And so the plot was discovered just in time. The nefarious BROWN had
kidnapped the Professor on his way to the hall, had stolen his robes,
and disguised himself so as to play the part of the examiner himself.
Another minute, and his wicked plan would have succeeded, AMARYLLIS'S
papers would have been burnt, and she and STREPHON would have been
separated for ever. Thanks to the latter's courageous action, the
impostor had been detected, and was subsequently sentenced to several
years' imprisonment.
When the real Professor had been liberated and came to look over
AMARYLLIS'S work, a slight difficulty arose. The law insisted that
one who had answered with such perfect correctness must marry a peer,
while STREPHON was but a humble commoner. However, a grateful nation
rescued him from this dilemma by awarding him a dukedom.
* * * * *
A TRIO.
[AIR--"_Three Blind Mice._"]
Three new peers!
Good ev'ry one!
A. BORTHWICK, PLUNKET, H. DE WUMS,
Are all conserva_tive_ly chums,
We hail with cheers in our col-_lums_
The Three New Peers!
* * * * *
QUERY FROM A CORRESPONDENT.--Please, Sir, can you tell me where I
can obtain a work entitled "_Balmy on the Crumpet_"? I have heard it
frequently mentioned, but up to now have searched the lists at the
British Museum and (with the exception of the works of one "_Balmez,
a Theologian_,") all in vain. I presume the work in question is a
treatise on some department of the baking industry. Is there also
another work entitled _Balmy on the Muffin?_ In fact, I should
very much like to collect all the treatises of this author on
bakery.--Yours, OLD ROWLEY.
* * * * *
"OVER!"--At last "GRACE before wicket" has received his five thousand
pounds' worth of shilling testimonials, and has returned thanks to
the indefatigable Sir EDWARD LAWSON, who initiated and carried out the
idea in the _Daily Telegraph_. Your health, Dr. GRACE, and song,
which of course would be "_Sing O the Green Willow!_" And his motto,
"_There's nothing like leather!_" Will the celebrated batsman give a
ball to celebrate the occasion?
* * * * *
ROUNDABOUT READINGS.
A strange report reaches me, a rumour which (if such a course may be
predicated of a mere report) opens up illimitable vistas. The dramatic
critics, it would appear, have been for some time past in a state of
dissatisfaction. A newspaper proprietor has been turned into a peer;
editors in profusion have journeyed down to Windsor as very plain
misters, and, having been tapped upon the shoulder with cold steel,
have returned to the bosoms of their families as knights; a novelist,
a mere teller of stories, has undergone the same process, not, it
is well understood, for his own glory, but for the greater honour
of Literature (capital L please); and, worst of all, an actor has
survived the blood-curdling ceremony of the _accolade_, and has
received the congratulations and gifts of other members of his
profession.
* * *
_Quæ cum ita sint_, the dramatic critics have been very naturally
asking one another why they alone should toil and moil (the "midnight
oil" irresistibly suggests itself as a pleasing and perfectly
appropriate rhyme) without any recognition beyond the vulgar one of a
money-payment, sufficient, no doubt, to keep them in bread and
beer, ties, clothes, collars, and cuffs, but utterly inadequate when
considered as a reward for the services they perform on behalf of Art
and the Drama. One thing led to another (it generally does); there
were conversations, interchanges of ideas, meetings, and so forth; and
eventually matters came to a head in the formation of a society, the
members of which pledged themselves to promote by all legitimate
means the claims of dramatic critics to knighthoods, baronetcies,
privy-councillorships, peerages, and other rewards.
* * *
The final meeting, at which the rules were discussed and passed, and
the officials appointed, began harmoniously enough. Mr. CLEMENT
SCOTT, proposed by Mr. ARCHER, and seconded by Mr. A. B. WALKLEY, was
unanimously voted to the Chair. His opening speech was marked by great
fervour. For years, he said, dramatic critics had been engaged in
the thankless task of educating the public taste, and of instructing
dramatic authors in the true principles of the construction of
stage-plays. At last, thank heaven, they were beginning to be
appreciated at their proper value. Their names were becoming household
words. The average reader, when he opened his _World_, turned first
to the article signed "W. A." The same, or a similar person, rushed
breathlessly through _The Speaker_ until he was arrested by the magic
initials "A. B. W." At this point Mr. ARCHER intervened with the
remark that for himself, he might say there was only one article, the
dramatic, in the _Daily Telegraph_ that absolutely fascinated him;
and Mr. WALKLEY, rising immediately afterwards, observed that, having
studied the essays of M. LEMAÎTRE, he had no hesitation in saying that
the pungent critiques of the _Telegraph_ were equalled, he would not
say surpassed, by the masterly _aperçus_ of stage-craft to be found
in _Truth_ and the _Illustrated London News_. Mr. CLEMENT SCOTT was
visibly affected, and having with difficulty mastered his emotion,
proceeded to shake both his colleagues by the hand, and in a voice
broken with sobs thanked them for their tributes. He himself, he
added, had endeavoured to make the stalls and the dress circle fit
places for the flower of English maidenhood, for those beautiful,
blushing British girls who were at once the joy of their families and
the pride of our race. He then called upon all the members present
to state what titles they preferred, intimating that, by the express
desire of the committee, he himself was willing to become a Duke.
* * *
Mr. ARCHER and Mr. WALKLEY having declared their preference for
Marquisates, Mr. MOY THOMAS said that an Earldom would satisfy his
modest needs. Mr. BENDALL thought Viscount sounded attractive, and
chose that title; while Mr. A. E. T. WATSON intimated that all he
wanted was to be a Baron--Baron BADMINTON OF BEAUFORT. Mr. BERNARD
SHAW stood by his life-long principles, and declined everything except
a Privy-Councillorship. Various other gentlemen having spoken, and a
complete list of titles having been arranged, the meeting was about
to adjourn, when Mr. CLEMENT SCOTT rose again to make a few parting
observations.
* * *
"My Lords," he began amidst deafening applause, "it only remains for
me to state briefly the principles by which we shall be guided. We
shall not truckle to the nauseating rubbish purveyed by any Norwegian
charlatan." What else he would have said must for ever remain a matter
of guess-work, for at this point he was immediately set upon by Lord
ARCHER, and torn forcibly from his chair. Baron BADMINTON, however,
gallantly came to His Grace's assistance, and a scene of indescribable
confusion ensued. Strawberry leaves were torn to tatters, and several
handsome property coronets were ruthlessly trampled under foot. Order
was, however, at last restored by the arrival of Sir HENRY IRVING with
a strong force of dramatic authors armed with problem-plays. In the
conflict that followed many heads were broken, but eventually the hall
was cleared. It is understood that, notwithstanding this deplorable
incident, the agitation is to be vigorously pursued. I shall publish
any further information that may reach me.
* * * * *
SIR E. CLARKE AND THE BAR--AN EXPLANATION.
SIR,--The paper you edit with so much advantage to the public is the
recognised organ of the legal profession. This being so, I appeal to
you on behalf of the Bar. Sir, it will not have escaped your attention
that on a recent occasion Sir EDWARD CLARKE, in returning thanks for
his colleagues of the Law List, referred to the custom observed
by some counsel of accepting briefs indiscriminately. The
ex-Solicitor-General (shortly, I trust, to become "Mr. Attorney",)
related an anecdote concerning the last of the Barons--Mr. Baron
HUDDLESTONE--to the following effect. You will remember that Sir
EDWARD, when only a stuff-gownsman, was "with" the eminent Bencher of
Gray's Inn in a case. "I trust, Mr. CLARKE," said the coming Baron's
assistant to the then promising Junior, "that you will be able to
attend to it if Mr. HUDDLESTONE fails to put in an appearance." "I
suppose," replied the future Sir EDWARD, "that Mr. HUDDLESTONE is not
coming." "Well, he _may_ be away," was the reply, "because to-day
he has briefs in thirteen other actions." Then Sir EDWARD wittily
explained that the fault lay with the public. Suitors could select
their own advocates, and there were plenty of men practising at the
Bar who would gladly accept a brief, for a very moderate fee, should
the services of a better-known colleague be retained in some other
matter. Mr. ex-Solicitor is perfectly right. There are such men. For
instance, I myself, should Sir EDWARD wish it, would willingly assist
him. If he has an overflow of pink-tape tied parcels, let him send
them to me, and I will give them my best attention. I shall be
delighted to pick up, so to speak, the documentary crumbs that fall
from his brief-encumbered table. But that is a matter which chiefly
concerns Sir EDWARD and myself. It is not entirely with a view to
making the above suggestion that I address you. No, Sir, I have other
than personal interests at heart.
[Illustration]
I am convinced that, although every counsel has the right to
be "retained" in every case, but a comparative few exercise the
privilege. I have known the late Serjeant PARRY (with whom I have had
the honour to act--while taking a note in the temporary absence of a
learned friend--on more than one occasion) return his brief, with its
accompanying honorarium, when unable to attend to the former, and thus
earn the latter. Speaking for myself, I made it a rule, shortly after
I was called, never to "devil" in two places at once. But to come
to the point. As a matter of fact--and a grain of true testimony is
better than a ton of theory--I can deliberately declare that, during a
long forensic experience, extending over several decades, I have never
had two cases on the same day. And what has been my experience no
doubt has been the experience of many others. I would not for worlds
have it thought that I neglect my duty because I have a plethora of
professional work. And here I must stop, as I have to give my most
careful attention to a consent brief, which appears to me to bristle
with technical difficulties. However, as I am desired to acquiesce, I
shall no doubt carry out my client's instructions with the customary
formalities.
_Pump-handle Court, Oct. 21._
(_Signed_) A. BRIEFLESS, JUN.
* * * * *
HOW KIPPER SLEW THE NEW FOREST HORNET.
CHAPTER I.--_The Recluse._
Once upon a time there was a little goblin called KIPPER, who lived
the life of a hermit in a hollow oak-tree in the New Forest. He never
made merry with the elves, and had a positive dislike to fairies; and,
if any of them presumed to address him, he would curl himself into a
ball like a hedgehog, and refuse to straighten himself until he was
left alone again. Various rumours were current in Fairyland as to the
reason of KIPPER'S moroseness. Some said that he had been robbed by
an unscrupulous brother of a valuable iron mine, situated under
Hengistbury Head; others, that he had been crossed in love; while
there was a third party in Fairydom which stoutly maintained that he
had been expelled from Goblinland on account of his desire to upset
the king and queen, and establish a republic. Be that as it may,
KIPPER was no favourite in the country of his exile. Not that he
need have been unsociable, for, when he first arrived, the greatest
attention was paid to him by his neighbours. The most important
personages in Fairydom called upon him, he received invitations to the
Court balls, and he was bidden to several jolly bachelor parties given
by the elves on the sward which surrounds Rufus's Stone.
[Illustration: "He thought nothing of taking a clump of dock leaves."]
But KIPPER made no response to these advances. He showed that he meant
to be unsociable, and, little by little, the notabilities and landed
gentry ceased to take any notice of him. Occasionally some of the
sportsmen of The Court, when out hunting the slow-worms and the
bumble-bees, would come across KIPPER, mounted on a huge and vicious
looking stagbeetle, which he managed with considerable address, but he
never deigned to respond to their salutations, but passed on his way
with a malevolent grin. Even the forest pigs and ponies took a dread
of him at last, and would scamper away through the bracken directly
they saw him approach. As to the deer, the pheasants, the rabbits, and
the hares, they would just as soon have faced a poacher. It will be
seen, therefore, that KIPPER was not the sort of person to whom an elf
or a fairy would appeal in case of distress. If he had a heart at all,
it was like that of an artichoke, all choke--and very little arti.
As far as human beings went, KIPPER had a lofty disdain for them and
their ways. He smiled contemptuously when the stagbeetle told him how
the elves had stolen this cottager's milk, or robbed that verderer's
garden of its gooseberries. And his sarcasm was equally pronounced
when he heard how a fairy orchestra had serenaded the parson's
pretty daughter on Midsummer Eve, or that some good-natured fays had
collected the swarming bees of a hard-working farmer, and driven them
home against the wishes of their queen. KIPPER looked upon men, women,
and children as wretched beings, who worried themselves without any
necessity--poor creatures, whose only object in life appeared to be to
endeavour to make one another miserable, and discontented with their
very existence. Therefore he regarded them no more than he would newts
and lizards. Indeed, he often told the stagbeetle that he had far
more respect for a newt, because he could develop an orange waistcoat,
whereas a man could not keep his chest warm without robbing another
animal of its skin or wool. As to the lizards, they only came out when
they could bask in the sun; whereas a man had to pick up and kindle
sticks to keep his ugly body warm, and cook his poisonous food.
Now if KIPPER could be said to enjoy anything, it was the leaping of
big obstacles when mounted on the stagbeetle. He thought nothing of
taking a clump of dock leaves, or of flying or sailing over a thick
bush of prickly gorze. It cannot be said that the stagbeetle enjoyed
the jumping as much as his master did; but inasmuch as the gnome had
broken him in at an early age, and never rode without a pair of stout
hawthorn pricks on his heels and a bramble switch in his hand, the
coal-black steed had to make the best of a bad job. One fine day,
however, when KIPPER had partaken somewhat too freely of some fine
wild honey, which he had found in an old oak, an accident occurred
to the reckless, rash rider. On his way home he had to pass by Stoney
Cross, and it so happened that the road was being mended, and a huge
heap of granite lay by the wayside. Nothing would satisfy KIPPER but
that he must leap this mound, and so he told the stagbeetle to put
forth all his strength. The poor creature besought his master not to
risk both their lives, but KIPPER was as hard as a pond after a six
weeks frost. Gathering his rush-reins in his hands, and ramming the
hawthorn pricks into the sides of the stagbeetle, he cried, "Hi!
over," and went for the granite. The stagbeetle did his best, but just
before he made his effort he faltered in his stride. The next moment
he was kicking out with his hind legs, and his horns were sticking
between two great stones on the top of the hard hillock; while a yard
on the other side, among the moss and wild thyme, there was lying
quite still the body of the luckless KIPPER.
(_To be continued._)
* * * * *
THE ONE THING WANTING.
A year ago my hand I tried,
I wrote for you a verse or so,
To sing your praises far and wide
A year ago.
And, though your nature scarce could grow
More sweet, in you I then espied
An incompleteness. I was slow
To comprehend the thing denied
To make you perfect. Now I know--
A bicycle you did not ride
A year ago!
* * * * *
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.--"_Boconnoc._" What a name! It is a "Romance of
Wild Oatcake." It might almost be of Mild Oatcake. It is the story
of an unprincipled boy, a flighty young married woman, and a sottish
husband. The first third of the book is somewhat interesting, and
pleasantly written. The second third is dull; and the last revives the
reader's interest just a bit. But, on the whole, to quote _Sir
Charles Coldstream_, in _Used Up_, "There's nothing in it." It
is disappointing to those who expect much more than this from the
author.--B. DE B.-W.
* * * * *
The school-boy of to-day--what, after all, is Hecuba to him, or he
to Hecuba?--is no longer to _waste_ his time in poring over the musty
classics! "He is to take an intelligent interest in other subjects
than the dead languages," says _Truth_, which proceeds to give "as
well worthy of being held up as a model for imitation elsewhere," the
contents of an _up-to-date_ examination paper, upon current events,
recently set at Rugby school. This modern move is, doubtless, an
excellent thing, but one which may be carried too far; and it would,
we venture to think, be a pity if schools were to be, in the words of
_Mercutio_, "too much afflicted with these new tuners of accents, who
stand so much on the _new form_ that they cannot sit at ease _on the
old bench_." What if PINERO and ZANGWILL were substituted for PLATO
and XENOPHON?
* * * * *
TRIFLES LIGHT AS "EYRE."--The trustees of a St. John's Wood property
may certainly be said to be "after the brass." If, however, their
learned counsel is successful in obtaining the colossal amount
claimed, he might then say, with HORACE, "_Exegi monumentum_ Eyr[)e]
_perennius_."
* * * * *
"UNPLEASANT LITTLE INCIDENT."--So the _P. M. G._ styled it. As the
German EMPEROR and EMPRESS were passing through Metz, somebody, from
a café window, shouted, "_Vive la France!_" Several arrests were of
course made, but apparently nothing more was heard of the _Vox et
præterea nil_. This recalls a similar incident that occurred during
the trial of _Bardell_ v. _Pickwick_, "Put it down a 'we,' my Lord!"
a voice in the gallery exclaimed, aloud. Search was made. Nobody. "If
you could have pointed him out," said little _Mr. Justice Stareleigh_
to _Sam Weller_, "I would have committed him instantly." Whereat
"_Sam_ bowed his acknowledgments," and the incident ended.
* * * * *
"FALLS OF FOYERS."--A correspondent writes:--"I have seen a good many
letters in the _Times_, headed "_The Falls of the Foyers_." Here and
abroad I have seen many Foyers, and only fell down once. This was at
the Théâtre Français, where the Foyer is kept highly polished, or
used to be so. If the Foyers are carpeted or matted, there need be no
"Falls."
Yours, COMMON SENSE.
* * * * *
"_Winter Comes_" as a companion picture to "_Autumn Leaves_."
* * * * *
Transcriber's Note
Page 193: 'distinguised' corected to 'distinguished'.
"... raising pale distinguished eyes to a Chippendale mirror,..."