_BEING FRAGMENTS OF A FORTHCOMING POLITICAL PRIZE NOVEL._
[In a letter to _The Times_ on "Party Organisation," Mr.
CONINGSBY DISRAELI vigorously rallies the Tory Party on
their "eternal and infernal apathy." He says, "Since we have
borrowed some Liberal principles, let us borrow some Liberal
tactics, and introduce what I would call the Schnadhorstian
methods into our councils of war. They, at least, have the
merit of success."]
* * * * *
It was CODLINGSBY JUNIOR, who saved the Vraibleusian Party after the
battle of Bahborough. By sending a stern and _staccato_ epistle to the
"Jupiter Tonans"; by praising (and imitating) Colonel DE CAUCUSINE,
the real inspiring spirit in the camp of the victorious GRANDOLMAN,
the march of the Hubbabub army was stopped--the menaced empire of
Vraibleusia was saved from the flowing tide of Radical ruin; the
Marquis of STROKEFOGIES appeared in a blaze of triumph that outblazed
even the Berlin "Peace with Honour" business, and CODLINGSBY JUNIOR
"took the cake."
* * * * *
The dinner over, the young men rushed from their Club (White's),
flushed, full fed, and eager for battle. If the Blues were angry, the
Buffs were also on the alert.
"I can have a dinner at any hour," said CODLINGSBY JUNIOR; "but a Blue
and Buff row"--(a shillelagh here flying through the window crashed
"the cake" from CODLINGSBY's hand)--"a Blue and Buff row is a novelty
to me. The Buffs have the best of it, clearly, though; the Cads
outnumber the Swells. Ha! a good blow! How that burly Caucusite went
down before yonder slim young fellow in the primrose pants!"
"That is the Lord TIDDLEMPOPS," said a companion. "A light weight, but
a pretty fighter," CODLINGSBY remarked. "Well hit with your left, Lord
TIDDLEMPOPS; well parried, Lord TIDDLEMPOPS; claret drawn, by Jingo!"
"He never can be going to match himself against that Wirepuller!"
CODLINGSBY exclaimed, as an enormous Caucusite--no other than
SCHNADDY, indeed, the famous ex-Brummagem bruiser, before whose fists
the Blues went down like ninepins--fought his way up to the spot
where, pluckily, but a little too negligently, TIDDLEMPOPS and one or
two of his young friends were bringing aristocratic _laissez faire_ to
bear against the _fortiter in re_ of the fighting Caucusite Cads.
The young noble faced the huge champion with the languid gallantry
of his race, but was no match for the enemy's brawn and biceps, and
went down in every round. His organisation, in fact, though fine, was
not sufficiently firm and well-knit to face the sinewy and skilful
SCHNADDY. The brutal fellow, who meant business, had no mercy on the
lad, who meant larks. His savage treatment chafed CODLINGSBY JUNIOR,
as he viewed the unequal combat from White's window.
"Hold your hand!" he cried to the Goliath. "Don't you see he's but a
novice?"
"Down he goes again!" the wiry Wirepuller cried, not heeding the
interruption. "Down he goes again! I like whopping a swell!"
"Coward!" shouted CODLINGSBY. "The sight makes me feel quite Dizzy.
A CODLINGSBY to the rescue!" and to fling open the window, amidst a
shower of malodorous missiles, to vault over the balcony, and slide
down one of the pillars to the ground, baring his steely biceps in
the process, and shying the "castor" from his curly looks with all the
virile grace of the Great Earl, was the work of exactly five-sixths of
a second.
At the sixth-sixth he stood before the enormous Wirepuller.
"SCHNADDY, my boy," he exclaimed, "I'm going to fight you with your
own weapon--and wallop you. Look to yourself, churl Caucusite!"
"DIZZY's _Double, by all that's theosophical!_" faltered SCHNADDY,
shrinking at once to half his previous size, under the influence of
the startling sight, and the yet more startling "spank" from young
DIZZY's dexter bunch-of-fives.
* * * * *
When SCHNADDY, after six weeks' bed and bandaging, at last came out of
hospital, his occupation as Wirepuller was gone. CODLINGSBY JUNIOR had
stepped into his shoes, and the late "Organiser of Victory" and his
Party had not "the least little bit of a look in."
* * * * *