Chapter 2

He swerved to the left at Maynard Keynes, With an eye to sheep and an eye to drains; By Old Cole Smiley and Clere St. Thomas, Without any stops and without any commas; At Addison's Cots he went so quick, He startled a bricklayer laying a brick; He ran over oats and he ran over barleys, By Moss Cow Puddle and Rushen Parleys; By Lympne Sassoon and Limpet Farm He scattered the geese in wild alarm; He ran with a pain growing under his pinny Till he heard the sound of a war-horse whinny, And tried for an earth in the Tory Holts.

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The earth was stopped. It was barred with bolts.

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He turned again and he passed Spen Valley, By Paisley Shawls and Leamington Raleigh; His flanks were wet, he was mire-beslobbered By Hatfield Yew and by Hatfield Robert; He tried a hen-coop, he tried a tub, He tried the National Liberal Club-- A terrier barked and turned him out.

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He tried the end of an old drain-spout.

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It was much too small. With a bursting heart He thought of the home where he made his start; His flanks were heaving, his soul despairing, He flaired again--he was always flairing To find the best way of escape and nab it, He couldn't get out of this flairing habit; He felt at his back the fiery breath Of the Kill Gorge pack that had vowed his death; He turned once more for the shelter good Of the Wan Tun Waste and the dark yew wood, The deep yew fastness of Cowall Itchen And the scuts and heads of hens in his kitchen. The hounds grew weak and The Mail was blowing; Rother said, "Alf, this is bad going!" Past Pemberton Billing, past Kenworthy, He shook them off, he was damp and earthy; By Molton Lambert and Platting Clynes---- But I can't go on with these difficult lines.

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The night closed down and the hunt was dead, Alfred and Rother were tucked in bed; The cold moon rose on a fox's snore And everything much as it was before.

Evoe.

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Our Erudite Contemporaries.

"'Her feet beneath her petticoat like little mice peep in and out.'

Yes, but when Bobbie Burns wrote that the lassies of Scotland didn't wear Louis heels and extremely short skirts."--_Ladies' Paper._

Any more than they did when Sir JOHN SUCKLING apostrophised the "wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie."

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Our Sleuths.

"A Sheffield firm of solicitors have, this week, had stolen from one of the pegs in the hall an overcoat belonging to one of the principals. The solicitor concerned is of the opinion that someone removed it between his arrival at the office the other morning and going to find it in the evening, when it was missing."--_Provincial Paper_.

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The Sandringham Hat.

"Many women are making surprise presents of hats to their husbands, and will take great pleasure in seeing them worn for the first time on Christmas Day."--_Daily Mail_.

We understand that it will be the quietest Christmas on record, many family men having decided to spend the day in the seclusion of their own homes.

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THE HUMOURIST.

"Here's Alan," said Cecilia; "good."

"Really," I said, stopping and bowing slightly in several directions, "I am touched. Such a reception.... I find no words----"

"Don't be funny," said Margery cuttingly, "we shan't laugh. What we want to know is what are you going to do?"

"Well," I said, "I did think of sitting by the fire and--er--just watching it burn."

"Oh, dear," said Margery, "please don't be dense. I mean, what are you going to do at the show?"

I passed my hand over my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said; "I'm afraid I don't.... Have I been to sleep for ten years or anything?"

"Tell him," said Margery impatiently. "You'll have to start right at the beginning."

I sat down expectantly.

"Well," began Cecilia, "Christmas is coming and we shall be full up."

"Of course, of course," I murmured deprecatingly. "You want me to get some medicine ready for you?"

"I mean the house will be full up," explained Cecilia coldly. "The point is we must arrange something beforehand--some sort of entertainment."

"Good heavens," I said, "you're not going to hire the Sisters Sprightly or anything, are you?"

"No, we are not," said Cecilia; "not the Sisters Sprightly nor the Brothers Bung. We are going to do it ourselves."

"What--a Sisters Sprightly Act? Have a little shame, Cecilia. What will Christopher think when he sees his mother in a ballet skirt, kicking about all over the drawing-room?"

"He'd think I looked very nice," said Cecilia hotly, "if I was going to wear one; but I'm not."

"Not going to wear a ballet skirt?" I said. "You surely don't mean to appear in----"

"We're not going to do a Sisters Sprightly turn at all," shouted Margery: "nobody ever thought of them but you."

"Then I give it up," I said helplessly; "I quite understood you to say---- Then what are you going to do, anyway?"

"Well, we thought at first we'd do a play, but there were difficulties in the way."

"Too true," I said; "none of us can act to begin with."

"Speak for yourself," said Margery.

"Pardon, Miss Thorndike," I apologised.

"No, the difficulty is that we haven't really room for theatricals. We should have to use the drawing-room, and by the time you've got a stage and scenery and rooms for changing, well, there's simply no space left for the audience," explained Cecilia.

"That's no objection at all," I said; "rather an advantage, in fact."

"And anyhow," continued Margery, "we haven't got a play to do."

"And so," said Cecilia, "we've decided to have a concert party."

I gasped.

"Not a concert party," I implored.

"Yes," said Cecilia, "a costume concert party. It isn't any use groaning like that. It's all arranged. Sheila and Arthur Davies, Margery, John, you and I are in it. The question is what are you going to do?"

"Nothing. I never heard of such a horrible idea."

"Don't be a pig, Alan," said Margery.

"Really, Cecilia," I said, "let me plead with you. _Not_ a costume concert party, please. A simple glee perhaps--just four of us--in evening dress; or even a conjurer. I'll agree to anything. But not, _not_ Pierrots, Cecilia."

"Pierrots it is," said Cecilia defiantly.

"Then I wash my hands of it. To think that our family----"

"You can wash your hands if you like," said Cecilia; "we should prefer it, in fact; but you are certainly going to take part."

I know the futility of arguing with Cecilia.

"Then tell me the worst," I begged; "what am I to be? Can I show people to their seats, or am I the good-looking tenor with gentlemanly features and long hair?"

"We thought of making you the funny man," said Cecilia.

I buried my head in my hands and shuddered.

At this moment John came into the room. "Talking about the 'Merry Maggots'?" he said. "Splendid idea of Cecilia's, isn't it? I've just been thinking it over, and what we must decide on first of all is who is to be the--the humourist. He's the really important man; must be someone really first-class."

"We've also been discussing it," I said quickly, "and we came to the conclusion that there's only one man for the job--yourself."

John nodded complacently.

"I'm glad to hear you say so, because I was going to suggest it myself. It's my belief that I should be a devilish funny fellow if I had a chance. I've just tried a few jokes on myself upstairs, and I've been simply roaring with laughter. Haven't enjoyed myself so much for years."

"Splendid fellow!" I said heartily; "you shall tell them to me later on and I'll roar with laughter too. Cecilia, put your husband down for the funny man."

"H'm--humourist," corrected John with a slight cough.

"'Humourist,'" I agreed; "and thank goodness that's settled."

"But," said Cecilia, "you said you were going to do a dramatic recitation."

"So I am, so I am," said John; "I'm going to do that as well. Contrast, my dear Cecilia. Laughter and tears. Double them up with sly wit one moment and have them sobbing into their handkerchiefs the next. I'm going to do it all, Cecilia."

"So it appears," said Cecilia; "it hardly seems worth while to have anybody else in the show."

"Now, now," said John, wagging his forefinger at her, "no jealousy. You ought to be glad to have someone really good in the party. _Good_ funny men aren't to be found just anywhere."

"But we don't know that you _are_ a good funny man," said Margery.

"Of course you don't," said John; "I've never had a chance to prove it. For years I have been kept in the background by your family. I'm never allowed to make a joke, and if I do nobody laughs. This is my chance. I'm going to be in the limelight now. I shall be the life of the party, and it's no good trying to stop me. In fact," he finished confidentially, "I shan't be surprised if I take it up professionally. You should have heard me laughing upstairs."

"But, John," began Margery.

"Sh--!" said Cecilia; "it's no use arguing with him while he's in this mood. That's all right, John. You shall be everything you like. But as you've selected such a lot of parts for yourself perhaps you'll suggest what we can do with Alan."

"Ah," said John; "Alan! Yes, he's a problem, certainly. If he had any voice, now. I'm not sure that we want him at all. Could he do a clog-dance, do you think?"

"Don't worry," I interrupted; "I've thought of a fine part for me. All the best concert parties have a chap who sits in the corner and does nothing but look miserable. I could do that splendidly."

"That's quite true," said John approvingly; "it tickles the audience, you know, to see a fellow looking glum while everyone else is having hysterics at the funny--at the humourist. It isn't as easy as it looks, though, Alan. I shall keep saying things to make you laugh, you know. You'll find it jolly difficult to keep looking miserable once I get going."

"Not at all," I said. "That is, I shall do my best to keep serious. I shall try not to listen to you being funny."

John looked at me and considered whether it was worth following up. He decided it was not.

"I daresay he'll do," he said loftily to Cecilia; "the fellow has no sense of humour anyway."

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Commercial Modesty.

"This system develops such valuable qualities as:--

--Forgetfulness --Mind Wandering --Brain Fag --Indecision --Dullness --Shyness --Timidity --Weakness of Will --Lack of System --Lack of Initiative --Indefiniteness --Mental Flurry."

_Advt. in Sunday Paper_.

* * * * *

"It is announced that, starting with next week, 'Ways and means' and 'Common Sense' will be amalgamated."

_Evening Paper_.

Will the Government please note?

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"Army biscuits, suitable for bed-chair cushions. 3s. reserve. ----'s Auction Sale."

_Provincial Paper_.

They seem to have lost something of their war-time hardihood.

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* * * * *

PUSS AT THE PALACE.

[_The Daily Telegraph_, in a report of the Cat Show at the Crystal Palace, remarks that "the cat has 'come back' as a hobby."]

O ALL ye devoted cat-lovers, Ere spending the cheques you have cashed, Leave a trifle for tickets to enter the wickets That ope on the Temple of Pasht.

For to-day in the Palace of PAXTON Cats gathered from every zone-- Manx, Persian, Sardinian, Chinese, Abyssinian-- Are now being splendidly shown.

The names of the winners and owners Inspire me with joy and delight; _E.g._, Blue-eyed Molly, John Bull (Madame Dolli) And Snowflake, the champion white.

And then the adorable kittens! Too high-bred to gambol or skip, With names that are mighty, like Inglewood Clytie, Or comic, like Holme Ruddy Pip.

It is pleasant to learn Mr. SHAKESPEARE'S Success with his Siamese strain, For his namesake the poet, so far as we know it, Held "poor, harmless" puss in disdain.

Yes, the cat has "come back" as a hobby, Oh, let us be thankful for that, For it might be the coon or the blue-nosed baboon, Or the deadly Norwegian rat.

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THE FINE OLD FRUITY.

Wine merchants must be kind men. So many of those who have sent me their circulars this Christmas-time have announced that they are "giving their clients the benefit of some exceptionally advantageous purchases which they have made."

But it is not the humanity of wine merchants of which I wish to speak. It is the intriguing epithets which they apply to their wines. And I have entertained myself by applying these to my relatives, an exercise which I find attended by the happiest results.

"Fine old style, rich," is, of course, obvious. It applies to more than one of my Victorian uncles. "Medium rich" to a cousin or so. More subtle is "medium body." This must be Uncle Hilary; he takes little exercise nowadays and his figure is suffering. Soon he will be "full-bodied" or "full and round." "Elegant, high class" is my Cousin Isabel. "Pretty flavour" also is hers. "Fresh and brisk" is Aunt Hannah. And could anything be more descriptive of Aunt Geraldine than "delicate and generous"?

For "great breed and style" (used, I see, of a claret) I should, I fear, be obliged to go outside the family; and "recommended for present consumption and for laying down" I only mention because it leaves me wondering to what other uses a fine fruity Burgundy could be put. But here is a noble one: "Of very high class, stylish, good body and fine character." I have tried this on several relations without being entirely satisfied about it, and I have finally decided that I shall keep it for myself.

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"Only a few visitors braved the first fall of the snow yesterday and adventured as far as the Zoological Gardens. They found there a depressed-looking collection of animals in the open-air cages, but a perfect holocaust of sparrows."--_Sunday Paper_.

The sparrows must have been warm enough, anyway.

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, December 13th._--Since the House of Lords took the bit in its teeth and bolted with the Government of Ireland Bill the LORD CHANCELLOR has practically thrown the reins on the creature's neck and confined himself to occasional mild remonstrance when it kicked over the Government traces. The most he could do when rival amendments were put forward was to secure the passage of the less objectionable. Thus when Lord SHANDON, for purely sentimental reasons--Ireland knew him as "a most susceptible Chancellor"--desired that the unifying body should be called a Senate Lord BIRKENHEAD laughed the proposal out of court with the remark that "a man might as well purchase a mule with the object of founding a stud," and persuaded the Peers to accept the word "Council." He was at first inclined to oppose Lord WICKLOW'S amendment providing that neither Irish Parliament should take private property without compensation; but when he found that an old Home Ruler, Lord BRYCE, was in favour of imposing this curb on Irish exuberance he, as "a very young Home Ruler," gracefully withdrew his objection.

Sir JOHN BAIRD revealed the names of the members of the Central Control Board (Liquor Traffic). The muffled groans that followed the announcement of the first of them, Mr. WATERS-BUTLER, were quite uncalled for, as I understand that the gentleman in question preserves a strict impartiality between two branches of his patronymic.

Sir ERIC GEDDES was not too sympathetic to the complaints of overcrowding on the suburban railways; but I cannot think that Mr. MARTIN had fully thought out the consequences of his suggestion that the right hon. gentleman should take a trip one night from Aldgate to Barking and see for himself. Imagine the feelings of the strap-hangers when Sir ERIC essayed "little by little" to wedge himself into their midst.

If the Opposition desired a really satisfactory discussion on the origin of the fires in Cork it should have chosen some other spokesman than Lieut.-Commander KENWORTHY. The hon. and gallant gentleman was less aggressive in manner than usual, but even so he encountered a good many interruptions. He was answered in a characteristic speech by Mr. CLAUDE LOWTHER; and the debate as a whole never rose much above the level where it was left by these "Burnt Cork Comedians."

_Tuesday, December 14th._--Despite the protests of Lord BRAYE, who demanded full self-determination for Ireland, the Peers gave a Third Reading to the Government of Ireland Bill. Lord CREWE so far modified his previous attitude as to congratulate the Government on having held on their course in the face of the discouraging events in Ireland, and to express the hope that the measure would be worked for all it was worth, though, in his lordship's estimation, it was not worth much.

The Ministry of Health Bill found the Peers in a much less accommodating mood. Lord STRACHIE moved its rejection, chiefly on the ground of the financial strain it would impose upon local authorities, and was supported by Lord GALWAY, who thought it an insult to Parliament to bring forward so ambitious a measure at the fag-end of the Session. Lord CURZON vainly endeavoured to avert the coming storm by accepting a suggestion that the Bill should be carried over till next Session. The majority of the Peers were out for blood, and they defeated the Second Reading by 57 to 41. Dr. ADDISON, from the steps of the Throne, gloomily watched the overturn of his omnibus. It is understood that, following the example of his distinguished namesake, he is going to write to _The Spectator_ about Lord STRACHIE.

So many of the Commons appeared to have anticipated the Christmas holidays that Questions were run through at a great pace. Mr. HOGGE, however, was in his place all right to know how it was, after all the protestations of the Government, that an official motor-car containing an officer and a lady had been seen outside a toy-shop in Regent Street. "Mark how a plain tale shall set you down," said Mr. CHURCHILL in effect. The officer was on his way from an outlying branch of the War Office to an important conference in Whitehall; the lady was his private secretary; the natural route of the car was _viâ_ Regent Street, and the officer had merely seized the opportunity to pick up a parcel.

A Supplementary Estimate of six and a-half millions for the Navy gave the economists their chance. Mr. G. LAMBERT could not understand why we were employing more men at the dockyards than before the War, and suggested that three or four of the yards might be sold. This proposal was received with singularly little enthusiasm by most of the Members for dockyard constituencies; but Sir B. FALLE (Portsmouth) handsomely remarked that Chatham might well be leased for private enterprise. The Member for Chatham was not present, or he would, no doubt, have returned the compliment.

_Wednesday, December 15th._--A less adventurous Minister than Mr. CHURCHILL might have funked the task of justifying to a House of Economists a Supplementary Army Estimate of forty millions. But he boldly tackled the job, and proved to his own satisfaction that half the liability was a mere book-entry, and the other half inevitable, in view of the Empire's commitments. Sir CHARLES TOWNSHEND, in a maiden speech which in the more flamboyant passages suggested the collaboration of the EDITOR of _John Bull_, announced his intention of supporting the Government "for all I am worth," and proceeded to demonstrate that their policy in Mesopotamia had been wrong from start to finish.

_Thursday, December 16th._--I don't know whether the current rumours of the PRIME MINISTER'S delicacy are put about by malignant enemies who hope that Nature will accomplish what they have failed to achieve, or by well-meaning friends who desire to convince the Aberystwith Sabbatarians that Sunday golf is essential to his well-being. In his answers to Questions this afternoon he showed no signs of failing powers. When Mr. BILLING accused him of breaking his pledge that there should be no more secret diplomacy he modestly replied that that was not his but President WILSON'S phrase; and a little later he informed the same cocksure questioner that a certain problem was "not so simple as my hon. friend imagines most problems are."

An inquiry about the Franco-British boundaries in the Holy Land led the PRIME MINISTER to observe that the territory delimited was "the old historic Palestine--Dan to Beersheba." It was, of course, a mere coincidence that the next Question on the Paper related to the destruction of calves, though not the golden kind.

The quarter-deck voice in which Rear-Admiral ADAIR thundered for information regarding the Jutland Papers so startled Sir JAMES CRAIG that, fearing another salvo if he temporised with the question, he promptly promised immediate publication.

Despite a characteristic protest from Mr. DEVLIN, who, as Mr. BONAR LAW observed, treats his opponents as if they were "not only morally bad but intellectually contemptible," the House proceeded to consider the Lords' Amendments to the Home Rule Bill, and dealt with them by the time-honoured device of "splitting the difference."

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"MALESWOMAN WANTED.--Competent to take charge of Millinery establishment."

_Trade Paper_.

A sort of Mannequin, we presume.

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A FOUL GAME.

It is Christmas, and here is a nice little cricket story for the hearth. The funny thing about it is that it is true. And the other funny thing about it is that it was told to me by a huge Rugger Blue called Eric. (I understand people can change their names at Confirmation. Why don't they?)