[Illustration]
_Happy Thought._--Ilfracombe, just now. If it be a question of "Ways
and Means," then Ilfracombe offers you "the ways" in the matter of
drives, walks, rides, excursions by rail, by sea, likewise by river
and road almost _ad infinitum_, and sometimes by sea _ad nauseam_.
Sea-bathing naturally excellent, but still open, considerably open, to
improvement. Still, as the man of no politics replied, when asked why
he belonged to the Reform Club, "There is in this world nothing so
good but what it is capable of improvement," and Ilfracombe cannot
claim exemption from this rule of universal application. Should an
Ilfracombe-ination require suggestions, mine are at the service of the
I. I. C. (Ilfracombe Improvement Committee).
* * *
On a bench at the summit of the Torrs sat three Elders. Gray-bearded
and full of confidence in their own wisdom. On another bench facing
them sat a cherry-cheeked maiden of some nineteen summers, evidently
an elder sister in charge of a little brother, with whom in a shy sort
of way, as if old enough to know better, and yet unable to resist the
temptation, she was sharing, with very evident relish, some succulent
toffy recently extracted from one of the many "penny-in-the-slot"
machines, which, as "bits of colour," are such brilliant ornaments to
the Torrs Walks, and such universal favourites with youth of all ages.
The three Elders were discoursing on the mysteries of creation, with
such a "cock-sureness" of tone as seemed to imply that they themselves
had been on some committee of management when the first idea of making
this particular planet, called the world, had occurred to its Creator.
"These rocks," said one grandly, "were in existence long before
the date assigned to the creation." Whereat the toffy-sucking girl
sniggered foolishly as if somehow personally implicated, while the boy
stared, open mouthed, with toffy, yet untasted, in his dexter
hand. "No one," observed the second Elder, blandly, his eyes on the
maiden,--not by any means a SUSANNA but rather a fairly educated
AWDREY,--"no one now accepts the Mosaic account of Creation as given
in Genesis." The boy looked up, inquiringly, at his sister. The girl
giggled bashfully as if, in presence of so much learning and
such reverend seniors, she were suddenly somewhat ashamed of the
home-teaching she had received, and in which her trust had never been
shaken, at least until this minute. The third Elder, his eye too on
the girl and boy,--and perhaps the toffy,--now joined in. "It was
absurd," quoth he, supremely, "to believe that this"--here with a
wave of his hand he took in air, earth, sky, and all points of the
compass--"was made in six days." Then both boy and girl sniggered at
one another. "I suppose they teach you that all this," said the
third Elder, straightly addressing the girl, and again explaining
his allusion to the universe by waving his right hand about in an
all-embracing gesture, "that this was made in six days, eh?" With a
demure and silly giggle the damsel admitted that her education on
the subject had tended in the direction indicated. The three Elders
regarded one another with a sad, despondent air, as though here were
another case of crass ignorance which they had a special mission
to enlighten. "Why," said the second Elder, "the Chinese"--here the
little boy became suddenly interested--"the Chinese possess records
which reach back to a date anterior, by some thousands of years, to
that popularly assigned by Christians to the creation of the world."
The girl opened her eyes, but the boy, having lost his suddenly
awakened interest in the Chinese (probably he had expected some
stories about the war with Japan, or another tale of _Aladdin_), had
resumed his toffy-sucking process. At this point my companion, who had
been fidgetting on our bench, suddenly cut in and took a hand. "You
remind me, Sir," said he, quite pleasantly, speaking to the second
Elder, but addressing all three, "of the ancient and royal Irish
family of O'Toole, whose records, as you will of course remember, went
back for some millions of years; and in which, at a comparatively late
date, occurred the famous entry, 'N.B.--About this time the world
was created.'" As this was told with perfect good humour, and with
an inimitably comic imitation of a brogue, the damsel and boy were
greatly amused, and the Three Wise Men looked as black as the trio of
Anabaptists in _Le Prophète_ when there is a danger of the truth being
told by _Fides_, as to _Jean of Leyden_ being no heaven-descended
prophet but only her commonplace peasant-born son. So girl and boy
departed, laughing, to gather more sweets, and perhaps to recount at
home the Irish story, which, thank heaven, is more likely to dwell in
their memory than is the second-hand philosophy "falsely so-called" of
the Three Wise Men of the Mountain.
* * *
Kodakers everywhere. Bathing, walking, resting, admiring the scenery,
no matter what you are doing, out pops Mr., Mrs., with the Misses
and Masters KODAKER, and you are taken in the act. The snap-shooting
season is at its height.
* * *
Startling to see staring advertisement over a shop in the Arcade,
"_Dark Room for Amateurs_." Sounds like a punishment. Bad amateur
actor, or entertainer, sentenced to dark room would, probably, deserve
it.
* * *
The visitor to the delightful Torrs can have one penn'orth or two
penn'orth of Torrs. Twopence is the top price. Well worth it, as a
treat, now and then. Ordinarily penn'orth of Torrs will suffice.
There should be shelters on the Torrs. Immediate attention of I. I. C.
requested.
* * *
The hedges in the lanes are redolent of honey-suckle; and the Torrs
Walks are sweet with honey-mooners.
* * *
Beware of taking too much of the cream of Devon. "Is it possible to
take too much?" asks my friend and companion, to whom half a pound of
it at breakfast, another half-pound at lunch, and a third at dinner,
are but as a dozen natives, at a single sitting, to a champion
devourer of bivalves. I cannot resolve my friend's question. But,
after emulating, as far as my limited powers would permit me, his
excellent example, I had the following curious dream. For particulars,
see next paragraph.
* * *
[Illustration]
_The Dream._--I was seated opposite a lady, popular alike in the
social and political world, whom I will designate as "Lady JAY." It
was at a dinner-party, I _think_, though it might have been some other
sort of entertainment, as there seemed to me to be, between Lady JAY
and myself, the narrow width of a very long table, the ends of which
were out of sight. This table was covered with a white cloth, not too
clean; and there were no knives, forks, plates, or dishes. The room
was inconveniently crowded by persons, inextricably mixed up, none of
whom, however, incommoded us in the least, or, indeed, seemed to
take the slightest notice of our presence. Somehow, this struck me
as delicate conduct on _their_ part. Lady JAY was insisting that an
Archimandrite could, or could not, do something or other officially.
But, having more than once demonstrated to Lady JAY that this act,
whatever it was, had no essential bearing on his clerical position, I
continued to take very slight interest in the discussion; at least, I
thought I did not, until, on Lady JAY suddenly becoming dreadfully in
earnest, and most positive as to her being in the right, a Whip of
the late Government, whose name I could not recall, but with whose
lineaments I was perfectly familiar, interposed some conciliatory
remarks. Then Mr. GLADSTONE, in the absence, unaccountably sudden,
of both Lady JAY and the Government Whip, strode up and down on the
hearth-rug, rubbing the back of his head with his left hand; whereupon
I became aware that we were no longer wherever I had been until the
appearance of Mr. GLADSTONE on the scene, but that we were in the
library of the Prime Minister's official residence in Downing Street.
I was seated in an odd sort of spider-legged arm-chair. Mr. GLADSTONE,
bringing himself to a halt, turned round, and asked me, pointedly,
"Whether I could play the piano." Being rather nettled at the tone
of this inquiry, which seemed to imply a doubt of my proficiency as a
pianist, I replied, somewhat testily, "Certainly; rather better than
BEETHOVEN." Apparently satisfied with my answer, Mr. GLADSTONE said
that "if I would oblige _him_ by not continuing my discussion with
Lady JAY, in which I had been," he admitted, "absolutely right"--and
here he made some facetious allusion as to ladies in general, of which
I could not catch one word--"I should," he went on, "_have a seat in
the Cabinet_." Oddly enough, this offer of his did not strike me as
anything so very extraordinary; and I at once replied, "No, thank you,
I'd rather not." But Mr. GLADSTONE would take no refusal; he said,
"I have come to a decision on this subject," and then abruptly
disappeared, through the wall. Whether it was a few minutes, or hours,
afterwards, I could not for the life of me determine, being only
conscious of some time having elapsed, before I found myself in an
avenue on the Bayswater side of Hyde Park, walking up and down with
Mr. JOHN MORLEY. Our conversation there was, I suppose, on the subject
of Bulgaria, as this topic was continued by us in a kind of narrow
box-room, with hat-pegs on the walls, on which bathing-towels were
suspended; there were also trunks on the floor, and school-desks all
about, on one of which Mr. MORLEY rested his elbow, swaying himself
backwards and forwards like a pendulum, while always talking to me
(I was seated on a box), and uttering platitudes about Bulgaria. I
interrupted him by saying curtly, "It is no use talking to me like
that, as _I am in the Cabinet_." Mr. JOHN MORLEY was staggered; but,
recovering himself, he turned to HERBERT GARDNER (to whom I apologised
for not remembering his title, while he, sitting on a smaller box,
smilingly refused to enlighten me), and asked for corroboration of
my statement. Whereupon I produced _an autograph letter of_ Mr.
GLADSTONE'S _to me_, which entirely satisfied Mr. JOHN MORLEY, who,
having handed it to HERBERT GARDNER, now candidly disclosed the
schemes of the Government on the subject in question, putting forcibly
before me "_how we are going to deal with Bulgaria_." Not a single
word of what he said could I understand. Still, as a member of the
Cabinet, I felt bound to give his explanations my gravest attention,
my difficulty being not to expose my hopeless ignorance by any
inappropriate question. It was with some new-born sense of importance
that I found we were once again in Lady JAY'S company, this time in
her drawing-room, and seated in a low chair, while JOHN MORLEY had
brought with him the school-desk, on which he was still leaning his
elbow, and still swaying and swinging like a pendulum. Lady JAY was
all for resuming her discussion about the Archimandrite, refusing to
credit the assurances given by Mr. MORLEY (balancing himself on his
elbow) and myself as to my being in the Cabinet secrets. At this point
rushed in someone, who was alternately HERBERT GARDNER and a PONSONBY,
until he settled down into being HERBERT GARDNER for certain, who
exclaimed excitedly, "I have just seen Mr. GLADSTONE! He says, '_It is
absurd to suppose that his letter ever meant anything of the sort!_'"
I quietly demanded the restoration of Mr. GLADSTONE'S letter to me; so
did Mr. JOHN MORLEY. The protean representative of HERBERT GARDNER or
PONSONBY, or anybody else, replied simply, "I haven't got it." This
seemed to perfectly satisfy everybody, and no further questions being
forthcoming, Lady JAY seized the opportunity to declare triumphantly,
addressing me personally--JOHN MORLEY and the protean representative
having disappeared--how she had "ascertained from a Cardinal that"....
But what was the solution of the difficulty, or what was the original
difficulty itself, I shall never know in this world, though I may do
so in the World of Dreams, as here I awoke, and was so impressed
with the reality of the events that had passed, and with the present
necessity for recording them, that I at once entered them in my
note-book, and here they are.
* * * * *