THE PARTY.

The clock was yet warm with its vigorous efforts to strike the eventful hour of six on merry Christmas Eve, when a carriage containing the first arrivals came rattling down the street. There was no mistaking the energetic rat-tat-tat at the door; or, if there had been, the buzz of voices was sufficient to inform those inside that Charlie Stanley and his party were there. As soon as the door was open there was a rush and a scramble, for those mad young people had made many rash stakes as to who should be the first to wish Old Merry the compliments of the season. All stakes, however, were drawn, for the object of their search was discovered simultaneously by all the party; discovered, too, in the act of coming down the stairs, with his frill shirt, bald head, and pumps, glistening in the light of the hall lamps, and a chorus of voices rang out the welcome old salutation—“A merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

Charlie and Walter Stanley, and Alec Boyce—the lads who went one summer with Old Merry to Switzerland—had been entrusted with the preparation of part of the evening’s amusement. They were constituted masters of the ceremonies, and had been charged to bottle up all their fun for at least two days before the party, in order that it might explode and scintillate for the benefit of the company. So, as a host of packages were put down in the hall, Charlie said—

“Here are our properties, Mr. Merry—wigs, crinolines, whiskers, royal robes, banners from the camp of King John, feathers from the chief of the Mohawks, diamonds lent privately by the secretary of Sinbad the Sailor, the shield of Achilles, kindly contributed by Mr. Barnum; and here—”

But here he stopped, for the rattle of horses’ feet outside, and a sharp rap at the door, announced fresh arrivals. Charlie was in a dramatic humour, so, striking an attitude, he cried—

“By the pricking of my thumbs,Something wicked this way comes;Open, locks, whoever knocks.

“By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes;

Open, locks, whoever knocks.

And, guards, what ho! bear hence our treasures to some secret place.”

“Such a getting up-stairs you never did see,” as in a twinkling the impromptu guards obeyed the mandate of their chief.

Tom and Ada Martin, and the fiddle, were the next to arrive. The fiddle was Tom’s; his special hobby. No party was complete without it, for if it were not there neither was Tom. His motto was, “Love me, love my fiddle.” A merry fellow was Tom; he could sing and play, and the proudest moments in Ada’s life were when she accompanied him in a solo on his violin. Moreover, he wrote poetry (?), rattling, merry ditties, that broke out into exuberant choruses of

And it’s heigh, ho, hum,With a tum, tum, tum,Fal lal de riddle ho, tum, tum, tum!

And it’s heigh, ho, hum,

With a tum, tum, tum,

Fal lal de riddle ho, tum, tum, tum!

Ada Martin was Tom Martin in the feminine; she had all the boy’s humour, with the girl’s grace and refinement. Everybodywho knew her knew that she could tell them the last new game, or ask the last new riddle; and if at a party the fun came to a standstill, and somebody asked “What shall we do next?” the reply would be sure to come in the shape of a question, “Where’s Ada Martin?” Ada rejoiced in long curls, treacherous curls, that had made many a lad fall in love with her; in fact, Frank Edwards was once heard to say that he should like to win her heart by gallantly rescuing her from the power of some grim tyrant; or, “Better still,” said he, “if she would fall into the sea off the pier at Margate, and I could jump in and save her by catching hold of her beautiful curls, it would be so jolly!”

Frank Edwards! The next rat-tat announced him and his sister, “Little Flo,” as he called her at home, though in company she was Florence. Frank was very fond of his sister; he had a weakness for hair, as we have seen, and hers descended like a cataract, or, as Frank said, like a Great Flow, over her neck and shoulders. A bright, merry little fairy was Florence Edwards, and a very popular young lady. Alec Boyce was nearly on the point of fighting a duel with Walter Stanley one snowy night, when it was proposed at a party that she should be carried to the carriage, and it became a question as to who should do it. Fortunately, however, no blood was spilt, for the boys clasped hands, and carried her sedan-fashion; and as she had to put an arm over each shoulder, in order to steady herself, what could be fairer?

Elasticity runs in some families, as gout does in others, and the Edwards’ were elastic people. Frank could turn himself into a catherine wheel, imitate Donato on one leg, dance a hornpipe, or stand on his head and fire off sham pistols withboth hands at once; and as his talent was quite distinct from that of the musical Tom Martin, or the dramatic Charlie Stanley, he enjoyed a popularity as great in its way as theirs.

Rat-tat-tat!

The Misses Clara and Alice Stanley, with their music.

Mr. Stanley, with his microscopes.

Miss Marianne Layton, with her doll—white tulle, looped up with spangles.

Mr. Oswald Layton (his first appearance in stand-up collars.)

The Misses Emily and Nelly Cathcart (with theirbrannew dolls—blue tarleton, looped with snowdrops).

Master Willie Cathcart, with his dog Leo, who barks for lumps of sugar.

Mr. Cathcart, with a prodigious white vest and a black bâton, “as leader of the choir.”

Rat-tat-tat!

Misses and Masters, Misters and Mistresses,ad lib., ad infin.

Tea and coffee at six o’clock—and why that should mean from half-past six to seven, custom must reply—is much better than tea at six o’clock. A sit-down tea is a mistake; it tries the temperament, terrifies the timid, and taxes the talkers, whereas tea and coffee implies wandering about with a cup in your hand, and spilling it as occasion requires; it makes work for the lads and pleasure for the lassies, and it breaks the ice between strangers. Little groups form and chat, and when a joke has taken with effect, it is passed on to a neighbouring group, and so all the company gets jocular. For instance, Tom Martin was surrounded by his favourites, and was replying to their questions as to how his violin had stood the cold journey.

“Delightfully. But she is now reclining on the couch up-stairs, in order to get up her strength for the evening.”

“That’s all fiddle de dee, said one.” (Applause.)

“Why do you call the violin she?” asked another.

“Because I have named her Pysche; she has so much life in her,” answered Tom.

“You are hersycophant, then!” said another. (Renewed applause.)

“It seems to me your violin always has a verygutturalsound with it,” remarked Alec Boyce. (Laughter.)

“Yes,” replied Tom Martin; “and no doubt the poet detected the same thing in other instruments, when he composed those time-honoured lines—

“Hey diddle diddle,Thecatand the fiddle.”

“Hey diddle diddle,

Thecatand the fiddle.”

Then the applause reached its climax, and of course the little jokes were retailed to other groups.

By degrees the company in the tea-room began to decrease. In the cold months, however temperate the atmosphere may be kept, there is always a chilliness in passing from one room to another, and especially at parties. When, therefore, the drawing-room began to fill, Charlie started a proposition—“Had we not better have a dance to warm us?” and he added, “It used to be the fashion to terminate a concert withGod save the Queen; and now theNational Anthemcomes first, and it used to be the fashion to wind up a party withSir Roger de Coverley, but why should we not begin with it?” Of course nobody knew of any just cause or impediment, and so the proposition was carried without a dissentient voice.

Who can describe a party from beginning to end? It would fill a large book to criticise all the songs and other performances, to chronicle all the jokes, and to tell again all the tales. And how tame on paper are the little stories which are told during a quadrille, when the introduction is given inLa Pantelon, and the plot commences atL’Ete, and the incidents increase in interest tillTrenise, and thedénouementis galloped over in theFinale. Well, suffice it to say the fun kept up unflaggingly, and as the evening advanced, and everybody was in high spirits, Charlie Stanley collected his “troupe,” and began to make preparations for a charade. While the folding doors were closed for the scenery to be placed in one room, and while the seats were being adjusted in the other, the actors in the charade were in the great excitement of dressing for their parts. The boys had prepared the performances for the evening beforehand, and supplied copies to all who were to appear in the scenes; and, as Charlie was good enough to present Old Merry with complete copies, we will give them for the benefit of our readers, with the condition on which they were given to us, namely, that they should not be too severely criticised from a literary point of view.

A brief overture on the piano, and then Charlie came to the front of the folding doors, and said:—

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I beg to announce that we are about to act a burlesque charade, and you will be good enough to try and find out our word. It is in three syllables; the first act will give two syllables used as one word, the second act will give the remaining syllable, and the third act will bring in the whole word. The charade is entitled—

THE MEANDERING MUSICIAN;or,The Vitch!! The Vow!! and the Voucher!!And will be supported by the following powerful cast:—BerlindaThe “star” of the eveningMiss Ada Martin.Roderigo PipkinsThe meandering musician, in love with BerlindaMaster Tom Martin.Banquo BelvidereA RivalMaster Frank Edwards.Theophilus BalderdashAnother RivalMaster Alec Boyce.Mrs. ThompsonThe WitchMiss Florence Edwards.Berlinda’s PaThe Stern ParientMaster Walter Stanley.Alonzo Napoleon SmithAn American ShowmanMaster Charlie Stanley.Police, peasants, wax figures, perambulators, &c. &c.

And will be supported by the following powerful cast:—

A burst of applause followed the announcement, and was renewed when the doors were thrown open and Berlinda was discovered leaning out of a window overlooking the room, with a candle burning by her side to assist her in viewing the stars, on which she was supposed to be gazing.

Berlinda(in a rhapsody addressing the stars).O! beaming beauties of the broad and boundless abyss,Whose whirling worlds seem wondrously whiter than is this.O! vision! vast and various to my view,Ye stars, which shine “because you’ve nothing else to do.”I gaze upon your splendours, so superbly spacious—Good gracious!A minstrel wanders forth. I’ll quench the lightAnd hear his music on the airs of night.(Puts out the candle.)EnterRoderigo.I see her! I see her! I see her at the winder,It is! my beating heart! it is Berlinda!Come forth, my lute! ye muses, up above,Smile while it thus amuses her I love!(Cats are heard on the tiles in chorus.)O, rapture! ’tis Berlinda’s voice I hear,Thosestrainsare hers—alas! I feel so queer—Courage, faint heart! thy mistress thou must please,Pour forth thy lays upon the lazy breeze.(Tunes his violin and sings to the air of “Beautiful Star.”)Loverly girl, on yonder height,Sweeter than the (h)owls of night,Hear thy fond one’s voice to youGenteely asking, How do you do?How do you do-oo!Chanticleer in the distance.Cock-a-doodle-do-oo!Chorus of Rivals.How do you do-oo?Lovely Berlinda, how do you do?Roder.Ha! there are rivals—such arrivals much I fear—Hist! they are coming, my idea is to hide here.(Hides.)EnterBanquo Belvidere. (Anxiously gazes round and thenaddresses the window.)Berlinda! art thou there, my own Berlinda?My heart is hot with love—a very cinder—Alas! she’s gone to bed, she cannot hear,And I shall go to Bedlam soon I fear.I place these flowers on the sill within thy reach,They’re better, p’raps, than silly flowers of speech.(Exit.)Roderigo(comes forth and takes the flowers).A sweet expression of my love, but not adearone.What, another rival? Yes, I think I hear one.(Hides.)EnterTheophilus Balderdash(with a cold in thehead—sneezes violently during his speech).This is a scene indeed to foster love,Brick walls around and chimney-pots above;Yon chanticleer the guardian bird is,To join his voice with distant hurdy-gurdies.All speaks of love, and shall my voice be still?Nay, perish! Balderdash, an if you will,But speak!Addressing the window—Berlinda, dearest;If walls have ears, surely thou hearest;Hearest thy lover, though his tones be hoarse,Hearest by means of love’s detective force,Warm at the heart, though with a cold i’ the head—(Sneezes.)(Aside.) (By Jove, I really ought to be in bed.)Accept my love, resist it not, be not so cruel—(Sneezes again.)(Aside.) (I really must go in for something strong, and gruel.)I leave this billet-do. Read, loved one, its contents;(Aside.) (And I’ll go home and seek my night habillements.)(Exit.)EnterRoderigo.A notability, as I’d ability to note. But see,A witch! a fortune-teller comes! O, criminy!I’ll bribe the hag to gain Berlinda’s bower,And then I’ll carry off my love within the hour.EnterWitch.What ho! midnight marauder.Roderigo(in a whisper, taking her aside).Order!Let’s have no rows that may arouse my bride;Go you and coax the fair one to my side;Bid her to fly with me, her lover and her lord,And you shall havethis note[1]as your reward.Witch(raps at window andBerlindaappears).Listen, Berlinda. The stars declare thy destiny is set,Act now, ’tis well, forbear and you’ll regret.Thy lover waits to bear thee hence—Away!Berlinda.Good woman, I have many lovers; say,Is it Roderigo Pipkins who is near?Roderigo.I am here!Berlinda.Bless you, dear! Now help me down and fly!The sun will soon be mounting up the sky.Farewell, my home! farewell, my pa and ma!Accept my last adieu. Ta, ta!(Roderigocarries her off the stage.)

Berlinda(in a rhapsody addressing the stars).

O! beaming beauties of the broad and boundless abyss,Whose whirling worlds seem wondrously whiter than is this.O! vision! vast and various to my view,Ye stars, which shine “because you’ve nothing else to do.”I gaze upon your splendours, so superbly spacious—Good gracious!A minstrel wanders forth. I’ll quench the lightAnd hear his music on the airs of night.

O! beaming beauties of the broad and boundless abyss,

Whose whirling worlds seem wondrously whiter than is this.

O! vision! vast and various to my view,

Ye stars, which shine “because you’ve nothing else to do.”

I gaze upon your splendours, so superbly spacious—

Good gracious!

A minstrel wanders forth. I’ll quench the light

And hear his music on the airs of night.

(Puts out the candle.)

EnterRoderigo.

I see her! I see her! I see her at the winder,It is! my beating heart! it is Berlinda!Come forth, my lute! ye muses, up above,Smile while it thus amuses her I love!

I see her! I see her! I see her at the winder,

It is! my beating heart! it is Berlinda!

Come forth, my lute! ye muses, up above,

Smile while it thus amuses her I love!

(Cats are heard on the tiles in chorus.)

O, rapture! ’tis Berlinda’s voice I hear,Thosestrainsare hers—alas! I feel so queer—Courage, faint heart! thy mistress thou must please,Pour forth thy lays upon the lazy breeze.

O, rapture! ’tis Berlinda’s voice I hear,

Thosestrainsare hers—alas! I feel so queer—

Courage, faint heart! thy mistress thou must please,

Pour forth thy lays upon the lazy breeze.

(Tunes his violin and sings to the air of “Beautiful Star.”)

Loverly girl, on yonder height,Sweeter than the (h)owls of night,Hear thy fond one’s voice to youGenteely asking, How do you do?How do you do-oo!

Loverly girl, on yonder height,

Sweeter than the (h)owls of night,

Hear thy fond one’s voice to you

Genteely asking, How do you do?

How do you do-oo!

Chanticleer in the distance.Cock-a-doodle-do-oo!

Chorus of Rivals.How do you do-oo?Lovely Berlinda, how do you do?

Chorus of Rivals.How do you do-oo?

Lovely Berlinda, how do you do?

Roder.Ha! there are rivals—such arrivals much I fear—Hist! they are coming, my idea is to hide here.

Roder.Ha! there are rivals—such arrivals much I fear—

Hist! they are coming, my idea is to hide here.

(Hides.)

EnterBanquo Belvidere. (Anxiously gazes round and thenaddresses the window.)

Berlinda! art thou there, my own Berlinda?My heart is hot with love—a very cinder—Alas! she’s gone to bed, she cannot hear,And I shall go to Bedlam soon I fear.I place these flowers on the sill within thy reach,They’re better, p’raps, than silly flowers of speech.

Berlinda! art thou there, my own Berlinda?

My heart is hot with love—a very cinder—

Alas! she’s gone to bed, she cannot hear,

And I shall go to Bedlam soon I fear.

I place these flowers on the sill within thy reach,

They’re better, p’raps, than silly flowers of speech.

(Exit.)

Roderigo(comes forth and takes the flowers).

A sweet expression of my love, but not adearone.What, another rival? Yes, I think I hear one.

A sweet expression of my love, but not adearone.

What, another rival? Yes, I think I hear one.

(Hides.)

EnterTheophilus Balderdash(with a cold in thehead—sneezes violently during his speech).

This is a scene indeed to foster love,Brick walls around and chimney-pots above;Yon chanticleer the guardian bird is,To join his voice with distant hurdy-gurdies.All speaks of love, and shall my voice be still?Nay, perish! Balderdash, an if you will,But speak!Addressing the window—Berlinda, dearest;If walls have ears, surely thou hearest;Hearest thy lover, though his tones be hoarse,Hearest by means of love’s detective force,Warm at the heart, though with a cold i’ the head—

This is a scene indeed to foster love,

Brick walls around and chimney-pots above;

Yon chanticleer the guardian bird is,

To join his voice with distant hurdy-gurdies.

All speaks of love, and shall my voice be still?

Nay, perish! Balderdash, an if you will,

But speak!

Addressing the window—Berlinda, dearest;

If walls have ears, surely thou hearest;

Hearest thy lover, though his tones be hoarse,

Hearest by means of love’s detective force,

Warm at the heart, though with a cold i’ the head—

(Sneezes.)

(Aside.) (By Jove, I really ought to be in bed.)Accept my love, resist it not, be not so cruel—

(Aside.) (By Jove, I really ought to be in bed.)

Accept my love, resist it not, be not so cruel—

(Sneezes again.)

(Aside.) (I really must go in for something strong, and gruel.)I leave this billet-do. Read, loved one, its contents;

(Aside.) (I really must go in for something strong, and gruel.)

I leave this billet-do. Read, loved one, its contents;

(Aside.) (And I’ll go home and seek my night habillements.)

(Exit.)

EnterRoderigo.

A notability, as I’d ability to note. But see,A witch! a fortune-teller comes! O, criminy!I’ll bribe the hag to gain Berlinda’s bower,And then I’ll carry off my love within the hour.EnterWitch.What ho! midnight marauder.

A notability, as I’d ability to note. But see,

A witch! a fortune-teller comes! O, criminy!

I’ll bribe the hag to gain Berlinda’s bower,

And then I’ll carry off my love within the hour.

EnterWitch.What ho! midnight marauder.

Roderigo(in a whisper, taking her aside).

Order!Let’s have no rows that may arouse my bride;Go you and coax the fair one to my side;Bid her to fly with me, her lover and her lord,And you shall havethis note[1]as your reward.

Order!

Let’s have no rows that may arouse my bride;

Go you and coax the fair one to my side;

Bid her to fly with me, her lover and her lord,

And you shall havethis note[1]as your reward.

Witch(raps at window andBerlindaappears).

Listen, Berlinda. The stars declare thy destiny is set,Act now, ’tis well, forbear and you’ll regret.Thy lover waits to bear thee hence—Away!

Listen, Berlinda. The stars declare thy destiny is set,

Act now, ’tis well, forbear and you’ll regret.

Thy lover waits to bear thee hence—Away!

Berlinda.Good woman, I have many lovers; say,Is it Roderigo Pipkins who is near?

Berlinda.Good woman, I have many lovers; say,

Is it Roderigo Pipkins who is near?

Roderigo.I am here!

Berlinda.Bless you, dear! Now help me down and fly!The sun will soon be mounting up the sky.Farewell, my home! farewell, my pa and ma!Accept my last adieu. Ta, ta!

Berlinda.Bless you, dear! Now help me down and fly!

The sun will soon be mounting up the sky.

Farewell, my home! farewell, my pa and ma!

Accept my last adieu. Ta, ta!

(Roderigocarries her off the stage.)

[1]T. Balderdash’s.

Scene—a wood.BerlindaandRoderigoseated on the ground.

Ber.Alas! I’m hungry, love can’t support itself on air.Rod.I’m much more hungry; think how much I’ve had tobear.Ber.Monster! is it for this I left my frugal home in haste,To fly with you and see this dreadful waste.Where is our home? where do you mean to go?Rod.Upon my word, Berlinda, I don’t know;I think we’ll pic-nic, drink the morning dew,And eat the berries,—see, I’ve got a few,—And then we’ll take a quiet stroll to searchFor parson, marriage lines, and church,And then live happy ever after. What d’ye say?Ber.Why, most emphatically, nay!I call this treatment shameful, sinful, flagrant—Rod.Come, come Berlinda, let me have novague rant;Youwanderin your speech. What is’t you need?Ber.My breakfast! oh, I’m dying for a feed.Rod.I would I were a bird, and then I might your favour win;Alas, I can but offer you some scrapings from my violin.Berlindabursts into a passionate flood of tears, andRoderigoplays pathetically “Home, sweet home.” By-and-by the soundof voices and the tramp of feet are heard in the distance.Ber.O! Roderigo, we’re pursued! they’re armed! what shall we do?Rod.When they’ve mustered, we shall both get peppered, we are in a stew.Is’tmeetthat we should wait, or shall we fly?Ber.I wouldIwere a bird!Rod.And so do I.But, see, your father comes—his passion’s at a pitch,And he is followed by the rivals; and the witch—Ber.Which it is. O! goodness, what will now become of me?I’ll climb—but no, they’ll think I’m “up a tree.”They come. Down, Roderigo; down upon your knees.Rod.It’s notan easyplace, but anything to please.(Enter Infuriated Parient, Rivals, Witch, Policeman, and aPerambulator.)Berlinda’s Pa.Rogue! villain! rascal! Lend me your earsThat I may pierce them with my taunts and jeers.I come to claim my daughter you have borne away.Rod.(aside.) ’Twere better she had not been born, I say.Ber.Pa.And you shall answer for this day’s affray.Rod.I’m much afraid I shall; but pray be calm.My hand upon it—I would never do her harm.Ber. Pa.Silence, base rogue! My friends, the time is fleeting,I think we’d better now prorogue this meeting.Riv.Not till we’ve fought, and thus expressed our hate.Rod.Good Sirs, I deem that I amfortunate.I’ll fight you on the morrow—not to-day.Excuse me if I’m acting in asordidway;But—Ber. Pa.Ho! guards, bring forth the prison van, and bear her hence.(They carryBerlindato the perambulator—en route she says:)Dear Roderigo, dreadful is suspense;But write to me, prepaid, and when you see your wayAll clear, be good enough to name the day.Rod.(weeping.) Farewell, Berlinda, fairest of the fair!Ber.Good-bye, cheer up, old chap, and take that ere (hair).(Door closes whileRoderigokisses the ringlet flung to him byBerlindafrom the perambulator.)

Ber.Alas! I’m hungry, love can’t support itself on air.

Rod.I’m much more hungry; think how much I’ve had tobear.

Ber.Monster! is it for this I left my frugal home in haste,To fly with you and see this dreadful waste.Where is our home? where do you mean to go?

Ber.Monster! is it for this I left my frugal home in haste,

To fly with you and see this dreadful waste.

Where is our home? where do you mean to go?

Rod.Upon my word, Berlinda, I don’t know;I think we’ll pic-nic, drink the morning dew,And eat the berries,—see, I’ve got a few,—And then we’ll take a quiet stroll to searchFor parson, marriage lines, and church,And then live happy ever after. What d’ye say?

Rod.Upon my word, Berlinda, I don’t know;

I think we’ll pic-nic, drink the morning dew,

And eat the berries,—see, I’ve got a few,—

And then we’ll take a quiet stroll to search

For parson, marriage lines, and church,

And then live happy ever after. What d’ye say?

Ber.Why, most emphatically, nay!I call this treatment shameful, sinful, flagrant—

Ber.Why, most emphatically, nay!

I call this treatment shameful, sinful, flagrant—

Rod.Come, come Berlinda, let me have novague rant;Youwanderin your speech. What is’t you need?

Rod.Come, come Berlinda, let me have novague rant;

Youwanderin your speech. What is’t you need?

Ber.My breakfast! oh, I’m dying for a feed.

Rod.I would I were a bird, and then I might your favour win;Alas, I can but offer you some scrapings from my violin.

Rod.I would I were a bird, and then I might your favour win;

Alas, I can but offer you some scrapings from my violin.

Berlindabursts into a passionate flood of tears, andRoderigoplays pathetically “Home, sweet home.” By-and-by the soundof voices and the tramp of feet are heard in the distance.

Ber.O! Roderigo, we’re pursued! they’re armed! what shall we do?

Rod.When they’ve mustered, we shall both get peppered, we are in a stew.Is’tmeetthat we should wait, or shall we fly?

Rod.When they’ve mustered, we shall both get peppered, we are in a stew.

Is’tmeetthat we should wait, or shall we fly?

Ber.I wouldIwere a bird!

Rod.And so do I.But, see, your father comes—his passion’s at a pitch,And he is followed by the rivals; and the witch—

Rod.And so do I.

But, see, your father comes—his passion’s at a pitch,

And he is followed by the rivals; and the witch—

Ber.Which it is. O! goodness, what will now become of me?I’ll climb—but no, they’ll think I’m “up a tree.”They come. Down, Roderigo; down upon your knees.

Ber.Which it is. O! goodness, what will now become of me?

I’ll climb—but no, they’ll think I’m “up a tree.”

They come. Down, Roderigo; down upon your knees.

Rod.It’s notan easyplace, but anything to please.

(Enter Infuriated Parient, Rivals, Witch, Policeman, and aPerambulator.)

Berlinda’s Pa.Rogue! villain! rascal! Lend me your earsThat I may pierce them with my taunts and jeers.I come to claim my daughter you have borne away.

Berlinda’s Pa.Rogue! villain! rascal! Lend me your ears

That I may pierce them with my taunts and jeers.

I come to claim my daughter you have borne away.

Rod.(aside.) ’Twere better she had not been born, I say.

Ber.Pa.And you shall answer for this day’s affray.

Rod.I’m much afraid I shall; but pray be calm.My hand upon it—I would never do her harm.

Rod.I’m much afraid I shall; but pray be calm.

My hand upon it—I would never do her harm.

Ber. Pa.Silence, base rogue! My friends, the time is fleeting,I think we’d better now prorogue this meeting.

Ber. Pa.Silence, base rogue! My friends, the time is fleeting,

I think we’d better now prorogue this meeting.

Riv.Not till we’ve fought, and thus expressed our hate.

Rod.Good Sirs, I deem that I amfortunate.I’ll fight you on the morrow—not to-day.Excuse me if I’m acting in asordidway;But—

Rod.Good Sirs, I deem that I amfortunate.

I’ll fight you on the morrow—not to-day.

Excuse me if I’m acting in asordidway;

But—

Ber. Pa.Ho! guards, bring forth the prison van, and bear her hence.

(They carryBerlindato the perambulator—en route she says:)

Dear Roderigo, dreadful is suspense;But write to me, prepaid, and when you see your wayAll clear, be good enough to name the day.

Dear Roderigo, dreadful is suspense;

But write to me, prepaid, and when you see your way

All clear, be good enough to name the day.

Rod.(weeping.) Farewell, Berlinda, fairest of the fair!

Ber.Good-bye, cheer up, old chap, and take that ere (hair).

(Door closes whileRoderigokisses the ringlet flung to him byBerlindafrom the perambulator.)

Before the doors are open a servant in livery enters the room, in which the company are seated, and puts up a placard with the following notice:—

“GREAT ATTRACTION FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY!!Mr. Alonzo Napoleon Smith, of the Boundless Prairie, America, begs to announce that he will exhibit his unrivalledWAX-WORK FIGURES.Admission free. Children half-price.N.B.—NO MONEY RETURNED WITHOUT IT’S BAD.”

“GREAT ATTRACTION FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY!!

Mr. Alonzo Napoleon Smith, of the Boundless Prairie, America, begs to announce that he will exhibit his unrivalled

WAX-WORK FIGURES.Admission free. Children half-price.N.B.—NO MONEY RETURNED WITHOUT IT’S BAD.”

Prior to the opening of the doors Berlinda takes her seat among the audience.

The door opens. A row of figures, covered over with sheets, stand on rout seats round the room. One or two reclining figures in the foreground. Overture on the violin, “How doth the little busy bee,” by Roderigo Pipkins, the meandering musician.

A servant in livery then enters, and uncovers the wax-work figures, revealing—

Enter Alonzo Napoleon Smith, as Lecturer.

Ladies and Gentlemen, at the request of the Universe, seconded by the United States of America, I have brought my caravan from the Boundless Prairie, in order to raise the tone of the fine arts in your country, and to devote the proceeds ofthe entertainment to the liquidation of your national debt. No, no! not a word of thanks, I beg. Such an audience as this before me fills me with awe, and I speak with authority when I say that had I not a dash of Minerva’s wisdom my nervous system would hardly stand the ordeal.

I will not trouble you with an account of how I collected the information which will be contained in my brief lecture. Suffice it to say that a friend having presented me with a copy of the Bodleian Library, and having taken apartments in the British Museum for some time past, not to mention the fact of a visit to the Alexandrian Library prior to the late disastrous fire, has posted me up in the points which will be brought under your notice. But as Homer very beautifully says in his last little work, we have—

“Ad referendum in loco, viva voce summum bonum videlicet.”

Let our business be to show the product of the busy bee, namely, these “neatly spread” wax figures.

And first let me call your attention to Joan of Arc.

(Joan of Arc moves her head, and raises her handmechanically).

Much mystery attaches to the young person now before us. It is supposed that she was called Joand’Arc, because we are in the dark as to her birthplace, unless we accept the idea that she came from Arcadia. She suffered much from nightmare, and fancied she was riding over France as its victoress. Consequently she adopted men’s clothes. It is well to observe too that she cut off her hair before she arrived atChinon. She headed an army, so the tale goes, of 7,000 men; and with the strength of her arms the foe was defeated. After which she came to ruin (Rouen), that is to say she was burnt there.

Virtue and manliness always succeed in the long run, however, and her successes have been immortalized in Paris by a gorgeous tombstone, entitled the Arc de Triomphe!

The next figure I shall introduce is one of a paragorical nature. The Queen of Night, represented by a daughter of Eve. Unseen she spreads her mantle over the earth, and thus acts the part of anitinerant angel. The umbrella in her hand is also an emblematic figure, representing the pernicious influences which attend upon her, and is called the deadly nightshade. In the absence of any further proofs of the authenticity of this character there will be an interval of a minute, during which the band will play.—Exit.

Roderigo Pipkins immediately strikes up, but suddenly leaves off, takes out the ringlet from his pocket, and waves it before the audience. Berlinda hides her face in her pocket handkerchief.

Roderigo advancing, and whispering to Berlinda—“Berlinda is it you dear? do you love me now as then?O! wilt thou be my bride, love, and not fly oft again?You will? Then come up quickly—Smith will come ere long;He’ll be puzzled when he reckons, you’re another figurant!”

Roderigo advancing, and whispering to Berlinda—

“Berlinda is it you dear? do you love me now as then?O! wilt thou be my bride, love, and not fly oft again?You will? Then come up quickly—Smith will come ere long;He’ll be puzzled when he reckons, you’re another figurant!”

“Berlinda is it you dear? do you love me now as then?

O! wilt thou be my bride, love, and not fly oft again?

You will? Then come up quickly—Smith will come ere long;

He’ll be puzzled when he reckons, you’re another figurant!”

Berlinda stands on a pedestal beside the wax figures, and Roderigo covers her with a sheet.

Enter Alonzo Napoleon Smith.

I shall now briefly introduce another well-known character—Field Marshal the late Duke of Wellington—he will be easily recognized from the fact of his nasal probus being the most prominent feature of his face. I will not go all over his history. You remember all about Magna Charta, and theformation of a body called the Chartists. You know how the Spanish Armada was defeated in Trafalgar Bay, and how Wellington cheered on his men, saying, “I’ll be your leader.” You remember that little affair with the Duchess of Salisbury at the ball at Brussels, and how the Duke was made a knight of the Garter. Having brought the history thus far up to the eve of Waterloo, let us confine our attention to that event. And first, I notice it was not abootlessexpedition, for ever since that event Wellington and Blucher boots have become an institution of your free and enlightened country. Second, it is a popular fallacy to suppose that His Grace was in any way connected with the trade of a hatter. When he said “Up boys and (h)at ’em,” he merely wished his men to give the foe a bonneting! Moral from the life. He earned a glorious reputation as the Iron Duke, and his monument overlooking Hyde Park is the finest bit ofironyextant.

Let us now turn to the figure of Richard III. A bad figure, as you will see; and we learn on the very face of our subject that though deformities may be put behind one’s back they are not therefore altogether out of sight. Richard was Duke of Gloster, and it is generally admitted that it was not the cheese for him to seize the crown in such mighty haste. As you are aware, one of the main features of his reign was the introduction of the pillo(w)ry, by which he smothered the two little princes in the Tower.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I must draw my entertainment to a close—

Rod.(aside). Now screw thy courage to the sticking place.Here goes!Ladies and gentlemen, I hope I don’t behave—A. N. Smith.Silence, slave!Rod.Good sir, I crave permission just to sayBefore this worthy audience goes away,There’s still one figure more to show—A. N. Smith(in surprise).No!Rod.Indeed there is—one worth her weight in gold.Berlinda, Roderigo’s bride, behold!(Uncovers the figure and leadsBerlindato the audience.)Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve played our little game—We’re satisfied (aint we, Berlinda?) we hope you are the same.And now as all the parts of our charade you’ve heard,It only rests with you to say the word.[Exit.

Rod.(aside). Now screw thy courage to the sticking place.Here goes!Ladies and gentlemen, I hope I don’t behave—

Rod.(aside). Now screw thy courage to the sticking place.

Here goes!

Ladies and gentlemen, I hope I don’t behave—

A. N. Smith.Silence, slave!

Rod.Good sir, I crave permission just to sayBefore this worthy audience goes away,There’s still one figure more to show—

Rod.Good sir, I crave permission just to say

Before this worthy audience goes away,

There’s still one figure more to show—

A. N. Smith(in surprise).No!

Rod.Indeed there is—one worth her weight in gold.Berlinda, Roderigo’s bride, behold!

Rod.Indeed there is—one worth her weight in gold.

Berlinda, Roderigo’s bride, behold!

(Uncovers the figure and leadsBerlindato the audience.)

Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve played our little game—We’re satisfied (aint we, Berlinda?) we hope you are the same.And now as all the parts of our charade you’ve heard,It only rests with you to say the word.

Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve played our little game—

We’re satisfied (aint we, Berlinda?) we hope you are the same.

And now as all the parts of our charade you’ve heard,

It only rests with you to say the word.

[Exit.

The applause was deafening; never did the drawing-room echo back such clapping of hands and hearty bravos as it did that Christmas Eve; the doors were closed, but long and loud shouts for Alonzo Napoleon Smith were raised, and they had again to be opened, for the performers to come in and make their bows to the audience. Roderigo led in Berlinda, Richard the Third came arm in arm with Joan of Arc, the Duke of Wellington chaperoned the Queen of Night, and the livery servant brought in the meandering musician’s fiddle!

And then came the puzzling part of the affair, to try and find out the word. One guessed “Audience,” awe-die-hence; another “Entertainment,” enter-tàen-ment; a third “Overlooking;” and others the most absurd and improbable words possible, and words which were never introduced into the charade at all. At last one sharp boy, who had been takingnotes between the acts, stumbled upon the right word, and it was ⸺.[2]

A question now arose as to whether there should be any more charades, or whether the rooms should be cleared again for more general fun. The set entertainments carried the day, however, and after an interval for refreshment, and a little variety in the way of some songs by some of the young ladies, the loud bell of the town crier was heard in the hall, and Master Willie Cathcart, who represented that institution, announced—“O yes! O yes! O yes! a great Reform Debate and Demonstration will take place in this place on Christmas Eve, of which all persons interested in the great questions of the day will be pleased to take notice. God save the Queen.” In double-quick time the company fell into position, and then came

The demonstration came first, and consisted of a procession all round the drawing-room. “See, the Conquering Hero comes,” was struck up on the piano, and Tom Martin accompanied it on the violin, but having forgotten to get his instrument in tune with the piano beforehand, played excruciatingly as he headed the procession. Then came Edward Barnes—

Clenching in his hand, as in a vice,A banner with the strange device,“Here we are again!”

Clenching in his hand, as in a vice,

A banner with the strange device,

“Here we are again!”

A motley crew of reformers followed, some with flags, and some with rosettes; one boy had some pieces of paper, and was chanting a parody on Tennyson’s lines, “Sweet and low.” The first verse ran thus:—

“Bright and Lowe, Bright and Lowe,Members of high degree;Lowe, Lowe, spout and blow,But Bright’s got the better of thee.”

“Bright and Lowe, Bright and Lowe,

Members of high degree;

Lowe, Lowe, spout and blow,

But Bright’s got the better of thee.”

Last of all, arm in arm, came the reform agitators. The cheering that greeted them was loud and long, and when they had elbowed their way through the crowd, which was purposely arranged so as to make it difficult, they ascended the platform, which had been reared on the spot lately occupied by the wax figures. And then, by one of those transformations which are so easy in fiction and on the stage, the scene was changed from Hyde Park to the House of Commons, represented by the platform. Charlie Stanley took the chair as Speaker of the House, and to the right and left of the table, in places marked “ministerial” and “opposition,” the members arranged themselves. This arrangement was not on the ground of political opinion, but it was deemed desirable that, when any cries of “oh!” or “order!” were to be introduced, it would be better for those on one side of the speaker to cry down those on the other side. It was not a full house; only four honourable gentlemen appeared on the platform beside the Speaker, and they were Messrs. Walter Stanley, Alec Boyce, Arthur Mortram, and Oswald Layton. Edward Barnes having carefully arranged his banner so that the motto should appear above the head of the Speaker, acted as Usher, or Master of the Ceremonies, and not being very familiar with the proceedingsin the House of Commons, commenced by crying “Silence in the Court,” which immediately produced an uproar. However, this was soon put down, and then the Speaker rose and said—

Gentlemen,I think you will agree with me, it would be quite beside the markFor us to sift the question of the riots in Hyde Park,Or even bring thatrailingaccusation up again,Which most suppose was settled then by might andMayne.We will not name theBrightideas in fashion long ago,Nor condescend to thoughts that may be anything likeLowe.Reform debates are very sober things, but stillThey don’t go on successfully without aMill.Stick therefore to your points, and let us hope you’ll bring,For all who are inclinedto roam, aWhalley-ping.We meet to-night to take the young idea by storm,And quote the latest standard for reform.We vote for Boyhood suffrage—that’s our motto,We want no Dull uns’ cave, or hole, or grotto,But urge that all our boys should boldly take their stand,And in a solemn League go hand in hand,And try to put down all the wrong that rulesIn play-grounds, workshops, cricket-fields, or schools.“Reform, complete and genuine Reform,” that is our maxim,No bribery or corruption, or £7 rate to tax him;But let each boy, who has a good opinion he can quote,Be free to use, as best he can, his vote.Now, Gentlemen, the weighty question lies with you,Sift well its points, and show us something new.Don’t fear, in studying the welfare of a lad,To say of shuffling measures, “Dis reallyis too bad.”Don’t fear the Opposition, and to each who axes,Say “Every one for all, and bother taxes.”— (Cheers.)Mr.Alec Boycerose and said—I take it that this point is ceded,Namely, that Universal Boyhood Suffrage is needed.I fear—(Opposition, hear! hear!)I fear the subject is too vast for me to hold in hand,So just upon one point I take my stand.The point, in fine, is this; it’s plain and clear as day,Reform is greatly needed with our boys at play;I take it that in this debate the use is,To “let fly” at our popular abuses.Now what is it we see in almost every school?Why right is the exception, wrong the rule.Mr.Walter Stanley(interrupting).I think, if, Mr. Speaker, I might make so bold,The honourable member should be told—Speaker.Hold!My duty is to take down several pegsWhoever spars at any member when he’s on his legs.Mr.Alec Boyceresumes.The thread of my discourse is tangled; what I want to sayIs this, that boys are often awfully unfair in play,Trench on the rights of youngsters, tease and frighten,Make heavier the burdens which they ought to lighten,Turn bullies, fag the weakest, and, in short,Do many things which members of a play-ground never ought.I know a school, not many hundred miles from here,Where practices prevail which at the least are queer.For instance, I have sometimes heard a boy declare,With all the bombast of a champion’s air,That he was best man in the school; and he would prove his rightBy calling any trembling unfledged urchin out to fight;Now fighting, gentlemen, is not to be applauded, and I sayThat he’s the better man who does not fight, but runs away.(Opposition, Nay!)Neigh as you will, ay, even till you’rehoarse,(A racybit of humour comes ofcourse,)I’ll saynae mair, but still, if fight he must, I hopeYou’ll recommend his joining Garibaldi or the Pope.And in that self-same school an evil still prevails,Of settling disputes by means of heads and tails.I hold it, Sir, unparliamentary for us to toss in airThe likeness of our sovereign lady fair,And make her settle, whether or not she chooses,Such points as “Heads I win, and tails he loses.”I move, therefore, as one important clause in our reforming rules,Leave fighting for the Pope, and “tossing” for his bulls.Time will not now permit, or I would seek to showHow many more important measures we might take in tow,And changein totomany evil things which swayThe conduct of Young England when at play.But as the hour advances, I feel, Sir, it is meetThat I should—er—hem! er—take my seat.(Satirical cries of “Hear, hear,” from the Opposition, andimmense applause from Arthur Mortram, the othermember on the Ministerial bench.)Mr.Walter Stanley.I rise in some surprise, to tell my noble friend,Who brought his speech to such a cheery end,That however much he is inclined to tax his mind,Great faults in play-ground practices to find,I have no hesitation, er—hem! in declaring,That while in some degree his feeling sharing,I cannot be in ignorance of the fact how much he lackedA forcible expression of his views, and, did I chose,I think I should be justified in sayingHe made foul statements on fair playing.He stated in a most decisive way—Mr.Alec Boyce.Allow me just to say—Mr.Walter Stanley.Eh?Mr.Alec Boyce.I wish to say in explanation, and for fear—Mr.Oswald Layton.Hear! hear!Mr.Arthur Mortram.I rise to order, Mr. Speaker, and should like to know—Chorus.Oh! oh!Mr.Speaker,in a passion.Chair, gentlemen! To wonder now at Balaam’s ass were weak,It seems the custom for such animals to speak.Mr.Walter Stanleyresumes.The point I wish to touch upon, if not amiss, is simply this—An evil very great prevails, on which some folks are often joking,I mean in sober seriousness the evil habit some boys have of smoking.I cannot walk in London through a streetUnless some little rag-a-muffin boys I meet,Smoking their pipes; or if young gentlemen they are,Perhaps they sport a penny pickwick, or cigar.I fear that many honourable members will get warmAt hearing that this habit needs a great reform.I will not say a word about the habit as indulged by men,Or raise the question of the “Counterblast” again;Let each man please himself who’s old enough to knowWhether it’s good or bad, respectable or low.But if there is a thing that makes me sad,Or drives me into desperation, nearly mad,It is to see behind a great cigarA youngster who, if his good pa and maKnew what the little fellow was about,Would quickly put their tempers, and his smoking, out.But arguments are needed; it will not take me longTo find a backer to my statement that tobacco smoking’s wrong.And first—If I’d a puppy, and I wanted all to knowThat I could stop his growth and keep him low,In very early dog days I’d beginTo dose the little fellow well with gin;And if I wished to enervate a boy,The fire and vigour of his life destroy,And all his brightness and his briskness mar,I’d daily give the little fellow a cigar.Second—To keep my dog respectable, I’d make him stay at home,He’d lose his character were he with other dogs to roam;He’d learn to fight and quarrel, bite and bark—Mr.A. Mortram.“It is their nature too.”Mr.Walter Stanley.(The Doctor’s quite beside the mark.)And when a boy likes smoke, he’s sure to try and findSome other smoky fellows suited to his mind,And very soon his native goodness they’ll destroy,And he will soon become a bacca-nalian boy.Third. If my pup has been and gone and done what is not right,’Tis pitiful to see him slinking home at night;His ears are back, his tail is down, his eyesHave lost their merriment, and don’t look wise,And while he suffers justly his disgrace,He throws a gloom and coldness through the place.So with a boy who smokes, or acts in any sortHis better sense and conscience seek to thwart,He soon grows sly and underhanded in his ways,He spoils his future in his early days;He apes the man, and when he comes to man’s estate,The love of boyish recollections turns to hate.If any one, I care not who he is, is careless as a lad,Dishonourable, sly, or mean, he’s sure to “turn out bad.”And he who does a foolish thing, like smoking, let me say,At once should give it up—it’ll give it him some day.So, gentlemen, I beg you take this smoking citadel by storm,And vote for anti-bacca in your measures of Reform.Mr.A. Mortram.I think the honourable gentleman who just now spokeIn such a piping tone of boys not consuming their own smokeShould bear in mind in what direction he would cast his pearls,Our movement takes in boys but not excludes the girls.(Cheers in the Ladies’ gallery.)And therefore his ideas are narrow, unless he meant to tryAnd show that it was equally injurious for girls to pipe their eye.The subject of my speech is—to be brief—Mr.Oswald Layton—That’s a relief.Mr.Alec Boyce—Chair! chair!Mr.Arthur Mortram.Gentlemen, forbear! The sentence I beganIs this. The subject of my speech is “slang;”We need Reform, a radical reform; we ought to teachThe Saxon, Lindley Murray parts of speech,Use sparingly flash words imported from abroad,Not always echoing the late Artemus Ward.We want to root out words that pass as English in the town,Learn lessons from, not imitate, a Sketchley’s “Mrs. Brown.”We ought to cry down common phrases such as these—“It’s all my eye,” I’m certain that is “not the cheese.”’Twere better for a boy or girl to sit quite still and dumbThan call their Father “Governor,” or Mother “Mum.”Some call their fellows “bloke,” or “thing,” or “cove,”Appeal to Jingo, Gimini, and George, and Jove;Are “awfully” delighted, or “hideously” pleased,Are suited “all to pieces,” or “villanously” teased.If any man is tipsy they say he’s “screwed,” or “tight;”Is any one ill-dressed? then he’s a “horrid fright;”If one’s removed, he’s “mizzled,” “hooked it,” or else “cut;”If any one is crazy, then he’s “off his nut;”If appetite is bad, a man is “off his chump;”Who pays for anything, must first “shell out,” or “stump.”And so on—I might give a hundred sayings more,But you would think me green, or p’raps a “bore.”Yet, gentlemen, I cannot take my seat until I stoutly sayThese slang expressions spoil the converse of our day.They make young people flippant, loose in thought and speech,And not worse English than worse morals do they teach,For serious subjects have their slang expressions, but I dareNot quote them here, so, Mr. Speaker, I forbear.Yet ere I take my seat, I trust, my honourable friends, you willBring in the measure I propose in your forthcoming Bill.Mr.Oswald Layton.Mr. Speaker, gentlemen, a certain sageWas pleased to call our present time the iron age;I will not argue on that point, but let it pass,It seems to me the present is the age of brass.At borrowed phrases the last speaker made a shyIn borrowed jokes allow me to reply—Well, that the speech last heard was sound, it cannot be denied,Grant that, and then it will be found, it’s little else beside.The speech, no doubt, will be immortal of our friend,For he who hears it, hears it to no end.(Mr. W. Stanley, hear! hear!)We must admit, though, that his speeches have great weight,We’ve found it hard to bear them oft of late;And also that his arguments are quite profoundFor not a bit can anybody see the ground.“Some say his wit’s refined, thus is explainedThe seeming mystery—his wit is strained—No wonder, therefore, the debate falls deadBeneath such close and constant fire of lead.”I will not occupy the meeting very long,I wish to ask one question,—Am I right or wrong?Each gentlemanexposedthe faults he had been chiding,Would it not be better, Sir, to give those faults ahiding?I think we have been nibbling at our subject all the nightInstead of saying all we ought to say outright.I say, Let every boy and girl throughout the landOn radical reform come boldly out and stand;Fight against wrong in every shape and dress,Gain for our slighted cause a sound redress;Be manly, womanly, in everything they do,And keep the true and blessed ends of life in view;Succour the weak, be kind to foe and friend,Tell old men it is not too late to mend;Take children tempted into wrong and sin,And seek for better ends their hearts to win;And show through life’s dull day, and cloud, and storm,The peace and shelter found beneath Reform!(Loud cheers)The Speaker vacates the chair and comes to the front ofthe platform—Mr. Merry,Ladies and Gentlemen, it is proposed thatwe should now go into a Committee of the whole house.You’ve listened patiently to all that has been spoken—You listen still, and so we take it as a tokenThat you approve the measures that we think are needed,And which, we fear, by many folks are scarcely heeded;So, you who would enroll yourselves beneath our banner,Will signify it in the usual manner.

Gentlemen,

I think you will agree with me, it would be quite beside the mark

For us to sift the question of the riots in Hyde Park,

Or even bring thatrailingaccusation up again,

Which most suppose was settled then by might andMayne.

We will not name theBrightideas in fashion long ago,

Nor condescend to thoughts that may be anything likeLowe.

Reform debates are very sober things, but still

They don’t go on successfully without aMill.

Stick therefore to your points, and let us hope you’ll bring,

For all who are inclinedto roam, aWhalley-ping.

We meet to-night to take the young idea by storm,

And quote the latest standard for reform.

We vote for Boyhood suffrage—that’s our motto,

We want no Dull uns’ cave, or hole, or grotto,

But urge that all our boys should boldly take their stand,

And in a solemn League go hand in hand,

And try to put down all the wrong that rules

In play-grounds, workshops, cricket-fields, or schools.

“Reform, complete and genuine Reform,” that is our maxim,

No bribery or corruption, or £7 rate to tax him;

But let each boy, who has a good opinion he can quote,

Be free to use, as best he can, his vote.

Now, Gentlemen, the weighty question lies with you,

Sift well its points, and show us something new.

Don’t fear, in studying the welfare of a lad,

To say of shuffling measures, “Dis reallyis too bad.”

Don’t fear the Opposition, and to each who axes,

Say “Every one for all, and bother taxes.”— (Cheers.)

Mr.Alec Boycerose and said—I take it that this point is ceded,Namely, that Universal Boyhood Suffrage is needed.I fear—(Opposition, hear! hear!)I fear the subject is too vast for me to hold in hand,So just upon one point I take my stand.The point, in fine, is this; it’s plain and clear as day,Reform is greatly needed with our boys at play;I take it that in this debate the use is,To “let fly” at our popular abuses.Now what is it we see in almost every school?Why right is the exception, wrong the rule.

Mr.Alec Boycerose and said—

I take it that this point is ceded,

Namely, that Universal Boyhood Suffrage is needed.

I fear—(Opposition, hear! hear!)

I fear the subject is too vast for me to hold in hand,

So just upon one point I take my stand.

The point, in fine, is this; it’s plain and clear as day,

Reform is greatly needed with our boys at play;

I take it that in this debate the use is,

To “let fly” at our popular abuses.

Now what is it we see in almost every school?

Why right is the exception, wrong the rule.

Mr.Walter Stanley(interrupting).I think, if, Mr. Speaker, I might make so bold,The honourable member should be told—

Mr.Walter Stanley(interrupting).

I think, if, Mr. Speaker, I might make so bold,

The honourable member should be told—

Speaker.Hold!My duty is to take down several pegsWhoever spars at any member when he’s on his legs.

Speaker.

Hold!

My duty is to take down several pegs

Whoever spars at any member when he’s on his legs.

Mr.Alec Boyceresumes.The thread of my discourse is tangled; what I want to sayIs this, that boys are often awfully unfair in play,Trench on the rights of youngsters, tease and frighten,Make heavier the burdens which they ought to lighten,Turn bullies, fag the weakest, and, in short,Do many things which members of a play-ground never ought.I know a school, not many hundred miles from here,Where practices prevail which at the least are queer.For instance, I have sometimes heard a boy declare,With all the bombast of a champion’s air,That he was best man in the school; and he would prove his rightBy calling any trembling unfledged urchin out to fight;Now fighting, gentlemen, is not to be applauded, and I sayThat he’s the better man who does not fight, but runs away.(Opposition, Nay!)Neigh as you will, ay, even till you’rehoarse,(A racybit of humour comes ofcourse,)I’ll saynae mair, but still, if fight he must, I hopeYou’ll recommend his joining Garibaldi or the Pope.And in that self-same school an evil still prevails,Of settling disputes by means of heads and tails.I hold it, Sir, unparliamentary for us to toss in airThe likeness of our sovereign lady fair,And make her settle, whether or not she chooses,Such points as “Heads I win, and tails he loses.”I move, therefore, as one important clause in our reforming rules,Leave fighting for the Pope, and “tossing” for his bulls.Time will not now permit, or I would seek to showHow many more important measures we might take in tow,And changein totomany evil things which swayThe conduct of Young England when at play.But as the hour advances, I feel, Sir, it is meetThat I should—er—hem! er—take my seat.(Satirical cries of “Hear, hear,” from the Opposition, andimmense applause from Arthur Mortram, the othermember on the Ministerial bench.)Mr.Walter Stanley.I rise in some surprise, to tell my noble friend,Who brought his speech to such a cheery end,That however much he is inclined to tax his mind,Great faults in play-ground practices to find,I have no hesitation, er—hem! in declaring,That while in some degree his feeling sharing,I cannot be in ignorance of the fact how much he lackedA forcible expression of his views, and, did I chose,I think I should be justified in sayingHe made foul statements on fair playing.He stated in a most decisive way—

Mr.Alec Boyceresumes.

The thread of my discourse is tangled; what I want to say

Is this, that boys are often awfully unfair in play,

Trench on the rights of youngsters, tease and frighten,

Make heavier the burdens which they ought to lighten,

Turn bullies, fag the weakest, and, in short,

Do many things which members of a play-ground never ought.

I know a school, not many hundred miles from here,

Where practices prevail which at the least are queer.

For instance, I have sometimes heard a boy declare,

With all the bombast of a champion’s air,

That he was best man in the school; and he would prove his right

By calling any trembling unfledged urchin out to fight;

Now fighting, gentlemen, is not to be applauded, and I say

That he’s the better man who does not fight, but runs away.

(Opposition, Nay!)

Neigh as you will, ay, even till you’rehoarse,

(A racybit of humour comes ofcourse,)

I’ll saynae mair, but still, if fight he must, I hope

You’ll recommend his joining Garibaldi or the Pope.

And in that self-same school an evil still prevails,

Of settling disputes by means of heads and tails.

I hold it, Sir, unparliamentary for us to toss in air

The likeness of our sovereign lady fair,

And make her settle, whether or not she chooses,

Such points as “Heads I win, and tails he loses.”

I move, therefore, as one important clause in our reforming rules,

Leave fighting for the Pope, and “tossing” for his bulls.

Time will not now permit, or I would seek to show

How many more important measures we might take in tow,

And changein totomany evil things which sway

The conduct of Young England when at play.

But as the hour advances, I feel, Sir, it is meet

That I should—er—hem! er—take my seat.

(Satirical cries of “Hear, hear,” from the Opposition, andimmense applause from Arthur Mortram, the othermember on the Ministerial bench.)

Mr.Walter Stanley.

I rise in some surprise, to tell my noble friend,

Who brought his speech to such a cheery end,

That however much he is inclined to tax his mind,

Great faults in play-ground practices to find,

I have no hesitation, er—hem! in declaring,

That while in some degree his feeling sharing,

I cannot be in ignorance of the fact how much he lacked

A forcible expression of his views, and, did I chose,

I think I should be justified in saying

He made foul statements on fair playing.

He stated in a most decisive way—

Mr.Alec Boyce.Allow me just to say—

Mr.Alec Boyce.

Allow me just to say—

Mr.Walter Stanley.Eh?

Mr.Walter Stanley.

Eh?

Mr.Alec Boyce.I wish to say in explanation, and for fear—

Mr.Alec Boyce.

I wish to say in explanation, and for fear—

Mr.Oswald Layton.Hear! hear!

Mr.Oswald Layton.

Hear! hear!

Mr.Arthur Mortram.I rise to order, Mr. Speaker, and should like to know—

Mr.Arthur Mortram.

I rise to order, Mr. Speaker, and should like to know—

Chorus.Oh! oh!

Chorus.

Oh! oh!

Mr.Speaker,in a passion.Chair, gentlemen! To wonder now at Balaam’s ass were weak,It seems the custom for such animals to speak.

Mr.Speaker,in a passion.

Chair, gentlemen! To wonder now at Balaam’s ass were weak,

It seems the custom for such animals to speak.

Mr.Walter Stanleyresumes.The point I wish to touch upon, if not amiss, is simply this—An evil very great prevails, on which some folks are often joking,I mean in sober seriousness the evil habit some boys have of smoking.I cannot walk in London through a streetUnless some little rag-a-muffin boys I meet,Smoking their pipes; or if young gentlemen they are,Perhaps they sport a penny pickwick, or cigar.I fear that many honourable members will get warmAt hearing that this habit needs a great reform.I will not say a word about the habit as indulged by men,Or raise the question of the “Counterblast” again;Let each man please himself who’s old enough to knowWhether it’s good or bad, respectable or low.But if there is a thing that makes me sad,Or drives me into desperation, nearly mad,It is to see behind a great cigarA youngster who, if his good pa and maKnew what the little fellow was about,Would quickly put their tempers, and his smoking, out.But arguments are needed; it will not take me longTo find a backer to my statement that tobacco smoking’s wrong.And first—If I’d a puppy, and I wanted all to knowThat I could stop his growth and keep him low,In very early dog days I’d beginTo dose the little fellow well with gin;And if I wished to enervate a boy,The fire and vigour of his life destroy,And all his brightness and his briskness mar,I’d daily give the little fellow a cigar.Second—To keep my dog respectable, I’d make him stay at home,He’d lose his character were he with other dogs to roam;He’d learn to fight and quarrel, bite and bark—

Mr.Walter Stanleyresumes.

The point I wish to touch upon, if not amiss, is simply this—

An evil very great prevails, on which some folks are often joking,

I mean in sober seriousness the evil habit some boys have of smoking.

I cannot walk in London through a street

Unless some little rag-a-muffin boys I meet,

Smoking their pipes; or if young gentlemen they are,

Perhaps they sport a penny pickwick, or cigar.

I fear that many honourable members will get warm

At hearing that this habit needs a great reform.

I will not say a word about the habit as indulged by men,

Or raise the question of the “Counterblast” again;

Let each man please himself who’s old enough to know

Whether it’s good or bad, respectable or low.

But if there is a thing that makes me sad,

Or drives me into desperation, nearly mad,

It is to see behind a great cigar

A youngster who, if his good pa and ma

Knew what the little fellow was about,

Would quickly put their tempers, and his smoking, out.

But arguments are needed; it will not take me long

To find a backer to my statement that tobacco smoking’s wrong.

And first—If I’d a puppy, and I wanted all to know

That I could stop his growth and keep him low,

In very early dog days I’d begin

To dose the little fellow well with gin;

And if I wished to enervate a boy,

The fire and vigour of his life destroy,

And all his brightness and his briskness mar,

I’d daily give the little fellow a cigar.

Second—To keep my dog respectable, I’d make him stay at home,

He’d lose his character were he with other dogs to roam;

He’d learn to fight and quarrel, bite and bark—

Mr.A. Mortram.“It is their nature too.”

Mr.A. Mortram.

“It is their nature too.”

Mr.Walter Stanley.(The Doctor’s quite beside the mark.)And when a boy likes smoke, he’s sure to try and findSome other smoky fellows suited to his mind,And very soon his native goodness they’ll destroy,And he will soon become a bacca-nalian boy.Third. If my pup has been and gone and done what is not right,’Tis pitiful to see him slinking home at night;His ears are back, his tail is down, his eyesHave lost their merriment, and don’t look wise,And while he suffers justly his disgrace,He throws a gloom and coldness through the place.So with a boy who smokes, or acts in any sortHis better sense and conscience seek to thwart,He soon grows sly and underhanded in his ways,He spoils his future in his early days;He apes the man, and when he comes to man’s estate,The love of boyish recollections turns to hate.If any one, I care not who he is, is careless as a lad,Dishonourable, sly, or mean, he’s sure to “turn out bad.”And he who does a foolish thing, like smoking, let me say,At once should give it up—it’ll give it him some day.So, gentlemen, I beg you take this smoking citadel by storm,And vote for anti-bacca in your measures of Reform.

Mr.Walter Stanley.

(The Doctor’s quite beside the mark.)

And when a boy likes smoke, he’s sure to try and find

Some other smoky fellows suited to his mind,

And very soon his native goodness they’ll destroy,

And he will soon become a bacca-nalian boy.

Third. If my pup has been and gone and done what is not right,

’Tis pitiful to see him slinking home at night;

His ears are back, his tail is down, his eyes

Have lost their merriment, and don’t look wise,

And while he suffers justly his disgrace,

He throws a gloom and coldness through the place.

So with a boy who smokes, or acts in any sort

His better sense and conscience seek to thwart,

He soon grows sly and underhanded in his ways,

He spoils his future in his early days;

He apes the man, and when he comes to man’s estate,

The love of boyish recollections turns to hate.

If any one, I care not who he is, is careless as a lad,

Dishonourable, sly, or mean, he’s sure to “turn out bad.”

And he who does a foolish thing, like smoking, let me say,

At once should give it up—it’ll give it him some day.

So, gentlemen, I beg you take this smoking citadel by storm,

And vote for anti-bacca in your measures of Reform.

Mr.A. Mortram.I think the honourable gentleman who just now spokeIn such a piping tone of boys not consuming their own smokeShould bear in mind in what direction he would cast his pearls,Our movement takes in boys but not excludes the girls.(Cheers in the Ladies’ gallery.)And therefore his ideas are narrow, unless he meant to tryAnd show that it was equally injurious for girls to pipe their eye.The subject of my speech is—to be brief—

Mr.A. Mortram.

I think the honourable gentleman who just now spoke

In such a piping tone of boys not consuming their own smoke

Should bear in mind in what direction he would cast his pearls,

Our movement takes in boys but not excludes the girls.

(Cheers in the Ladies’ gallery.)

And therefore his ideas are narrow, unless he meant to try

And show that it was equally injurious for girls to pipe their eye.

The subject of my speech is—to be brief—

Mr.Oswald Layton—That’s a relief.

Mr.Alec Boyce—Chair! chair!

Mr.Arthur Mortram.Gentlemen, forbear! The sentence I beganIs this. The subject of my speech is “slang;”We need Reform, a radical reform; we ought to teachThe Saxon, Lindley Murray parts of speech,Use sparingly flash words imported from abroad,Not always echoing the late Artemus Ward.We want to root out words that pass as English in the town,Learn lessons from, not imitate, a Sketchley’s “Mrs. Brown.”We ought to cry down common phrases such as these—“It’s all my eye,” I’m certain that is “not the cheese.”’Twere better for a boy or girl to sit quite still and dumbThan call their Father “Governor,” or Mother “Mum.”Some call their fellows “bloke,” or “thing,” or “cove,”Appeal to Jingo, Gimini, and George, and Jove;Are “awfully” delighted, or “hideously” pleased,Are suited “all to pieces,” or “villanously” teased.If any man is tipsy they say he’s “screwed,” or “tight;”Is any one ill-dressed? then he’s a “horrid fright;”If one’s removed, he’s “mizzled,” “hooked it,” or else “cut;”If any one is crazy, then he’s “off his nut;”If appetite is bad, a man is “off his chump;”Who pays for anything, must first “shell out,” or “stump.”And so on—I might give a hundred sayings more,But you would think me green, or p’raps a “bore.”Yet, gentlemen, I cannot take my seat until I stoutly sayThese slang expressions spoil the converse of our day.They make young people flippant, loose in thought and speech,And not worse English than worse morals do they teach,For serious subjects have their slang expressions, but I dareNot quote them here, so, Mr. Speaker, I forbear.Yet ere I take my seat, I trust, my honourable friends, you willBring in the measure I propose in your forthcoming Bill.

Mr.Arthur Mortram.

Gentlemen, forbear! The sentence I began

Is this. The subject of my speech is “slang;”

We need Reform, a radical reform; we ought to teach

The Saxon, Lindley Murray parts of speech,

Use sparingly flash words imported from abroad,

Not always echoing the late Artemus Ward.

We want to root out words that pass as English in the town,

Learn lessons from, not imitate, a Sketchley’s “Mrs. Brown.”

We ought to cry down common phrases such as these—

“It’s all my eye,” I’m certain that is “not the cheese.”

’Twere better for a boy or girl to sit quite still and dumb

Than call their Father “Governor,” or Mother “Mum.”

Some call their fellows “bloke,” or “thing,” or “cove,”

Appeal to Jingo, Gimini, and George, and Jove;

Are “awfully” delighted, or “hideously” pleased,

Are suited “all to pieces,” or “villanously” teased.

If any man is tipsy they say he’s “screwed,” or “tight;”

Is any one ill-dressed? then he’s a “horrid fright;”

If one’s removed, he’s “mizzled,” “hooked it,” or else “cut;”

If any one is crazy, then he’s “off his nut;”

If appetite is bad, a man is “off his chump;”

Who pays for anything, must first “shell out,” or “stump.”

And so on—I might give a hundred sayings more,

But you would think me green, or p’raps a “bore.”

Yet, gentlemen, I cannot take my seat until I stoutly say

These slang expressions spoil the converse of our day.

They make young people flippant, loose in thought and speech,

And not worse English than worse morals do they teach,

For serious subjects have their slang expressions, but I dare

Not quote them here, so, Mr. Speaker, I forbear.

Yet ere I take my seat, I trust, my honourable friends, you will

Bring in the measure I propose in your forthcoming Bill.

Mr.Oswald Layton.Mr. Speaker, gentlemen, a certain sageWas pleased to call our present time the iron age;I will not argue on that point, but let it pass,It seems to me the present is the age of brass.At borrowed phrases the last speaker made a shyIn borrowed jokes allow me to reply—Well, that the speech last heard was sound, it cannot be denied,Grant that, and then it will be found, it’s little else beside.The speech, no doubt, will be immortal of our friend,For he who hears it, hears it to no end.(Mr. W. Stanley, hear! hear!)We must admit, though, that his speeches have great weight,We’ve found it hard to bear them oft of late;And also that his arguments are quite profoundFor not a bit can anybody see the ground.“Some say his wit’s refined, thus is explainedThe seeming mystery—his wit is strained—No wonder, therefore, the debate falls deadBeneath such close and constant fire of lead.”I will not occupy the meeting very long,I wish to ask one question,—Am I right or wrong?Each gentlemanexposedthe faults he had been chiding,Would it not be better, Sir, to give those faults ahiding?I think we have been nibbling at our subject all the nightInstead of saying all we ought to say outright.I say, Let every boy and girl throughout the landOn radical reform come boldly out and stand;Fight against wrong in every shape and dress,Gain for our slighted cause a sound redress;Be manly, womanly, in everything they do,And keep the true and blessed ends of life in view;Succour the weak, be kind to foe and friend,Tell old men it is not too late to mend;Take children tempted into wrong and sin,And seek for better ends their hearts to win;And show through life’s dull day, and cloud, and storm,The peace and shelter found beneath Reform!(Loud cheers)

Mr.Oswald Layton.

Mr. Speaker, gentlemen, a certain sage

Was pleased to call our present time the iron age;

I will not argue on that point, but let it pass,

It seems to me the present is the age of brass.

At borrowed phrases the last speaker made a shy

In borrowed jokes allow me to reply—

Well, that the speech last heard was sound, it cannot be denied,

Grant that, and then it will be found, it’s little else beside.

The speech, no doubt, will be immortal of our friend,

For he who hears it, hears it to no end.

(Mr. W. Stanley, hear! hear!)

We must admit, though, that his speeches have great weight,

We’ve found it hard to bear them oft of late;

And also that his arguments are quite profound

For not a bit can anybody see the ground.

“Some say his wit’s refined, thus is explained

The seeming mystery—his wit is strained—

No wonder, therefore, the debate falls dead

Beneath such close and constant fire of lead.”

I will not occupy the meeting very long,

I wish to ask one question,—Am I right or wrong?

Each gentlemanexposedthe faults he had been chiding,

Would it not be better, Sir, to give those faults ahiding?

I think we have been nibbling at our subject all the night

Instead of saying all we ought to say outright.

I say, Let every boy and girl throughout the land

On radical reform come boldly out and stand;

Fight against wrong in every shape and dress,

Gain for our slighted cause a sound redress;

Be manly, womanly, in everything they do,

And keep the true and blessed ends of life in view;

Succour the weak, be kind to foe and friend,

Tell old men it is not too late to mend;

Take children tempted into wrong and sin,

And seek for better ends their hearts to win;

And show through life’s dull day, and cloud, and storm,

The peace and shelter found beneath Reform!

(Loud cheers)

The Speaker vacates the chair and comes to the front ofthe platform—

Mr. Merry,Ladies and Gentlemen, it is proposed thatwe should now go into a Committee of the whole house.

You’ve listened patiently to all that has been spoken—You listen still, and so we take it as a tokenThat you approve the measures that we think are needed,And which, we fear, by many folks are scarcely heeded;So, you who would enroll yourselves beneath our banner,Will signify it in the usual manner.

You’ve listened patiently to all that has been spoken—

You listen still, and so we take it as a token

That you approve the measures that we think are needed,

And which, we fear, by many folks are scarcely heeded;

So, you who would enroll yourselves beneath our banner,

Will signify it in the usual manner.

The Government and the Opposition, everybody in the room, and the servants who were crowding round the door, held up their hands immediately, and the Bill was carried amid such enthusiasm as is rarely seen even in the House. And as the speakers came down from the platform, headed by Tom Martin, who played “We won’t go home till morning,” (no doubt under the impression that that best expressed the habits of Members of Parliament,) they were cheered all the way to the refreshment room, where they amicably settled their political differences over lemonade and sherry.

How fast time flies when the evening is being merrily spent! Who would have thought it was supper-time already? But so it was, and the lads and lasses were fast pairing off for that event, when a loud rat-tat was heard at the door.

“What, fresh arrivals at this time of night!” said one or two. “I wonder who it can be!”

“It is a surprise of some sort or other,” said Ada Martin; “I am quite sure it is. I can tell it by the twinkle in Mr. Merry’s eye.”

Rat-tat, again and again, at the door.

“I can’t bear this suspense any longer,” said Emily Cathcart; “I must peep.” But the door was closed, and a firm hand on the outside kept it fast.

“I say it’s a Punch and Judy,” said one.

“No; I say it’s Christy’s Minstrels,” said another.

“I believe it’s fireworks, to go off on the lawn,” said Arthur Mortram.

And in the midst of the speculations the doors were thrown open, and the visitors were announced:

As each name was announced a buzz of welcome was heard, for every name was associated with bright and happy recollections, and every one in the room felt (as every child in the land feels) that the authors of the tales which had been their delight for years could not be other than their friends. So there was a great deal of hand-shaking, and many a kind and cheery word given to the youngsters, and then Old Merry said:

“Let us give one good hearty cheer of welcome to our friends, and then off to supper. And when that is over we will have our chairs brought round the fire, and I may promise you, on behalf of my good friends here, that each in turn will spin you a Christmas yarn. Now, hip! hip!”—and if the visitors had not been thoroughly accustomed to youngsters they would have been stunned and staggered at the “hurrah!” which burst from every lip.

The fund of conversation which the new arrivals furnished for the supper table was unlimited; but anxiety was so great to be back again in the drawing-room, that the time usually allowed on such occasions for refreshment was very much curtailed.

The chandeliers glistened and the fires burnt as they only do on Christmas Eve. A large ring, with double rows of seats, was made all round the room, and then the stories commenced. We will give them in the order in which they came, and omit the occasional interruptions which attended, and the questions and criticisms which followed, every story.

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