There was commotion in Gggrrandddolllmann's Camp. It could not have been
a fight, for in those days, just when gold had been discovered on Welsh
soil, such things as fights were unknown. And yet the entire settlement
were assembled. The schools and libraries were not only deserted, but
JONES'S Coffee Palace had contributed its tea-drinkers, who, it will be
remembered, had calmly continued their meal when even such an exciting
paper as the _Grocers' Journal_ had arrived. The whole Camp was
collected before a rude cabin on the outer edge of the clearing.
Conversation was carried on in a low tone, but the name of a man was
frequently repeated. It was a name familiar enough in the Camp--"W. E.
G.--a first-rate feller." Perhaps the less said of him the better. He
was a strong, but, it is to be feared, a very unstable person. However,
he had sent them a message, when messages were exceptional. Hence the
excitement.
"You go in there, TAFFY," said a prominent citizen, addressing one of
the loungers; "go in there, and see if you can make it out. You've had
experience in them things."
Perhaps there was a fitness in the selection. TAFFY had once been the
collector for a Trades Union Society, and it had been from some
informality in performing his duty that Gggrrandddolllmann's Camp was
indebted for his company. The crowd approved the choice, and TAFFY was
wise enough to bow to the majority.
The assemblage numbered about a hundred men. Physically they exhibited
no indication of their past lives and character. They were ordinary
Britons, and there was nothing to show they had been less contented than
their neighbours; and yet these men, in spite of their loneliness, had
never wanted for a single reform. Until now they had been absolutely
satisfied with their lot.
There was a solemn hush as TAFFY entered the Post Office. It was known
that he was reading the despatch. Then there was a sharp querulous
cry--a cry unlike anything heard before in the Camp. It was muttered by
TAFFY. He told them that the document called upon the whole community to
ask for Disestablishment and Home Rule. The Camp rose to its feet as one
man. It was proposed to explode a barrel of dynamite in imitation of the
Irish Nationalists, but in consideration of the position of the Camp,
which would certainly have been blown to pieces, better counsels
prevailed, and there was merely a cutting of bludgeons from the trees
the levelling of which W. E. G. was known to love so well.
Then the door was opened, and the anxious crowd of men, who had already
formed themselves into a _queue_, entered in single file. On a table lay
the document they had come to read.
"Gentlemen," said TAFFY, with a singular mixture of authority and _ex
officio_ complacency; "gentlemen will please pass in at the front door
and out of the back. Them as wishes to contribute anything towards the
carrying out of the written wishes of the document will find a hat
handy."
The first man entered with his hat on; he uncovered, however, as he
looked at the writing, and so unconsciously set an example to the next.
In such communities good and bad actions are catching. As the procession
filed in, comments were audible. "A lot for the money!" "Just like him!"
"Gets a deal into three lines!" And so on. The contributions were as
characteristic. A life assurance policy, a pledge to abstain from
intoxicating drinks, several volumes on political economy.
So the despatch was read and re-read a score of times, and it was found
necessary to give it a name. The natives of Wales are generally
sagacious, and so they gave it the name of the Pluck. For the sake of
the Pluck they did everything. It was certain, of late, they had not
been very successful. They had certainly not paid their rents, and
refused to patronise the Parson, and so the work of degeneration began
in Gggrrandddolllmann's Camp. Instead of working as of old, the
inhabitants gave up labour and shouted to one another. They repeated the
phrases of the despatch crying, "Be worthy of yourself, gallant little
Wales," "Remember Michelstown!" and went to sleep. Before the arrival of
the despatch they had been a clean, hard-working, thrifty race.
Latterly, however, there had been a rude attempt to let things go from
bad to worse. The newly discovered mines were deserted and all industry
was at a discount. "It is the Pluck of Gggrrandddolllmann's Camp that's
doing it," said TAFFY, as he gazed at the document as it lay on the
table before him.
But at length things came to a crisis. The converted miners, as it has
been explained, refused to work, and then neglected to pay their rents.
Then came evictions, supported by the law. There was a confusion of
staves and bayonets, buck-shot and black-thorn sticks. The Camp
disappeared amidst much excitement. Some of the Campers emigrated, and
others were sent to gaol. TAFFY was missing. At length he was found in a
ditch, holding a postcard bearing some warlike words, and signed "W. E.
G."
"I have got the Pluck with me now," he said, as he was arrested; and the
strong man, clinging to the thin document so full of wild advice, as a
drowning man is said to cling to a straw, was marched off to prison!
* * * * *
A Cry from the Counting-House.
_English Clerk loquitur_:--
The times have been
When German brains no bout with us would try;
We ruled the roast. Now Teuton scribblers come,
With twenty languages upon their tongues,
And push us from our stools!
* * * * *
A SOUND OPINION.--Our Own French-Pronouncing Impressionist says that the
new Cabinet in Paris cannot possibly be a success, as it commences with
a FALLIÈRE.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A FESTIVE PROSPECT!
_Husband._ "DIDN'T I TELL YOU NOT TO INVITE YOUR MOTHER BACK IN MY----"
_Wife._ "DEAR, THAT'S THE VERY THING SHE'S COME ABOUT! SHE READ YOUR
LETTER!"
[_Tableau!_]
* * * * *