Chapter 2

GOLDFINCH.--A favourite cage-bird. The best method of catching the goldfinch is to wait until it settles on the lowest branch of a tree, then approach it from behind and gently tap its right wing with your right hand. This causes it immediately to turn its head to see who has touched it; you can then bring up your left hand unnoticed, into which it falls an easy victim.

BULLFINCH.--Another popular cage-bird. The best method of capturing it, which differs widely from that in use with the Goldfinch, is as follows:--Hang head downwards from the fork of an old tree in order to resemble a dead branch, having previously covered yourself with some adhesive matter. In this position you should wait until as many Bullfinches as you want have settled on your clothes and stuck there; then climb down from the tree and have them scraped off into a large cage.

BARN OWL.--This bird invariably builds its nest in empty houses. There will be no nests this year.

STARLING.--Threepence was placed on the head of this destructive bird last year in many parts of England. The old way was to put salt on its tail.

BLUE TITMOUSE.--The nest of this active little bird is often situated in most extraordinary places. It is frequently found inside village pumps, and in consequence is much persecuted by local milkmen. It is feared that unless _The Daily Mail_ can be persuaded to take up the cause of this unfortunate bird it will soon be faced with extermination.

ROOK.--The chief difference between this bird and the Crow is found in the way in which its name is spelt.

THRUSH.--_See_ THROSTLE.

* * * * *

SONGS OF SIMLA.

II.--SIMLA SOUNDS.

I have heard the breezes rustle O'er a precipice of pines, And the half of a Mofussil Shiver at a jackal's whines.

I have heard the monkeys strafing Ere the dawn begins to glow, And the long-tailed langur laughing As he lopes across the snow.

I have heard the rickshaw varlets Clear the road with raucous cries, Coolies clad in greens or scarlets, As a mistress may devise.

Well I know the tittle-tattle Of the caustic muleteer, And the Simla seismic rattle Is familiar to my ear.

Though to-day my feet are climbing Bleaker heights and harder roads, Still the Christ-church bells are chiming, Still the mid-day gun explodes.

But the sound which echoes loudest Is the sound I never knew Till I lunched (the very proudest) With the Staff at A.H.Q.

'Twas a scene of peace and plenty, Plates a-steam and-spoons a-swoop; 'Twas a sound of five-and-twenty Hungry Generals drinking soup.

J.M.S.

* * * * *

WAITING FOR THE SPARK.

(_With thanks to the London Telephone Directory._)

I doubt if you have ever taken the book seriously, dear reader (if any). You dip into it for a moment, choose a suitable quotation and scribble it down with a blunt pencil on your blotting-pad; then you wind the lanyard of the listening-box round your neck and start talking to the germ-collector in that quiet self-assured voice which you believe spells business success. Then you find you have got on to the Institute of Umbrella-Fanciers instead of the Incorporated Association of Fly-Swatters, which you wanted, and have to begin all over again. But that is not the way to treat literature.

In calm hours of reflection, rather, when the mellow sunlight streams into the room and, instead of the dull gray buildings opposite, you catch a mental glimpse of green tree-tops waving in the wind, and hear, above the rumbling of the busy 'buses, the buzzes ... the bumbling ... what I mean to say is you ought to sit down calmly and read the book from cover to cover, as I am doing now.

For it isn't like a mere Street Directory, which puts all the plot into watertight compartments, and where possibly all the people in Azalea Terrace know each other by sight, even across the gap where it says:--

_Here begins Aspidistra Avenue_, like the lessons in church.

Nor, again, is it like _Who's What_, where your imagination is hampered and interfered with by other people butting in to tell you that their recreations are dodging O.B.E.'s and the Income Tax Commission. Publications: _Hanwell Men as I knew Them_. Club: The Philanderers, and so forth. This cramps your style.

But the book before us now is pregnant with half-hidden romances, which you can weave into any shape that you will, and, what is more, it is written in a noble beautiful English which you have probably never had time to master. I want you to do that now. Suppose, for instance, that in private life your hostess introduced you to Museum 88901 Wilkinson Arthur Jas.--let us say at a Jazz tea. And suppose you were to ask him what his business was, and he told you that he was an Actnr and Srvyr or a Pprhngr. Probably you would be surprised; possibly even you wouldn't believe him. But it's all there in the book.

The type too is diversified by sudden changes which intrigue me greatly. All over London I like to fancy little conversations of this sort are going on:--

_Hop 1900 Tomkinson Edward C_.-- "Hello, is that TOMKINSON EDWARD C.?"

_GERRARD 22001 TOMKINSON EDWARD C_.--"SPEAKING."

_Hop 1900 Tomkinson Edward C_.-- The Whlsl Slvrsmths?"

_GERRARD, ETC_.--"DON'T SPLUTTER LIKE THAT. WHO ARE YOU?"

_Hop, etc_.--"I'm Tomkinson Edward C. too. Little Edward C. of Hop. The Tbcnst. I only wanted to have a talk with you, big brother."

Or sometimes it takes the shape of a novel, starting something like this:--

Kensington 100110 Williams Miss, Tpst., a beautiful but penniless girl, in love with--

Regent 8000 Air Ministry, Ext. 1009, a young aviator who has won the Mlty. Crss. (2 Brs). Their path is crossed by--

City 66666 (12 lines), BLENKINSOP JEHORAM AND CO., Fnncrs. Blenkinsop wishes to marry Miss Williams, on account of a large legacy which he has reason to believe will come to her from

Mayfair 5000 Dashwood-Jones H. See Jones H. Dashwood, and so on.

Sometimes, again, as I plunge still deeper into the fascinating volume, a poem seems to fashion itself and leap from the burning page. Listen.

She hears not Park appealing Nor Gerrard's wail of woe, Her heart is on to Ealing 89200;

For there her true love (smartest Of lcl plmbrs) speaks; For him our switch-board artist Puts powder on her cheeks.

For him, the brave, the witty, When evening's shadows drop She flies from Rank and City To tread some Western hop.

For him her spirit ranges Through realms of blissful thrall, And that is why Exchange is Not getting Lndn Wll.

Little her mthr----

I'm sorry, reader; I really and truly am. There's my trunk call ... "Hello. No, I can't hear ..."

We must finish it some other time, and you must try READING THE BOOK for yourself srsly please.

"Hello! Hello! Hel-_lo_!"...

EVOE.

* * * * *

THE VISIONARY TRIUMPH.

"This," he said, "is my favourite dream."

We were discussing our favourite dreams and prepared to listen.

"It is always," he went on, "the same--a cricket match: and the older I get and less able to play cricket, the oftener I have it. It is a real match, you must understand--first-class cricket, with thousands of spectators and excitement; and it is played a very long way from my home. That is an important point, as I will explain.

"I am merely one of the spectators. How long I have been watching I cannot say, but the match is nearing the end and our side--the side which has my sympathies--is nearly all out, but still needs a few runs to win.

"What the side is I cannot clearly tell; all I know is that it is my own county, I mean the county from which I come--say Kent--and the match is at Old Trafford or Bramall Lane, against either Lancashire or Yorkshire. But the important thing is that my side is a man short. This man either has been taken ill or has had to go away because of a bereavement. I am not clear as to that, but he is not there, anyway, and unless a substitute can be found Kent will be at a disadvantage and may lose."

We all got ready to say something.

"Oh, yes," he interpolated hurriedly, "I know, of course, that a substitute may not bat for another at the end of a match, but this is a dream, remember. That, perhaps, is what dreams are for--to provide the limited and frustrated life of the daytime with the compensations of limitless adventure and success."

"Order!" we cried.

"I beg pardon," he said, and returned to the vernacular.

"Very well; that is the scenario. Meanwhile the last two batsmen are in--the Kent captain and another: that is to say, the last two, unless another is forthcoming. And still there are six runs needed--five to tie and six to win. The excitement is appalling. Everyone in the vast concourse is tense. It is at this moment that the captain is bowled."

He stopped to wipe his forehead.

"What happens then?" he continued. "You would think the match was over. So it would be on any ordinary ground and under ordinary conditions, and particularly so if that umpire in the Sussex and Somerset match the other day were officiating. But he is not, and this is a dream. What happens is that the Kent captain, instead of returning to the Pavilion, stops and talks to the other captain and then he leaves the pitch and begins to walk towards the ring. When he reaches the ring, some way from me, he begins to ask loudly, 'Is there a Kent man here who can play at all and would help us out?' I can hear him at first only faintly; then, as he gets closer, I hear more clearly, 'Is there a Kent man here who can play at all and would help us out?' My heart beats faster and faster and I am nearly suffocated with suspense as he approaches, because I am a Kent man who can bat a bit, and to play for my county has always been my desire, and I am afraid that someone else will volunteer before the captain reaches me.

"You see now why the match has to be played so far away from home. If it were Kent v. Middlesex at Lord's, for example, there would be loads of Kentish men on the ground. But not so many up in the North.

"I always wonder why the captain does not begin in the Pavilion, but he does not. He comes straight to the ring. Every moment he is drawing nearer and no one has offered himself; and then at last he gets to me and I stand up and say that Kent is my county and I can play a bit and would like to help. He hastens to accept my offer, and I take his bat and pads and gloves and go to the pitch, amid the cheers of the crowd.

"At the wicket I am received with hearty greetings by the rival captain (this is a dream, remember), and I take middle. Then I look round the field with perfect composure, as I have always seen the best batsmen do, and have always wanted to do myself. I am the coolest thing there.

"The situation is electrical. Six runs are needed and I am the last man. The bowler against me is a demon and I am dead out of practice and by no means fond of being hit on the body. He begins his run towards the wicket, and the ball leaves his terrible long swinging arm and comes towards me like a shell. I raise my bat, get it on the half-volley right in the middle, hit it clean over the Pavilion for six, and the match is won.

"That is my favourite dream."

"No wonder," we said.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

BUSINESS AS USUAL.

Rolling stones like Edward Ross Never gather any moss. He was one of those who think it's Easier to gather trinkets-- Silver watch or golden chain, Purse or bag or châtelaine; So that at the age of thirty, Though his clothes were old and dirty, Yet there were no flies upon Edward, as you'll see anon.

Just before the Mons Retreat He emerged upon the street From His Majesty's Hotel, Where they'd kept him safe and well, Gratis. But, in spite of this, Ted Caught the fever and enlisted.

'Twas our gallant pocket-sniper's Fate to find himself at Wipers, And because he showed no fear He was made a pioneer.

For the very sight of wire Always set his soul afire (We are bound by early habits-- It reminded him of rabbits); If the Huns but showed an inch of it Teddy took what he could pinch of it, Which was all, for, as I've said, Flies were not at home on Ted.

Once our friend, by sad mishap, Fell into a German sap, And, on rising to depart, Found a pistol at his heart. Feeling almost at a loss, "Kamerad!" said Edward Ross.

Through some miles of trench they went Till they reached a swagger tent Where a German General sat In a highly polished hat (Clearly an important man), Studying a priceless plan. Ted; who felt he simply hated him, While the man interrogated him, Quite adroitly picked the plan off That astonished Hun and ran off.

Teddy's captor, who to stop him Simply had to shoot and drop him, Fired his pistol twice, but clicked it All in vain, for Ted had picked it-- Picked the tool that looked so grim After they had collared him, While his escort dodged a dud Outside in the Flanders mud. For on Ross, remember, please, Flies were always ill at ease.

But the crowning insult he Added to the injury Still remains to tell. As Teddy Snatched the priceless plan and fled, he Also pinched the polished hat, Saying, as he vanished, that, When in England far from here, He would like a souvenir Of the pleasant time he'd spent In a German General's tent, As a proof for English eyes That he wasn't telling lies.

Though pursued by two or more Furious German Army Corps 'Twere superfluous to say That our hero got away, For on coves of Edward's mettle Flies are ill-advised to settle.

* * * * *

"House Parlourmaid wanted; most comfortable home; small family; good outings; last one 7 years."--_Times._

Quite a nice little holiday.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, May 26th._--On the whole I do not think that Sir AUCKLAND GEDDES, who has now definitely succeeded Sir ALBERT STANLEY as President of the Board of Trade, is to be congratulated on exchanging the academic serenity of McGill University for the turmoil of Whitehall (Bear) Gardens. The modified system of Protection introduced under the stress of war seems to please nobody. While Colonel WEDGWOOD complained that the price of gas-mantles (of which I should judge him to be a large consumer) has gone up owing to the prohibition of foreign imports, others objected that licences were issued so lavishly as to cause British producers to be undersold in the home-market by their American, Japanese and Italian rivals.

To avoid treading upon any of these varied susceptibilities the great AUCKLAND had to execute a sort of diplomatic egg-dance; but he did it with consummate skill and temporarily satisfied everybody with the promise of a full statement upon trade policy so soon as Peace has been signed. I hope this won't make the Germans more dilatory than ever.

At the Press Gallery dinner the other night the SPEAKER, who was the guest of the evening, recalled the three golden rules for Parliamentary orators--"Stand up; speak up; shut up"; and added that while some Members paid very little attention to the second of them there were a few whose stentorian tones he would like to borrow in case of a disturbance. But really I don't think he need worry. To dam a rising tide of "Supplementaries" this afternoon he called the next name on the Order-Paper; and his _crescendo_ effect--"Mr. Grattan Doyle!--Mr. _Grattan Doyle_!!--Mr. GRATTAN DOYLE!!!--Mr. GRATTAN DOYLE!!!!"--could not have been bettered by Mr. JACK JONES.

I hope the fighting Services are not going to revive their pre-war jealousy of one another. The tone in which Dr. MACNAMARA, when somebody asked a question about the Portsmouth "butchery department," jerked out "War Office!" was calculated to give rise to misapprehension.

The Ministry of Health Bill found Mr. DEVLIN in a dilemma. He makes it a rule never to support anything that emanates either from the House of Lords or from the Government. But on this occasion his two _bêtes noirs_ were in opposition, for the Lords had decided that the new Minister should have but one Parliamentary Secretary, and the Government was determined to give him two. Whichever way he voted the Nationalist Leader was bound to do violence to his principles. And so, with that quick-wittedness for which his countrymen are justly renowned, he walked out without voting at all.

_Tuesday, May 27th._--It is odd that the House of Lords, which has done so much for the emancipation of women still refuses to allow peeresses in their own right to take part in its debates. They would have been very useful this afternoon, when two Bills affecting their sex were under discussion. An extraordinary amount of heat was developed by the Nurses Registration Bill, introduced by Lord GOSCHEN, and I am sure some of the charming ladies in the Strangers' Gallery must have been longing to produce their clinical thermometers and descend to the floor to take the temperatures of the disputants.

So far as one could gather, the Bill is the outcome of a quarrel between the College of Nurses and the rest of the profession. Who shall decide when nurses disagree?

In Committee on the Bill for enabling women to become Justices of the Peace Lord STRACHIE moved to restrict the privilege to those who have "attained the age of thirty years." The LORD CHANCELLOR strongly resisted the limitation on the ground that the Government are pledged to establish "equality between the sexes." He was supported by Lord BEAUCHAMP, who, however, thought it unlikely that any ladies under that age would in fact be appointed. I am not so sure. Who knows but that some day the Woolsack may be tenanted by a really susceptible Chancellor?

There are limits to the credulity of the House of Commons. Mr. BOTTOMLEY'S assertion that many clergymen did not know whether they might marry a woman to her deceased husband's brother, and had written to him for an authoritative opinion, only excited ribald laughter.

His inquiry whether the Recess could start three days earlier, in order that Members might take advantage of the Epsom carnival to study the social habits of the people and form an opinion as to the possibility of raising revenue from taxes on racing and betting, was in better vein, and reminded old Members of the days when Lord ELCHO (now Lord WEMYSS) used annually to delight the House with his views on the Derby adjournment. Entering into the spirit of the jest, Mr. BONAR LAW replied that he regretted that his honourable friend should be put to inconvenience, but he must do what we all have to do at times, and decide whether his duty lay at Epsom or Westminster. From Mr. BOTTOMLEY'S rejoinder one gathered that he had already made up his mind, and that Epsom had it.

_Wednesday, May 28th_.--Colonel WEDGWOOD'S complaint that aeroplanes were used to disperse rioters in India was ostensibly based on the fact that, like the gentle rain from heaven, bombs fell alike on the just and the unjust, but really, I fancy, on what I gather to be his rapidly-growing belief that any anarchist is preferable to any Government. Mr. MONTAGU, however, declined to interfere with the use of a weapon which for the moment has greatly strengthened the hands of the Indian Administration in dealing with disorder, whether on the frontiers or in the cities.

The Ministry of Labour has lately introduced a course of domestic training for "wives and fiancées." The indefiniteness of the latter term offended Captain LOSEBY, who wanted to know at what exact period of "walking-out" a lady became a fiancée. Mr. WARDLE, although the author of a work on "Problems of the Age," confessed that this one baffled him, and asked for notice.

The recent disturbance in the neighbourhood of the House by indiscreet friends of the unemployed soldier led to a rambling debate, chiefly remarkable for the hard things said by and about Mr. HOGGE, whose aim, according to ex-Private HOPKINSON, was to make soldiers uncomfortable; and for a hopeful speech by Sir ROBERT HORNE, who said that, despite the "dole," unemployment was beginning to diminish, and that four-fifths of the "demobbed" had already been reabsorbed by industry.

Then followed a lively but inconclusive discussion upon that hardy annual, the alleged sale of honours. General PAGE CROFT attributed it to the secrecy of party funds and proudly declared that the. National Party published all the subscriptions it received, and heartily wished there were more of them. The weakness of his case and that of his supporters was that no specific instances of corruption were brought forward, if we may except Mr. BOTTOMLEY'S assertion that some years ago he might have had a peerage if he had paid for it.

_Thursday, May 29th_--A constitutional crisis is impending on the question whether the MINISTER OF HEALTH should have one Parliamentary Secretary or two; the Commons demand two; the Lords will not allow more than one, even though tempted by Lord CURZON with the bribe that the second shall sit in the Upper House. Having heavily defeated the Government on this point, the Peers then decided that Miss VIOLET DOUGLAS-PENNANT was entitled to a judicial inquiry into the. circumstances that led to her retirement from the Air Force. The LORD CHANCELLOR opposed the proposal in a speech described by Lord SALISBURY as that "of an advocate rather than a judge;" but in spite or because of this the Government were beaten by 69 to 20.

Somebody ought to move for a return of the amount expended by the Government on the hire of furniture vans since the Armistice. Sir A. MOND stated that in order to release certain hotels their official occupants had been transferred to the Alexandra Palace, while the interned aliens recently housed in the Palace had been sent to certain country camps, whose late occupants (we may infer) have now gone to the hotels. It is suggested that the Office of Works should now be known as the "General Post" Office.

One can easily imagine what use a fiery demagogue would have made of the secret circular sent out some months ago by the War Office, instructing commanding officers to ascertain the attitude of their men to the trade unions in the event of a general strike. Fortunately Mr. ADAMSON is not that type of man, and he couched his criticisms in a vein rather of sorrow than of anger. There was more sting in the speech of Mr. DAVISON, and one Churchillian phrase: "They could not maintain constitutional government on the theoretical inexactitudes of kaleidoscopic politicians," which evidently pleased the originator.

* * * * *

Mr. CHURCHILL himself was more concerned with facts than phrases. The impugned circular, though he took no responsibility for its wording, was essential at the time it was sent out, for the State was bound to defend itself not against ordinary strikes, but against those which would entail universal paralysis. Turning to Russia, he described Bolshevism as a disease rather than a policy; it spread rapidly, but died out quickly and left its victims--as Colonel WEDGWOOD might be glad to know--immune for the future.