“We’ve had plenty of your cases, and, in our present mood, decline going
on with this intense sort of nonsense. Give us some history; come on, old
boy!” Saying this, he gave him a poke in the ribs.
[Sidenote: KNOTTY ARGUMENTS.]
Our heroes could hardly help feeling a considerably uncomfortable
sensation at the thought of what would have happened behind them had they
behaved to their teacher at home as the class were doing; but instead of
this one acting as they would have expected, he turned and said—
“I beg your pardon, young gentlemen, if I have detained you too long at
grammar.”
“Well, well, take care it does not happen again,” ran in a murmur through
the class, as the boys produced their history books.
“Now then, old stick in the mud!” said the top boy to the teacher, “read
us that jolly bit about the battle, and don’t make any mistakes, or
you’ll catch it.” As he said this, he and all the other boys pulled out
their handkerchiefs, and made them up with knots.
[Sidenote: ARMA CANO.]
The reading began; and the teacher, probably from fear, made every now
and then some trifling blunder. Whenever this occurred, the whole class
rushed on him and belaboured him with the knotted handkerchiefs. Our
heroes were at first afraid he would be seriously hurt; but as, being
a Board teacher, he paid no more attention to the blows than if he had
been made of wood, they soon began rather to enjoy the scene. The history
lesson was as follows:—
[Sidenote: FOOLISH FEEDING.]
[Sidenote: COMMON-COUNCIL SCREWS.]
“Hannibal, at the head of the invincible Roman legions, which had just
got their rout,[5] marched on Poke Stogis. His infantry was augmented
by an Amazon corps from the new British Woman’s Rights League, the
special feature of which was, that it allowed talking in the ranks, and,
indeed, used gossip and scandal as potent means of defeating its foes.
The cavalry, who were greatly improved in musketry since one General
Shoot had got the command, were mounted on highly-mettled steeds, cast
by the Board of Ordnance, and splendidly broken, especially about the
knees. On nearing Poke Stogis, Hannibal was met by General Wattyler, who
commanded the king’s troops. Hannibal, true to the traditions of the
house of Hapsburg, rode in a Magna Carta—a war-chariot invented by King
John when his subjects were taking liberties—while the General bestrode
a 50-inch bicycle that had been presented to him by Ptolemy on the
occasion of the opening of the Fiji water-works, at which the General,
who was a freemason, had, in Scotch parlance, proved himself a very wat
tyler indeed. The inhabitants of Poke Stogis, as is usual in tropical
countries, regaled the troops on both sides with gooseberry-fool, after
which the battle commenced in a field, and in earnest. After two hours’
hard fighting, during which splendid reinforcements arrived in Hansom
cabs from Connecticut and Pondicherry, and after tossing up a halfpenny
to decide which army they should join, went half to one side and half to
the other, an adjournment took place for luncheon, and another repast
of sponge-cakes and ginger-beer was provided by the energy of the Major
and Common Council of Poke Stogis, who, with that true nobility which
is the best evidence of genuine rank, drew the corks with their own
hands. These additional draughts added greatly to the strength of both
sides, and comforted the combatants much, as they knew that those of them
who might fall in the battle had their bier already provided for them.
Before resuming hostilities, each commander addressed his troops in a few
soul-stirring words. But small fragments of these celebrated speeches
have been handed down to the present day; yet these are so valuable, that
it is thought well here to reproduce them. Their noble sentiment and
stirring patriotism may well cause them to be engraven upon the hearts
of the rising generation. Lest any words unworthy of the rest should be
inserted, it is thought preferable to leave blanks where the actual
expressions are not known. Hannibal said—
[Sidenote: PRAVE ’ORDS.]
... on this occasion, it is with ... indeed, I may say ... ten thousand
... indeed, less and less ... may I not say ... words would fail me ...
brave soldiers of the ... enemy ... victory is ... nay was ... perhaps
may be ... disgrace ... shall add no more....
[Illustration]
“If these disjointed fragments convey so much, well might it be asked,
What may not the rest have been? The reader must answer this for himself.
Of General Wattyler’s speech still less has been preserved. In fact,
but for forty-nine h’s, which the pious affection of the citizens of
Poke Stogis collected, and preserved in carbolic acid, history would
be a blank regarding it. All honour to the men who spared no labour to
preserve to a grateful posterity these valuable records of a warrior
and a hero. When the memory of thousands of greater places is lost in
futurity, the glory Poke Stogis has haitchieved in handing down to us the
droppings of a great warrior’s lips will be blazoned on the scroll of
fame.
[Sidenote: WARM WORK.]
[Illustration]
“The battle having recommenced, was so hotly contested that the
thermometer rose to 549 degrees of Fahrenheit, and 272 men on one side
perished, drowned in the surging tide of battle; while 74 of the opposing
troops were roasted (although it was Friday) before the slow fire of
the enemy. Both sides won a decisive victory, and captured the whole
of the enemy’s artillery. A noble pillar, 1 foot 7½ inches high, still
marks the spot on which Hannibal and Wattyler adjusted the terms of the
general order to the troops, thanking them in the name of King Cole (not
the old one, but Parrot Cole, surnamed the Chatterer) for the glorious
stampede by which they had turned the fortunes of the day. The event was
celebrated in Poke Stogis by a grand illumination, in which seven bunches
of dips, four boxes of Bryant & May’s matches, and two rows of fusees
were expended—an extravagance not often perpetrated by a corporation so
careful of the public money as that of Poke Stogis. The people shouted
till they were hoarse,—they belonging to the class that cheers though not
inebriates.”
[Sidenote: LIGHT CONDUCT.]
This concluded the history lesson, and the school was then exercised in
prose composition. Want of space forbids the production of more than a
single specimen of the papers written; but the following is a fair one:—
THEME.—_Cloe’s parents desire to wed her to Strephon, the eldest son
of a noble house, and bid her accept his suit. She, being in love with
Alexis, the younger son, secretly meets him. They are discovered.
Cloe is rebuked for her heartlessness, and Alexis languishes in a
prison.—Moral._
[Sidenote: AWFULLY NICE.]
[Sidenote: STOLEN SPOONS.]
[Illustration]
“In such a state from heat so great, Alexis groaned and Cloe moaned, as
through the wood, in loving mood, they made their way, till close of day;
when homeward turning with cheeks just burning, to ’scape a shower they
sought a bower, in which they rested and playful jested, and did discuss,
promiscuous, their hopes and fears for future years, till moon uprose
and did disclose, ’neath graceful skirt, drawn up from dirt, her ankle
neat near two great feet, to anxious Pa, who cried, ‘Ha, ha! I’ve found
you out;’ then with a shout, flew on her swain and called his train, who
held the stripling in their grip, and made him sleep in dungeon deep;
while pretty Cloe wept in woe, as angry mater did soundly rate her,
rustling with fuss, calling her, ‘hussey, brazen jade, wer’t not afraid?
how couldst thou do’t? Lean to the suit of younger son, devoid of money!
Secret wooings! Hein! pretty doings!’”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
“MORAL.—This may suffice as good advice, to lovers to keep skirts from
view, and draw their toes well in _sub rosa_, when in bower at evening
hour, and making spoons by light of moons.”
[Sidenote: A BORED TEACHER.]
When the prose composition was over, the teacher was about to commence
another lesson, but the small boy who had been so active with the cane
before, coolly walked up to the desk, took the teacher’s watch out of his
pocket, and holding it up called out—
“Mischief-class hour!”
In a moment the air was full of shouts and yells, slates and books,
satchells and ink-bottles. Norval and his brothers were quite picklish
enough to feel tempted to enjoy the fun; but seeing that the mischief was
going far beyond what ought to be joined in, he seized Jaques and Ranulf,
and made for the door. Fortunately for the boys, the teacher was between
them and the class on their way out; and two ink-bottles, five pieces of
india-rubber, a blotting-blad, and a handful of slate pencil, that came
flying in their direction, were stopped by the body of the master, who,
being a Board teacher, was not, as the boys expected, floored by the
missiles, but beamed pleasantly as if all was oakay, and the sensation so
dealicious, that he wood like some more treemendously. Just as the boys
were getting out at the door, the whole class rushed upon the teacher,
and made him fast to the wall with his own nails, where he stuck with a
plank look on his plane face, as if he was now bored through and through.
Somehow the whole thing seemed to everybody engaged to be so ordinary an
occurrence that the three boys felt no alarm, as they would have done
under other circumstances; and as they got out and shut the door, had a
hearty laugh at the ludicrous scene they had witnessed.
[Sidenote: MIXED STORES.]
[Sidenote: NO SHOP.]
On reaching the street they began to stroll through the town, amusing
themselves by looking in at the shop-windows. There was plenty of food
for merriment, as things were mixed up in a very curious way. The
contents of one window were, a leg of mutton, the Children’s Friend, a
bottle of senna, six farthing dips, two bunches of radishes, an oyster,
a wooden leg, and a stuffed goose. In another, over which was painted
upside down “Rafé and Cestaurant,” there were a millstone, a wooden
shoe, three india-rubber goloshes, a can of train-oil, two white hats,
a brass knocker, and a dead cat. A shop marked “Pluggist, licensed by
the Packulty,” exhibited a drum, two sucking pigs, a magic-lantern,
five cocked-hats, a green cotton umbrella, two packs of cards, a tin
soldier, and a frying-pan. The notices in the windows were also very
queer. One said, “No credit given, except without security. Any person
paying ready money will be handed over to the police.” Close beside this
was another: “Price down from 5s. to 7s. 9d. each.” The boys thought
either sum would have been rather dear, as the ticket was upon a common
peg-top, such as they had often bought for twopence. Another label bore,
“Try our Totalfailure Mixture, strongly remmocended by the Boil College
of Imposicians.” It would take too long to speak of all the funny things
they saw; besides, it is always bad taste to talk too much “shop.” If
any one would like to hear more on that subject, he has only to address a
polite note to
MESSRS NORVAL, JAQUES, RANULF, & COMPANY,
The Nurseryfun Works,
Skrumpshustown,
enclosing five thousand stamps, when he will receive by return of post
a copy of the most amusing shop-label they saw in Blundertown. If he
considers the price too high, let him remember the poet’s query—
[Sidenote: AUGHT OR NAUGHT.]
“What is aught but as ’tis valued?”
and if he thinks the answer is Naught, he can judge himself what is the
difference, if N y.
[Sidenote: LADY PAS LAIDE.]
Affairs in the street were quite as queer as in the shops. While the boys
were looking in at a window, a silvery voice behind them called out,
“Stalest Tellacrams—Last week’s paper at double price;” and turning round
they saw a young lady, dressed in perfect taste, the only blunders about
her being that she had no hair on her head but her own, which was neither
dyed nor bleached, nor combed down over her eyes _à la_ pet terrier, and
that she walked like a human being, not as ladies in the ordinary world
do, with their heels perched up on things like a couple of inches cut off
the legs of a chair, and wearing their dresses so tight, that their knees
seem to be tied together with tape. A footman followed her, who had the
calves of his legs in front, and the tie of his cravat at the back, and
whose neck was not at all stiff, but shook like a shape of calves-foot
jelly. He carried a quantity of newspapers, wrapped in scented
envelopes. Instead of getting pennies for her newspapers, the young lady,
whenever anybody took one, curtsied low, and kissing her hand, gravely
gave them a penny, saying, “Thanks, thanks—a thousand, thousand thanks;
Telegraphina will never forget your kindness.”
[Sidenote: CORDIAL BUMPERS.]
[Illustration]
The people, when they met in the street, instead of passing, walked
straight up to each other, bumped one another heavily, and then went on
smiling as if all was right. While Norval was gazing after the pretty
young lady with the newspapers, an old dame, with a reticule on her head
and a bonnet full of apples in her hand, made straight at him. Norval got
out of the way, and she nearly fell on her nose, the apples rolling out
on the pavement.
[Sidenote: ANCIENT THOMAS.]
“What a rude old man, to be sure!” said she, scowling at Norval.
“I only got out of the way, ma’am, if you mean me by old man,” said he.
“And what’s the use of people who are not in the way when they are
wanted?” said she. “Old men like you——”
“I’m not an old man,” said Norval, interrupting.
“When were you born?” said the old lady, snappishly.
“Eight years ago,” said Norval.
“Then you’re eight years old.” Norval did not see any answer to this, and
she went on, “Does your papa ever tell lies?”
“No,” said Norval, indignantly.
“Doesn’t he call you his little man sometimes?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re old and you’re a man, so you’re an old man.”
Norval did not quite see it—“I don’t feel old,” he said.
“How can I know how you feel,” replied the old lady, “when you won’t bump
me? Oh!” she added, screwing up her lips and clasping her hands, “I do
love a bumper! Is your name Tom?”
“No,” said Norval.
[Sidenote: SCARCELY APARIENT.]
“That’s a pity; there’s no bumper like an old Tom; he’s a noble spirit,
always ginoowine.”
“I can’t follow you,” said Norval.
“And did I say I wanted you to follow me? Gals have no followers here; I
only wanted my regular bump.”
Norval having a grandfather who was fond of phrenology, had picked up a
smattering, and was just going to say that he thought it was only silly
people that wanted regular bumps, when suddenly the old lady called out,
“Where are my pears? there were four of them.”
Jaques and Ranulf, who had picked up the apples, had been standing ready
to hand them back to her ever so long.
“I beg your pardon,” said Jaques, “they are apples.”
“I say they’re pears,” said the old lady, testily. “How many have you?”
“Eight,” said Jaques.
“Well, and isn’t that four pairs? I always like to buy them pared; it
saves knives and trouble,” said she. “It’s a pity that a boy like you
should be a beggar.”
“I’m not a beggar,” said Jaques.
“Didn’t you beg my pardon?”
“Yes.”
“Those who beg are beggars, that’s sure,” said she.
[Sidenote: COURTEOUS.]
Just at this moment a policeman came up. He took off his helmet, and
making a low bow, said, “I heard the word beg. May I take the great
liberty of inquiring whether any one has thought proper to beg? and if
so, from whom, and for what? If for anything real, good and well; but if
merely from politeness or courtesy, then to be visited with the utmost
severity of the law.”
Jaques, who had always been taught fearlessly to speak the truth, said at
once, “I begged the old lady’s pardon,” half doubting what would happen.
To his great surprise the policeman turned round sharp on the old lady,
and asked, “Did this boy beg your pardon?”
“Yes,” said she.
“Then, madam, with peelings of the deepest fain, it is my duty to inform
you that you must at once be led to the court.”
“The court!” screamed the old lady; “it has been my ambition for fifty
years to be courted, and now it has come at last.”
“It has, madam; you are now about to be presented at court by the aid of
the police. Will your Majesty deign to proceed?”
[Sidenote: XPLAINING.]
“Majesty!” said she; “I can’t understand it.”
“Let me endeavour to make it plain,” said the constable, with a wave of
his hand like a professor lecturing. “Will your gracious Majesty deign
to inform me whether I am correct in saying that this boy begged your
pardon?”
“Yes.”
“And would your Highness further permit me to inquire whether it is or is
not a fact that begging is contrary to law?”
“Yes.”
“May I also be suffered humbly and respectfully to put the question,
whether anybody can pardon people for breaking the law, except the
Queen?”
[Sidenote: EVERY INCH A QUEEN.]
“No.”
“Then I reverentially request permission of your gracious Majesty to
point out that as you were asked to pardon when he broke the law, you
must be the queen.”
“But I’ve got no crown,” said she, quite puzzled.
“I must be condescendingly excused for venturing to differ from your
Serene Highness. If you will feel for it, you will find you have a crown
to your head.”
“Why, so I have,” said she, and suddenly drawing herself up, and assuming
an air of most ridiculous dignity, added, “What, ho! bring hither my
sceptre.”
The boys could scarcely keep in their laughter, and the difficulty
increased when the policeman produced his baton, and going down on one
knee handed it to the old lady, who immediately aimed a fierce blow at
his head, crying,—
“Down with every one that has a crown except myself!”
The policeman mildly replied, “Your Majesty, I haven’t got a crown
in the world; my missus doesn’t allow me more than 4 and 9 a-week for
pocket-money.”
[Sidenote: A BOUNDING JOY.]
[Illustration]
“Just as well for you; those who are limited to four and ninepence can
feel proper respect for a sovereign,” said the old lady; “now for our
court.” So saying, she began to perform a most wild _minuet de la cour_,
the policeman beating time with his hands. Then ordering him to take off
his greatcoat, she fastened it on as a train, and set off for the court.
[Sidenote: RUNNING MELODY.]
The policeman went first, playing a grand march on a Jew’s harp, which
he produced from his pocket. It was as big as a fire-shovel, but this
did not matter, as he had a mouth reaching from ear to ear. The old lady
followed, holding her baton-sceptre up, and with her long, sharp chin
cocked so high in the air that you could have hung a hat upon it. The
policeman’s music made her quite lively, and she began to sing, with a
chorus to each verse, which ran thus,—
[Music:
Hey tiddy-iddy-tiddy,
Hey tiddy-iddy-tiddy,
Hey tiddy-iddy-tiddy,
tum-tum-tum.]
during the singing of which she skipped about from one side to the other
in a most lively manner.
[Sidenote: SOVEREIGN SPECIFICS.]
I never thought to see
The day I queen should be;
It’s come at last, however,
You well may cry—“I never!”
Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.
Nor I, but still it’s poz,
However strange, because
Policeman says ’tis so;
X is ’xact, you know.
Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.
Our reign shall last so long,
You’ll need umbrellas strong;
Woe to the minion’s skin
Who sports a gingham thin!
Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.
A sovereign we shall be,
Ruling land and sea
In straighter lines than youc
Ould find in copy-book.
Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.
We’ll have a Parliament
Cake and wine event
Every day or two,
Invites select and few.
Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.
To have a feast of rea
Son at our royal tea;
Likewise a flow of soul,
By Punch from royal bowl.
Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.
And nominate a Prime
Minister of rhyme;
Pros and Cons shall banished be,
Except conundrums after tea.
Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.
Look out for famous sport,
For we are going to court;
So bachelors beware,
And let no caitiff dare
Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.
Refuse our royal suit
Of livery, and put
On his own airs instead,
Or off shall go his head.
Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.
[Sidenote: BAND-DITTY.]
Each time the old lady took up the chorus, she skipped about from one
side to the other with a briskness that did her credit; and as she
marched and tripped along the street, the policemen she passed joined
the procession, each producing an instrument from his pocket, so that
soon the old lady had a band before her, playing most vigorously on the
following:—
A Jew’s Harp.
A Penny Trumpet.
Three Threepenny Fiddles.
A Handbell.
Two Twopenny Flutes.
A Mouth Accordion.
A Triangle.
A Pair of Bones;
[Sidenote: BATONS D’ORCHESTRE.]
and the inspector led the band, with his hat fastened to his waist-belt,
keeping them to their beat by drumming in a spirited manner on the crown
of it with a pair of batons.
[Sidenote: DECIDED HITS.]
[Illustration]
The boys tried very hard to find out what the tune of the verses was, but
could make nothing of it. All the melody seemed to rest in the chorus
instead of running through the song. The people in the streets, however,
were evidently greatly delighted with it, as, the moment the procession
came within hearing, they all stood still and began gravely to beat time
with their sticks and umbrellas, those who had none wagging their heads
up and down, like China mandarins. The boys laughed heartily when they
saw several dozen umbrellas, sticks, and heads solemnly waving about,
while the policemen squeaked and croaked, banged and tinkled, on their
instruments, and the people slowly turned round their backs and bowed low
to the houses as the old lady passed. Whenever she, in skipping about,
came near any of the people who were bowing, she took a rise out of them
by administering a sound whack with the baton-sceptre, which knocked
them down, shouting, “Rise, Sir What’s-your-name Thingammy,” which the
poor fellows did with a very beknighted look. Presently they arrived at
a large building, at the door of which the policemen turned aside to let
the old lady enter, and having played a final flourish, repocketed their
instruments. The old lady on reaching the door turned round, and finding
the policeman who had given her the baton waiting, she grasped it firmly,
saying—
[Sidenote: A THUMPING GAL.]
“I’ll give it to you,” and, suiting the action to the utterance, she
brought it down bang as hard as she could, as he bowed low, so that he
fell flat on the pavement.
[Illustration]
“Rise, Sir Charle——”
“Stop, stop!” he cried; “don’t turn a day constable into a knight.”
[Sidenote: GIVE AND TAKE.]
“Back to your beat,” said she, majestically.
“I think it’s rather beat to my back,” replied he, although, curiously
enough, he did not appear at all discomposed or hurt.
“Take yourself up.”
“We take others up, not ourselves; besides, you’ve battened me down.”
“Oh, you downy fellow!”
“Yes, you can’t get a rise out of me, that’s plain.”
“X plain yourself,” said she.
“No pretty Bobby-she should say,” said he.
“Move on!” cried she—“move on, siree!”
“Peeler of the State, I stands,” said he.
Suddenly some one rushed out at the door (knocking the old lady so that
she tumbled over the policeman), and coming up to the boys said, “Are you
judges of sweet things?”
“I should rather think so,” replied Jaques.
[Sidenote: GETTING A WIGGING.]
“Then come along at once,” said he; and before they had time to think, he
hurried them upstairs into a room where three pompous-looking attendants
in white coats and enormous black neckcloths dressed them up in grand
robes, put immense full-bottomed wigs on their heads, and opening a door,
pointed to three large chairs. The boys went in and sat down on the
chairs, while everybody in the court rose up, making a low bow, and a
crier called out—
“All persons, without any further ado before my Lords the Justices of
Assize so small Boyer and Determiner, and Jug ale Delivery, draw beer and
give to attendants.”
This announcement about beer might have appeared to be an aberration on
the crier’s part, had it not been that, as is usual in criminal courts,
there were plenty of queer mugs among the people in the building.
[Sidenote: COURT BEAUTY.]
The boys hardly knew what to think of their new position. Norval and
Jaques were rather overawed by their robes. Ranulf had got between his
brothers, and so was seated in the Lord Chief Justice’s chair. At first
he looked as grave as a judge, which was just what he ought to have done
in the circumstances; but after a little he glanced round at Norval,
and seeing him in his wig, which came down to his waist, was just on the
point of bursting out laughing, when the Clerk of Court, who wore green
goggles as large as macaroons, peered over the Bench from below, saying,
“If yer Ludship pleases,” and sat down again.
[Illustration]
“I hope I do please,” said Ranulf. “Papa always bids us try to please.”
[Sidenote: A SWEET THING.]
“Your Lordship pleases me very much,” said a charming voice from the
prisoner’s dock, in which stood a lovely lady, dressed in full Court
costume, feathers and all, who kissed her daintily-gloved hand to Ranulf.
“But I thought we were brought here as judges of sweet things,” said
Jaques.
The Clerk of Court peering over the bench again, said, “’Xac’ly so, m’
Lud; the sweetest thing in prisoners we’ve had for a long time, m’ Lud,”
and sat down again.
“What is she charged with?” said Norval.
“P’tty lasseny, m’ Lud.”
“Pretty lasseny!” said Jaques aside to Norval. “I am sure she is guilty
of that.”
“But,” said Norval, “what is she charged with doing?”
“Stealing a heart, m’ Lud.”
Norval, who had once been in court at a trial, thought the right thing
to do was to take a note; so, seizing an enormous pen that was on the
bench, he wrote, repeating aloud as he went on, “Prisoner charged with
stealing a tart.”
[Sidenote: QUEER QUERIES.]
“The person who stole tarts was a knave, and I thought a knave was a
man?” said Ranulf.
“Yes,” said Norval; “but you know the women want to do what the men do
nowadays.”
“I’ve heard of their wanting rights,” said Jaques; “but stealing isn’t a
right, it’s a wrong, isn’t it?”
“Never mind,” said Norval; “it won’t do to appear not to understand.
Ranny, you’re the old judge, you know, because you’re in the middle,
so you must ask the questions. You had better ask what the prisoner’s
name is. Now, look grave,” said he, as he observed the dimples in his
brother’s cheeks beginning to show again.
Ranulf pursed his lips up very tight, and then said, “I want to know what
the pretty lady’s name is?”
“No, no,” said Norval; “prisoner.”
“I want to know the pretty prisoner’s name?” said Ranulf.
[Sidenote: STEAK TART.]
“No, no—just prisoner,” said Norval; “say it again.”
“Well, then, I want to know the just prisoner’s name?” said Ranulf.
“Just so, m’ Lud,” said the Clerk, bobbing up; “prisoner’s name is
Victoria Lawsenj. Yer Ludship had better ask her to plead.”
Norval whispered to Ranulf, “Tell her she’s charged with stealing a tart.
Ask whether she is guilty or not guilty.”
Ranulf looked as grave as he could, and said “Victoria Lawsenj, you are
charged with stealing a tart——”
“Beg pardon, m’ Lud,” said the Clerk, starting up; “some m’stake, my
Lud——”
Ranulf began again, “Victoria Lawsenj, you are charged with stealing a
tart and some steak.”
“Must pray yer Ludsh’p t’ excuse me ’gain; yer Ludship said tart and
steak.”
“Was that the wrong order?” said Ranulf, meekly; “then I’ll say steak and
tart.”
[Sidenote: NOTA DOUBT OF IT.]
“But, m’ Lud, the steak is a mistake, and the tart is another.”
“Very well,” said Ranulf; “I’ll say that she is charged with stealing
a female steak—cow-beef—and that the tart was not really a tart but a
beefsteak pie.”
“But, m’ Lud,” said the Clerk; “really, m’ Lud, yer Ludship knows best,
m’ Lud, of course; but, m’ Lud, I would suggest that your Ludship said
tart instead of heart.”
Here Norval, remembering what he had seen in court, broke in, “But tart
is right; it must be right—I’ve got it in my notes.”
This completely flabbergasted the Clerk, who gasped a feeble “M’ Lud,”
and sank down in his seat in despair.
Jaques, practical as usual, whispered to Ranulf, “Never mind whether it’s
a tart or a heart; just say, ‘You are charged with stealing a tart, or a
heart, or something. Are you guilty or not guilty?’”
Ranulf took this advice; and turning to the lady, who was gracefully
fanning herself, he asked her the question, only he got confused towards
the end, and made it—“Are you gilded or not gilded?”
“Oh, my Lord,” said the lady, “there’s no gilt about me; I’m as true as
steel.”
Up started the Clerk.
“Take down, m’ Lud, that she says it’s true she stole.”
“No, I didn’t; I only steeled,” said she.
“Steeeled!” said the Clerk, contemptuously; “how do you spell
‘steeeeled’?”
“S-t-e-e-l-e-d, you old goose!”
[Sidenote: WHOLESALE SLAUGHTER.]
“Yer Ludship sees how bad she is; her manner’s bad, her grammar’s bad,
and her spelling’s bad. Your Ludship had better add another count for
murder.”
“Murder of what?” said Jaques.
“The Queen’s English, m’ Lud.”
“That would be a great many murders, for there are more than thirty
million English,” said Jaques, who had learned the population in his
geography book; “how could she murder so many?”
The Clerk was quite puzzled at this, and tried to look as wise as he
could, which was not very wise, but otherwise. There was a long pause,
during which the prisoner ate an ice and drank a cool beverage that were
brought to her by a powdered footman, after which she looked brighter
and lovelier than ever, while everybody else in court was miserable with
stuffiness and heat.
“Could not we have ices too?” said Ranulf, eyeing the tray eagerly.
The footman said nothing, but turning round made a low bow, walked up to
the bench, and as the boys held out their hands for ices, gravely shook
his head, made another low bow, and walked out.
[Sidenote: BRUTAL BOXING.]
By this time the Clerk had recovered himself, and a jury having been
called, they were got into the jury-box. This was a matter of some
difficulty, as the box was made without any door, and the jurymen were
seized by ushers and thrown over the partition, tumbling in a confused
heap. When the whole twelve had been thrown over, they presented a sorry
spectacle of torn clothes and dusty faces. There were no seats in the
box, but the ushers threw in some chairs on the top of the jurymen,
who appeared to take all as a matter of course. The plaintiff was then
called forward, and a large wooden box placed over him by the ushers, who
padlocked it down and then sat on the top of it.
[Sidenote: CASE FOR PLAINTIFF.]
“Why do you lock him up?” said Jaques.
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: JACK IN THE BOX.]
“Shall ’ave to beg yer Ludship’s pardon,” said the Clerk; “we don’t lock
him up, we lock him down.”
“But why do you put him under a case?” said Jaques.
“To prevent him getting up case, m’ Lud.”
Jaques himself seemed rather shut up at this, and Norval, moved again by
what he had once seen at a trial, said, “What is your name?”
“John,” said the voice, out of the box.
“It should be Jack, when he’s in a box, shouldn’t it?” said Ranulf; “and
he ought to start up, oughtn’t he?”
“Oh, he will be sure to do that,” said the lady; “he always was an
upstart, indeed he was, my dear—Lord, I mean,” said she, correcting
herself with a smile.
“John What?” Norval went on.
“No, my name’s not John What,” said the voice from the box; “it’s John
Doe.”
“That’s strange,” said Jaques; “I thought the case was about a heart, not
about a doe.”
[Sidenote: LONGITUDE.]
“Yes, my Lud, but the charge is that she stole a Doe’s heart,” said the
Clerk.
“Doe and hart, hart and doe; I don’t think I’ll ever understand it,” said
Ranulf, with a sigh.
“P’raps if yer Ludship would keep in mind that in Doe _versus_ Roe——”
“Oh dear, oh dear! here’s a roe now; that’s another staggerer,” cried
Jaques.
“Never mind,” whispered Norval—“look solemn, and make believe you know
all about it.”
The examination of John Doe then began.
“How long have you known the prisoner?”
“Various lengths. I have known her from 2 feet 3 inches long to 5 feet 7½
inches long, as she is now. But even now she is sometimes pretty short
with me. I’ve known her so long, in short, that the longer I knew her the
more I got to long after her.”
“Well, I don’t want to know anything about long after; I mean, when did
you first come across her?”
“I cross her! I never crossed her in my life. She had her own way as
long as I knew her; it was she that was cross with me.”
[Sidenote: A TROUBLESOME TIME.]
“But I want to know the length of your acquaintance?”
“Some of my acquaintances are long and some short.”
“How shall I put it? Tell me, once for all, when you first met her.”
“When I first met her? I met her when I least expected it.”
“Really this is intolerable. I want you to tell me what was the time at
which your first meeting took place.”
“Wild thyme, I think; but I’m no botanist, you know.”
“Tut, tut! At what period of time was it?”
“It wasn’t a period of thyme, it was a bank of thyme.”
“Will you answer, sir? Give me the date of your first meeting.”
“We had no dates at our first meeting, only raisins; and we ate them
all, so I cannot give you any.”
[Sidenote: PUNY JUDGES.]
“A fig for your dates and raisins! I wish I could get at the _raison
d’être_ of your answers. How can I put the question?”
[Illustration]
“That’s just what I want to know. How can you put such stupid questions?”
[Sidenote: LOUD LAUGHTER IN COURT.]
“M’ Lud, what am I to do? I can make nothing of this witness.”
Norval, who had learned a little Latin, replied, “Do you mean that you
can annihilate him?”
“No, m’ Lud, but I can’t make head or tail of him.”
“Never mind his head, and let him manage his own tail. Perhaps he’s a bit
of a wag.”
“Very well, m’ Lud. Now, then, tell your story.”
“I’m not a story-teller. I always tell the truth.”
“Yes, yes, but come on with your own tale.”
“Tail! I haven’t a tail. I’m not one of your Darwin monkey-people.”
The lady in the dock gave such a merry laugh at this, that she infected
the whole court. Ranulf went into such fits, that his wig slipped down to
his chin, and an usher had to come up to the bench and slap him on the
back to bring him round. Norval recovered first, and putting on as grave
a face as he could, said to Jaques and Ranulf, “Don’t be silly; judges
are always stern and grumpy, so we must be too;” and turning to John
Doe, said, “What is your complaint against her? Did she steal your heart?”
“No, my Lord; it was her own heart.”
[Sidenote: O’ER ME STEELING.]
“Her own heart! How can that be? How could her own heart be stolen by
her?”
“I never said it was stolen, my Lord, I only said she steeled it.”
“Surely that’s bad grammar, again,” whispered Jaques.
“But I want to know,” said Norval, “how could she steal what was her own?”
“Well, my Lord, you see I gave her my whole heart.”
“Gave it her? I thought you charged her with stealing it?”
“No, my Lord, never! It was her own she steeled.”
“Well, well,” said Norval, “go on; try to explain it in your own way.”
“This was the way, my Lord; I wanted her to be my sweetheart.”
[Sidenote: OFFERING AMENDS.]
“That’s right, my Lord,” said the lady; “and I was tart without the
sweet, I admit.”
“Yes, my Lord, a regular Tartar; when I gave her my whole heart, she
steeled hers against me.”
“True,” said the prisoner; “your Lordship must know he came with so much
brass, that I could only meet him with irony, particularly as I fancied
he was after the tin.”
Practical Jaques here broke in once more, saying, “Would it not put the
matter all right if she gave you back your heart?”
“Oh, but, my Lord, I gave her my whole heart, and she’s broken it.”
“That need not be a difficulty,” said the lady; “I’ll soon put it
together; I’m very good at a patchwork quilt.”
The Clerk, who had been dozing, wakened up once more at this, and said,
“She admits her guilt, m’ Lud.”
“You make a Qurious mistake,” said the lady; “I said quilt, not guilt.”
[Sidenote: THE BOUNDING DOE.]
The Clerk was off to sleep again, so made no answer.
[Illustration]
“My Lord,” said the lady, “here is his heart; I have offered it back to
him often, but he always said he did not want it, he wanted mine.”
[Sidenote: FROM BOX TO BOX.]
So saying, she pulled out of a neat little chatelaine bag which hung at
her side a small bundle wrapped up in silver paper.
“Are you willing to give it back to him?” said Jaques.
“With all my heart,” said she.
No sooner were these words uttered than a tremendous hurrah rang out
from the box in which the witness was enclosed, and John Doe proved the
upstart character Victoria had given him, by bursting the lid of the box
open and starting up in the air, sending the ushers upon it flying, and,
jumping out on the floor, he rushed up to the dock and gave the prisoner
a great hug.
To this she replied by giving him a tremendous box on the ear.
“What!” said he, “did you not say you would give me all your heart with
my own?”
“Well, you have me there,” said she; “but you must take the whole or
none. When you asked for my heart, you asked for my hand as well, and you
must take the one with the other,”—giving him another box on the ear.
[Sidenote: OH GOODY!]
The curious thing was, that from each box a number of little round things
fell with a clatter and scattered themselves on the floor.
The noise woke the Clerk, who, starting up, called out, “Silence in the
court!”
The hubbub still continuing, he shouted, “What is all this?”
[Illustration]
“Oh, nothing,” said the lady, skipping out of the dock, and administering
a box on the ear to the Clerk; “only boxes of Victoria Lawsenj’s.”
“Lozenges!” shouted the jury. “Oh, give me some!” cried everybody.
[Sidenote: BEST MIXTURES.]
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: VICTORIA’S RAIN.]
“Certainly,” said she; and before you could count 10, the whole of
the jury, counsel, ushers, and spectators were sprawling on the
ground, showers of lozenges falling in all directions,—thus once more
demonstrating what every one knows, that there’s no rain like Victoria’s,
and that Royal Boxes often contain the sweet. As everybody scrambled
after the lozenges, the whole court became a scene of confusion. The
boys, however, who had a notion that judges must be dignified, remained
quite still, only peering over their desks to see what was going on. As
the boxes continued, the court got ankle-deep in lozenges, in which the
people tumbled about, cramming them into their mouths and pockets by
handsful. The pile rose so high that Ranulf could resist the temptation
no longer, but with his long pen drew a lozenge towards him, and keeping
as grave as he could, stooped down and picked it up. As he had been
taught not to be selfish, he broke it in three and handed two of the
pieces to Norval and Jaques. They were just going to eat them, when the
lady called out—
“Oh, boys, surely you would not eat what was picked up off the floor!
that would be being bad judges of sweet things.”
[Sidenote: VIRTUE REWARDED.]
They stopped at once. Ranulf could not help casting a wistful eye at his
bit of lozenge, but getting the better of himself, he threw it down, and
the others did the same.
“That’s right,” said the lady; “so now you will not get a Victoria
Lawsenj box on the ear, like the other stupid people tumbling about
there: here are some nice clean sweetmeats for you.” So saying, she
handed each of the boys a lovely little box, made of chased gold and
blue enamel, and marked out in diamonds on the lid, “Genuine—our own
manufacture.” A prompt “Thank you” came from each judge’s desk; and on
the boxes being opened, the boys found in them, not the common lozenges
that were flying about the floor, but most lovely bonbons, which tasted
more delicious than any they ever had before.
Meanwhile the scene in court baffled description. Everybody was cramming
himself with lozenges, which, strangely enough, set them coughing
furiously.
[Sidenote: PREPARE TO CHARGE.]
“Don’t you think we had better get out of this Babel?” said the lady.
“I think so,” said Ranulf; “but how can we do it?”
“Oh, well,” said she, “I will manage it; I will even charge the jury, if
necessary.”
So saying, she took little Ranulf up in her arms, and telling the other
boys to keep close behind her, turned and said to the jury—
“Now it is quite evident you have agreed, by the way you are over-eating
yourselves, so you can return your verdict.”
“No,” said the foreman, “don’t hurry us; we are not ready.”
“Oh, come, that’s nonsense; surely you can give it _tout de suite_, after
swallowing so much sugar.”
“Well, we must be charged first.”
“Oh, I’ll charge you.”
“But how?”
“At ever so great a rate.”
[Sidenote: CHARGING THE JURY.]
“Stop a minute!” cried one.
“I seconds that motion,” said another.
“The motion of seconds is too fast for minutes to be stopped; besides,
they don’t belong to us, not being hours, so we have no right to stop
them.” So saying, she charged across the court, tumbling the jury over on
the top of John Doe in the middle of the lozenges.
“Don’t do that,” gasped the jury, “and we will pay you whatever your
charge may be.”
“Oh, there’s nothing to pay for the lozenges. We don’t sell ourselves,
we only sell other people! Ta, ta” said the lady, and led the boys out
at the door. On reaching the entrance, she bid them good-bye, at which
they looked rather blank, as they had hoped she would stay with them; and
seeing this, she said—
“My dear boys, I cannot come with you, as it is time for afternoon tea,
and I must have that. T comes before U, does it not?” So saying, she
kissed them, and passed them out at the door.
[Sidenote: OMINOUS BUS.]
As they stepped into the street a voice shouted,
“Take your seats, take your seats! Blunderbus just going off!”
The boys turned round and saw a short fat gun, evidently an infant of the
Woolwich infant. On a sign on the wall opposite it was painted “DOUBLE
ACTION BLUNDERBUS CO𐞲. (unlimited).”
“Why does it point up so much?” asked Jaques.
“Well, ye see, sir, the street ’ere is pretty steep; that’s how it’z
erranged mortar-like.”
“Which way is it going?” asked Norval, not wishing to return by the
street they had already walked along.
“Both ways,” said the conductor. “Hinside passengers one way, houtside
t’other.”
“How do you manage that?” asked Norval.
“Himproved happlication of Mongrieff’s recoil utilizer. When we goes
hoff, hinside passengers blown to Hattems, houtside recoils with shock
and ’orrer in hopposite d’rection.”
[Sidenote: MISS MANAGE MEANT IT.]
The boys at once resolved they would not go inside, but from curiosity
ran round to look into the gun. They found, packed very tight in it,
three wooden soldiers, a grate party with two brass dogs at his feet,
a dancing nigger, a Miss Manage—who, being on her way to an archery
meeting, had a beau by her side—a dumb-waiter, and a snob.
This reassured the boys, who, not wishing to go up the steep street
towards which the gun pointed, clambered on to the top. They were
scarcely seated, when a clown with a red-hot poker rushed out of the
coach-office, and applied the end to the touch-hole. Immediately there
is a fearful bang, and the Blunderbus starts backwards. The inside
passengers fly down the street helter-skelter, except Miss Manage, who
keeps herself collected, shooting out gracefully _à la_ Zazel, being,
alas! a sell for her beau, who wishes to cut his stick; but she, without
a quiver even in her eyelid, holds on to him as he talks of flight,
turning ashy pale at such a narrow escape. Not having forgotten the
excellent rule to have two strings to your beau, she had made a bolt
impossible.
[Sidenote: AGUNNY.]
[Illustration]
The dumb-waiter, cured by what would make most people speechless (a proof
of the truth of homœopathy), flew in all directions, shouting “Yessir,
yessir!” The wooden soldiers pulled themselves together for a moment
to salute an officer who was passing, which they did with the wrong
hand, and then sped on in more fragments than before. The grate party
was smashed so small that even his dogs did not know him; the nigger’s
nether limbs went off down the street by themselves, and were at once
apprehended as black-legs by the police, while the rest of him formed
a kind of Black’s Atlas upon the pavement. The snob, as was natural,
disappeared in any number of vulgar fractions.
[Sidenote: HEAVY BACKING.]
[Illustration]
The Blunderbus ran back at a great pace for a mile, butting over two
Papal bulls, sending spinning mules without number, and ended by knocking
ten feet out of a square yard, in which a regiment of soldiers was being
drilled.
[Sidenote: SUCH A STATE.]
Our trio, who had been rather alarmed during their ride, jumped off the
gun the moment it stopped, and, as boys will always do, ran off to look
at the soldiers. On getting near they were surprised to see that each
man had a nigger lady beside him. While they were wondering what this
could mean, the Colonel, who wore a shell jacket, and had a husky voice,
rode up on a clothes-horse, and handed Norval a parade state, which was
as follows:—
+--------------------------------------------------------------------+
| TWOTY-TENTH BOSHSHIRE RUFFS, _37th Marchuary 7718_. |
+----------------+---------+---------+----------+---------+----------+
| | Present | Present | Absent | Absent | Tea |
| | with | without | in | in | Tottles. |
| | Leave. | Leave. | Mind. | Body. | |
+----------------+---------+---------+----------+---------+----------+
| Kernels, | 0 | 1½ | 1½ | 0 | |
| Ragers, | 0 | 2¾ | 2 | ¾ | |
| Catpins, | 0 | 7.09 | 5 | 2.09 | |
| Bluelandlords, | 0 | 10 | 10 | 0 | |
| Scar Gents, | 0 | 15.4 | 0 | 15.4 | |
| Noodlers, | 0 | 11 | 11 | 0 | |
| Fank and Rile, | 0 | 550.7 | 550.7 | 0 | |
+----------------+---------+---------+----------+---------+----------+
| T Tottles, | Add | them up | for your | self. | |
+----------------+---------+---------+----------+---------+----------+
| A. NUTT, |
| _Kernel of the Core._ |
+--------------------------------------------------------------------+
[Sidenote: BROWN BESSIES.]
“How is it,” said practical Jaques, who observed that the men had only
wooden guns, “that your men have no rifles?”
“Well, sir, we don’t go in for new-fangled notions here,” said the
Colonel; “we hold on to our Brown Bessies, as you see.”
All the nigger ladies grinned tremendously at this, and called out, “Ya!
ya! dat all right, Massa Kurnel.”
“Will you keep those brown Bessiers stock-still?” shouted the Colonel to
the men; “if you don’t, you shan’t have any ball.”
At this everybody looked very blank, and the Brown Bessies became
suddenly immovable. The Colonel then gave the word of command—
“Boshshire Roughs,
’SHUN.”
All the men at once turned away, and put their hands in their pockets,
displaying the most contemptuous indifference to the brown ladies, who
now were all attention and smiles, trying to coax the men to turn to them
again.
[Sidenote: GREAT SHAKES.]
“Will you inspect the corps?” said the Colonel.
The boys walked down to the end of the line, whereupon the band, which
consisted of one fife and 29 triangles, struck up—
Tinkle, tinkle, little Shah,
Did you ever see a nigger with a white papa?
Pickaninny here and pickaninny da,
You’ll never find a single darkey, ha, ha, ha!
As they came near the line, the Colonel took from his pocket a
magnifying-glass as big as the crown of a hat, and handed it to Norval,
who asked—
“What am I to do with it?”
[Sidenote: HE LIKE A SOLDIER FELL.]
At this question the entire regiment burst into a tremendous guffaw,
laughing till the tears ran down their cheeks, and the whole line was a
scene of pocket-handkerchiefs, each being as big as a Turkish-bath towel,
and as there was a high wind, of course this caused a great fluttering
and shaking. The boys thought this very unlike the soldiers they had
been accustomed to see, particularly as the officers and sergeants
laughed and shook more than the men, and the Colonel, going off into a
broad grin, laughed and grew so fat that his very steed became infected,
and losing half its understanding and all its breeding, indulged in a
horse-laugh, which shook it so that when the rider fattened, it sank
under his weight, bringing him plump to the ground. A fatigue party had
to come to his assistance, and when he had been propped up by two long
crutches, one on each side of his horse, he tried to speak, but could
scarcely get on for laughing.
[Illustration]
“You want, ha, ha, ha! to know, ho, ho, ho! what the big glass is for?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you see, ah, ha, ha, ha! it’s because of, ha, ha, ha, ha! Mr
Sadpebble and Lord Guardsell.”
“Who are they?”
“Oh! they, ha, ha, ha! were the mime primister and skekentary of skate
for raw, ho, ho, ho!”
“But what have they to do with the glass?”
[Sidenote: SMALL BY DEGREES, ETC.]
“They managed things so, you see, ha, ha, aha, ha, ha! that everything
was getting small, ho, ho, ho! the regiments were getting smaller, and
the men were getting smaller, and the chests were getting smaller, and
the efficiency was getting smaller, and the contentment was getting
smaller, ha, ha, ha, ha! so they, ha, ha! they, ha, ha, ha! they, ah, ha,
ha, ha! they took to military spectacles to make things look better.”
“But surely no one would be deceived by that?”
[Sidenote: A LAME HALT.]
“Oh yes, ha, ha, ha! they deceived the general.”
“Which general?” said Jaques.
“Oh, we’ve only one general here—General Public—he’s the boy for
mobilisation, oh, haha, haha, ha!”
He laughed so loud and shook so much that the crutches, trembling under
him, stuck in the ground, and his horse, walking off, left him up in the
air between the crutches. This did not seem to disconcert him at all, but
brandishing his sword, he shouted—
“Battalion, halt!”
As the regiment was standing still already, the boys thought this a very
funny order to give; but they were more surprised still when they saw the
whole line set off marching, all limping as if they had blistered feet.
“Very well, _very_ steadily done,” said the Colonel, as they came
bobbing and limping towards him, like a lot of ducks in a thunder-storm.
Presently, on their coming close to him, he shouted—
[Sidenote: PUSSIAN TACTICS.]
“Double!”
At this they all turned round and went off in the opposite direction,
limping slower and slower.
“Surely that’s wrong,” said Jaques; “that’s right about turn; they should
have gone straight on and faster.”
“Not at all,” said the Colonel; “in our movements we follow Levrett’s
manœuvres.”
“But that’s not the way to double march,” said Jaques.
“Oh yes, it is. Did you ever see a March hare double? Well, we double
just as he does. Pussian tactics, you know.”