Chapter 2

_British Rep._ I trust your Highness accepts my assurance that Her Majesty's Government are most anxious to prevent you from appearing in a false position.

_Khe._ It's most civil of you to say so. Then I will have fur.

_British Rep._ And now, if your Highness no longer requires my presence----.

_Khe._ (_interrupting_). But I do. As I have already said, I've a lot of things to ask you. Now, I want to know whether it would be to the benefit of the fellaheen if I visited the theatre more frequently?

_British Rep._ Your Highness will use your own discretion. I think I may say, without further reference to Downing Street, that Her Majesty's Government will have not the slightest objection to your Highness indulging in any innocent recreation.

_Khe._ Come--that's very good of them. But don't go. Look here. There will be no great harm if I wear brown leather boots?

_British Rep._ I think not, if your Highness, by the exhibition of such a preference, does not wound the susceptibilities of other Powers. And now, your Highness, with your permission, I think I must withdraw.

_Khe._ Very well. If you won't stay any longer I suppose you won't. If I want any more advice I will send over to you.

_British Rep._ I am extremely obliged to your Highness.

[_Bows, and exit._

_Khe._ Glad he's gone! And now that I have consulted him about everything, I think I will have a little recreation on my own account. What shall I do? Oh, I know, I will dismiss the entire Ministry!

[_Does so._

(_Curtain._)

* * * * *

"GOING STRONG."--At the Court Theatre the _Pantomime Rehearsal_ in which Messrs. BROOKFIELD and WEEDON have a capital duet, is just as fresh as ever. Quite a new piece with all the old fun in it. "Equestrian Scenes in the Circle," might now be added, as they've got a performing PALFREY who does a very pretty _scherzo_ or skirt-show dance. "Good entertainment for"--everybody.

* * * * *

VICE VERSÂ ON THE STAGE.--Re-appearance of Mr. and Mrs. BANCROFT at HARE'S Theatre. When Mr. HARE made his first appearance in London it was at Mr. and Mrs. BANCROFT'S Theatre. And _Diplomacy_ is to be revived. This move is most diplomatic.

* * * * *

"HAPPINESS IN ----."--Professor ST. GEORGE MIVART will be glad to learn that a telegram from New York, dated the 19th instant, contained the following interesting item of intelligence.--"A vast quantity of ice is now at Hell Gate."

* * * * *

DEPRECIATION OF GOLD!--"Guinea Fowls" were sold in the Market last week at from 2_s._ 5_d._ to 3_s._ 6_d._! and a Plover Golden, was to be had for ninepence!!

* * * * *

What with _The Daily Bourse_ and dustmen who refuse to remove the Drury-Lane refuse, our Sir AUGUSTUS DURIOLANUS has been, of late, considerably Harris'd.

* * * * *

MOTTO FOR THE LADIES WHO BECOME MEMBERS OF MRS. STANNARD'S "ANTI-CRINOLINE LEAGUE."--"All hoops abandon ye who enter here."

* * * * *

GREAT BRITAIN is a country _per se_--so is every Island, as it is only _per sea_ it can be reached.

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* * * * *

MISCHIEF!

["As regards Home Rule, I did not, of course, say that there were only three Home-Rulers in the world--Mr. GLADSTONE, Mr. MORLEY, and myself. I said that ... there were no stronger Home-Rulers, except myself, than Mr. GLADSTONE and Mr. MORLEY in Parliament."--_Mr. H. Labouchere, in a Letter to the "Times."_

"Monkeys and parrots show much analogy in character and habits; they both possess extraordinary powers of imitation, which they exercise in copying man and his peculiarities. Monkeys 'take off' his gestures, and parrots his speech."--_Napier's "Book of Nature and Man."_]

Oh, a merry mime was Jacko! He could wink, and whiff tobacco, Like a man (an artful _homo_) and a brother. And the Parrot--ah! for patter, And capacity for chatter On--no matter much _what_ matter, That gave scope for clitter-clatter, The world could hardly furnish such another. The Parrot was a bird That could talk great bosh with gravity; The Ape could be absurd With an air of solemn suavity; And which to take most seriously, when the mimes were both on show, There were ill-conditioned scoffers who declared they did not know.

"I am very sure," said Jacko, and he twitched his tail with glee, "That the only serious creatures in the country are 'We Three'-- You, Polly, honest Jack (an Irish House-dog), and Myself!" (Here he pulled poor Poll's tail-feathers hard, and capered like an elf.) Poll held on to his perch, he'd much tenacity of claw, But performed, involuntarily a sort of sharp see-saw, And he snorted and looked down With a very beaky frown, And his round orb grew as red as any carrot. "'_We Three_'? your Twelfth-Night tag Is mere thrasonic brag. _Tschutt!_ You'll make my tail a rag! Wish you wouldn't pull and drag At my feathers in that way!" cried the Parrot.

Chuckled Jacko, "This _is_ prime! What a dickens of a time (Like the Parrot and the Monkey in the story) We shall have! Teach you, no doubt, Not to leave poor Jacko out Next time when you are ladling round the glory. I might share with honest Jack If of yielding I'd the knack, Or would stoop to play the flatterer or the flunkey. Pretty Poll! It is my pride To assist you--from outside! And I hope you're duly grateful," said the Monkey.

"_I_ perceive," cried Pretty Polly, "It's all right, and awfully jolly! But if you think to pull me from my perch By the tail, you are mistaken. Simian tricks will leave unshaken My hold, though I may seem to sway or lurch. A bird who knows his book Can afford to cock a snook At a chatterer who intrigueth against _his_ chief. _'We Three'?_ You quote the Clown; And _you play him_! Yes, I own Pretty Poll _may_ be pulled down, But I do not think 'twill be by Monkey 'Mischief!'"

* * * * *

For a Byronic Exam.

_Question._ What proof exists that Lord BYRON shared expenses with the Maid of Athens?

_Answer._ The line in which he says, "Maid of Athens, ere we 'part,'"--&c.

_Q._ Is there any allusion to billiards in this poem?

_A._ Certainly. It occurs where the Bard says to the Maid, "Take the rest."

* * * * *

"AGAIN WE COME TO THEE, SAVOY!" (_vide old-fashioned duet_).--It is rumoured that the separation, on account of incompatibility of temper, between a certain distinguished Composer and an eminent Librettist has come to an end. Its end is peace--that is, an Operatic piece. They have met; the two have embraced, and will, no doubt, live happily ever afterwards, on the same terms as before, with the third party present, whose good offices it is pretty generally understood (his "good offices" are "Number Something, The Savoy,"--but this is not an advertisement) have brought about this veritable "Reunion of Arts."

* * * * *

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

_"Eton of Old, or, Eighty Years Since!"_ exclaimed the Baron, and, taking up the handsome volume recently published by Messrs. GRIFFITH AND FARRAN, he was soon absorbed in its pages.

* * * * *

"Rather disappointing," murmured the Baron, as he closed the book, and "read no more that day." "Why, with a good memory, a lively imagination, and a pleasant style, this 'Old Colleger' might have given us something far more amusing than he has done. Of course Anybody's Anecdotes of our Grand Old School will probably be interesting up to a certain point: and they might be made 'funny, without being vulgar.' But this worthy Octogenarian, be he who he may, has produced only a very matter-of-fact book, containing historic information likely to arrest the attention of an old or young Etonian, but only now and again does the author give us anything sufficiently amusing to evoke a laugh. However, in the course of perusal, I have smiled gently, but distinctly. Had the Octogenarian already told many of these stories to his intimates, to whom their narration caused as much facile entertainment as was given to the friends of _Mr. Peter Magnus_, when he signed himself 'AFTERNOON,' in substitution for his initials, 'P.M.'?" And it is related how _Mr. Pickwick_ rather envied the ease with which _Mr. Magnus's_ friends were entertained. If so, then is the Baron to the Octogenarian Etonian and his intimates as was _Mr. Pickwick_ to "P. M." and his correspondents. There are some good tales about KEAT and HAWTREY, and of course the book, as one among an Etonian series, has its own value for all who care about Eton of the past.

* * * * *

"_Perdidi diem_," says the Baron, "or at least the better part of it, in reading _Zero the Slaver_, by LAWRENCE FLETCHER, who seems to me to be a promising pupil in the school of RIDER HAGGARD and LOUIS STEVENSON, but chiefly of the former. It was a beastly day, snow falling, and North-West-by-North wind howling, bitterly cold, and so," continued the Baron, "I was reduced to _Zero_. The construction of the plot is clever, as is also the description of a great fight, in the latter portion of the story; but, as a whole, the story is irritatingly ill-written, and tawdrily coloured, while italics are used to bring into prominence any description of some strongly sensational situation."

Few things so annoying to me, personally, as the romancer speaking of his chief puppets as "our friends." This LAWRENCE FLETCHER is perpetually doing. Now his heroes are not "my friends," for, when I read, I am strictly impartial, at all events, through two-thirds of the book, and, if I learn to love any one or two (or more) of them, male or female, I should still resent the author's presuming to speak of them as "our friends." To do so from the first is simply impudent presumption on the part of the author, as why, on earth, should he assume that his creations--his children--should be as dear to us as they are to him?

No--"Our friends," so used, is a mistake.

The influence of RIDER HAGGARD is over the whole book, but in two instances the author has been unable to resist close imitation, nay, almost quotation of a well-known Haggardism, and so he writes at p. 130:--

"Just then a very wonderful and awful thing happened."

And at p. 197:--

"When suddenly, and without an instant's warning, a most awful thing happened."

Both variations on a Haggardism, and both equally spoilt in the process of transferring and adapting.

One sentence, the utterance of a Zulu chief, is well worth quoting, and it is this:--

"But empty hands are evil things wherewith to face a well-armed spook."

"The well-armed spook" is a joy for ever.

_"A great black man fleeted past the rocks."_ "Hum!" quoth the Baron, "fleeted" is a new word to me. Not that I object to its invention and use on that account; in sound and appearance it expresses no more than "sped," or, if pursuit is to be implied, "fled."

Here is something that this novelist having written may well lay to heart,

_"The man was as white-skinned as themselves, and judging from the purity of his English, must have been at one time a British subject."_

"Now," quoth the Baron, meditatively, "if purity of English, with or without a white skin, is the unmistakable mark of a 'British subject,' then it follows that Mr. LAWRENCE FLETCHER is of some nationality other than British. At least, such is the logical conclusion arrived at by his humble but critical servant,

"THE BARON DE B. W. 'B. B.' (_British Born._)"

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* * * * *

A NEW TURN.--He was an eloquent, an earnest lover, but she saw through him. When he had sworn to be true, which oath of his she didn't trust for a minute, and had implored her to do likewise, she only murmured to herself, "_Had I a heart for falsehood framed_----" Whereupon he vowed that such a thing was impossible; but, supposing her to possess such a heart, what would she do with it, considering it as a frame? Then she replied, softly, "I should put your portrait in it."

* * * * *

"All's Well that Ends Well."

YOUNG ABBAS thought to catch Lord CROMER napping. Perhaps he'll not again try weasel-trapping. E'en HOMER sometimes nods. 'Tis true--of HOMER; But ABBAS thinks 'tis not--as yet--of CROMER!

* * * * *

MR. LABOUCHERE is, AUTOLYCUS hears, much interested in Mr. YATES'S promotion to Magisterial honours. "I shall keep my eye on EDMUND," HENRY says. "If only I get a chance of putting him on my weekly Pillory in _Truth_, I do not deny it would give me keen satisfaction."

* * * * *

MRS. R. has read that the Christy Minstrels are turned into a Limited Company, but, before subscribing for shares, she wants to know if she would have to black her face? But what she objects to most is, that the principal performers (as she has been told) rattle their own bones!

* * * * *

THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S.

A STORY IN SCENES.

SCENE III.--Mrs. TIDMARSH'S _Drawing-room. Wall-paper of big grey peonies sprawling over a shiny pale salmon ground. Over-mantel in black and gold. Large mirrors: cut-glass gaselier, supplemented by two standard lamps with yellow shades. Furniture upholstered in yellow and brown brocade. Crimson damask hangings. Parian statuettes under glass, on walnut "What-nots"; cheap china in rosewood cabinets. Big banner-screen embroidered in beads, with the Tidmarsh armorial bearings, as recently ascertained by the Heralds' College. Time, twenty minutes to eight._ Mrs. TIDMARSH _is seated, flushed and expectant, near the fire, her little daughter_, GWENDOLEN, _aged seven, is apparently absorbed in a picture-book close by._ Miss SEATON _is sitting by a side-table, at some distance from them. Enter_ Mr. TIDMARSH, _who, obeying a sign from his wife, approaches the hearth-rug, and lowers his voice to a cautious under-tone._

_Mr. Tid._ It's all right, SEAKALE got in at BLANKLEY'S just as they were closing. They said they would send round and stop the person, if possible--but they couldn't say, for certain, whether he mightn't have started already.

_Mrs. Tid._ Then he may come, even now! May I ask what you intend to do if he does, MONTAGUE?

_Mr. Tid._ Well, that's what I rather wanted to ask _you_, my dear. We might tell SEAKALE to send him away.

_Mrs. Tid._ If you do, he'll be certain to send away the wrong person--Uncle GABRIEL, as likely as not!

_Mr. Tid._ Um----yes, I never thought of that--no, he must be shown up. Couldn't you explain to him, quietly, that we have made up our party and shan't require his--hem--services?

_Mrs. Tid._ I? Certainly _not_, MONTAGUE. _You_ hired him, and you must get rid of him yourself!

_Mr. Tid._ (_uneasily._) 'Pon my word, MARIA, it's an awkward thing to do. I almost think we'd better keep him if he comes--we shall have to _pay_ for him anyhow. After all, he'll be quite inoffensive--nobody will notice he's been hired for the evening.

_Mrs. Tid._ He may be one of the assistants out of the shop for all we can tell. And you're going to let him stay and make us thirteen, the identical thing he was hired to avoid! Well, I shall have to let Miss SEATON dine, after all--that's what it comes to, and this creature can take her down--it will be a little change for her. GWENNIE, my pet, run down and tell SEAKALE that if he hears me ring twice after everybody has come, he's to lay two extra places before he announces dinner. (GWENNIE _departs reluctantly_; Mrs. T. _crosses to_ Miss SEATON.) Oh, Miss SEATON, my husband and I have been thinking whether we couldn't manage to find a place for you at dinner to-night. Of course, it is _most_ unusual, and you must not expect us to make a _precedent_ of it; but--er--you seem rather out of spirits, and perhaps a little cheerful society--just for once----I don't know if it can be arranged yet, but I will let you know about that later on.

_Miss Seaton_ (_to herself_). I do believe she _means_ to be kind! (_Aloud._) Of course, I shall be very pleased to dine, if you wish it.

_Seakale_ (_at door_). Mr. and Mrs. GABRIEL GILWATTLE, and Miss BUGLE!

[_Enter a portly old Gentleman, with light prominent eyes and a crest of grizzled auburn hair, in the wake of an imposing Matron in ruby velvet: they are followed by an elderly Spinster in black and silver, who rattles with jet._

_Miss Bugle_ (_after the usual greetings_). I hope, dearest MARIA, you will excuse me if I am not quite in my usual spirits this evening; but my cockatoo, whom I have had for ages, has been in convulsions the whole afternoon, and though I left him calmer, done up in warm flannel on the rug in front of the fire, and the maid promised faithfully to sit up with him, and telegraph if there was the slightest change, I can't help feeling I ought never to have come.

_Aunt Joanna_ (_to her host._) Such a drive as it is here, all the way from Regent's Park, and in this fog--I told GABRIEL that if he escapes bronchitis to-morrow----

_Seakale._ Mr. and Mrs. DITCHWATER! Mr. TOOMER!

_Mr. Ditch._ Yes, dear Mrs. TIDMARSH, our opportunities for these festive meetings grow more and more limited with each advancing year. Seven dear friends, at whose board we have sat, and they at ours, within the past twelve months, carried off--all gone from us!

_Mrs. Ditch._ _Eight_, JEREMIAH, if you count Mr. JAUNDERS--though _he_ only dined with us once.

_Mr. Ditch._ To be sure, and never left his bed again. Well, well, it should teach us, as I was remarking to my dear wife as we drove along, to set a higher value than we do on such hospitalities as we are still privileged to enjoy.

_Mr. Toomer_ (_to_ Mrs. TID.) My poor wife would, I am sure, have charged me with all manner of messages, if she had not been more or less delirious all day--but I am in no anxiety about her--she is so often like that, it is almost chronic.

_Seakale._ Mr. and Mrs. BODFISH! Miss FLINDERS! Mr. POFFLEY!

_Mr. Bodf._ (_after salutations._) Mrs. BODFISH and myself have just been the victims of a most extraordinary mistake! We positively walked straight into your next-door neighbour's house, and if we had not been undeceived by a mummy on the first landing, I don't know where we should have found ourselves next.

_Mrs. Tid._ _A mummy!_ How _very_ disagreeable; such a _peculiar_ thing to have about a house? But we really know nothing about the people next door. We have never encouraged any intimacy. We thought it best.

_Mrs. Bodf._ I told their man-servant as we came away that I considered he had behaved disgracefully in not telling us our mistake at once; no doubt he had a motive; people _are_ so unprincipled!

_Little Gwendolen_ (_drawing_ Miss SEATON _into a corner_). Oh, Miss SEATON, what _do_ you think? Mother's going to let you dine downstairs with them--won't _that_ be nice for you? At least, she's going to, if somebody comes, and you're to go down with him. He isn't like a _regular_ dinner-guest, you know. Papa hired him from BLANKLEY'S this morning, and Mother and he both hope he mayn't come, after all; but _I_ hope he _will_, because I want to see what he's like. Don't _you_ hope he'll come? _Don't_ you, Miss SEATON, dear?

_Miss Seaton_ (_to herself_). Then _that_ was why! And I can't even refuse! (_Aloud._) My dear GWENNIE, you shouldn't tell me all these things--they're secrets, and I'm sure your Mother would be very angry indeed if she heard you mention them to _anybody_!

_Gwen._ Oh, it was only to you, Miss SEATON, and you're _nobody_, you know! And I _can_ keep a secret, if I choose. I never told how JANE used to----[Miss SEATON _endeavours to check these disclosures_.

_Uncle Gab._ (_out of temper, on the hearth-rug_). Seven minutes past the hour, MONTY--and, if there's a thing I'm particular about, it's not being kept waiting for my dinner. Are you expecting somebody else? or what _is_ it?

_Mr. Tid._ (_nervously_). Well, I half thought--but we won't wait any longer for him--he is not worth it--ha! there he is--I think I heard the front door--so perhaps I may as well give him----eh?

_Uncle Gab._ Just as you like--_my_ dinner's spoilt as it is. (_Catching sight of the banner-screen._) What have you stuck this precious affair up for, eh?

_Mr. Tid._ To--to keep the fire off. MARIA'S idea. Uncle--she thought our--hem--crest and motto would look rather well made up like this.

_Uncle Gab._ (_with a snort_). Made up! I should think it was! Though what you want to make yourself out one of those good-for-nothing aristocrats for is beyond me. You know _my_ sentiments about 'em--I'm a thorough-going Radical, and the very sound of a title----

_Seakale_ (_with a fine combination of awe and incredulity_). Lord STRATHSPORRAN!

[_There is a perceptible flutter in the company, as a ruddy-haired and rather plain young man enters with an apologetic and even diffident air, and pauses in evident uncertainty as to his host and hostess._

_Uncle Gab._ (_to himself._) A Lord! Bless my soul! MONTY and MARIA are getting up in the world!

_Guests_ (_to themselves._) A Lord! No _wonder_ they kept the dinner back!

_Miss Seaton_ (_after a hurried glance--to herself._) Good Heavens! DOUGLAS CLAYMORE!--reduced to this! [_She lowers her head._

_Mr. Tid._ (_to himself._) They might have told me they were going to send us a Lord--_I_ never ordered one! I wonder if he's genuine--he don't _look_ it. If I could only find out, quietly!

_Mrs. Tid._ (_to herself._) Gracious! And I was going to send him in with the Governess! (_To her Husb. in a whisper._) MONTAGUE, what are you _about_? Go and be civil to him--do!

[_She rings the bell twice:_ Mr. TIDMARSH _advances, purple with indignation and embarrassment, to welcome the new-comer, who shakes him warmly by the hand_.

(_End of Scene III._)

* * * * *

HER WAY OF PUTTING IT.--Mrs. R. thinks she has an excellent memory for riddles. She was delighted with that somewhat old conundrum about "What is more wonderful than JONAH in the whale?" to which the answer is, "Two men in a fly," and determined to puzzle her nephew with it the very next time she met him. "Such a capital riddle I've got for you, JOHN!" she exclaimed, "Let me see. Oh, yes--I remember--yes, that's it;" and then, having settled the form of the question, she put it thus--"What is more wonderful than two men in an omnibus?" And when she gave the answer, "JONAH in a fly," and correcting herself immediately, said, "No--I mean, 'JONAH in a whale,'" her nephew affectionately recommended his excellent relative to lie down and take a little rest.

* * * * *