[A writer in _The Athenaeum_, discussing modern songs, observes
that in the happy days of the eighteenth century "even the vulgar
could not achieve vulgarity; to-day vulgarity is in the air, and
only the strongest and most fastidious escape its taint." The
accompanying lines are submitted as a modest protest against this
sadly undemocratic and obscurantist doctrine.]
In days of old, when writers bold
Betrayed the least disparity
Between their genius and an age
When frankness was a rarity,
An odious word was often heard
From critics void of charity,
Simplicity or clarity,
Or vision or hilarity,
Who used to slate or deprecate
The vices of vulgarity.
But now disdain is wholly slain
By wide familiarity
Which links the unit with his age
In massive solidarity;
No more the word is used or heard,
No, no, we call it charity,
Simplicity or clarity,
Or vision or hilarity,
But never slate or deprecate
The virtues of vulgarity.
* * * * *
=An Object Lesson.=
"Nothing is so suggestive of a faulty education than a lack of
grammar."--_Fiji Paper._
"The Vicar was born in Ireland, and lived there many years, and
the problems of the Irish are no difficulty to him."
_New Zealand Paper._
That's the man we want over here.
* * * * *
=PRISCILLA PLAYS FAIRIES.=
Unrehearsed dramatic dialogue comes quite easily to some people, and
so does a knowledge of the ways of the fairy world, but I am not one
of those people. Also I was supposed to have a headache that afternoon
and to be recovering from a severe cold. Also I was reading a very
exciting book. I cannot help thinking therefore that the fairy
Bluebell was taking a mean advantage of my numerous disabilities in
appearing at all. She rattled the handle of the door a long time, and
when I had opened it came in by a series of little skips on her toes,
accompanied by wagglings of the arms rather in the fashion of a
penguin. Every now and then she gave a slightly higher jump and
descended flatly and rather noisily on her feet. She wore a new frock,
with frills.
_I._ What are you doing, Priscilla?
_She._ I'm the Fairy Bluebell dancing. Don't you like my dancing?
_I._ It's beautiful.
_She_ (_rapidly_). And you were a very poor old man who had a lot of
nasty work to do and you were asleep.
_I_ (_feeling it might have been much worse and composing myself to
slumber in my chair_). Honk!
_She_ (_pinching my ear and pulling it very hard_). And you woke up
and said, "I do believe there's a dear little fairy dancing."
_I_ (_emerging from repose_). Why, I do believe I heard a fairy
dancing, or (_vindictively_) can it have been another ton of coal
coming in?
_She_ (_disregarding my malice_). And you said, "Alack, alack! I do
want somefing to eat."
_I._ Alack, alack! I _am_ so hungry.
_She_ (_fetching a large cushion from the sofa and putting it on the
top of me_). Lumpetty, lumpetty, lumpetty.
_I._ What's that, Priscilla?
_She._ Bitatoes pouring out of a sack. (_Fetches another cushion and
puts it on the top of the first._) Lumpetty, lumpetty, lumpetty.
_I._ And this?
_She_ (_opening her eyes very wide_). Red plums. (_Fetches another
cushion._) Limpetty, limpetty, limpetty.
_I._ What's that?
_She._ Lovely honey.
_I_ (_affecting to simulate the natural gratification of a poor old
man suddenly smothered in vegetables, fruit and liquid preserve_). How
perfectly delicious!
_She._ And you want to go to sleep again. [_I go._
_She_ (_pulling my ear again_). And you sawed a dragon coming up the
drive, and the sofa was the dragon.
_I._ Alack, alack! I see a dragon coming up the drive. What shall I
do? I must telephone to the police.
_She_ (_quickly_). Did the police have a tuncheon?
_I._ Yes, he did.
_She._ Shall I be the police?
_I_ (_cautiously, because a "tuncheon" necessitates making a long
paper roll out of "The Times"_). I am afraid the telephone had broken
down, so the police didn't hear. How I wish the Fairy Bluebell was
about!
_She._ And so the Fairy Bluebell came and cut off the dragon's head
and gave it to you.
[_Fetches a fourth large cushion and adds it to the pile._
_I._ But why should I have the dragon's head?
_She_ (_enigmatically_). You had to have it.
[_The poor old man resigns himself to his increasingly glutinous
fate._
_She_ (_fetching a waste-paper basket and returning to the sofa_).
Limpetty, limpetty, limpetty.
_I_ (_faint but inquisitive_). Whatever are you doing now, Priscilla?
_She._ Poisoning the dragon's body.
_I._ Poisoning it?
_She._ Yes, wiv a can.
_I._ How?
_She._ Down its neck.
_I_ (_feeling that the immediate peril from the dragon's assault is
now practically over and wishing to return the fairy's kindness_).
Shall we pretend that the sofa is where the Fairy Bluebell lived, and
I built her a little home with flowers, and these cushions were the
flowers, and (_rather basely_) she went to sleep in it?
_She_ (_with sparkling eyes_). Yes, yes.
[_I remove the potatoes, the plums, the honey and the head of the
dragon and manufacture a grotto in which the Fairy Bluebell reclines
with closed eyes. It appears to be a suitable moment for returning to
my book._
_She._ And suddenly the Fairy Bluebell woke up, and what do you think
she wanted?
_I_ (_disillusioned_). I can't think.
_She._ She wanted to be readen to.
_I_ (_resignedly_). And what did I do?
_She._ You said, "I'll read about Tom and the otter."
_I_ (_hopefully_). I don't know where it is.
_She._ I think it's in the dining-room, and the Fairy Bluebell
couldn't get it herself because she was only a _little_ girl really.
As I say, there are a lot of people, and many of them, doubtless,
readers of this paper, who understand all about fairies. I want to ask
them, as one poor old hard-worked man to another, whether this is
the proper way for a fairy to behave. There seems to be a lack of
delicacy--and shall I say shyness?--about it.