To the _rendezvous_ all in a flutter
Himself—in a new suit of clothes—did betake;
And over and over, to save a mistake,
The speech he had thought of did mutter.
_He_ wore a red rose, for he thought it would show
He had taken the matter to heart.
A lady was there. Was it she? Yes, or no?
Blake didn't know whether to stay or to go.
He was nervous. But what made him start?
'Twas the figure—at first he could not see her face—
Which somehow familiar did look.
Then she turned—and he ran. Do you think it was base?
I fancy that you'd have done so in his place.
_It was Miriam Briggs, the plain cook._
[Illustration]
XVIII.
THAT OF "8" AND "22."
'Twas on the "Royal Sovereign,"
Which sails from Old Swan Pier,
That Henry Phipps met Emily Green,
And—_this_ is somewhat queer—
_Aboard the ship was Obadiah,
Likewise a lady called Maria_
The surnames of these people I
Cannot just now recall,
But 'tis quite immaterial,
It matters not at all.
The point is _this_—Phipps met Miss Green;
The sequel quickly will be seen.
He noticed her the first time when
To luncheon they went down
(The luncheon on the "Sovereign"
Is only half a-crown),
Where Obadiah gravely at
The table, with Maria, sat.
And Obadiah coughed because
Phipps looked at Emily—she at him.
Maria likewise noticed it,
And thereupon grew stern and grim,
Though neither one of all the four
Had met the other one before.
Now Emily Green was pretty, but
Maria—she was the reverse;
While Obadiah's looks were tra-
Gic—something like Macbeth's, but worse.—
And these two somehow seemed to be
Quite down on Phipps, and Miss E. G.
For when _she_ smiled, and kindly passed
The salt—which Phipps had asked her for—
Maria tossed her head and sniffed,
And Obadiah muttered "Pshaw!"
While later on Miss E. G. thinks
She heard Maria call her "minx."
Twice on the upper deck when Phipps
Just ventured, in a casual way,
To pass appropriate remarks,
Or comment on the "perfect" day,
He caught Maria listening, and,
Close by, saw Obadiah stand.
At last, at Margate by the Sea,
The "Royal Sovereign" came to port.
Phipps hurried off and soon secured
A lodging very near The Fort
(He'd understood Miss Green to say
That she should lodge somewhere that way).
He really _was_ annoyed to find
That Obadiah came there too,
While Miss Maria, opposite,
The parlour blinds was peering through.
Still he felt very happy, for
He saw Miss Green arrive next door.
That night he met her on the pier,
And Phipps, of course, he raised his hat.
Miss Emily Green blushed, smiled, and stopped—
It was not to be wondered at.
But Obadiah, passing by,
Transfixed them with his eagle eye.
[Illustration]
And, later in the evening, when
The two were list'ning to the band,
Phipps—tho' perhaps he oughtn't to—
Was gently squeezing Emily's hand.
He dropped it suddenly, for there
Maria stood, with stony stare.
'Twas so on each succeeding day.
Whate'er they did, where'er they went,
There Obadiah followed them;
Maria, too. No _accident_
Could possibly account for this
Sad interference with their bliss.
At last Phipps, goaded to despair,
Cried: "Pray, sir—_what_, sir, do you wish?"
But Obadiah turned away,
Merely ejaculating "Pish!"
Then Phipps addressed Maria too,
And all he got from _her_ was "Pooh!"
So Mr. Phipps and Emily Green
Determined _something must be done_.
And all one day they talked it o'er,
From early morn till setting sun.
Then, privately, the morrow fixed
For joining in the bathing,—mixed.
They knew that Obadiah would
Be present, and Maria too.
They were; and his machine was "8,"
Maria's Number "22."
They each stood glaring from their door,
Some little distance from the shore.
The tide came in, the bathers all—
Including Phipps and Emily Green—
Each sought his own—his very own—
Particu_lar_ bath_ing_-machine;
But Nos. "22" and "8"
Were left, unheeded, to their fate.
When, one by one, the horses drew
The other machines to the shore,
_Phipps bribed the men to leave those two
Exactly where they were before_.
(In "8," you know, was Obadiah,
And "22" contained Maria.)
[Illustration]
The tide rose higher, carrying
The two machines quite out to sea.
The love affairs of Emily Green
And Phipps proceeded happily.
* * *
I'm not quite certain of the fate
Of either "22" or "8."
XIX.
THAT OF THE HOOLIGAN AND THE PHILANTROPIST.
Bill Basher was a Hooligan,
The terror of the town,
A reputation he possessed
For knocking people down;
On unprotected persons
Of a sudden he would spring,
And hit them with his buckle-belt,
Which hurt like anything.
One day ten stalwart constables
Bill Basher took in charge.
"We cannot such a man," said they,
"Permit to roam at large;
He causes all the populace
To go about in fear;
We'd better take him to the Court
Of Mr. Justice Dear."
To Mr. Justice Dear they went—
A tender Judge was he:
He was a great Philanthropist
(Spelt with a big, big "P").
His bump—phrenologists declared—
Of kindness was immense;
Altho' he somewhat lacked the bump
Of common, common sense.
"Dear, dear!" exclaimed the kindly Judge
A-looking very wise,
"Your conduct in arresting _him_
Quite fills me with surprise.
Poor fellow! Don't you see the lit-
Tle things which he has done
Were doubtless but dictated
By a sense of harmless fun?
"We really _mustn't_ be too hard
Upon a man for _that_,
And _I_ will not do more than just
Inflict a fine. That's flat!
See how he stands within the dock,
As mild as any lamb.
No! Sixpence fine. You are discharged.
_Good_ morning, Willi_am_."
[Illustration]
Now strange to say, within a week,
Bill Basher had begun
To knock about a lot of other
People "just in fun."
He hit a young policeman
With a hammer on the head,
Until the poor young fellow
Was approximately dead.
"Good gracious!" murmured Justice Dear,
"_This_ really is _too_ bad,
To hit policemen on the head
Is not polite, my lad,
I must remand you for a week
To think what can be done,
And, in the meantime, please remain
In cell one twenty one."
Then, Justice Dear, he pondered thus:
"Bill Basher ought to wed
Some good and noble woman;
_Then_ he'd very soon be led
To see the error of his ways,
And give those errors o'er."
This scheme he thought upon again,
And liked it more and more.
A daughter had good Justice Dear,
Whose name was Angeline
(The lady's name is not pronounced
To rhyme with "line," but "leen"),
Not beautiful, but dutiful
As ever she could be;
_Whatever_ her papa desired
She _did_ obediently.
With her he talked the matter o'er,
And told her that he thought,
In the interests of humanity,
To marry Bill she ought.
And, though she loved a barrister
Named Smith, her grief she hid
And, with a stifled sigh, prepared
To do as she was bid.
[Illustration]
They got a special licence, and
Together quickly went
To visit Basher in his cell
And show their kind intent.
* * *
His answer it was to the point,
Though couched in language queer,
_These_ were the very words he used:
"_Wot?_ Marry _'er_? No fear!"
Good Justice Dear was greatly shocked;
Indeed, it _was_ a blow
To find that _such_ ingratitude
The Hooligan should show.
So he gave to Smith, the barrister,
His daughter for a wife,
While on Bill he passed this sentence—
"Penal servitude for life."
XX.
THAT OF THE SOCIALIST AND THE EARL.
It was, I think, near Marble Arch,
Or _somewhere_ in the Park,
A Socialist
Once shook his fist
And made this sage remark:
[Illustration]
"It is a shime that working men,
The likes of you and me—
Poor, underfed,
Without a bed—
In such a state should be.
"When bloated aristocracy
Grows daily wuss an' wuss.
Why don't the rich
Behave as sich
An' give a bit to us?
"They've carriages and flunkeys,
Estates, an' lots of land.
_Why_ this should be,
My friends," said he,
"I fail to understand.
"Why should _they_ 'ave the bloomin' lot,
When, as I've said before,
It's understood
_This_ man's as good
As _that_ one is—or MORE?
"So what I sez, my friends, sez I,
Is: Down with all the lot,
Unless they share—
It's only fair—
With us what they have got!"
* * *
An Earl, who stood amongst the crowd,
Was _very_ much impressed.
"Dear me," he said,
And smote his head,
"I really _am_ distressed.
"To think that all these many years
I've lived so much at ease,
With leisure, rank,
Cash at the bank,
And luxuries like these,
"While, as this honest person says,
_Our_ class is all to blame
That these have naught:
We really ought
To bow our heads in shame.
"My wealth unto this man I'll give,
My title I will drop,
And then I'll go
And live at Bow
And keep a chandler's shop."
* * *
The Socialist he took the wealth
The Earl put in his hands,
And bought erewhile
A house in style
And most extensive lands.
Was knighted (for some charity
Judiciously bestowed);
Within a year
Was made a Peer;
To fame was on the road.
But do not think that Fortune's smiles
From friends drew him apart,
Or hint that rude
Ingratitude
Could dwell within his heart.
You fear, perhaps, that he forgot
The worthy Earl. Ah, no!
Household supplies
He _often_ buys
From _his_ shop down at Bow.
[Illustration]
XXI.
THAT OF THE RETIRED PORK-BUTCHER
AND THE SPOOK.
I may as well
Proceed to tell
About a Mister Higgs,
Who grew quite rich
In trade—the which
Was selling pork and pigs.
From trade retired,
He much desired
To rank with gentlefolk,
So bought a place
He called "The Chase,"
And furnished it—old oak.
Ancestors got
(Twelve pounds the lot,
In Tottenham Court Road);
A pedigree—
For nine pounds three,—
The Heralds' Court bestowed.
Within the hall,
And on the wall,
Hung armour bright and strong.
"To Ethelbred"—
The label read—
De Higgs, this did belong."
'Twas _quite_ complete,
This country seat,
Yet neighbours stayed away.
Nobody called,—
Higgs was blackballed,—
Which caused him great dismay.
"Why _can_ it be?"
One night said he
When thinking of it o'er.
There came a knock
('Twas twelve o'clock)
Upon his chamber door.
[Illustration]
Higgs cried, "Come in!"
A vapour thin
The keyhole wandered through.
Higgs rubbed his eyes
In mild surprise:
A ghost appeared in view.
"I beg," said he,
"You'll pardon me,
In calling rather late.
A family ghost,
I seek a post,
With wage commensurate.
"I'll serve you well;
My 'fiendish yell'
Is certain sure to please.
'Sepulchral tones,'
And 'rattling bones,'
I'm _very_ good at these.
"Five bob I charge
To roam at large,
With 'clanking chains' _ad lib._;
I do such things
As 'gibberings'
At one-and-three per gib.
"Or, by the week,
I merely seek
Two pounds—which is not dear;
Because I need,
Of course, _no_ feed,
_No_ washing, and _no_ beer."
Higgs thought it o'er
A bit, before
He hired the family ghost,
But, finally,
He did agree
To give to him the post.
It got about—
You know, no doubt,
How quickly such news flies—
Throughout the place,
From "Higgses Chase"
Proceeded ghostly cries.
The rumour spread,
Folks shook their head,
But dropped in one by one.
A bishop came
(Forget his name),
And then the thing was done.
For afterwards
_All_ left their cards,
"Because," said they, "you see,
One who can boast
A family ghost
Respectable _must_ be."
* * *
[Illustration]
When it was due,
The "ghostes's" screw
Higgs raised—as was but right—
They often play,
In friendly way,
A game of cards at night.
XXII.
THAT OF THE POET AND THE BUCCANEERS.
It does not fall to every man
To be a minor poet,
But Inksby-Slingem he was one,
And wished the world to know it.
In almost every magazine
His dainty verses might be seen.
He'd take a piece of paper—blank,
With nothing writ upon it—
And soon a triolet 'twould be
A ballade, or a sonnet.
Pantoums,—in fact, whate'er you please,
This poet wrote, with greatest ease.
By dozens he'd turn poems out,
To Editors he'd bring 'em,
Till, quite a household word became
The name of Inksby-Slingem.
A mild exterior had he,
With dove-like personality.
[Illustration]
His hair was dark and lank and long,
His necktie large and floppy
(_Vide_ his portrait in the sketch
"A-smelling of a Poppy"),
And unto this young man befell
The strange adventure I'll now tell.
He took a summer holiday
Aboard the good ship "Goschen,"
Which foundered, causing all but he
To perish, in the ocean,
And many days within a boat
Did Inksby-Slingem sadly float—
Yes, many days, until with joy
He saw a ship appearing;
A skull and crossbones flag it bore,
And towards him it was steering.
"This rakish-looking craft," thought he,
"I fear a pirate ship must be."
It was. Manned by a buccaneer.
And, from the very first, he
Could see the crew were wicked men,
All scowling and bloodthirsty;
Indeed, he trembled for his neck
When hoisted to their upper deck.
Indelicate the way, at least,
That he was treated—very.
They turned his pockets inside-out;
They stole his Waterbury;
His scarf-pin, and his golden rings,
His coat and—er—his _other things_.
Then, they ransacked his carpet-bag,
To add to his distresses,
And tumbled all his papers out,
His poems, and MSS.'s.
He threw himself upon his knees,
And cried: "I pray you, spare me these!"
"These? What are these?" the Pirate cried.
"I've not the slightest notion."
He read a verse or two—and then
Seemed filled with strange emotion.
He read some more; he heaved a sigh;
A briny tear fell from his eye.
"Dear, dear!" he sniffed, "how touching is
This poem 'To a Brother!'
It makes me think of childhood's days,
My old home, and my mother."
He read another poem through,
And passed it to his wondering crew.
[Illustration]
_They_ read it, and all—all but two—
Their eyes were soon a-piping;
It was a most affecting sight
To see those pirates wiping
Their eyes and noses in their griefs
On many-coloured handkerchiefs,
* * *
To make a lengthy story short,
The gentle poet's verses
Quite won those men from wicked ways,
From piratings, and curses;
And all of them, so I've heard tell,
Became quite, _quite_ respectable.
All—all but two, and one of _them_
Than e'er before much worse is
For _he_ is now a publisher,
And "pirates" Slingem's verses;
The other drives a "pirate" 'bus,
Continuing—alas!—to "cuss."
XXIII.
THAT OF THE UNDERGROUND "SULPHUR CURE."
Sulphuric smoke doth nearly choke
That person—more's the pity—
Who does the round, by Underground,
On pleasure, or on business bound,
From West End to the City.
At Gower Street I chanced to meet,
One day, a strange old party,
Who tore his hair in wild despair,
Until I thought—"I would not swear,
That you're not mad, my hearty."
"Yes, mad, _quite_ mad. Dear me! How sad!"
I cried; for, to the porter,
He did complain—"Look here! Again
_No smoke_ from any single train
That's passed within the quarter.
[Illustration]
"_This air's too pure!_ I cannot cure
My patients, if you don't, sir,
Sulphuric gas allow to pass,
Until it thickly coats the glass.
Put up with _this_ I won't, sir!"
I noticed then some gentlemen
And ladies join the chatter—
And dear, dear, dear, they _did_ look queer!
Thought I—"They're very ill, I fear;
I wonder what's the matter."
Surmise was vain. In came my train.
I got in. "First"—a "Smoking."
That motley crew—_they got in too_.
I wondered what on earth to do,
For each began a-choking.
[Illustration]
"Pray, won't you smoke?" the old man spoke.
Thought I—"He's growing madder."
"I wish you would. 'Twould do them good.
My card I'd hand you if I could,
But have none. My name's Chadder.
"My patients these. _Now_, if you please!"
He cried, in tones commanding,
And gave three raps, "I think, perhaps,
We'd best begin. Undo your wraps!"
_This_ passed my understanding.
"Put out your tongues! Inflate your lungs!"
His patients all got ready;
Their wraps thrown off, they each did doff
Their respirator—spite their cough—
And took breaths long and steady.
"Inhale! Inhale! And do not fail
The air you take to swallow!"
They gasped, and wheezed, and coughed, and sneezed.
Their "doctor," he looked mighty pleased.
Expecting me to follow.
"Pray, tell me why, good sir!" gasped I,
"Before I lose my senses,
Why ever you such strange things do?
To know this, I confess my cu-
Riosity immense is."
In accents mild he spoke, and smiled.
"Delighted! I assure you.
_We take the air_—nay! do not stare;
Should aught your normal health impair,
This 'sulphur cure' will cure you.
"I undertake, quite well to make
Patients,—_whate'er_ they're ailing.
Each day we meet, proceed _en suite_
From Edgware Road to Gower Street,
And back again—_inhaling_.
"That sulphur's good, 'tis understood,
But, I would briefly mention,
The simple way—as one may say,—
In which _we_ take it, day by day,
Is _quite my own invention_.
"Profits? Ah, yes, I must confess
I make a tidy bit, sir?
Tho' Mr. Perkes', and Mr. Yerkes
'S system—if it only works—
Will put a stop to it, sir."
A stifled sigh, a tear-dimmed eye
Betrayed his agitation.
"Down here there'll be no smoke," said he,
"When run by electricity.
Excuse me! Here's our station!"
He fussed about, and got them out,
(Those invalids I mean, sir,)
Then raised his hat; I bowed at that,
And then, remaining where I sat,
Went on to Turnham Green, sir.
XXIV.
THAT OF THE FAIRY GRANDMOTHER AND THE
COMPANY PROMOTER.
A Company Promoter was Septimus Sharpe,
And the subject is he of this ditty;
He'd his name—nothing more—
Painted on the glass door
Of an office high up on the toppermost floor
Of a house in Throgmorton Street, City.
The Companies which he had promoted, so far,
Had not—so to speak,—been successes.
As a matter of fact,
He had often to act
In a manner requiring considerable tact
To—financially—keep out of messes.
One day there appeared—Sharpe could never tell how,—
In a costume unusually airy,
A young lady. "Dear me!
How surprising!" said he.
"Now, who upon earth can this young person be?
Is it possible? Why! _it's a Fairy_!"
"You are right, Septimus," said the Fairy—"quite right,
For, in fact, I'm your Fairy Grandmother!"
Sharpe had to confess,
"I already possess
Two grandmothers. But," said he, "nevertheless,
In _your_ case, I will welcome another.
[Illustration]
"Especially if, Fairy Grandmother dear,
Your intentions are—pardon me,—golden.
I'll be pleased, if my till—
Or my coffers—you'll fill,
As,—like a good fairy,—I've no doubt you will;
_Then_ to you I'll be greatly beholden."
The Fairy she smiled, as, quite sweetly, she said:
"You're mistaken, my dear young relation.
There's no fairy displays
In these up-to-date days,
Her powers in _such_ crude and old-fashioned ways—
No! I bring you AN IMAGINATION.
"But exercise IT, and you quickly will find
From your pathway all troubles are banished!"
She waved a small wand,
With a look sad yet fond,
Then, into the far and the distant "beyond"
Sharpe's good Grandmother suddenly vanished.
The spell she had cast very quickly began
In his brain to engender a vision.
He _imagined_ a MINE
Filled with gold, pure and fine,
And a lovely PROSPECTUS began to design
Every item worked out with precision.
He _imagined_ BIG DIVIDENDS; profits galore;
And some DUKES he _imagined_ DIRECTORS.
And "the PUBLIC should share,"
He went on to declare,
"In such wealth as should cause the whole nation to stare."
There were THOUSANDS—_in Shares_—for Projectors.
Then he went on _imagining_ mine after mine,
With Prospectuses most high-faluting.
And the _Public_ they _fought_
For the Shares he had brought
To the Market (they "safer than houses" were thought);
And each day some new Company was mooting.
* * *
[Illustration]
(EXTRA SPECIAL.)
That he grew passing rich is a matter of course.
All his wealth to his wife he made over.
* * *
There has been a great smash;
Company's gone with a crash.
Gone also, I hear, has the shareholders' cash.
But, SEPTIMUS SHARPE—_he's_ in clover.
XXV.
THAT OF THE GEISHA AND THE JAPANESE
WARRIOR.
[Illustration]
An almond-eyed maiden was pretty Jes-So,
Her effort in life was to please;
A Geisha was she, and she handed the tea
In a costume bewitching as ever could be,
And a style which was best Japanese;
And she often served bowls of exceptional size
To a Japanese warrior called Li-Kwize.
And daily Li-Kwize and the pretty Jes-So,
In their artless and Japanese way,
'Neath the Gom-bobble trees rubbed their hands o'er their knees,
Saying flattering things, such as over the seas,
It's the proper and right thing to say:
Little wonder, in sooth, that Li-Kwize fell in love,
While the Japanese turtle-birds twittered above.
But 'tis said that the course of true love ne'er ran smooth,
And a rival appeared on the scene,
He'd a glass in his eye, and his collar was high,
His gloves were immaculate, so was his tie,
And his legs were excessively lean;
A descendant was he of a long line of "Dooks,"
And his name was Lord Algernon Perkyns de Snooks.
In Japan,—on a tour,—he'd arrived with his ma,
On the tea gardens stumbled by chance,
And directly he saw all the girls he said "Haw!
I—aw—wish, don't you know, that I'd come here befaw"—
And he gave them a languishing glance;
To his feeble moustache he gave several twirls,
Declaring that Geishas were "Doocid fine girls!"
And he called for a dish of best Japanese tea,
And he ogled the pretty Jes-So,
While the warlike Li-Kwize stared in angry surprise
At the flirtation going on under his eyes,
And he wished that Lord Algy would go;
But, oh! dear me, no, he continued to stop
All the long afternoon in the pretty tea-shop.
On the morrow he came there again, and again
He appeared on the following day,
And it made Jes-So sad to hear language so bad
As Li-Kwize employed, as he "went on" like mad
In a grotesque, and Japanese way;
For he raved and he stormed as they do in Japan.
(You have seen how, no doubt, on a Japanese fan.)
He thrust, and he slashed at the air with his sword,
And he shouted aloud at each blow;
There is, really, no doubt he was greatly put out,
But he didn't do what you are thinking about:
He _didn't_ slay Lord Algy—no:
For Li-Kwize he was subtle, as subtle could be,
He'd a far better plan up his sleeve, don't you see.
He went to the house where Lord Algy's mamma,
A stern, and a haughty old dame,
Was staying, and, tho' it was all in dumb show,
He managed—somehow,—that the lady should know
Exactly her son's little game,
The equivalent Japanese noise for a kiss
He expressed,—its significance no one could miss.
In pantomime glibly he told the whole tale,
While the lady grew pale, and irate:
"Ha! _what's_ that you say? Takes tea there each day?
Geisha? Tea-shop indeed! Come, show me the way!
We must stop _this_ before it's too late."
And she pounced on her son, with a terrible frown,
At the pretty tea-shop at the end of the town.
[Illustration]
Not a word did she say, but she took by the ear
Lord Algernon Perkyns de S.;
She turned him about, and she marched him straight out—
An undignified exit, altho', without doubt,
An effectual way to suppress
A thing which no mother _could_ view with delight,
And, for one, _I_ contend the old lady was right.
* * *
The pretty Jes-So, and the warlike Li-Kwize
"Made it up," I am happy to say,
And the almond-eyed miss, with a Japanese kiss,
Filled the warrior's heart with a Japanese bliss,
In quite the conventional way;
While the turtle-birds sang in the Gom-bobble trees
All their prettiest songs in their best Japanese.
XXVI.
THAT OF THE INDISCREET HEN AND THE
RESOURCEFUL ROOSTER.
(_An Allegory._)
I dote upon the softer sex.
The theme I write upon doth vex,
For female inconsistency
A sorry subject is for me
To tackle;
Yet of a wayward female hen
I write this time, with halting pen.
Compound of pride, and vanity,
All feathers she appear'd to be,
And cackle.
A flighty hen was she, no doubt—
A foolish fowl, a gad-about.
"Lay eggs!" quoth she. "Why should I?—why?
And set! I won't, upon that I
'M decided."
Then,—on the _Times_ instalment plan,—
A bicycle she bought, and 'gan
Domestic duties to neglect;
Her skirts were—what could one expect?—
Divided.
[Illustration]
This conduct greatly scandalised
The farmyard; all looked on surprised,
All but the rooster staid and grim;
_He_ did not fret. 'Twas not for him
To rate her;
He let her go her wilful way,
And purchased for himself one day
A strange contraption—glass and tin—
An article that's called an in-
Cubator.
The nearest grocer's then he sought,
Some ten-a-shilling eggs he bought;
The incubator set to work
(There was no fear that _it_ would shirk
Its duty),
Then sat and waited patiently.
Not many days to wait, had he:
Within a week, to make him glad,
A family of chicks he had—
A beauty.
[Illustration]