Chapter 2

Brer Fox he boast, and Brer Fox he bounce, But Ole Man Crow heft his weight to an ounce. "Wat, tote me round der Orange-grove?" Sez Ole Man Crow, sezee; "Tooby sho dat's kyind, but I radder not rove Wer der oranges are flyin' kinder free; Wer One-eyed RILEY en Slipshot SAM Sorter lam one ernudder ker-blunk, ker-blam! Tree stan' high, but honey mighty sweet-- Watch dem bees wid stingers on der feet! Make a bow ter de Buzzard, en den ter de Crow, Takes a limber-toe'd gemman for ter jump Jim Crow!"

Den Brer Fox snortle en Brer Fox frown. Sezee, "You're settin dar sorter keerless-like," sezee. "But yer better come down, Der is foes a broozin' roun' W'at will give yer wus den butter in der North Countree. You'll get mixed wid der Tar-Baby ef inter der North yo' pitch, For der North ain't gwinter cave in, radder die in der las' ditch!"

Den Ole Man Crow up en sez, sezee, "You been runnin' roun' a long time, en a-sassin' atter me; But I speck you done come to de end er de row. You wun't frighten me not wuth a cent.," sez Ole Man Crow. "I ain't gwine nowhere skasely; I'll be busy near dis rail. You wun't tempt me wid de butter--or der powder--on yo' tail. Good-bye, Brer Fox, take keer yo' cloze, For dis is de way de worril goes; Some goes up en some goes down. _You_'ll get ter de bottom all safe en soun'! I'll watch yo' 'strategy' wid int'rest, now en den, En--well, I'll try ter _look_, des as _frightened_ as I ken!"

* * * * *

The House of Lords Committee of Privileges decided that Captain FORESTER's action in the Barnard Peerage case was a Vane attempt. "The chance," said the _Times_, "of such a prize as Raby Castle, with £60,000 a-year, is likely to tempt a man to think his arguments and claims are better than they really are." Raby Castle on the brain would soon become a sort of Rabies.

* * * * *

HAMLET IN HALF AN HOUR.

(_PREPARED FOR THE HALLS IN COMPLIANCE WITH THE SUGGESTIONS OF MR. PLUNKET'S COMMITTEE._)

SCENE--_An open space outside Elsinore. View of the Palace and the Battlements. HAMLET discovered talking to the Ghost._

_Ham._ And is it really within thy power to show me illustrations to the story that has so much interested me?

_Ghost._ It is! Behold!

[_He waves his bâton and a rock becomes transparent, displaying a tableau of the play-scene in "Hamlet."_]

_Ham._ Ah, how well do I remember the occasion! It was after I had met thee, and thou hadst told me the sad story of thy decease by my Uncle. And then I contrived this device to catch the conscience of the King! Thou art sleeping calmly, and a cloaked figure is pouring poison--real poison--into thy ear! and look, the King is greatly disturbed! Ah, how it all comes back to me! (_The rock resumes its normal condition._) And canst thou show me more?

_Ghost._ Ay, and I will! Behold!

[_He waves his bâton, and another rock discovers a tableau representing the Burial of OPHELIA._

_Ham._ (_deeply interested_). Why, these must be the maimed rites that were all that was given to my poor lost love--the lady I desired to visit a nunnery--to OPHELIA. And see there are the comic Grave-diggers. Show me more. Show me more!

[_The vision fades away like its predecessor._

_Ghost._ I would, did not the decision of statute law limit the time. And now I must away. But mind, my son--six principal characters, and no more! Thou wilt remember!

_Ham._ Ay, marry; and yes, I will! (_The Ghost disappears._) And so I have to meet LAERTES at a fencing-bout. I will!

_Trumpets. Enter King, Queen, LAERTES, OSRIC and Court._

_King._ HAMLET, all hail! I wish thee joy! May'st thou be the victor at to-day's trial of skill!

_Ghost_ (_heard from below_). Remember! Six principal characters. He and thou and I are three. Three! Six, and no more!

_Hamlet_ (_aside_). Peace, perturbed spirit!

_Laertes_ (_approaching_). My good Lord, I wish thee well, for I do love thee.

_Ghost_ (_from below_). Four! Remember--Four! Six, and no more! and mind the time goes apace. Ten minutes of the thirty gone!

_Hamlet_ (_aside_). Peace, perturbed spirit! (_Aloud._) The foils!

_Osric_ (_approaching_). My Lord, the weapons!

_Ghost_ (_as before_). He maketh five! Beware! Six, and no more!

_Ham._ (_aside_). Rest, perturbed spirit! (_Aloud._) I will take this one!

[_HAMLET and LAERTES take the foils and salute._

_King._ Now will I drink to HAMLET after the first bout. OSRIC, be ready to give him a cup when he is tired! Mind me well. (_Aside._) The cup of which HAMLET shall drink contains poison. Ha! ha! ha! A time will come! I triumph!

[_HAMLET and LAERTES fence and drop their foils._

_Osric._--Let me return them, good Sirs!

[_He gives the weapons in such a fashion that they are exchanged._

_King._ Now will I drink to HAMLET. Give him the other cup.

_Ham._ Nay, your pardon. Sire. I am fat and scant of breath, but I will crush a cup with thee, later!

_Queen._ Give me the cup. I will drink to thee, HAMLET! [_Drinks._

_Ghost_ (_as before_). I hear the well-remembered voice of thy mother, boy! That makes six. The limit's reached!

_Ham._ (_aside_). Rest, perturbed spirit! (_Aloud._) And now, good LAERTES, I am at thy service.

[_They fight. HAMLET is wounded._

_Osric._ A hit, a hit, a palpable hit!

_Ham._ (_annoyed_). I am hurt, and by thee!

[_Fights fiercely and wounds_ LAERTES.

_Queen._ Oh! I am poisoned! [_Dies._

_Ham._ What, treachery! Ah, thou brute!

[_Rushes up and kills King with his foil._

_Laertes._ I am dying! Forgive me, HAMLET. It was the doing of the King. [_Dies._

_Ghost_ (_as before_). Twenty and nine minutes have expired! The time is all but up!

_Ham._ (_aside, with difficulty_). Rest, perturbed spirit! Farewell, farewell, a long farewell to all my--

_Ghost_ (_as before_). Ring down! The time is up!

(_Quick Curtain_)

* * * * *

* * * * *

"INNINGS DECLARED CLOSED."

SCENE--_Grounds of the St. Stephen's C.C. SALISBURY (Captain) and BALFOUR (Champion Bat) at Wickets. The latter has just despatched the ball to the boundary for "another four," eliciting "applause all round the ring," as the (Cricket) saying is._

_Captain_. Well hit, my dear ARTHUR!

_Champion Bat_ (_modestly_). Ah! bit of a fluke.

_Captain_. Come, come! Cricket swagger may merit rebuke, But take your fair _kudos_; don't run yourself down.

_Wicket-Keeper_ (_aside_). Bah! that's his old trick. At the ball he will frown, And fumble the bat as though funk, or don't care, Filled his soul; but when slogging's the game he's all there. Mere posing, not playing the game,--yet he _scores_! I wonder how WILL likes the ring's frantic roars At their flashy young favourite?

_Bowler_ (_aside_). Humph! he lays on! I did hope, with that ball, that his wicket was gone. 'Twas a curly one, one of my regular old sort. Good batting _and_ bowling, that's true Cricket sport, As CLARKE, Grand Old Trundler, declared was the case When he bowled and PILCH batted.

_Champion Bat_ (_aside_). Just twig HARCOURT's face! Thought he'd had me ere now. Can't you hear his "How's _that_?"-- If I gave him a chance?

_Captain_. He's a fine slogging bat, But behind the sticks--humph! Well, let's see, lad, your score Wants but eight of the "century." Ninety-two more Towards your "average," ARTHUR! The Cricketer's Bard Will be rhyming your doings!

_Champion Bat_. An awful "reward"! But shall we play on?

_Captain_ (_thoughtfully_). Well, now, what do you think? From fighting it out to the end I don't shrink, But time's running short; _we_ stand well for a win: They _say_ that their eager desire's to go in. Perhaps if they got their desire they'd be posed. Suppose we declare that our innings is closed?

[_Left considering it._

* * * * *

"PROBABLE STARTERS."

The Gentleman who sits on a pin with its business-end uppermost.

The Follower "not Allowed," on Missus making a quite unexpected appearance in the Kitchen.

Clerk, who having written to say that he is unable to attend to business as he is laid up with symptoms of influenza, comes face to face with the Senior Partner on the river at Bolton Lock.

LOTHARIO on his knees to his dearest friend's Wife. Enter Husband.

* * * * *

"TEXTUEL."--Mr. TOOLE was horrified at overhearing portions of a conversation between two Gentlemen who were evidently provincial Managers, one of whom was saying, "Yes, I agree with you. We have settled to re-open our pits at a reduction of ten per cent." "I beg pardon, Gentlemen," anxiously put in the Comedian, who had just returned from the race-course, having been tooled down to Epsom and back on a drag; "but I am going on tour, and if the price of admission to the pit is to be so largely reduced--" Then they explained to him that they were Wenham Coal-owners. Mr. J.L. TOOLE was immensely relieved, and immediately invited his two acquaintances to partake of refreshment on board the Houseboat now moored off King William Street, Charing Cross.

* * * * *

"TE DUCE," &c.--Old Pupils who were at "Balston's," are requested by Lord DUCIE to hurry up with their subscriptions to Memorial in Eton College Chapel. A Ducie'd good idea.

* * * * *

CLEAR CASE OF SUPERSTITION.--Mr. GLADSTONE trusting to "SHIPTON's" Prophecies.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER.

NO. XI.--THE DUFFER IN LOVE.

Mrs. MCDUFFER never greatly admired the lady with whom this confession is concerned. She denies that CECILIA BRAND was pretty, and when I do not answer (for where is the use of argument in such a case?), she remarks that I am too short-sighted to know whether a woman is pretty or not. This appears to myself to be an injudicious assertion, and the flank of my opponent might be turned if it were worth while. But it is not worth while. A Duffer I may be, but not such a duffer as to reason with a woman. If you score a point (and how many times one sees an opening in the fair one's harness), a woman is angry, or cries, or both, and there is no repartee to that _ultima ratio_.

I maintain, then, that CECILIA was pretty, and very pretty; pleasant, and very pleasant. No doubt she keeps those qualities yet. I do not believe in the syllogism by which a man persuades himself that he was a fool, that he had a lucky escape, that a girl becomes quite another person, and usually very stout and stupid, because she has preferred someone else to himself. No, if we met to-morrow--But Fortune forbid that we should meet to-morrow, or any other day! I have no relics of CECILIA. I had some,--an old glove, a lash of a riding-switch, and other trifles. I kept them in the secret drawer of a bureau, and in my absence that bureau was traded away for a new æsthetic article, relics and all, of course. Perhaps some minor poet bought the piece of furniture, and found the things, and wrote a poem on them. That is what makes me uncomfortable. If CECILIA sees the poem in one of the Magazines, and remembers the incidents which the souvenirs recall, she will certainly not be pleased with me, whether she fancies that I wrote the poem, or that I forgot all about the treasures, and traded their receptacle away. Life is really very complicated.

I met CECILIA at a house in the country. We sat next each other at dinner. I found her charming. We had the same taste in novels,--she knew Miss AUSTEN almost off by heart, and, like me, she was very fond of field sports. I flattered myself that she did not find my company uncongenial. In the evening there was a little dance: I don't dance, or at least, it was some time since I had danced, not in fact since the used to make me take dancing lessons at school. How I hated it! However, this time I thought it seemed very easy and pleasant, though the floor was extremely polished and slippery, dangerously so. CECILIA, of course, was my partner. You know how they describe waltzing in novels, the ecstasy of it, the wild impassioned delight. Consult GUY LIVINGSTONE and OUIDA. Well, it was not at all like that.

I do not exactly remember what occurred. We started, there was a buzz. I think there was a collision. I became extremely dizzy.... When I recovered my senses, it was _not_ to find the dark grey eyes of CECILIA bending over me with an expression of anxiety. No, she was not there. I went to bed: I know there was a great contusion on my elbow.

Next morning, it was winter, everyone was going to skate. Now I could not skate. At school, when there was a skating holiday, I always passed it beside the fire, which I had all to myself, roasting apples, and reading _Ivanhoe_. These were among my happiest hours. However, I did not tell CECILIA that I could not skate. I pretended (it seemed safe) to be desperately fond of hunting, and to despise skating. Besides I had work, literary work, I told CECILIA, an article on Miss AUSTEN. This pleased her, but nobody accepted the article. In fact, I was bent on secretly learning to skate. I sent to town for a pair of "Acmes," for I knew I never could manage all the straps and buckles of the ordinary modern skate. I knew of a pond where nobody came, and thither, under cover of night, I smuggled a bed-room chair. They say that pushing a chair in front of you is a good way to learn. My terror was extreme; it would be awkward to be caught, at a friend's house, stealing a bed-room chair. That I ventured this risk shows how fond of CECILIA I was. I reached the pond safely, and hid the chair in a dry ditch. Next day, when presumed to be engaged on literary labours, I sneaked back, sat down on my chair, and tried to put on the skates. It always seemed so easy when one saw an expert do it, like Mercury donning his winged shoon, and sailing over the ice. But my hands grew blue as I struggled with the key and the nuts, till I became certain that my boots were in fault.

There was no help for it, I hid my chair in its ditch, and returned, to take the village cobbler into my confidence. He, good man, rose to the situation, and pointed out what I had surmised to be the case, viz., that the heels of my boots were too long to allow the chisel-edged flange to be adjusted by the lever, and admit at the same time of the other end of the heel being gripped by the cramps,--but he promised to whittle away part of the heel, and send the skates home without delay: and he was as good as his word.

This time I took the precaution of fitting them on in my room. I walked about in them, and was happy. Next day I got to work again: gingerly I brought my chair into action, but I was wholly unprepared for the extreme slipperiness of the ice, even though forewarned to some extent by the painful experiences of _Mr. Winkle_. I had read that the skater "is very highly favoured when contending with the great enemy of motion, viz., friction," a proposition which I found to be perfectly true. My legs developed separatist tendencies, and started on independent orbits. Often I found myself sitting down in a position affected by acrobats, but unusual in Society. As for the chair, it would rear and plunge like a horse, or escape across the ice, where I had to crawl to it on my knees. It was while thus engaged that I heard a sound of female voices, and, lo! there were CECILIA and two other girls, who had heard of this pond in the wood, and come to try it. I presented a singular spectacle, kneeling before a bed-room chair in the middle of a lonely pond. They laughed, a lover should never be ridiculous, but how could I help it! I thought it best to be frank, indeed, what excuse could I make, what explanation could I offer? In the evening I told CECILIA that I had undergone all this for her sake; that, expert in other pastimes (except dancing), I had hoped to make myself more worthy of "figuring" in her society. But, as a matter of fact, I never got so far as figures.

Next day there was a thaw, and soon I had an opportunity of riding with CECILIA. It was "The Last Ride Together," as in Mr. BROWNING. I don't like to speak about it. When we got off the road on to the turf my horse began to kick and plunge. I have read that it is not right, but I did what I always do, I held on by the pummel. Would _you_ not hold on by the carpet, in an earthquake. It felt like a young and lively earthquake. We came home soon, _CECILIA leading my horse_. People staying in the house met us.

I did not propose to CECILIA. I thought, like _Sir Andrew Aguecheek_, "It is four to one she'll none of me." Nay, the odds were probably even longer. Ah, CECILIA, if these lines meet thine eyes, thou wilt know that one heart still is true. In another life, less begirt by material difficulties, we may meet amongst the asphodel, where there is no opportunity for the display of mere mechanical accomplishments. Till then, _au revoir_!

* * * * *

APPROPRIATE.--At Nancy, the Maire pledged the Czech gymnasts, in a goblet of Pommery. Their chief, returning thanks in French, with a strong Bohemian accent, remarked that he took this as a great compliment to his own nationality, the champagne being "_très Czech_."

* * * * *

* * * * *

LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Of my two selections to supply the last Horse in the Derby--one--_La Flêche_, so far forgot what was due to my prophetic utterances as to finish _second_--and indeed, very nearly _win_! However, as such reprehensible conduct was mainly owing to the absurd wish of her jockey, BARRETT, to be first, my readers will see that no blame attaches to _me_--as the mare would doubtless not have hurried so much had she been left to her own devices--(the sex notoriously dislikes hurry)--it being a well-known fact that she would make a race with a donkey!--though why donkey races should be spoken of with such contempt. I don't know, for I once rode one with Lord ARTHUR on Hampstead Heath--(it was during our engagement, when people will do foolish things; we had been "slumming," and he was disguised in "pearlies," whilst I was gowned "_à la_ 'ARRIETT")--and I assure you our Donkeys went very fast. However--this is a digression--as the man said when he walked over the cliff, so let us "_noch einmal zu unser schafen_," as the German proverb runs. Although disappointed in the behaviour of _La Flêche_, my second string _Llanthony_ maintained my reputation for correct tips, by running _last_, as I said he would!--It is true that some papers report him as having finished seventh and _El Diablo_ last; but as he did not _win_, he might just as well have been last as seventh--and as I am sure my friend Lord ELTHAM will not mind the placings being reversed--I therefore place _Llanthony_ last--and those of my readers who took my advice and backed him, will have every reason to congratulate themselves when they draw their money!

With regard to the winner, _Sir Hugo_, whose success was a general surprise to all except myself--(surprise is bad form)--I can only follow the example of all other writers on turf matters in declaring that, "he always had my good word, and was in fact my winter favourite, as anyone can see who will take the trouble to glance through my earlier advices!"--these will be difficult to find, as they were only conveyed in private letters which will not be published until my biography is written later on!--(very much, I hope). Still, had I pursued the ordinary course of trying to tip the _Winner_, _Sir Hugo_ would undoubtedly have been my sole selection--a fact which should not fail to weigh with my followers--and I _have_ followers in plenty, as Lord ARTHUR knows!

Having done the whole of Epsom week, I shall be glad of a rest to get ready for Ascot--(four new gowns to try on)--and besides there are some smart parties to attend next week, so Doncaster will not be blessed with my sweet presence. However, I have a friend there on the Press _who can be trusted_. So, in concluding this letter with my selection for the last horse in the Manchester Cup, I am able to recommend it _very_ strongly, as my friend will do the placing; and as _I_ am not there, no collusion can be suspected!

I must just mention that among the shows provided on Epsom Downs for the entertainment of the multitude, was one which I should like to see done away with, namely, the so-called "glove contests"--which to my mind are not calculated to advance "England's greatness" nor are they pleasing to look on at. The "abolition of Slavin(g)" is undoubtedly a fine thing, but is hardly perhaps an unmixed blessing when it makes heroes of Dusky Warriors!

I hear from my friend Major CLEMENT that we are going to have a most successful Ascot in spite of the regrettable absence of Royalty; indeed he could have let all the Boxes twice over--and as I shall be staying there all the week with my friends the Baron and Baroness LUTHER VON MONTAG, I hope to collect some valuable information for my betting readers.

Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.

THE TIP.

To ride the first horse in the Manchester Cup Is a thing for which jockeys might quarrel! But if modest young WOODBURN should have the "leg up," He's content to be _last_ on "_Balmoral_."

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, May 30._--House met to-day, with pretty assumption of things being just as usual. SPEAKER in Chair; Mace on Table; paper loaded with questions; House even moderately full. Mr. G. not present, but SQUIRE OF MALWOOD makes up for that, and all other deficiencies. Quite radiant in white waistcoat and summer pants; wish he would crown the effect by wearing white hat; draws the line at that. "People are apt to forget," he says, "that my father was a dignitary of the Church. It is well sometimes to hint at the circumstance, and it would be impossible to do it from under the brim of a white hat." The item scarcely needed to complete joviality of Squire's appearance and bearing; looks like the best man at a wedding-party. "That's just what I am, TOBY," he said; "Mr. G. is going to the country to wed the majority at the polls, and I'm the best man."

Meanwhile, farce of there being nothing particular in the wind admirably kept up. Odd to see how even mention of that blessed word Dissolution is avoided. Even when, last Thursday, Mr. G. and Prince ARTHUR practically settled the matter, the word not uttered. Mr. G. hinted at possibility of ARTHUR's sometime, in some convenient circumstances, making a statement as to the business of the Session; the Prince, adopting the phraseology, said he would do so. Since then the same precaution been observed.