(IN A SLIGHTLY PICKWICKIAN SENSE.)
[Illustration: _Being the Dream of an angry "Brother Bung" after
attending the Meeting at St. James's Hall, and trying to soothe
himself with a dip into Dickens._]
["He" Lord BURTON, "asked why this drastic, this dishonest, this
catchpenny, this gerrymandering Bill should have been brought in?....
They had heard much of late about the Nonconformist Conscience, which
was said to be the backbone of the Liberal Party. He firmly believed
that the Bill had been brought forward to suit the Nonconformist
Conscience, to pander to the hypocritical self-righteousness, and the
sham respectability of a certain class."--_Lord Burton, at the St.
James's Hall Meeting, on the Direct Veto Bill._]
* * * * *
Mr. WITLER, the elder, gave vent to an extraordinary sound, which,
being neither a groan, nor a grunt, nor a gasp, nor a howl, nor a
hoot, nor a hiss, nor a shout, nor a shriek, yet seemed to partake
in some degree of the character of all these inarticulate laryngeal
exercises. It was a big vocal blend, and a stentorian; it made him
pant and turn apoplectically purple in the face, it shook the house,
and very nearly "brought it down."
Mr. WITLER'S "wocal wagaries" (as his son called them) when he _was_
roused, were something tremendous, earthquaky, appalling!
Mr. SWIGSLOP STIGGINS, a leading Shepherd of the Nonconformist
Rechabite Flock, unwarned by this nondescript sound, which he
understood to betoken remorse or repentance, in fact, an awakening of
the "Nonconformist Conscience," in a somewhat unlikely quarter,
looked about him, rubbed his hands, wept, smiled, wept again, and
then mechanically uttering a guttural "Hear! Hear!" (as though he were
listening, in the House of Commons, to the jocund HARCOURT, or the
jocular LAWSON, or the robustious T. W. RUSSELL, or the astute CAINE)
and then, walking across the room to a well-remembered pigeon-hole,
took thence an official-looking scroll, sat down, formally unfolded
it, cleared his throat, and began with pompous complacency to read
aloud its title, preamble, clauses, and provisions, compulsory
regulations, and peremptory prohibitions to the apparently
semi-asphyxiated Mr. WITLER.
The elder Mr. WITLER, who still continued to make various strange
and uncouth attempts to appear indifferent, offered not a single
word during these proceedings; but when STIGGINS stopped for breath,
previous to a second reading, he darted upon him, and, snatching
the scroll from his hand, first buffeted him briskly about the
head therewith, and then threw it into the fire. Then, seizing the
astonished gentleman firmly by the collar, he suddenly fell to kicking
him most furiously, accompanying every application of his boots to Mr.
STIGGINS'S person with sundry violent and incoherent anathemas,
such as--"Blatant Barabbas!"--"Bumptious busybody!"--"Unblushing
bandit!"--"Barefaced spoliator!"--"Hypocritical humbug!"--"Iniquitous
inquisitor!"--"Fanatical faddist!"--"Self-righteous sneak!"--"Sham
saint!"--"Jerrymandering JEREMY DIDDLER!"--"Pragmatical
pump!"--"Little Bethelite Boanerges!" and "Nonconformist
_Tartuffe_!!!"
"SAMMY," said Mr. WITLER, "put my cap on tight for me!" SAM dutifully
adjusted the cap more firmly on his father's head, and the old
gentleman, resuming his kicking with greater agility than before,
tumbled Mr. STIGGINS through the bar, and through the passage, out
at the front door, and so into the street, the kicking continuing the
whole way, and increasing in vehemence rather than diminishing every
time the boot was lifted.
It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight (_to "the Trade"_) to see
the water-drinker writhing in Mr. WITLER'S grasp, and his whole frame
quivering with anguish as kick followed kick in rapid succession;
it was a still more exciting spectacle (_to Bungdom all round, from
boisterous_ Lord BURTON _to the humblest rural Boniface_) to behold
Mr. WITLER, after a powerful struggle, immersing Mr. STIGGINS'S head
in a horse-trough full of water, and holding it there until he was
half suffocated.
"There!" said Mr. WITLER, throwing all his energy into one most
complicated kick, as he at length permitted Mr. STIGGINS to withdraw
his head from the trough, "send any vun o' them villainous Vetoists,
from burly Sir VILLIAM BARABBAS hisself down to the pettifoggingest
Local Hoptioniser in Little Peddlington, _here_, or to St. James's
'All, or the Alhambra, or elseveres in public meeting or privit pub,
and I'll pound him to a argymentative jelly fust, and drownd him in
public-speritted opinion arterwards!"
"SAMMY" (added Mr. WITLER, puffing and perspiring freely), "help
me in, and fill me a stiff glass o' Speshal Scotch; for I'm out of
breath, my boy!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: RATHER SUSPICIOUS.
_Mistress_ (_to Housekeeper, after "the Young Person" has left the
room_). "REALLY, WILKINS, I COULD NOT ENGAGE THAT YOUNG PERSON. SHE IS
TOO UGLY BY FAR!"
_Housekeeper._ "VERY SORRY, MUM. BUT YOU SAID _SO PARTICULARLY_ THAT
I WAS TO LOOK OUT FOR A GOOD PLAIN COOK,--'QUITE A PLAIN COOK,' YOU
SAID, MUM,--THAT I THOUGHT YOU HAD SOME PARTICULAR REASON----"]
* * * * *
VERY NATURAL.--Mrs. R. pays great attention to the Parliamentary
debates, and listens attentively while her Nephew reads the speeches
as reported in _The Times_. Last Thursday he was in the midst of the
discussion on the Welsh Liquor-Traffic Bill, and came to this: "Mr.
LLOYD-GEORGE, whose opening remarks were interrupted by a Count----"
Whereupon his Aunt exclaimed, "How very rude! What was the Count's
name? And how does a Count come to be in the House of Commons?"
* * * * *