Part 2

And then what made me chuckle and laugh? Why, THACKERAY'S _Sultan Stork_, which, somehow or other, I never remembered having read before this time of convalescent leisure. It is THACKERAY in his most frolicsome humour, and, therefore, THACKERAY at his best.

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I am almost recovered, and am finding my "Salubrity at Home."

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THE LETTER-BAG OF TOBY, M.P.

FROM AN ANXIOUS HOUSEHOLDER.

DEAR TOBY,--It was in my mind to write to you some days ago, but I have had my time much occupied with a subject of domestic interest. In fact, I have just been laying the carpet presented to me by our fellow-citizens of the ancient and important community of Kidderminster. The carpet, regarded individually, is a desirable and an acceptable thing. It is, as you have observed in the newspaper reports, woven of the wool known to the trade as the Queen's Clip. In colour it is a rich damson, and in quality Wilton. Apart from its suitability and acceptability, we here see in it the beginning of what I confess we should be inclined to regard as a pleasing habit on the part of our fellow-countrymen. As you are aware, my wife and myself have for some years been the recipients of gifts consisting of what a well-known person of the name of _Wemmick_ was accustomed to call, articles of portable property. Our journeys to Scotland were always marked by the presentation of gifts that even became embarrassing by reason of their quantity and variety. We have quite a stock of Paisley shawls. Dundee marmalade is a drug in our domestic market. Plaids, snuff-boxes, walking-sticks, and, above all, axes I have in abundance. Through the medium of an interesting periodical, of which you may have heard--(it is known as _Exchange and Mart_)--we have managed to average our possessions, a process not entirely free from adventure. In one instance an unscrupulous individual, probably a member of the Primrose League, succeeded in obtaining a two-dozen case of marmalade and a Scotch plaid presented by the working-men of Glasgow, in promise, yet unfulfilled, of delivery of a bicycle warranted new. I have rather a hankering after trying a bicycle. LOWE gave his up with the ultimate remainder of his Liberal principles. But in old times I have heard him speak with enthusiasm of the exercise. When I noticed this person advertising in _Exchange and Mart_ his desire of bartering his bicycle, we entered upon the negotiation which has ended so unfortunately. He has our Paisley plaid and Dundee marmalade, and we have not his bicycle.

This, however, by the way. What I had at heart to write to you about, suggested by the Kidderminster carpet, is the new opening here offered for manifestations of political sympathy at a serious political crisis. We are, to tell the truth, towards the close of a long career, a little overburdened with articles of portable property of the kind already indicated. But our residence is large, and, if I may say so, receptive. Carpets, though a not unimportant feature in the furnishing of a house, do not contain within themselves the full catalogue of a furnishing establishment.

If Kidderminster has its carpets, there are other localities throughout the Kingdom which have their tables and chairs, their bed-room furniture, their curtains, their brass stair-rods, and their gas-fittings. History will, I believe, look with indulgent eye upon an ex-Premier, the Counsellor of Kings, the leader of a great Party, assisting at the hauling in and laying down of an eleemosynary carpet, the wool of which is made from Queen's Clip, has a rich damson colour, and is of Wilton quality. Why should I not give a back to an arm-chair presented by an admiring Liberal Association? or walk upstairs with a bolster under either arm, token of the esteem and admiration of the West of England Home Rulers?

I throw out these thoughts to you, dear TOBY, as I sit in my study and survey the carpet of Wilton quality, which covers the floor. As you will have seen in the newspaper reports, "on entering the room where the carpet was displayed the Right Honourable Gentleman remarked that it had a quiet tone, which was so pleasant to the eye; adding that it was a great mistake, (which used to be committed about fifty years ago) when carpets were made with staring patterns." It is, I need hardly say, the growth of Liberal principles which has effected this change in the public taste for carpets. Whether indeed, suppose we were in need of a battle-cry, "Our Quiet Tones and Our Liberal Principles," would not serve as opposed to "Toryism and Staring Patterns," I am not certain. These things we must leave to the evolution of time. Meanwhile I will not deny in the confidence of a friendly letter that we could very well do with a sofa, the tone and construction of which should, of course, match the carpet from Kidderminster. If you are attending any public meeting and you find the popular indignation against the Government of Lord SALISBURY rising to an ungovernable pitch, you might gently and discreetly guide it in this direction.

Always yours faithfully,

_H-w-rd-n C-stle._ W. E. GL-DST-NE.

P.S.--A mangle and a garden-roller might later, and in due order, occupy your kindly thought.

* * * * *

GENTLE SHEPHERD

_A Ballade for the Board._

"The lobby of the Metropolitan Board of Works offices was recently the scene of a serious assault, committed by Mr. KEEVIL, upon Mr. SHEPHERD."--_Daily Paper_.

Gentle SHEPHERD, tell me true, Did, selecting time and place, Wary KEEVIL go for you,-- Hit you on the chest and face? Did he, waiting on the stairs, Watch until you passed him by, Then adroitly, unawares, Plant one on your weather eye? Did, O SHEPHERD, tell me true, Wary KEEVIL get at you!

Gentle SHEPHERD, answer me, Say, did you, when last you spoke, Language use that possibly Wary KEEVIL might provoke? If so, p'raps 'twas not too wise, Though it could involve no right To attempt to black your eyes In a stand-up Board-Room fight! Ah! sweet SHEPHERD, sure his due He will get who went for you!

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"PROUD O' THE TITLE."--The Bishop of LICHFIELD, in one of his speeches at the Church Congress last week, included the English Roman Catholics among the "other Nonconformists." Then his Lordship was graciously pleased to observe that he was very willing to acknowledge the QUEEN as supreme, but objected to the authority of Parliament, in Church matters. It is very evident on which side Dr. MACLAGAN would have been in the reign of the pure and pious HENRY THE EIGHTH, when that amiable monarch ordered the decapitation of those bigoted and obtuse "Nonconformists," Bishop FISHER, and Sir THOMAS MORE.

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* * * * *

THE NEW NORTH-WEST PASSAGE.

_A Colloquy on the Canadian Shore._

_Canada._ "Westward the course of empire takes its way."

_Britannia._ The Bishop's famous line, dear, bears to-day Modified meaning; westward runs indeed The route of empire,--ours!

_Canada._ If I succeed In drawing hither Trade's unfaltering feet And _yours_, my triumph then will be complete.

_Britannia._ Across your continent from sea to sea All is our own, my child, and all is free. No jealous rivals spy around our path With watchfulness not far remote from wrath. The sea-ways are my own, free from of old To keels adventurous and bosoms bold. Now, from my western cliffs that front the deep To where the warm Pacific waters sweep Around Cathay and old Zipangu's shore, My course is clear. What can I wish for more? To your young enterprise the praise is due.

_Canada._ The praise, and profit, I would share with you. Canadian energy has felt the spur Of British capital; the flush and stir Of British patriot blood is in our heart; Still I am glad you think I've done my part.

_Britannia._ Bravely! Yon Arctic wastes no more need slay My gallant sons. Had FRANKLIN seen this day He had not slept his last long lonely sleep Where the chill ice-pack lades the frozen deep. "It can be done; England should do it!" Yes, That is the thought which urges to success Our struggling sore-tried heroes. WAGHORN knew Such inspiration. Many a palsied crew Painfully creeping through the Arctic night Have felt it fill their souls like fire and light. Well, it _is_ done, by men of English strain, Though in such shape as they who strove in vain With Boreal cold and darkness never dreamed When o'er the Pole the pale aurora gleamed Perpetual challenge.

_Canada._ Here's your Empire route! A right of way whose value to compute Will tax the prophets.

_Britannia._ Links me closer still With all my wandering sons who tame and till The world's wild wastes, and throng each paradise In tropic seas or under southern skies, See, Halifax, Vancouver, Sydney, set Fresh steps upon a path whose promise yet Even ourselves have hardly measured. Lo! Far China brought within a moon or so, Of tea-devouring London! Here it lies, The way for men and mails and merchandise, Striking athwart your sea-dividing sweep Of land; one iron road from deep to deep! Well thought, well done!

_Canada._ No more need you depend On furtive enemy or doubtful friend. Your home is on the deep, and when you come, To the Dominion's land you're still at home.

_Britannia._ And woe to him the Statesman cold or blind, Of clutching spirit or of chilling mind, Pedantic prig or purse-string tightening fool, Who'd check such work and such a spirit cool! Yours is the praise and may the profit flow In fullest stream, 'midst your Canadian snow A true Pactolus. Trade's prolific fruit, Should freely flourish on our Empire Route.

* * * * *

LOADED WITH PRESENTS.--In the account given in the _Times_ (Oct. 7) of the unveiling of Mr. BOEHM'S statue of the QUEEN in the presence of its donors, HER MAJESTY'S tenants and servants on the Balmoral Estates assembled at Crathie, there is a funny misprint:--

"At this point (_i.e._ after HER MAJESTY'S reply to the Prince of WALES'S address) the soldiers saluted and fired a _feu de foie_."

As refreshments were supplied by the QUEEN'S command immediately afterwards, perhaps the guns had been loaded with "_foie gras_," tightly compressed into cartridges.

THE NEW NORTH-WEST PASSAGE.

BRITANNIA. "NOW, FROM MY WESTERN CLIFFS THAT FRONT THE DEEP TO WHERE THE WARM PACIFIC WATERS SWEEP AROUND CATHAY AND OLD ZIPANGU'S SHORE, MY COURSE IS CLEAR. WHAT CAN I WISH FOR MORE?"

* * * * *

SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.

ETHEL DERING has not recognised me yet. Naturally she would not expect to find me being photographed on the beach with such a crew as this--but she _will_ in another instant, unless,--ah, LOUISE'S sunshade! my presence of mind never _quite_ deserts me. There is a slit in the silk--through which I can see ETHEL. As soon as she discovers what the excitement is all about, she turns away.... Thank goodness, she is gone! I have saved the situation--but ruined the group ... they are all annoyed with me. I had really no idea LOUISE looked so plain when out of temper!

As we go back, ALF wants to know whether I noticed that "clipping girl." He means ETHEL. LOUISE says, he "ought to know better than to ask me such things, considering my situation." Agree with LOUISE.

_Evening_. I am staying at home; _nominally_, to work at the Drama (still in very elementary stage) _really_, to think out the situation. Remember now the DERINGS have a yacht; they _may_ only have put in here for a day or two--if not, can I avoid being seen by her sooner or later? The mere idea of meeting _her_ when I am with ALF or PONKING, and my Blazer acquaintances, makes me ill. (Not that I need distress myself, for she would probably cut me!) Can't think in Mrs. SURGE'S little front parlour. I must get out, into the air! Let me see, LOUISE and her Aunt (and no doubt PONKING and ALF) will be at the Music Hall this evening, as there is a "benefit" with the usual "galaxy of talent." If I keep away from the sands (where I might see ETHEL), I shall be safe enough.

Turn into Public Gardens; nobody here just now, except a couple in front, who seem to have quarrelled--at least the lady's voice sounds displeased. Too dark to see, but as I come nearer--is it only my nervous fancy that--? No, I can't be mistaken, that _is_ ETHEL speaking now! "Why will you persist in speaking to me?" she is saying, "I don't know you--have the goodness to go away at once." Some impudent scoundrel is annoying her! Didn't know anything could make me so angry. I don't stop to think--before I know where I am, I have knocked the fellow down ... he can't be more surprised than _I_ am! It is all very well--but what is to become of me when he _gets up again?_ He is sure to make a row, and I can't go _on_ knocking him down! Must get ETHEL away first, should not like to be pounded into shapelessness before her eyes. "Miss DERING," I say, "you--you had better go on--leave him to me," (it will probably be the other way, though!) "Mr. CONEY!" she cries. "Oh, I am so glad!--but don't hurt him any more--_please_." He is getting up, as well as I can make out in the darkness, I am not _likely_ to hurt him any more ... I wish he would begin, this suspense is very trying. He _has_ begun--to weep bitterly! Never was so surprised in my life; he is too much upset even to swear, simply sits in the gutter boohooing. If he knew how grateful I am to him! However, I tell him sternly to "think himself lucky it is no worse," and leave him to recover.

Must see ETHEL safe home after this. She and her father _did_ come in the yacht--they are at the Royal Hotel, and she missed her way and her maid somehow, trying to find a Circulating Library. She really seems pleased to meet me. It is not an original remark--but _what_ a delight it is to listen to the clear fresh tones of a well-bred girl--not that ETHEL's voice is anything to me _now!_ She "can't imagine what I find to do in Starmouth,"--then she did _not_ recognise me this afternoon, which is some comfort! I should like to tell her all, but it would be rather uncalled-for just now, perhaps. We talk on general matters, as we used to do. Singular how one can throw off one's troubles for the time--I am actually _gay!_ I can make _her_ laugh, and what a pretty rippling laugh she has! We have reached the Hotel--_already!_

Now I am here, it would be rude not to go in and see old DERING. I do. He is most cordial. Am I alone down here? Critical, this. After all, I _am_ alone--in my lodgings. "Then I must come to luncheon on board the _Amaryllis_ to-morrow." ETHEL (I _must_ get into the way of thinking of her as "Miss DERING") looks as if she expects me to accept. I had better go, and find an opportunity of telling her about LOUISE--who knows--they might become bosom friends. No, hang it, _that's_ out of the question!

The DERINGS' private room opens on to the Esplanade; old DERING comes to the French windows, and calls out after me, "Don't forget. Lunch at two. On board the _Amaryllis_--find her at the quay." "Thanks very much--I _won't_ forget. Good-night!" "Good-night!" Someone is waiting for me under a lamp. It is ALF, but I did not know him at first. "Why, where on earth!"--I begin. He regards me reproachfully with his one efficient eye, and I observe his nose is much swollen. Good heavens, I see it all--I have knocked down my _future brother-in-law!_ Well, it serves him right.

He explains, sulkily; he meant no harm; never thought anyone would be offended by being spoken to civil; _he_ never met girls like that before (which is likely enough); and to think I should have treated him that savage and brutal--it was _that_ upset him. Tell him I am sorry, but I can't help it now. "Yes you can," he says, hoarsely. "You know this girl--this Miss DERIN'," (he has followed us, it appears, and caught her name)--"you don't ought to play dog in the manger _now_--I want you to introduce me in a reg'lar way. I tell yer I'm down-right smitten." Introduce _him_--to ETHEL! Never, not if I won the V.C. for it! "Then you _look out!_"

He has gone off growling--the cub! He will tell LOUISE. On second thoughts, his own share in the business may prevent that--but it is unfortunate.

_Next Day_.--Have got leave of absence (without mentioning reason). I believe I pleaded the Drama, as usual, and I _have_ jotted down a line or two. Am dressing for luncheon--somehow I take longer than usual. Ready at last; the coast is clear, I am a trifle early, but I can stroll gently down to the quay.... Turn a corner, and come upon PONKING, with LOUISE. Fancy both look rather confused, but they are delighted to see me. "Was I going any where in particular?" "No--nowhere in particular." "Then I'd better come along with them--they have dined early, and are doing the lions." LOUISE makes such a point of it that I can't refuse--must watch my chance, and slip off when I can.

_Later_.--We have done an ancient gaol, the church, and a fishermen's almshouse--and I have not seen my chance _yet_. PONKING determined to see all he can for his money. LOUISE, more demonstrative than she has been of late, clings to my arm. It is past two, but we are working our way, slowly, towards the quay. PONKING suggests visit to Fisherring Establishment. Now is my chance; say I won't go in--don't like herrings--will wait outside. To my surprise, they actually meet me half-way! "If you want to get back to your play-writing, old chap," says PONKING (really not a bad fellow, PONKING!) "don't you mind _us_--we'll take care of one another!" Just as deliverance is at hand, that infernal ALF comes up from the quay, with an eye that is positively _iridescent!_ "Oh, look at his poor eye!" cries LOUISE. I look--and I see that he means "_being nasty_." He addresses me: "Why ain't you on board your swell yacht, taking lunch along with that girl, eh?" he inquires. Exclamations from LOUISE: "Girl? yacht? who? what?" and then--it all comes out!

Painful scene; fortunate there are so few looking on. LOUISE renounces me for ever opposite the Town-hall. "She knew I was a muff, but she had thought I was too much the gentleman to act deceitful!" PONKING is of opinion I "haven't a gentlemanly action in me." So is ALF, who adds that he "always felt somehow he could never make a pal of me." There is balm in _that!_

Thank goodness, it is over! I am _free_--free to think of ETHEL as much as I like! I see now what a wretched infatuation all this has been. I can tell her about it some day--if I think it necessary. I am not sure I _shall_ think it necessary--at all events, just yet.

I am a little late, but I can apologise for that. Odd--but I can't find the _Amaryllis_ anywhere! Ask. A seaman on a post says "There _was_ a yacht he see being towed out 'bout 'arf an hour back--he didn't take no partickler notice of her name." No doubt I mistook the moorings--better ask at hotel, perhaps. I do. Waiter says if I am the gentleman by name of CONEY, there are two notes for me in Coffee-Room.

Open first--from Mr. DERING.

"Regrets; unforeseen circumstances--compelled to sail at once, and give up pleasure, &c."

Second--from ETHEL; there is hope still--or would she write?

"Dear Mr. CONEY,--So sorry to go away without seeing you. You might have told me of your engagement yourself, I think--I should have been so interested. Your brother-in-law and his aunt thought it necessary to call and inform us. We are delighted that you are having a pleasanter time here than you gave us to understand last night. With best wishes for all possible happiness," &c.

So _that_ was ALF'S revenge--it was a good one! After that, I shake off the sand of Starmouth--for ever!

* * * * *

* * * * *

ECHOES FROM ST. JAMES'S PALACE. (JUBILEE DEPARTMENT.)

_Crowd discovered besieging entrance to Staircase. Policeman examines bags for concealed Dynamite._

_Loyal Old Lady (presenting reticule for inspection)._ Which there's nothing in it but a few cough-drops.

_Policeman (exercising a very wise discretion)._ Pass on, Mother!

ON THE STAIRS.

_'Arry (to Halfred--taxing his memory)._ I dunno as I was ever 'ere before--was _you?_

_Halfred (conscientiously)._ Not to remember.

_A Deliberate Old Gentleman, full of suppressed general information (to his two boys)._ Now, the great thing is not to hurry--we shall find much deserving of careful study here. [_Faces of boys lengthen perceptibly._

_An Aunt (to Niece)._ You'd better go first, ELIZA; then you can read it all out to me as we go along.

_Confused Murmurs_--"Where's Grandma?"--"It _is_ ridiklous to go pushing like that!"--"Well, the Pit's a joke to this!" &c., &c.

IN THE STATE APARTMENTS.

_Delib. O. G._ This, boys, is the ante-room, and here, you see, is a trophy presented by the Maha---- [_Puts on glasses, to inspect label._

_Policeman (loudly)._ Now then, Sir, don't block the way, please,--keep moving! [_O. G. moves on, under protest, to secret relief of boys._

_The Aunt (examining pair of Elephant Tusks set in carved Buffalo's Head)._ They may call them "tusks" if they like, ELIZA,--but anyone can see they're horns. They belong to one of them "Cow-Elephants," depend upon it! [_Peers anxiously about in vain attempt to discover it._

_Loyal Old Lady._ There's nothing here but these caskets. I thought they'd the Jubilee Cake on view!

_Visitor (in state of general gratification)._ Ha! they've given her some nice things among 'em, I must say. There, you see,--an arm-chair,--always come in useful, they do!

_Female V._ JANE, come here, quick! (_They gaze reverentially on carved chest full of slippers._) That's what I call a _nice_ present, now,--but, if they were mine, I should unpick all that raised embroidery inside the soles before ever I put 'em on!

_Jane._ Well, I suppose she wouldn't only wear them when she's in _state_.

_Policeman._ Now, Ladies, please don't linger! Pass along, there!

_The Well-informed Old G._ You see this device, formed of green and yellow feathers, boys. Well, these feathers come from----

_Policeman (as before)._ Don't stop the way, Sir, please!

_Old G. (hanging on obstinately to barrier)_----The Sandwich Islands, and are worn exclusively by--(_is swept on by crowd, and wedged tightly against case containing samples of woollen products--boys dive under red cord, and escape_).