Chapter 2

ROSES ALL THE WAY.

Fired by an Irish rose-grower's pictures of some of his beautiful new seedlings we are tempted to describe one or two of our own favourite flowers in language similar to his own. This is an example of the way he does it:--

"LADY MAUREEN STEWART (_Hybrid Tea_).--A gloriously-finished globular slightly imbricated cupped bloom with velvety black scarlet cerise shell-shaped petals, whose reflex is solid pure orangey maroon without veining. An excellent bloom, ideal shape, brilliant and non-fading colour with heavy musk rose odour. Erect growth and flower-stalk. Foliage wax and leathery and not too large. A very floriferous and beautiful rose. 21s. each."

Why not also these?--

DAVID (_Hybrid Tory-Lib._).--A gloriously-finished true-blue-slightly- imbricated-with-red-flag coalition rose whose deep globular head with ornate decorative calyx retains its perfect exhibition-cross-question- hostile-amendment symmetry of form without blueing or burning in the hottest Westminster sun. Its smiling peach and cerise endearments terminating in black scarlet shell-shaped waxy Berlin ultimata are carried on an admirably rigid peduncle. Equally vigorous in all parts of Europe. Superbly rampant. Not on sale.

AUSTEN (_Tea and most other things_).--This bottomless-cupped bank-paper- white-edged-and-rimmed-with-tape-pink-margin bloom, the reflex of whose never-fading demand notes is velvety black thunder-cloud with lightning- flash six-months-in-the-second-division veinations, has never been known to be too full. It is supported by a landlordly stalk of the utmost excess- profits-war-profits-minor-profits rigidity. A decorative, acquisitive and especially captivating rose, and already something more than a popular favourite. 18s. in £1.

SIR THOMAS (_Ceylon and India Tea_).--This true sport from the British bull-dog rose has a slightly globular double-hemisphere-popular greatly- desiring-and-deserving-to-be-cupped bloom whose pearly preserved cream flesh is delicately flushed and mottled with tinned salmon and dried apricot. Rich golden and banking-account stamina, foliage deep navy blue with brass buttons and a superb fragrance of western ocean. Its marvellous try-try-try-again floriferousness in all weathers is the admiration of all beholders. Price no object.

* * * * *

From a weather forecast:--

"General Outlook.--It appears probable that further expressions will arrive from the westward or north-westward before long, and that after a temporary improvement the weather will again become unsettled; with much cloud and occasional rain."--_Evening Paper._

In which event further expressions (of a sultry character) may be expected from all round the compass.

* * * * *

"COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS."

* * * * *

QUEEN'S COUNSEL.

The Fairy Queen shook her head in answer to my question. "No," she said, "I have no favourite flower."

She had dropped in after dinner, as was her occasional habit, and at the moment sat perched on a big red carnation which stood in a flower-glass on the top of my desk.

"You see," she continued, floating across to where I was sitting and lowering her voice confidentially, for there were a good many flowers about--"you see it would never do. Just think of the trouble it would cause. Imagine the state of mind of the lilies if I were to show a preference for roses. There's always been a little jealousy there, and they're all frightfully touchy. The artistic temperament, you know. Why, I daren't even sleep in the same flower two nights running."

"Yes, I see," I said. "It must be very awkward."

I lapsed into silence; I had had a worrying day and was feeling tired and a little depressed. The Queen fluttered about the room, pausing a moment on the mantel-shelf for a word or two with her old friend the Dresden china shepherdess. Then she came back to the desk and performed a brief _pas seul_ on the shining smooth cover of my pass-book. My mind flew instantly to my slender bank-balance and certain recent foolishnesses.

"Talking of favourites," I said--"talking of favourites, do you take any interest in racing?"

Instantly the Queen subsided on to my rubber stamp damper, which was fortunately dry.

"Oh, yes," she replied, "I take a _great_ interest in racing. I love it. I can give you all sorts of hints."

I thought it was a pity she hadn't called a week or two earlier. I might have been a richer woman by a good many pounds.

"And there are so many kinds," continued the Queen earnestly. "Now in a butterfly race it's always best just to hold on and let them do as they like. It's not a bit of use trying to make them go straight. Rabbits are better in that way, but even rabbits are a little uncertain at times. Full of nerves. But have you ever tried swallow-racing?" she went on enthusiastically. "It's simply splendid. You give them their heads and you never know _where_ you may get to. But, anyway, it doesn't really matter in the least afterwards who wins; it's only while it's happening that you feel so thrilled, isn't it?"

I didn't acquiesce very whole-heartedly. I'm afraid my thoughts were with my lost guineas. It _had_ rather mattered afterwards. I really had been very foolish.

"You look depressed," said the Fairy Queen. "Can I help you? I'm really extremely practical. You know, don't you," she leaned forward and looked at me earnestly, "that I should be delighted if I could assist you with any advice?"

I hesitated. Just before she came I had been anxiously considering as to how I was going to make one hundred pounds do the work of two during the next few weeks; but somehow I didn't quite like to mention such material matters to the Queen; it didn't seem suitable.

I looked up and met her kind eyes fixed on mine with an expression of the gentlest interest and solicitude.

"I wonder," I said, still hesitating, "whether you know anything about stocks and shares?"

"Stocks and shares," she repeated slowly, looking just a little vague and puzzled. And then--"Oh, yes, of course I do, if that's all you want to know."

I felt quite pleased now that I had really got it out.

"If you could just give me a useful hint or two I should be tremendously grateful," I said. Already thousands loomed entrancingly before me. Already I saw myself settled in that darling cottage on the windy hill above Daccombe Wood. Already--

"I think I had better get a pencil and paper," I said. "My memory's dreadful."

But the Fairy Queen shook her head.

"I'll write it down for you," she said, "and you can read it when I'm gone. That's so much more fun. But I don't need paper."

She drew a tiny shining implement from her pocket and, picking up a couple of rose-petals which had fallen upon the table, she busied herself with them for a moment at my desk, her mouth pursed up, her brows contracted in an expression of intense seriousness.

"There," she said, "that's that. And now show me _all_ your new clothes."

We spent quite a pleasant evening over one thing and another, and I forgot all about the rose-leaves until after she had gone; but when I came back to my empty sitting-room they shone in the dusk with a soft radiance which came, I discovered, from the writing on them. It glowed like those luminous figures on watches which were so entrancing when they first appeared. I had never realised before that they were fairy figures.

I spread the petals out on my palm, feeling quite excited at the prospect of making my fortune by such means, though I was a little anxious as to how I was going to make use of the information I was about to acquire.

"I will ask Cousin Fred," I decided (Cousin Fred being a stockbroker), and I smiled a little to myself as I thought how amazed and possibly amused my dapper cousin would be when he learnt the source of my knowledge. He might even refuse to believe in it--and then where should I be?

I needn't have troubled. When I unfolded my rose-petals this is what I read:--

"_Stocks._--The white ones are much the best and have by far the sweetest scent.

_Shares._--_Always_ go shares."

R.F.

* * * * *

HEART OF MINE.

(_Being a rather hysterical contribution from our Analytical Novelist._)

_Friday._--I suppose one never realises till one is actually dead how nearly dead one can be without actually being it. You see what I mean? No. Well, how blithely, how recklessly one rollicks through life, fondly believing that one is in the best of health, in the prime of condition, and all the time one is the unconscious victim of some fatal infirmity or disease. I mean, take my own case. I went to see my doctor in order to be cured of hay fever. He examined my heart. He made me take off my shirt. He hammered my chest; he rapped my ribs with his knuckles to see if they sounded hollow. I don't know why he did this, but I think he was at one time attached to a detective and has got into the habit of looking for secret passages and false panels and so on.

Anyhow, he suspected my chest, and he listened at it for so long that any miscreant who had been concealed in it would have had to give himself away by coughing or blowing his nose.

After a long time he said, "Your heart's dilated. You want a complete rest. Don't work. Don't smoke. Don't drink. Don't eat. Don't do anything. Take plenty of exercise. Sit perfectly still. Don't mope. Don't rush about. Take this before and after every meal. Only don't have any meals." I laughed at him. I knew my heart was perfectly sound, much sounder than most men's. I went home. I didn't even have the prescription made up.

_Saturday._--Now comes the tragic thing. _That very night I realised that he was right._ There _is_ something wrong with my heart. It is too long. It is too wide. It is too thick. It is out of place. It would be difficult to say _exactly_ where the measurements are wrong, but one has a sort of _sense_ ... you know?... One can feel that it is too large.... A swollen feeling.... Somehow I never felt this before; I never even felt that it was there ... but now I always know that it is there--trying to get out.... I put my hand on it and can feel it definitely expanding--like a football bladder. Sometimes I think it wants to get out at my collar-bone; sometimes I think it will blow out under my bottom rib; sometimes some other way. It is terrible....

I have had the prescription made up.

_Sunday._--The way it beats! Sometimes very fast and heavy and emphatic, like a bad barrage of 5.9's. Fortunately my watch has a second-hand, so that I can time it--forty-five to the half-minute, ninety-five to the full minute. Then I know that the end is very near; everyone knows that the normal rate for a healthy adult heart is seventy-two. Then sometimes it goes very slow, very dignified and faint, as when some great steamer glides in at slow speed to her anchorage, and the engines thump in a subdued and profound manner very far away, or as when at night the solemn tread of some huge policeman is heard, remote and soft and dilated--I mean dilatory, or as when--But you see what I mean.

_Monday._--How was it, I wonder, that all this was hidden from me for so long? And now what am I to do? I am a doomed man. With a heart like this I cannot last long. I have resigned my clubs; I have given up my work. I can think of nothing but this dull pain, this heavy throbbing at my side. My work--ha! Yesterday I met another young doctor at tea. He asked me if there was any "murmur." I said I did not know--no one had told me. But after tea I went away and listened. Yes, there was a murmur; I could hear it plainly. I told the young doctor. He said that murmurs were not considered so important nowadays. What matters is "the reaction of the heart to work." By that test I am doomed indeed. But the murmur is better.

_Tuesday._--I have told Anton Gregorovitch Gregorski. He says he has a heart too.

_Wednesday._--I have been learning things to-day. I am worse even than the doctor thought. In a reference book in the dining-room there is a medical dictionary. It says: "Dilatation leads to dropsy, shortness of breath and blueness of the face." I have got some of those already. I have never seen a face so blue. It is like the sea in the early morning.

_Thursday._--The heart is bigger again to-day--about an inch each way. The weight of it is terrible to carry.... I have to take taxis.... This evening it was going at thirty-two to the minute....

_Friday._--Last night, when I tried to count the beats, I could not find it.... It must have stopped.... Anton Gregorovitch says it is the end.... This is my last entry....

_Saturday._--My face is very blue. It is like a forget-me-not ... it is like a volume of _Hansard_....

I shall go to see the doctor as I promised ... he can do nothing, but it will interest him to see how much bigger the heart has grown in the last few days....

No more....

_Sunday._--The doctor said it was much better.... It is undilated again.... After all I am not going to die. But the reaction to work is still bad. This evening I make it sixty to the minute....

_Monday._--This morning's count was seventy-two. It is terrible....

A.P.H.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

FLOWERS' NAMES.

SHEPHERD'S PURSE.

There was a silly shepherd lived out at Taunton Dene (Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!) And oh, but he was bitter cold! and oh, but he was mean! The maidens vowed a bitterer had never yet been seen At Taunton in the summer.

He lived to gather in the gold--he loved to hear it chink (Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!), And he could only dream of gold--of gold could only think; And all the fairies watched him, and they watched him with a wink At Taunton in the summer.

At last one summer noonday, when the sky was blue and deep (Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!), They made him heavy-headed as he watched beside his sheep And all the little Taunton elves came stealing out to peep At Taunton in the summer.

They opened wide his wallet and they stole the coins away (Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!), They took the round gold pieces and they used them for their play, They rolled and chased and tumbled them and lost them in the hay At Taunton in the summer.

And when they'd finished playing they used all their magic powers (Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!); The silly shepherd woke and wept, he sought his gold for hours, And all he found was drifts and drifts of tiny greenish flowers At Taunton in the summer.

* * * * *

MORE WORK FOR HIS MAJESTY'S JUDGES.

"Potato disease has unfortunately made its appearance in the ---- district, the early and second early crops being seriously attacked. The late crops are free from disease up to the present, and it is hoped by judicial spraying to save them."--_Local Paper._

* * * * *

From an interview with the Superintendent of Regent's Park:--

"'People seem surprised,' he said, 'when I tell them that within a few minutes' walk of Baker Street Station, and the incessant din of Marylebone Road, such birds as the cuckoo, flycatcher, robin and wren have reared their young.'"--_Observer._

To hear of the cuckoo bringing up its own family in any circumstances was, we confess, a little bit of a shock.

* * * * *

"'Idling, my dear fellow!' was Mr. Jerome K. Jerome's decisive answer to my question: 'What do you most like doing at holiday-time?'

'But if, and only when, I am really driven to exertion, let me have a horse between my legs, a pair of oars, and a billiard-table, and I ask nothing more of the gods.'"--_Answers._

The next time Mr. JEROME indulges in this performance may we be there to see.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, July 26th._--When the Peers were about to discuss the Law of Property Bill, which seeks to abolish the distinction between land and other property, Lord CAVE dropped a bombshell into the Committee by moving to omit the whole of Part I. Lords HALDANE and BUCKMASTER were much upset and loudly protested against the proposal to cut out "the very heart and substance of the measure." The LORD CHANCELLOR was less perturbed by the explosion and was confident that after further discussion he could induce the CAVE-dwellers to come into line with modern requirements. Thirty-four clauses thus disappeared with a bang; and of the hundred and odd remaining only one gave much trouble. Objection was taken to Clause 101, granting the public full rights of access to commons, on the grounds _inter alia_ that it would give too much freedom to gipsies and too little to golfers. Lord SALISBURY, who, like the counsel in a famous legal story, claimed to "know a little about manors," was sure that only the lord could deal faithfully with the Egyptians, but, fortified by Lord HALDANE'S assurance that the clause gave the public no more rights and the lords of the manor no less than they had before, the House passed it by 42 to 29.

Mr. BRIDGEMAN, for the Board of Trade, bore the brunt of the early questioning in the House of Commons. He sustained with equal imperturbability the assaults of the Tariff Reformers, who asserted that British toy-making--an "infant industry" if ever there was one--was being stifled by foreign imports: and those of the Free Traders, who objected to the Government's efforts to resuscitate the dyeing trade.

The alarming rumours in the Sunday papers about the PRIME MINISTER'S state of health were effectively dispelled by his appearance on the Front Opposition, a little weary-looking, no doubt, but as alert as ever to seize the weak point in the adversary's case and to put his own in the most favourable light. From the enthusiasm of his announcement that the Soviet Government had accepted our invitation to attend a Conference in London, one would have thought that the Bolshevists had agreed to the British proposals unconditionally and that peace--"that is what the world wants"--was now assured.

Abhorrence of the Government of Ireland Bill is the one subject on which all Irishmen appear to think alike. It is, no doubt, with the desire to preserve that unanimity that the PRIME MINISTER announced his intention of pressing the measure forward after the Recess "with all possible despatch."

But before that date it looks as if Irishmen would have despatched one another. The little band of Nationalists had handed in a batch of private-notice Questions arising out of the disturbances in Belfast. Their description of them as the outcome of an organised attack upon Catholics was indignantly challenged by the Ulstermen, and the SPEAKER had hard work to maintain order. The contest was renewed on a motion for the adjournment. As a means of bringing peace to Ireland the debate was absolutely futile. But it enabled Mr. DEVLIN to fire off one of his tragical-comical orations, and Sir H. GREENWOOD to disclaim the accusation that he had treated the Irish problem with levity. "There is nothing light and airy about me," he declared; and no one who has heard his pronunciation of the word "Belfast" would doubt it.

Before and after this melancholy interlude good progress was made with the Finance Bill, and Mr. CHAMBERLAIN made several further concessions to the "family-man."

_Tuesday, July 27th._--The Lords rejected the Health Resorts and Watering Places Bill under which local authorities could have raised a penny rate for advertising purposes. Lord SOUTHWARK'S well-meant endeavour to support the Bill by reminding the House that Irish local authorities had enjoyed this power since 1909 was perhaps the proximate cause of its defeat, for it can hardly be said that the last few weeks have enhanced the reputation of Ireland as a health resort.

Mr. HARMSWORTH utterly confounded the critics of the Passport Office. Its staff may appear preposterously large and its methods unduly dilatory, but the fact remains that it is one of the few public departments that actually pays its way. Last year it spent thirty-seven thousand pounds and took ninety-one thousand pounds in fees. "See the world and help to pay for the War" should be the motto over its portals.

It is, of course, quite proper that soldiers who wreck the property of civilians--albeit under great provocation--should receive suitable punishment. But a sailor is hardly the man to press for it. Lieutenant- Commander KENWORTHY received a much-needed lesson in etiquette when Major JAMESON gravely urged, in his penetrating Scotch voice, that soldiers in Ireland should be ordered not to distract the prevailing peace and quiet of that country, but should keep to their proper function of acting as targets for Sinn Fein bullets.

Mr. CHAMBERLAIN dealt very gingerly with Sir ARTHUR FELL'S inquiry as to whether "any ordinary individual can understand the forms now sent out by the Income Tax Department?" Fearing that if he replied in the affirmative he would be asked to solve some particularly abstruse conundrum, he contented himself with saying that the forms were complicated because the tax was complicated, and the tax was complicated because of the number and variety of the reliefs granted to the taxpayer. It does not seem to have occurred to him that it is the duty of the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER to make the tax simple as well as equitable. Is it conceivable that he can have forgotten ADAM SMITH's famous maxims on the subject, and particularly this: "The time of payment, the manner of payment, the quantity to be paid, ought all to be clear and plain to the contributor, and to every other person"?

The House did not rise till half-past one this morning, and was again faced with a long night's work. In vain Sir DONALD MACLEAN protested against the practice of taking wee sma' Bills in the wee sma' oors. Mr. BONAR LAW was obdurate. He supposed the House had not abandoned all hope of an Autumn recess. Well, then, had not the poet said that the best of all ways to lengthen our days was to steal a few hours from the night?