(_A STORY OF ADVENTURE NOT IN THE LEAST LIKELY TO BE TRUE._)
"Do you see what RITCHIE has been doing?" asked the Secretary of State
for War of one of his colleagues.
"If you mean visiting the Casual Wards, after attending a meeting
in the East End of London, I do," replied the Home-Secretary. "An
excellent idea, no doubt, suggested by that old story of the Amateur
Casual, which appeared some twenty or thirty years ago in the columns
of an evening paper."
"But don't you think it is playing it a little low?" suggested the
First Lord of the Admiralty.
"Well, I don't know," returned the Autocrat of the W.O. "After all,
there is nothing like personal experience."
And then all three were silent, lost in profound consideration.
Shortly afterwards they bade one another adieu, declaring that they
had greatly enjoyed their Cabinet Council.
It was some hours later that a soldier, wearing the uniform of the
Guards, appeared at the Wellington Barracks, and requested that he
might be permitted to undertake a spell of "sentry go." He was not
known by the Non-commissioned Officer on duty, but as his papers
appeared to be correct, permission was given him to act as substitute
for Private SMITH, who was next on the roster.
And about the same time a person, wearing the garb of a convict, made
his way to one of Her Majesty's Prisons, and requested an interview
with the Governor. His garb obtained for him immediate admission to
the precincts of the gaol.
"Well, my man," said the Governor, when his visitor appeared before
him; "what do you want?"
"If you please, Sir," replied the person in the garb of a convict, "I
shall be very much obliged if you will permit me to have an hour or so
at oakum-picking."
"Absolutely impossible," replied the Crown Official, "such luxuries
are only allowed to individuals who have been properly introduced to
us by a Judge and Jury."
"I fancied," returned the wearer of the felon's garb, "that an order
from the Home-Secretary would smooth all difficulties."
"Certainly," admitted the Governor, "but such documents are only
supplied to European Royal Personages, or other foreigners of extreme
distinction."
"I have the requisite document," replied the curiously-garbed
stranger, and he was bowed into a well-appointed cell, and furnished
with the tangled rope for which he had petitioned.
And about the same time a sea-faring man applied to be rated on one of
Her Majesty's Ships of War.
"Impossible!" was the immediate reply of the Captain, who was rather
short-tempered.
"Nothing is impossible to the Admiralty," said the sea-faring man;
"and, if you will glance at this paper, you will see that I have
special permission from Whitehall to be mast-headed, or to undertake
some other naval manoeuvre of a more modern date."
Suppressing an exclamation of a somewhat profane character, the
Captain gave the required permission, and a few minutes later the
sea-faring man was mounting (with some difficulty), the quivering
rungs of a rope-ladder.
A few hours after the happening of these events, a weary soldier,
a half-starved convict, and a sailor covered with bruises, met by
chance in the common room of a tavern. For some minutes they were
too exhausted to speak. At length, the convict declared that the
organisation of Her Majesty's Prisons was simply perfect.
"I greatly doubt it," replied the soldier; "but I can insist with
truth, that nothing can possibly equal the admirable condition of the
Queen's Barracks."
"I don't for a moment believe it," put in the sea-faring man; "but I
am prepared to swear that the arrangements of the Admiralty could not
possibly be better."
"Very likely," sneered the convict; "and no doubt they could not be
worse!"
Upon this the three men began quarrelling and boasting of the merits
of the institutions they had recently visited.
"Pardon me," at length observed the convict, "but I have had some
legal training, and it seems to me that you are both gentlemen of
great discernment. Nay, more, I should imagine that your education is
greatly in excess of that possessed by men of the same standing in the
professions you appear to have adopted."
"Not unlikely," replied the soldier, smilingly removing his disguise;
"because I happen to be the Secretary of State for War."
"And I," said the sailor, following suit, and emerging from his
sea-faring garb, which now was found to be covering an official
uniform--"And I am the First Lord of the Admiralty."
Before the two Ministers could recover from their surprise, the wearer
of the convict's garb had also divested himself of a part of his
costume, and the whole of his "make-up."
"You see you need not be ashamed of my company," he observed, with a
smile, "as I am the Home-Secretary."
Then the three Ministers laughed, and each one of them insisted that
his particular branch of the Government Service was better than the
branches of his colleagues.
"Let us change costumes," suggested the Home-Secretary, "and try for
ourselves. I will become a soldier, you can appear as a convict, and
subsequently we might make a further alteration, and allow our friend
of the Admiralty to try some oakum-picking." But both the First Lord
and the Secretary of State raised objections.
"And yet," urged the Home-Secretary, "I do not think you would find
much difference between oakum-picking and sentry-go, and a plank-bed
and a hammock on board a torpedo-boat have each great claim to points
of similarity."
"We readily believe you," replied the representative of the War
Office, "and therefore further test is unnecessary."
"Quite so," added the greatest living authority on Naval matters; "and
thus I think we can conveniently leave further personal investigation
to such enthusiasts as Mr. RITCHIE and his Private Secretary." And
so, perfectly satisfied with the result of their peregrinations,
the Ministers again bade one another adieu, and, this time, finally
separated.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE PITFALLS OF CULTURE.
_Friendly and Sympathetic Footman_. "WELL, THEY TELL ME, SIR, AS
MR. BROWN, THE DENTIST ROUND THE CORNER, IS QUITE AT THE 'EAD OF THE
PERFESSION,--IN FACT, WHAT YOU MIGHT CALL '_PRINCIPLY FORCEPS_,' SIR!"
[_No doubt the good man intended to say "Facile princeps," but he
didn't._]]
* * * * *
A GREAT LOSS TO EVERYBODY.--It is a great source of disappointment to
_Mr. Punch_ that GRANDOLPH should have declined to be an Alderman.
It may be a question as to whether he would have enlarged the sphere
of his influence, but, by accepting the turtle, it is aldermanically
certain that within six months our GRANDOLPH would have doubled his
weight and increased his circumference.
* * * * *
"HAIR-CUTTING, SINGEING, AND SHAMPOOING."
(_A SKETCH IN A HAIR-DRESSER'S SALOON._)
SCENE--_A small but well-appointed Saloon, with the usual
fittings. As the Scene opens, its only occupants are a
Loquacious Assistant and a Customer with a more than
ordinarily sympathetic manner._
[Illustration: "You _'ave_ been losin' your 'air!"]
_The Loquacious Assistant_. No, Sir, we're free to go the minute the
clock strikes. We've no clearing up or anythink of _that_ sort to do,
not bein' required to pufform any duties of a _menial_ nature, Sir.
'Ed a little more to the left, Sir.... Sundays I gen'ally go up the
river. I'm a Member of a Piskytorial Association. I don't do any
fishin', to mention, but I jest carry a rod in my 'and. Railway
Comp'ny takes anglers at reduced fares, you see, Sir.... No, Sir,
don't stay 'ere _all_ day long. Sometimes the Guv'nor sends me out
to wait on parties at their own residences. Pleasant change, Sir?
Ah, you're right there, Sir! There's one lady as lives in Prague
Villas, Sir. I've been to do _her_ 'air many a time. (_He sighs
sentimentally._) I _did_ like waitin' on _'er_, Sir. Sech a beautiful
woman she is, too,--with 'er face so white, ah! 'AWKINS her name is,
and her 'usban' a stockbroker. She was an actress once, Sir, but she
give that up when she married. Told me she'd 'ad to work 'ard all her
life to support her Ma, and she _did_ think after she was married she
was goin' to enjoy herself--but she _'adn't_! Ah, she _was_ a nice
lady, Sir; she'd got her 'air in sech a tangle it took me three weeks
to get it right! I showed her three noo ways of doin' up her 'air,
and she says to me, "What a clever young man you are!" Her very words,
Sir! Trim the ends of your moustache, Sir? Thankee, Sir. Yes, she was
a charmin' woman. She 'ad three parrots in the room with 'er, swearin'
orful. I enjoyed goin there, Sir; yes, Sir. Ain't been for ever sech
a while now, Sir. I _did_ think of callin' again and pertendin' I'd
forgot a comb, Sir, but I done that once, and I'm afraid it wouldn't
do twice, _would_ it, Sir? Sixteen her number is--a sweet number,
Sir! Limewash or brilliantine, Sir?... And I know 'er maid and her
man, too; oh, she keeps a grand 'ouse, Sir! (_Observing that the_
Sympathetic Customer _is gradually growing red in the face and getting
hysterical._) Towel too tight for you, Sir? Allow me; thank you, Sir.
(_Here two fresh_ Customers _enter._) Ready for you in one moment,
Gentlemen. The other Assistant is downstairs 'aving his tea, but he'll
be up directly
[_The two fresh Customers watch one another suspiciously,
after the manner of Britons. The first, who is elderly,
removes his hat and displays an abundance of strong grizzled
hair, which he surveys complacently in a mirror. The second,
a younger man, seems reluctant to uncover until absolutely
obliged to do so._
_The Grizzled Customer_ (_to the_ Other Customer, _as his natural
self-satisfaction overcomes his reserve_). 'Shtonishing how fast one's
hair does grow. It's not three weeks since I had a close crop. Great
nuisance, eh?
_The Other Customer_ (_with evident embarrassment_). Er--eh,
yes--quite so, I--I daresay.
[_He takes up a back number of "Punch," and reads the
advertisements with deep interest. Meanwhile, the Loquacious
Assistant has bowed out the Sympathetic Customer, and
touched a bell. A Saturnine Assistant appears, still
masticating bread-and-butter. The Second Customer removes
his hat, revealing a denuded crown, and thereby causing
surprise and a distinct increase of complacency in the
Grizzled Gentleman, who submits himself to the Loquacious
Assistant. The Bald Customer sinks resignedly into
the chair indicated by the Saturnine Operator, feeling
apologetic and conscious that he is not affording a fair scope
for that gentleman's professional talent. The other Assistant
appears to take a reflected pride in his subject._
_The Loq. Ass._ (_to the Grizzled Customer_). Remarkable how some
parties _do_ keep their 'air, Sir! Now yours--(_with a disparaging
glance at the Bald Customer's image in the mirror_)--yours grows
quite remarkable strong. Do you _use_ anythink for it now?
_The Gr. C._ Not I. Leave that to those who are not so well protected!
_The Loq. Ass._ I was on'y wondering if you'd been applying our
Rosicrucian Stimulant, Sir, that's all. There's the gentleman next
door to here--a chemist, he is--and if you'll believe me, he was
gettin' as bald as a robin, and he'd only tried it a fortnight when
his 'ed come out all over brustles!
_The Gr. C._ Brussels, what? _Sprouts_, eh?
_The Loq. Ass._ Hee-hee! no, Sir, brustles like on a brush. But you
can afford to 'ave _your_ laugh, Sir!
_The Sat. Ass._ (_to the Bald Customer, with withering deference_).
Much off, Sir?
_The B.C._ (_weakly thinking to propitiate by making light of his
infirmity_). Well, there isn't much _on_, is there?
_The S.A._ (_taking a mean advantage_). Well, Sir, it wouldn't be
a very long job numberin' all the 'airs on _your_ 'ed, cert'nly!
(_Severely, as one reproaching him for carelessness_.) You _'ave_ been
losin' your 'air! Puts me in mind of what the poet says in _'Amlet_.
"Oh, what a fallin' off!" if you'll excuse _me_, Sir!
_The B.C._ (_with a sensitive squirm_). Oh, don't apologise--I'm
_used_ to it, you know!
_The S.A._ Ah, Sir, they do say the wind's tempered to the shorn lamb
so as he can't see 'imself as other's see 'im. But what _you_ ought
to 'ave is a little toopy. Make 'em so as you couldn't tell it from
natural 'air nowadays!
[_The Bald Customer feebly declines this meretricious
adornment._
_The Loq. Ass._ (_to his subject_). Know Mr. PARIS PATTERTON of the
Proscenium Theatre, Sir? 'E's 'ad to call in our Guv'nor, Sir. 'Is
'air's comin, off, Sir, dreadful, Sir. The Guv'nor's been tryin' a noo
wash on his 'ed.
_The Gr. C._ Ha, poor beggar! Wash doing it any good?
_The Loq. Ass._ (_demurely_). That I can't tell you, Sir; but it 'as a
very agreeable perfùme.
_The S.A._ I think I've taken off about as much as you can _spare_,
Sir!
_The Gr. C._ (_with a note of triumph_). Look here, you know, there's
a lot more to come off here--won't be missed, eh?
_The Loq. Ass._ No, Sir, you've an uncommon thick 'ed--of _'air_, I
mean, of course!
_The S.A._ If you'll take my advice, you'll 'ave yours singed, Sir.
_The B.C._ (_dejectedly_). Why, think it's any use?
_The S.A._ No doubt of that, Sir. Look at the way they singe a
_'orse's_ legs. [_The Bald Customer yields, convinced by this
argument._
_The Gr. C._ No singeing or any nonsense of that sort for _me_, mind!
[_They are shampooed simultaneously._
_The B.C._ (_piteously, from his basin_). Th--that's c-cold enough,
thanks!
_The Gr. C._ (_aggressively from his_). Here, colder than _that_--as
cold as you can make it--_I_ don't care!
_The B.C._ (_drying his face meekly on a towel_). A--a _hand_-brush,
please, _not_ the machine!
_The S.A._ No, Sir, machine-brush would about sweep all the 'air _off_
your 'ed, Sir!
_The Gr. C._ Machinery for me--and your hardest brush, do you hear?
_The Loq. Ass._ { _(together, to_ {Shall I put anything on
_The S.A._ {_their respective_ { your 'ed, Sir?
{ _patients_.) {Like anything on your
{ 'air, Sir?
_The S.A._ Well, you may as well keep what little you _'ave_ got, Sir.
Like to try our 'Irsutine Lotion, capital thing, Sir. Known it answer
in the most desprit cases. Keep it in 'alf-crown or three-and-sixpenny
sizes. Can I 'ave the pleasure of puttin' you up a three-and-sixpenny
one, Sir? (_The Bald Customer musters up moral courage to decline,
at which the Assistant appears disgusted with him_.) No, Sir? Much
obliged, Sir. Let me see--(_with a touch of sarcasm_)--you part your
'air a one side, I _think_, Sir? Brush your 'at, Sir? Thankee, Sir.
Pay at the counter, _if_ you please. Shop--there!
_The Loq. Ass._ Think your 'air's as you like it now, Sir? Like to
look at yourself in a 'and-glass, Sir? Thank you, Sir.
[_The Bald Customer puts on his hat with relief, and
instantly recovers his self-respect sufficiently to cast a
defiant glare upon his rival, and walk out with dignity. The
Grizzled Customer after prolonged self-inspection, follows.
The two Assistants are left alone._
_The Loq. Ass._ Pretty proud of his 'air, that party, eh? Notice how I
tumbled to him?
_The S.A._ (_with superiority_). I _heard_ you, o' course, but, as
I'm always tellin' you, you don't do it _delicate_ enough! When
you've been in the profession as long as I have, and seen as much
of human nature, you'll begin to understand how important it is
to 'ave tact. Now you never 'eard _me_ stoop to flattery nor yet
over-familiarity--and yet you can see for yourself I manage without
'urting nobody's feelings--however bald! That's _tact_, that is!
* * * * *
[Illustration: "INFLAMMABLE BUTTONS." UN PAGE D'AMOUR.]
* * * * *