Persistent self-analysis,Perfected more and more,The mirror to my spirit is,Which it performs before.For "progress" let reformers pine,Let merchants toil for pelf—The study of a soul like mineIs certainly Itself!For girls who at my shrine will burnAn incense delicate,I'll lightly probe the problems sternOf Love, and Life, and Fate;And as their darkness I disperse,I mark with interestThe diverse chords that girls diverseAwaken in my breast.Not having known a broken heart,Nor any scathing pain,I can afford, in life and art,The pessimistic vein.In many a literary gem,Polished with care supreme,Mildly, but firmly, I condemnSo poor a mundane scheme.And yet, a modest competenceMy pensive mood provides,My sentiments—like specimensOn microscopic slides—When I on woven paper fair,In woven words illume,I make a kind of subtle, rare,And Esoteric Boom!
Persistent self-analysis,Perfected more and more,The mirror to my spirit is,Which it performs before.For "progress" let reformers pine,Let merchants toil for pelf—The study of a soul like mineIs certainly Itself!
Persistent self-analysis,
Perfected more and more,
The mirror to my spirit is,
Which it performs before.
For "progress" let reformers pine,
Let merchants toil for pelf—
The study of a soul like mine
Is certainly Itself!
For girls who at my shrine will burnAn incense delicate,I'll lightly probe the problems sternOf Love, and Life, and Fate;And as their darkness I disperse,I mark with interestThe diverse chords that girls diverseAwaken in my breast.
For girls who at my shrine will burn
An incense delicate,
I'll lightly probe the problems stern
Of Love, and Life, and Fate;
And as their darkness I disperse,
I mark with interest
The diverse chords that girls diverse
Awaken in my breast.
Not having known a broken heart,Nor any scathing pain,I can afford, in life and art,The pessimistic vein.In many a literary gem,Polished with care supreme,Mildly, but firmly, I condemnSo poor a mundane scheme.
Not having known a broken heart,
Nor any scathing pain,
I can afford, in life and art,
The pessimistic vein.
In many a literary gem,
Polished with care supreme,
Mildly, but firmly, I condemn
So poor a mundane scheme.
And yet, a modest competenceMy pensive mood provides,My sentiments—like specimensOn microscopic slides—When I on woven paper fair,In woven words illume,I make a kind of subtle, rare,And Esoteric Boom!
And yet, a modest competence
My pensive mood provides,
My sentiments—like specimens
On microscopic slides—
When I on woven paper fair,
In woven words illume,
I make a kind of subtle, rare,
And Esoteric Boom!
Police Charge against Excited Throgmortonian Jobber.—"He jobbed me in the eye."
IN THE VESTRY.Minister(who has exchanged pulpits—to Minister's Man). "Do you come back for Me after taking up the Books?"Minister's Man."Ou ay, Sir, I comes back for ye, and ye follows Me at a respectful distance!"
Minister(who has exchanged pulpits—to Minister's Man). "Do you come back for Me after taking up the Books?"
Minister's Man."Ou ay, Sir, I comes back for ye, and ye follows Me at a respectful distance!"
(By a disappointed Western Wire-puller.)
After a conflict such as this,Some moralising's due;And we in Bristol of the fightCan take a "bird's-eye" view.The poll we cannot truly callThe pleasantest of pills;It's really rather sad our "won'ts"Should come so near our "Wills."Yet there's some comfort in the fact,Some salve for spirits sore,That Bristol nobly has not shrunkFrom spilling of its "Gore."
After a conflict such as this,Some moralising's due;And we in Bristol of the fightCan take a "bird's-eye" view.
After a conflict such as this,
Some moralising's due;
And we in Bristol of the fight
Can take a "bird's-eye" view.
The poll we cannot truly callThe pleasantest of pills;It's really rather sad our "won'ts"Should come so near our "Wills."
The poll we cannot truly call
The pleasantest of pills;
It's really rather sad our "won'ts"
Should come so near our "Wills."
Yet there's some comfort in the fact,Some salve for spirits sore,That Bristol nobly has not shrunkFrom spilling of its "Gore."
Yet there's some comfort in the fact,
Some salve for spirits sore,
That Bristol nobly has not shrunk
From spilling of its "Gore."
A Balfourian Query.—"No possibility of any return to the shareholders," was, in thePall Mall Gazette, the heading of a report of a meeting of the members of the "Liberator Company." What! no possibility ofanyreturn? Yes, surely, the return ofJabez. But even then—cui bono?or Cui Buenos Ayres? Who of the unfortunate losers would not far rather get back something than get back somebody, and that somebodyJabez.
The Early Bird.—Mr.Gosling, British Minister, has demanded an indemnity from the Nicaraguans of £15,000 for the expulsion of Mr.Hatch, British Vice-Consul at Bluefields.Goslingis no goose, that's clear. He offers the Nicaragamuffins a Hatch-way out of the difficulty of their own making.
"What so interests you?" asked the visitor. Replied the Baron, "Japhet in Search of a Father. I have not read it since my school days." "You find it old-fashioned, eh?" "Well," answered the Baron, "the first few chapters are certainly old-fashioned, and recall to my memory the italicised, punning style ofTheodore Hookand ofTom and Jerry. But CaptainMarryatsoon gets away from this sort of thing; and when he has once fairly started his hero and his companion on their adventures, the interest of the story is never allowed to flag for a minute. I may add that I have not enjoyed any modern story of adventure so much as I have this one—always barring the romances ofRider Haggard,Stephenson, 'Q.,'Shorthouse, andParker—as there is about it an old Georgian-era flavour, with its duels, its gambling-houses, itsTom-and-Jerryepisodes, its occasional drop into melodrama, its varied characters of the period, its animal spirits and 'go,' that makes it—to me, at least—thoroughly fascinating." The illustrations, byH. M. Brock—which are specified as separately the property of Messrs.Macmillan—bring vividly before the reader the manners and customs of the time. "In these days of morbid yellow-jaundiced sensationalism, and of 'The New Woman,' I am delighted," quoth the Baron, "to recommend, and strongly, too, this first of the series of CaptainMarryat'sworks, now in course of republicationchezMacmillan." The visitor thanked his noble friend, and withdrew. Then the Baron finished the novel. "Good!" quoth the Baron, closing the book with regret at parting with a long-forgotten but now recovered friend; "but 'tis odd how one lives and learns. I do not remember having ever heard thatBottomthe weaver had been christened 'William' byShakspeare. Nor can I find that bullyBottomwas so addressed by his friends. And if I have missed it, how cameWilliamto be theprénomof the Athenian weaver in the time ofTheseusandHippolyta! I should as soon expect to discover that Hercules was known to his companions as Henry Hercules. However, this by the way, and onlyà proposof a remark as toWilliam Bottom, the weaver, made byMarryat. I anticipate with pleasure re-making the acquaintance ofJacob FaithfulandMidshipman Easy."
The Banishment of Jessop Blythe, written byJoseph Hatton, and published byHutchinson, belongs to theYellow Bookseries, only that is as far as the cover is concerned, which is of a startlingly jaundiced tone and does not in the least represent the kindly author's views of life. The story is about the ropemakers by one who clearly "knows the ropes." This industry, as will be gathered from the present romance, is not confined to Ropemaker's Walk, E.C., but was for two centuries carried on by Troglodytes or Cave-dwellers in Derbyshire. The heroBlytheis turned out from the roping community as a thriftless drunkard, emigrates, is poor and wretched, but returnsBlytheand gay, with a lot of money to find.... "But here," quoth the Baron, "I must pause, or the surprise will be heavily discounted, and the reader's pleasure spoilt. Thus far, no farther. 'Tolle; lege.'" So recommended the
Judicious Baron de B.-W.
DivineWilliamsknew the kind of unwholesome woman above mentioned. InLove's Labour's Losthe makesBironsay—
"A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard."
"A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard."
"A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard."
"A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard."
Is not this the living picture of the woman who would, or could, but who shouldn't and oughtn't?
Choosing the Speaker.—A suggestion was made last week that the competitors for the Speakership should draw lots. Now, if it came to "drawing lots," all in the House and out of the House, having seen "lots" of SirFrank Blookwood'sdrawing, would of course place him first. So the drawing lots plan was abandoned.
UNKIND.Our Minor Poet."I believe I should enjoy my Holidays much more if I wentIncognito."Friend."Travel under yourNom de Plume, Old Man!"
Our Minor Poet."I believe I should enjoy my Holidays much more if I wentIncognito."
Friend."Travel under yourNom de Plume, Old Man!"
A Poem of Common Sense.
Dear Sir, I've read through your delectable lines—Though the cap doesn't fit, I will wear it;And hope (though I don't know your private designs)You regret that such verses were e'er writ!There's flirtingandflirting, you don't seem to know,Nor need a young woman be heartless,Who thinks that, by havingfivestrings to her bow,The four she rejects will thus smart less.Pray how can I help, if my features attractAnd my sympathy wins each fond lover?Alas, when they're conquered, I own 'tis the factThat their weak points I sadly discover!It may be, in spite of your captious alarm,I shall yet enjoy bliss hymeneal;Ifthisis my aim, not to jilt, where's the harmIn my search for a husband ideal?
Dear Sir, I've read through your delectable lines—Though the cap doesn't fit, I will wear it;And hope (though I don't know your private designs)You regret that such verses were e'er writ!
Dear Sir, I've read through your delectable lines—
Though the cap doesn't fit, I will wear it;
And hope (though I don't know your private designs)
You regret that such verses were e'er writ!
There's flirtingandflirting, you don't seem to know,Nor need a young woman be heartless,Who thinks that, by havingfivestrings to her bow,The four she rejects will thus smart less.
There's flirtingandflirting, you don't seem to know,
Nor need a young woman be heartless,
Who thinks that, by havingfivestrings to her bow,
The four she rejects will thus smart less.
Pray how can I help, if my features attractAnd my sympathy wins each fond lover?Alas, when they're conquered, I own 'tis the factThat their weak points I sadly discover!
Pray how can I help, if my features attract
And my sympathy wins each fond lover?
Alas, when they're conquered, I own 'tis the fact
That their weak points I sadly discover!
It may be, in spite of your captious alarm,I shall yet enjoy bliss hymeneal;Ifthisis my aim, not to jilt, where's the harmIn my search for a husband ideal?
It may be, in spite of your captious alarm,
I shall yet enjoy bliss hymeneal;
Ifthisis my aim, not to jilt, where's the harm
In my search for a husband ideal?
[A]See page 141
[A]See page 141
[A]See page 141
In "Dick Grain" all have lost a "fellow of infinite jest" and a friendly critic who scourged our pleasant vices with such genial criticism that everyone, hearing him, charitably applied the moral to his, or her, neighbour. With Mrs.German Reed, the MissPriscilla Hortonof the stage, and her son "Taff Reed," the old Gallery of Illustration Company comes to an end.Corney Grainsuccessfully succeededJohn Parry.
"C. G."Ci gît.
(A Topical Explanation.)
Your dark blue eyes are doubtless very sweet,And I could hear without the least surpriseThat connoisseurs declare it hard to beatYour dark blue eyes.How is it if so much of magic liesIn your two "orbs" I deem them incomplete?Why with disdain—I'm going to poetise—Do I your "heavenly windows" ever treat?The explanation Saturday supplies.I'm Cambridge. That's why I'm so loth to meetYour dark blue eyes.
Your dark blue eyes are doubtless very sweet,And I could hear without the least surpriseThat connoisseurs declare it hard to beatYour dark blue eyes.
Your dark blue eyes are doubtless very sweet,
And I could hear without the least surprise
That connoisseurs declare it hard to beat
Your dark blue eyes.
How is it if so much of magic liesIn your two "orbs" I deem them incomplete?Why with disdain—I'm going to poetise—Do I your "heavenly windows" ever treat?The explanation Saturday supplies.I'm Cambridge. That's why I'm so loth to meetYour dark blue eyes.
How is it if so much of magic lies
In your two "orbs" I deem them incomplete?
Why with disdain—I'm going to poetise—
Do I your "heavenly windows" ever treat?
The explanation Saturday supplies.
I'm Cambridge. That's why I'm so loth to meet
Your dark blue eyes.
Note.—"Dark blue." In view of the coming Boat Race this may be taken as a prophecy, or tip.
Note.—"Dark blue." In view of the coming Boat Race this may be taken as a prophecy, or tip.
Sir,—The following may be of service to your non-mathematical readers:—
Q."The hands of a clock are between 2 and 3; and in ten minutes' time the minute hand will be as much in front of the hour hand as it is now behind it. What is the time?"
A."Ask Policeman X."
The crass mediævalism of the Oxbridge don, I regret to say, failed to see this solution, and I am again coaching with oldDrummer.—Yours theoretically and problematically,
Practical Y. Z.
Change of Name.—In consequence of recent events crowded into one place, the name of Throgmorton Street shall be changed into Throngmorton Street.
Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday, March 18.—Navy Estimates on again, with the First Lord listening patiently from otherwise empty Peers' Gallery, andRobertsonmaking admirable play from Treasury Bench. Chivalrous soul of Cap'enTommy Bowlesmoved to admit that, after all, there had been worse First Lords thanSpencer, and more uncivil Lords thanRobertson. PrivateHanburythinks this is weakness. If his colleague in charge of the Navy is to talk like that, he (the Private) will be expected, when the Army Estimates came on, to say something nice aboutCawmell-Bannerman, to acknowledgeWoodall'skeen grip over the business of his department, and the courtesy with which he discharges his Ministerial duties.
Allano'Gateshead on again with more "Rough Castings." Last time House in Committee on Navy Estimates he spread feeling of genuine alarm by denouncing the British boiler. "Who," he thundered, "is responsible for the engines of the Royal Navy? Where is theHornetyou trumpeted so loudly a year ago? Where," he continued, bending beetling brows on Civil Lord of the Admiralty, "are her boilers?"
"Bust," saidGorst, with guilty look. Not that he had had anything to do with the business, but because at this momentAllano'Gateshead chanced to fix a pair of flaming eyes upon his shrinking figure, seated almost immediately opposite at end of Front Bench.
"Where is theHornetnow? Why, lying in Portsmouth Yard, with her boilers out of her, a useless hulk."
Allanis so big, so burly, wears so much hair, writes poetry, is understood to be in the boiler business himself, and, withal, addresses the Chairman with such terrific volume of voice, that a panic might have ensued only forJohn Penn.Pennhead of great engineering firm of old standing and high repute. Understood to have engined fleet of five shipswith whichDrakemade things hot for Spain along the coasts of Chili and Peru. However that be,Pennnow made it hot forAllano'Gateshead. Showed in quite business-like fashion thatAllan'spoetic fancy had run away with him. Convinced grateful Committee that British boiler, on which safety of State may be said to rest, is all right. A model speech, brief, pointed. A man with something to say, who straightway sits down when he's said it. As the poet (notAllano' Gateshead) says,
He came as a boon and a blessing to men,The modest, the lucid, clear-pointedJ. Penn.
He came as a boon and a blessing to men,The modest, the lucid, clear-pointedJ. Penn.
He came as a boon and a blessing to men,The modest, the lucid, clear-pointedJ. Penn.
He came as a boon and a blessing to men,
The modest, the lucid, clear-pointedJ. Penn.
MacGregor(as "The Dougal Creature"). "I'll pass from that point."
Business done.—Committee voted trifle over four millions as wages forJack.
Tuesday.—AldermanCotton, once Lord Mayor of London, a prominent and popular member of theDisraeliParliament, left behind him the memory of one of those things we all would like to say if we could. In the long series of debates on resolutions moved from Front Opposition Bench challenging Jingo policy of the day, the Alderman interposed. "Sir," he said, "this is a solemn moment. Looking towards the East we perceive the crisis so imminent that it requires only a spark to let slip the dogs of war."
That was, and remains, inimitable. But to-night theMacGregorcame very near its supreme excellence. Stirred to profoundest depths by demands upon Naval Expenditure. Popping up and down like piston in the engine-room of Clyde steamer; wrath grew asMellor, failing to see him, called on other speakers. TheMacGregorknew all about that; a reckless corrupt Government, afraid of hearing the voice of honest criticism, had suborned Chairman of Committees to prevent his speaking. But they didn't know theMacGregor. After something like two hours physical exercise in the way of jumping up and down he caught the Chairman's eye, and (in Parliamentary sense, of course) punched it. Then "passing from point to point," as he airily put it, he went forRobertson. Asked the appalled Civil Lord of the Admiralty what he supposed his constituents in Dundee would say when they read his speech, in which bang went millions as if they were saxpences? "What will the worthy citizens say, Mr.Mellor?" he repeated. "Why they will say, 'Ma conscience!'"
Never sinceDominie Sampsonmade this remark has so much fervour and good Scotch accent been thrown in. "Where's theChancellor of the Exchequer?"MacGregorpresently asked, evidently eager for fresh blood.
"That has nothing to do with the question," said the Chairman, severely.
"Oh, hasn't it?" jeered theMacGregor. "I want to ask him what he has done with our money?"
Vision instantly conjured up before eyes of Committee ofSquire of Malwoodprowling about town with his pockets loaded with £4,132,500. voted to defray the charge for wages in the Navy, flinging the cash about likeJackashore, making the most of his time before Local Veto became the law of the land.
It was later that theMacGregorcame in unconscious competition with AldermanCotton. Leaving the Navy for a moment he surveyed the Continent of Europe peopled with armed men. "Why!" he cried with comprehensive sweep of his arm, "these great armies are like fighting cocks. The least spark blows them up like magazines of powder."
Not quite so good it will be seen as the Alderman, but good enough for these degenerate days. Effect on AdmiralFieldso exciting that he was presently discovered chasing theSage of Queen Anne's Gateall over House, desiring, as he said, to "pin him to his words."
Business done.—Supplementary Estimates voted.
Admiral Field pinning the Hon. Member to his words.
Thursday.—Curious to note the coyness with which House approaches real business. To-day Welsh Disestablishment Bill comes on for Second Reading. Its passing this stage a foregone conclusion. The work of criticism, correction, possible re-moulding, will be done in Committee. Committee is the Providence that shapes the ends of Bills, rough hew them how we may in the draughtsman's hands or on the second reading. For all practical purposes second-reading debate might be concluded at to-night's sitting. It extended over seven clear hours. Given twenty minutes per speech, the maximum length for useful purposes, twenty-one members, more than the House cares to hear, might have spoken. The time saved, if necessary, added on to opportunity in Committee.
That, however, not the way we do business here. Disestablishment Bill a measure of first importance; must be treated accordingly. So afterAsquithtalks for an hour and a quarter,Hicks-Beachcaps him by speech hour and half long, which nearly empties House. Afterwards a dreary night. Papers on subject read by Members, who rise alternately from either side. Few listen; newspaper reports cruelly curt; nevertheless, it's the thing to do, and will go on through at least four sittings. On last night men whom House want to hear will speak, as they might have spoken on first night. Then the division, and minor Members who have missed their chance will endeavour to work off their paper in Committee.
Business done.—Second reading Welsh Church Disestablishment Bill moved.
Friday.—Shall M.P.'s be paid out of public purse? Dividing to-night 176 say Yes, 158 stern patriots say No.George Curzon, fresh from the Pamirs and still later from a sick bed, leads opposition.Squire of Malwoodis in favour of payment: darkly hints that when the time comes he will find the cash. This, though a little obscure, looks like business.
"I expect," said the Member forSark, "we shall live to see the day when, on Friday afternoons, Palace Yard will be crowded with Members waiting to take their weekly money. Suppose they'll go the whole hog, give us what the navvies call a 'sub,' that is, let us draw in middle of the week something on account. Of course we shall have the full privilege of strikes. We'll 'go out' if we think our wages should be raised. Sure to be some blacklegs who will skulk in by central lobby and offer to do a day's talking on the old terms. But we'll have pickets and all that sort of thing. Sometimes we'll march in a body to Hyde Park, and BaronFerdywill address us from a waggon on the rights of man and the iniquity of underpaying M.P.'s. I see a high old time coming. Shall put in early claim for a secretaryship. Always a good billet."
Business done.—Welsh Disestablishment Bill threw a gloom over morning sitting.George Osborne Morgan, supporting Bill, mentioned that in episcopal circles he is regarded as "a profligate"! There is, sometimes, a naughty look about him. But this is really going too far, even for a bishop.
Transcriber Notes:Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected unless otherwise noted.On page 149, "convined" was replaced with "convinced".On page 149, "wont" was replaced with "won't".On page 156, a period was added after "Tuesday".On page 156, "covness" was replaced with "coyness".On page 156, the period after "Sark" was replaced with a comma.
Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.
Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected unless otherwise noted.
On page 149, "convined" was replaced with "convinced".
On page 149, "wont" was replaced with "won't".
On page 156, a period was added after "Tuesday".
On page 156, "covness" was replaced with "coyness".
On page 156, the period after "Sark" was replaced with a comma.