and Members rise in long succession, giving notice of interminable Bills and Motions, just as they did at the beginning of last Session, when HARTINGTON slept on the Front Opposition Bench, when OLD MORALITY fidgetted uneasily in the seat of Leader, and when PARNELL stood with his back to the wall in Committee Room No. 15.

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TRULY AND REELLY.--Why didn't they at once elect COTTON, Alderman, Poet, and Haberdasher, for the office of City Chamberlain, without waiting for a show of hands and the rest of it? Of course COTTON ought to have been elected right off the reel.

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