(_BY OUR OWN GRANDOLPH._)
(SECOND LETTER.--B.)
_THE MAGNUM OPUS._
[Illustration]
_À propos_ of this heading, what a treasure a _Magnum Opal_ would be.
This remark is only "by the way." My motto is Business First, Play (on
words) afterwards. So to work.
I really think I shall take to Guide-book writing. _Grandolph's
Guides_ would be immensely popular. I'm sure I can do it--for upon
my word I can do a'most anything if I only buckle to. By the way,
'_Buckle_' suggests history. Can go in for "making history" when I've
done this work. WILLIAMS--not MONTAGU the Magistrate--(good title this
for something)--but my friend the Companionable Captain ---- is at
work; when he has done, he reads out a few descriptive paragraphs for
my approbation, or the contrary. When I nod it means that I like it;
when I don't nod, he has to wait till I do. I generally begin nodding
about the middle of the first paragraph.
"Well," says he, the other day, quite suddenly, "I'm glad you like it
all so much."
"Like all what?" I exclaimed, blowing the cigar-ash off my pyjamas,
and wondering to myself how I could have been so absorbed in his
reading aloud as to have let my half-smoked havannah tumble on to the
floor.
"Why, all I've been reading to you for the last hour and a half,"
returned the Captain, apparently somewhat annoyed; peppery chap, the
Captain,--'Curried' Captain when on board Sir DONALD's boat,--but to
resume. Says the Curried Captain, still a bit annoyed, "You passed all
the paragraphs, one after the other, and whenever I stopped to ask you
how you liked it, you nodded."
I didn't like to hurt the gallant scribe's feelings, but the fact is
that he, as a reader, has a very soothing-syrupy tone and, I fancy,
that in less than a quarter of an hour, judging by the moiety of my
cigar. I must have fallen fast asleep.
"That's posted, is it?" I ask, evading further explanation. "It is,"
he answers. "But I've got another lot--"
"Good!" I interrupt him, rather abruptly I own, but, from experience
I say it, if I don't take myself when in the humour--'on the hop,' so
to speak, as they said of the _scarabæus_ in Kent--(trust _me_ for
natural history and plenty of it)--I'm no use at all. Now at this
moment I am wide awake, a giant refreshed; so I light another fragrant
weed, and call for another cool drink, as I haven't the smallest idea
what became of the one I ordered when the Gallant Graphist commenced
reading; I rather suspect he 'put it to his lips when so dispoged,'
and that, in this instance also, he mistook my nod for silent but
emphatic encouragement.
"Now," I say to the Amiable Amanuensis and Adaptable Author, "you
read your stuff aloud with emphasis and discretion, and I'll chuck in
the ornamental part. Excuse me, that's _my_ drink," I say, with an
emphasis on the possessive pronoun, for the Soldierly Scribe, in a
moment of absorption, was about to apply that process to my liquor. He
apologises handsomely, and commences his recital. In the absence of a
gong,--one ought never to travel without a gong,--I whack the tea-tray
with a paper-knife. "All in to begin!"
"_The mail train_," &c., &c. I make my notes, and remark that MURRAY
and BRADSHAW lost a great chance in not having long ago secured the
services of the Corresponding Captain. "_The railroad passes through
mountain scenery of exceptional_," &c., &c. BRADSHAW and MURRAY, not
to mention BAEDEKER and BLACK, absolutely not in it with the Wandering
Warrior. "_About thirty miles from Cape Town_"--