Chapter 2

"And what a wonderful figure he has!"

"I couldn't help wishing that he had only stained his legs instead of putting on red tights."

"My dear!!!"

"It's his grace that's the wonderful thing about him, I always think. His ease. He moves so--how shall I put it?--so, well, so easily and gracefully."

"Don't you love him when he stands with his hands in his pockets?"

"My dear, yes. But what a wonderful tailor he goes to. I always used to tell my brother to try and find out where his things were made and go to the same place."

"But of course it's the way clothes are worn much more than the clothes themselves. I mean, some men can never look well dressed, whereas others can look well in anything."

"But he does go to the best tailor, I'm sure."

"How many times have you seen this new piece?"

"Six."

"Only six! I've seen it eleven."

"I've seen it three times."

"I've seen it five times; but one of those doesn't count, because when we got there we found he was ill with chicken-pox. Wasn't that rotten luck?"

"I heard he had been ill, but I didn't know what it was. Was it really chicken-pox?"

"Yes, poor darling."

"Fancy him having a thing like that! I suppose it's part of the price of keeping so young."

"Oh, yes, isn't he young!"

"They say this thing's going to run for years."

"I hope not. I want to see him in something new. It's so wonderful how he's always the same and yet always different."

"I want him to be in every play. I never go to one without thinking how much better he would be than the other leading man."

"I saw that little what's-his-name imitate him the other evening. Really it's rather a shame."

"Yes, I've seen it. I couldn't help laughing, but I hated myself for it. I'm sure, too, he doesn't waggle his head like that."

"No! I couldn't see the point of that at all; but the people shrieked."

"Pooh, they'd laugh at anything."

"What did you like him best of all in?"

"That's difficult. Of course he was priceless as the policeman. But then he was priceless as the American too, in that thing before this."

"Well, I think--"

And so on. Except that I never mention his name, and I have suppressed the titles of the plays, this is practically an exact reproduction of the conversation. Naturally many of the sentences overlapped, for ladies no less than gentlemen often talk at the same time; but otherwise I have reported faithfully.

And who was the subject of these eulogies? You will guess at once when I say that he is probably the only actor in history who is referred to more often by his Christian name only than by his surname or full name. These young women who adored WALLER spoke of him not as LEWIS, but as LEWIS WALLER; and that is the usual custom. The divine SARAH is perhaps the only other histrion, and she is a woman, who may be spoken of simply as SARAH, with no risk of ambiguity. Ordinarily, as I say, we use either the surname only or the surname and Christian name combined, as ELLEN TERRY, VIOLET LORAINE, GEORGE GRAVES, GEORGE ROBEY, LESLIE HENSON, NELSON KEYS. But these four devotees referred to their hero always as GERALD; just GERALD.

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"LET HER GO!"

A TRAMP CHANTEY.

'Er keel was laid in 'seventy-four (Let 'er go--let 'er go); They built 'er cheap an' they scamped 'er sore, 'Er rivets was putty, 'er plates was poor, And then come in the PLIMSOLL line Or I wouldn't be singin' this song o' mine. (Let 'er go!)

She was cranky an' foul, she was stubborn an' slow (Let 'er go--let 'er go), An' she shipped it green when it come on to blow; 'Er crews was starved an' their wage was low, An 'er bloomin' owners was ready to faint At a scrape o' pitch or a penn'orth o' paint. (Let 'er go!)

But she's been 'ere an' she's been there (Let 'er go--let 'er go), An' she's been almost everywhere; An' wherever you went you'd sure see _'er_, With 'er rust-red hawse an' 'er battered old funnel, All muck an' dirt from 'er keel to 'er gun'le. (Let 'er go!)

She's earned 'er keep in a number o' climes (Let 'er go--let 'er go); She's changed 'er name a number o' times, Which won't fit right into these 'ere rhymes, But the name of 'er now is the _Sound o' Mull_, Built on the Tyne an' sails out of 'Ull. (Let 'er go!)

'Er keel was laid in 'seventy-four (Let 'er go--let 'er go), An' a breaker's price was 'er price before The ships was scarce an' the freights did soar; But she's fetched 'er fourteen pound a ton On the Baltic Exchange since the War begun. (Let 'er go!)

So she's doin' 'er bit, which we all must do (Let 'er go--let 'er go), An' whether she's old or whether she's new Don't make much odds to a war-time crew, But 'ooever's sunk or 'ooever's drowned, The _Sound o' Mull_ keeps pluggin' around. (Let 'er go!)

An' when she goes, by night or by day (Let 'er go--let 'er go), Either up or down, as she likely may, I only 'ope as someone'll say: "'Er keel was laid in 'seventy-four; She done 'er best an' she couldn't do more; She warn't no swell an' she warn't no beauty, But she come by 'er end in the way of 'er duty." (Let 'er go!) C. F. S.

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THE POULTICE.

Call this cold? You orter been with me in '63, when I was whalin' in the North Atlantic. I was steward on the _Ella Wheeler_, 6,000 tons, out from New Caledonia. Our skipper was a reg'lar old bluenose, and some Tartar, I _don't_ think! Why, 'e'd lay yer out sooner than look at yer; an' once 'e put the cook in irons for two days 'cos the poor devil 'ad tumbled up against the side of the galley an' burnt the 'air off the side of 'is 'ead, and the old man said it was untidy; and we all 'ad to 'ave cold grub for two days--and in them latitudes! Lord, 'ow we 'ated 'im!

But the worst of it was that we 'ad no doctor on board, and when anybody took sick the old man insisted on doctorin' 'im 'isself; and 'e 'ad only one way of treatin' every disease in the 'orspitals. "Put 'im into 'is bunk," he says, "and wait till I bring 'im a 'ot linseed poultice for's chest." Tooth-ache or chilblains, a pain in yer stummick or ring-worm--'e always says the same thing, "Put 'im in his bunk," he says, "and I'll bring 'im a 'ot linseed poultice for 's chest." And 'e brought it and put it on with 'is own 'ands too! There was no gettin' out of it if once 'e 'eard you were sick. Lord, 'ow we 'ated 'im!

There was Pete Malone--'ad a great mop of 'air like a lion or a musician--must needs go washing one day on deck, like a fool. It was all right as long as 'e 'ad the 'ot water and the soapsuds goin'; but 'e give 'is 'ead a rinse, an' stood up, and, swelpme, before 'e could get the towel to work every single 'air 'e 'd got 'ad its own private icicle, an' 'is silly 'ead looked like a silver-plated porkypine.

Well, as I was saying, we were about a 'undred-and-fifty mile from the nearest land, which 'ud be the West coast of Greenland, bearin' about E. by N., when we thought that at last we were going' to get one back on the old man. It was this way. One bitter cold night 'e was makin' 'is way aft to turn in, when 'e slips up where a wave 'ad froze on the deck, an' e' goes wallop down the 'ole length of the companion, from top to bottom, an' busts three of 'is ribs. Of course we all ran an' picked 'im up, an' _said_ we 'oped 'e wasn't much 'urt. But 'e says, "None of yer jabber, ye swines; 'elp me inter my bunk, and two of yer bring me a 'ot linseed poultice for my chest."

Well, we puts 'im in 'is bunk, and I catches the eye of the first mate, and we goes out together. "Mick," says I, "'e's askin' for a 'ot poultice. Lord send there's a good fire in the galley!" "If there ain't," says Micky to me, "we'll damn'd soon make one." So we makes a fire such as none of the ship's company 'ad ever seen; and we gets two buckets of water, one very near full, and the other about a quarter full, and we soon 'as 'em both on the boil. Then we makes the poultice in the drop of water; and when 'e was ready, we gets the grid and puts it across the top of the other bucket, and lays the poultice on the grid, and me and the mate picks up the full bucket with two pair o' tongs, 'olding a torch under 'er to keep 'er at the boil.

When the old man saw us 'is face twisted a bit! But talk about cold! We slapped the poultice on to 'im, and, if you'll believe me, inside o' ninety seconds the thing 'ad _froze 'ard on 'im_, and formed a splint, and--saved 'is life, blarst 'im!

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, March 19th._--Captain BATHURST announced that the FOOD CONTROLLER would issue an order fixing the retail price of swedes at a figure involving a reduction of "something like 200 per cent." The FOOD CONTROLLER, as his faithful henchman subsequently remarked, "is always doing his best," but if he can really reduce the price of a commodity to 100 per cent. less than nothing I hope he will not confine his activity to a solitary vegetable.

I am afraid that envy was the predominant feeling aroused by Mr. SNOWDEN'S story of the family in New Cavendish Street which secured in a single order from a single firm no less than sixty-three pounds of sugar. Lest any Hon. Members should be tempted to try and do likewise Captain BATHURST promptly announced that another order prohibiting hoarding would shortly be issued. The House cheered, for, as a journalist Member remarked with gloomy satisfaction, "It is only fair that 'no posters' should be followed by 'no hoarding.'"

The PRIME MINISTER paid one of his angelic visits to the House to give the latest information of the revolution in Russia. His description of it as "one of the landmarks in the history of the world" evoked loud cheers, but even louder were those which came from the Nationalist benches when he remarked that "free peoples are the best defenders of their own honour."

_Tuesday, March 20th._--A long cross-examination of the representative of the Air Board produced one valuable statement which Members generally might bear in mind. Mr. BILLING asked if it was not "in the public interest or in the interests of this House" that certain contracts should be discussed. Fixing him with his eye-glass, Major BAIRD replied, "No, the interests of the House and of the public, I take it, are the same as the interests of the nation."

If there was any lingering doubt as to the main responsibility for the inception--as apart from the carrying out--of the Dardanelles affair Mr. CHURCHILL himself must have removed it. Unlike his former chief he welcomes the publication of the Report, which in his opinion has shared among a number of eminent personages a burden formerly borne by himself alone. But his enthusiasm for the project as it originally formed itself in his fertile brain is undiminished, and he still marvels that for the want of a little further sacrifice we should have abandoned the chance of cutting Turkey out of the War, and uniting in one friendly federation the States of the Balkans.

_Wednesday, March 21st._--General MAUDE'S manifesto to the people of Baghdad, with its allusions to the tyranny under which they had long been suffering, did not escape the eagle eye of Mr. DEVLIN, ever anxious to scarify British hypocrisy. So he drafted a long question to the PRIME MINISTER, embodying the most salient passages of the manifesto. Much to his disgust it appeared on the Paper without its "most beautiful and striking passages." The SPEAKER explained that he had blue-pencilled "a good deal of Oriental and flowery language not suitable to our Western climate." Not the least part of the joke is the rumour that the manifesto was largely the work of a Member of the House well versed in Eastern lore.

_Thursday, March 22nd._--The Ministry of National Service, being unprovided at present with a Parliamentary Secretary, is supposed to be represented in the House by Mr. ARTHUR HENDERSON. But as the Member for Barnard Castle has important functions to perform in the War Cabinet and is rarely in the House he usually deputes some other Member of the Government to answer Questions addressed to him. To-day the lot fell upon Mr. BECK, who good-temperedly explained, when a shower of "supplementaries" rained down upon him, that he really knew nothing about the Department he was temporarily representing. This led to a tragedy, for Mr. SWIFT MACNEILL worked himself into a paroxysm of excitement over this constitutional enormity, and finally sat down on his hat. "I only wish his head had been in it," muttered a brother Irishman--from Ulster.

Believers in "the hidden hand," which is supposed to paralyse our military efforts, are divided in opinion as to whether this cryptic member is most actively employed by Lord HALDANE, Sir WILLIAM ROBERTSON or Sir EYRE CROWE, Assistant-Secretary to the Foreign Office. They will probably regard Lord ROBERT CECIL'S statement that some seven years ago Sir EYRE drew up a memorandum calling the attention of Sir EDWARD GREY to the grave dangers that threatened this country from Germany as further evidence of his duplicity. The rest of the world will rejoice at Lord ROBERT'S spirited vindication of "one of the ablest of our public servants," who, despite Miss CHRISTABEL PANKHURST, is not one of "the three black crows" of legendary fame.

When Sir H. DALZIEL, at the outset of his appeal to the Government to make another attempt to settle the Irish Question, promised that he would not "explore the noxious vapours of the past," I feared the worst. But he was as good as his word, and spared us any gruesome excavations in ancient Irish history. Major HILLS did even better by implying that it was only during the last ten years that the question had warped and diverted our domestic politics. If all Irishmen were as reasonable and moderate as Mr. RONALD MCNEILL showed himself this afternoon it would not need settling, for it would never have arisen. He only asked, if sacrifices were necessary, that Ulster should not alone be expected to make them. Sir HAMAR GREENWOOD, as the great-grandson of a Canadian rebel who took twelve sons into the field--"almost his whole family," added his descendant--insisted that the Colonial method of securing Home Rule was the best--first agree among yourselves, and then go to the Imperial Parliament to sanction your scheme. And perhaps, after the conciliatory spirit displayed in to-day's debate, that is not so impossible oven in Ireland as it seemed a few weeks ago. Hitherto every attempt of the British Sisyphus to roll the Stone of Destiny up the Hill of Tara has found a couple of Irishmen at the top ready to roll it down again. Let us hope that this time they will co-operate to instal it there as the throne of a loyal and united Ireland.

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HERBS OF GRACE.

IV.

THYME.

All things true, All things sweet-- Summer-dawn dew And Love's heart-beat; All things holy, Hill-flow'rs lowly, A far church-chime-- _These things dwell_ _In the smell_ _Of Thyme._

All things clean, All things pure-- Joys that have been And faiths that endure; All things sunny, Bee-song and honey, Sheep-walks, rhyme-- _These things dwell_ _In the smell_ _Of Thyme._

All things set With sharp sweet pain-- April regret For vows yet vain; All things fragrant, Thoughts long vagrant From Beauty's clime-- _These things dwell_ _In the smell_ _Of Thyme._

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"Sir John Simon, K.C., cited as an illustration the friendship between Daniel and Jonathan. The Lord Chief Justice: I become very nervous when you support your law by quoting Scripture."--_Daily Mail._

We always feel more nervous when people _mis_quote Scripture for their purpose.

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"The Lord Mayor of London, Sir William Dunn, accompanied by other members of the City Council in their robes, and the Lady Mayoress, were amongst the very large conflagration at St. Patrick's, Soho. An eloquent sermon was preached."--_Irish Paper._

"Burning words," indeed.

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From a description of the difficulties of the members of the Press Gallery in reporting Mr. BONAR LAW:--

"Since he has become leader of the House they have aged and grown haggard and dejected. The sound of his voice fills them with bread."--_Birmingham Daily Post._

Well, in these days that ought to afford them ample consolation.

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"Sir Richard L. Borden's name, now a household word, became familiar only six years ago."--_Daily Paper._

But even now he is not so well known as Sir ROBERT!

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DE PROFUNDIS.

When I went round the trenches a day or two before we were to move in, the great frost was still in possession; but there was a mild feeling in the air.

"I can thoroughly recommend these trenches to you, Sir," said the occupier in a businesslike manner. "Commodious and well built, fitted throughout with the latest pattern duck-boards and reached by three charmingly sequestered communication trenches, named Hic, Haec and Hoc. The dug-outs are well equipped and well sunk. The whole would form an ideal retreat for gentlemen of quiet tastes."

"Good. And the people over the way?"

"Unobtrusive and retiring to a degree."

"In fact," I said, "a most select neighbourhood--unless it thaws."

He dropped pleasantries and answered very seriously. "If it thaws, Heaven help you. There's enough water frozen up in these walls to drown the lot of you."

It did thaw.