'Enter Alan Roy.'"Enter Alan Roy."
"Enter Alan Roy."
Servant.MasterAlan Roy!
Albert(aside). Now, don't make the poor child shy.
EnterAlan Roy.Tall young man, in light grey suit. He wears a turned-down collar, a pink button-hole, and carries a little stick.
Alan.Howareyou, Mrs.Travers? So sweet of you to ask me! Isn't it adearday!
[Greetings.
Mr. Averidge.And how did the infant prodigy manage to get here all alone?
Alan.I pushed myself in a perambulator. MissVane, you look like a Botticelli in a Paris dress. I didn't bring my harp,doesit matter?
[Chorus of sham disappointment and real relief.
Alan(smiling). It was dreadful of me! But I have been keeping the poor thing up so late; I thought a rest——
[Lunch is announced.Murielstoops to collectViola'shandkerchief, &c.
Alan(toViola). Oh, what asweetscarlet parasol!
Curtain. End of Scene 1.
(To be continued.)
Neither Free Nor Easy.—The Larne Town Commissioners cannot make up their minds whether they shall acquire the McGarel Town Hall which apparently (to judge from a report in theNorthern Whig) appears to be in the market. The room, it seems, would be used for a free library. The Committee, after a very lengthy discussion, have adjourned the consideration of the question to some distant date for further information. In the meanwhile, no doubt, they will appropriately adopt for the municipal motto "Live and Larne."
[The great lack of the Age is its want of distinction."
Coventry Patmore.]
Alas, our poor Age! How against it we rage!In the seat of the scorner the critics ne'er sat more.If the pessimist bore would master her lore,We've only to send him to Coventry—Patmore!The bards do not love it. But how to improve it?That question the poets, like that of the Sphinx, shun.Distinction my lad? If the Age is so bad,I think its "great lack" is not that, butextinction!'Tis easier far to abuse it than mend it,Must we tryMorley'sother alternative—end it?
Alas, our poor Age! How against it we rage!In the seat of the scorner the critics ne'er sat more.If the pessimist bore would master her lore,We've only to send him to Coventry—Patmore!The bards do not love it. But how to improve it?That question the poets, like that of the Sphinx, shun.Distinction my lad? If the Age is so bad,I think its "great lack" is not that, butextinction!'Tis easier far to abuse it than mend it,Must we tryMorley'sother alternative—end it?
Alas, our poor Age! How against it we rage!
In the seat of the scorner the critics ne'er sat more.
If the pessimist bore would master her lore,
We've only to send him to Coventry—Patmore!
The bards do not love it. But how to improve it?
That question the poets, like that of the Sphinx, shun.
Distinction my lad? If the Age is so bad,
I think its "great lack" is not that, butextinction!
'Tis easier far to abuse it than mend it,
Must we tryMorley'sother alternative—end it?
A Musical Note.—Such has been the success of Mlle.Yvette Guilbert, that,on dit(French must be used when speaking of thislionne comique), it is not improbable she will be engaged to appear in a part in the forthcoming Sullivan Savoy Opera, in which the relation of librettists to composer is to be as two to one. If this be so, then once more at the Savoy will there be a Sullivan-and-Guilbert Combination.
[Mr.Joseph Whitaker, founder and chief proprietor ofWhitaker's Almanack, died on the 15th May, aged 75.]
Gone! His praises to rehearseMight engage a friendly verse.Time, for whom he did so much,Surely dealt with gentle touchWith this man, of lucky star,Who the famous calendar,Schemed on an ingenious plan,Gave to ever-grateful man.Millions now would feel the lackOf the wondrous Almanack.To adaptBen Jonson'sphraseTo a worthy of our days,One might say of our lost brother,Death; ere thou hast slain anotherGood and useful as was he,"Time shall throw his dart at thee."
Gone! His praises to rehearseMight engage a friendly verse.Time, for whom he did so much,Surely dealt with gentle touchWith this man, of lucky star,Who the famous calendar,Schemed on an ingenious plan,Gave to ever-grateful man.Millions now would feel the lackOf the wondrous Almanack.To adaptBen Jonson'sphraseTo a worthy of our days,One might say of our lost brother,Death; ere thou hast slain anotherGood and useful as was he,"Time shall throw his dart at thee."
Gone! His praises to rehearse
Might engage a friendly verse.
Time, for whom he did so much,
Surely dealt with gentle touch
With this man, of lucky star,
Who the famous calendar,
Schemed on an ingenious plan,
Gave to ever-grateful man.
Millions now would feel the lack
Of the wondrous Almanack.
To adaptBen Jonson'sphrase
To a worthy of our days,
One might say of our lost brother,
Death; ere thou hast slain another
Good and useful as was he,
"Time shall throw his dart at thee."
Champions.—SirEdward Grey, M.P., ought to be a great acquisition at a dance if his prowess as a tennis champion is any indication. "The power with which he often finished the ball" was recently highly praised. His opponent, Mr.Gribble, seems a dangerous man among the ladies, having at Cambridge "won the singles." Quite a Pasha among the "Love sets!" But he could only take one single out of the singles he won.
Odd.—"DoctorGreef" is advertised to give three pianoforte recitals. If his performance is equal to what we hear of his promise, then those will experience considerable pleasure who "come toGreef."
Small but Harmonious Football Team for Summer.—"The Shinner Quartette."
WHAT OUR ARCHITECT HAS TO PUT UP WITH.WHAT OUR ARCHITECT HAS TO PUT UP WITH.Our Architect(spotting Sixteenth Century gables). "That's an old bit of work, my friend!""Oi, Sir, yeu be roight theer, that you be!"O. A.(keen for local tradition). "You don't know exactlyhowold, I suppose?""Well, noa, Sir; but Old it be! Whoi, I'se knowed it meself thesenoineYears!"
Our Architect(spotting Sixteenth Century gables). "That's an old bit of work, my friend!"
"Oi, Sir, yeu be roight theer, that you be!"
O. A.(keen for local tradition). "You don't know exactlyhowold, I suppose?"
"Well, noa, Sir; but Old it be! Whoi, I'se knowed it meself thesenoineYears!"
(By a Shivery Person, in Spring-time.)
"Cast ne'er a clout till May be out,"The old Scotch proverb says.Thee, did I doff, "Immensikoff,"For three most sultry days.But wind and dust, in gruesome gust,Search bosom, back and throat;And to my nose I button closeMy fur-lined Overcoat.The Merry May has such a wayOf blowing hot and cold,That fur and cloth I'm always lothAway, in Spring, to fold.Gr-r-r!There's a blast! I'll hold thee fastDear friend on whom I doat;Nor lay thee by till—say—July,My own, my Overcoat!
"Cast ne'er a clout till May be out,"The old Scotch proverb says.Thee, did I doff, "Immensikoff,"For three most sultry days.But wind and dust, in gruesome gust,Search bosom, back and throat;And to my nose I button closeMy fur-lined Overcoat.The Merry May has such a wayOf blowing hot and cold,That fur and cloth I'm always lothAway, in Spring, to fold.Gr-r-r!There's a blast! I'll hold thee fastDear friend on whom I doat;Nor lay thee by till—say—July,My own, my Overcoat!
"Cast ne'er a clout till May be out,"
The old Scotch proverb says.
Thee, did I doff, "Immensikoff,"
For three most sultry days.
But wind and dust, in gruesome gust,
Search bosom, back and throat;
And to my nose I button close
My fur-lined Overcoat.
The Merry May has such a way
Of blowing hot and cold,
That fur and cloth I'm always loth
Away, in Spring, to fold.
Gr-r-r!There's a blast! I'll hold thee fast
Dear friend on whom I doat;
Nor lay thee by till—say—July,
My own, my Overcoat!
Legal Note.—It is presumably unfortunate for the prisoner-at-the-bar when, as is constantly announced in the papers, "Mr. So-and-So, Q.C., will appear to defendSnooks." Hard onSnookswhen his Counsel onlyappearsto defend him. But what a sweet surprise for the unhappySnooksshould the Counsel, who only "appears to defend him,"reallydefend him and be victorious!
"Vox Clamantis."—The voice of the Claimant is heard once again. No joke; no Wagga-Waggery. He is publishing his "Entire Life and Full Confession" in thePeoplenewspaper. According to his own statement, his claim to the Tichborne estates might be described, not only as a fraud, but as a "Wapping" one.
(A Candid Answer to a Hospitable Invitation.)
You're kind enough to bid me spendThe "week-end" at your country seat,You offer tennis and a friendYou feel I'm sure to like to meet.I hope you will not think me rude—You're very kind to ask me down—But if the simple truth be told,I much prefer to stay in town.You tell me that the ground is bare,And only gets by slow degreesRecovered from our Arctic spell,That leafless still are all the trees.Well, here, in spite of smoke and soot,And all the bustle and the humOf men and things, we don't awaitThe Spring—because the Spring has come.Each morning as I go to workI take my 'bus to Marble Arch,And thence amid a wealth of flowers,And air perfumed with odours, marchTo Hyde Park Corner. Tell me where—I honestly should like to know—The much belauded "country" canProduce a comparable show?Our grass is green, though yours is brown.On every tree the lovely budIs bursting into lovelier leaf,The Spring runs madly in one's blood.To leave such joys I can't consent,Too great a struggle it would be,But just to show you don't resentThese lines—come up and stay with me!
You're kind enough to bid me spendThe "week-end" at your country seat,You offer tennis and a friendYou feel I'm sure to like to meet.I hope you will not think me rude—You're very kind to ask me down—But if the simple truth be told,I much prefer to stay in town.
You're kind enough to bid me spend
The "week-end" at your country seat,
You offer tennis and a friend
You feel I'm sure to like to meet.
I hope you will not think me rude—
You're very kind to ask me down—
But if the simple truth be told,
I much prefer to stay in town.
You tell me that the ground is bare,And only gets by slow degreesRecovered from our Arctic spell,That leafless still are all the trees.Well, here, in spite of smoke and soot,And all the bustle and the humOf men and things, we don't awaitThe Spring—because the Spring has come.
You tell me that the ground is bare,
And only gets by slow degrees
Recovered from our Arctic spell,
That leafless still are all the trees.
Well, here, in spite of smoke and soot,
And all the bustle and the hum
Of men and things, we don't await
The Spring—because the Spring has come.
Each morning as I go to workI take my 'bus to Marble Arch,And thence amid a wealth of flowers,And air perfumed with odours, marchTo Hyde Park Corner. Tell me where—I honestly should like to know—The much belauded "country" canProduce a comparable show?
Each morning as I go to work
I take my 'bus to Marble Arch,
And thence amid a wealth of flowers,
And air perfumed with odours, march
To Hyde Park Corner. Tell me where—
I honestly should like to know—
The much belauded "country" can
Produce a comparable show?
Our grass is green, though yours is brown.On every tree the lovely budIs bursting into lovelier leaf,The Spring runs madly in one's blood.To leave such joys I can't consent,Too great a struggle it would be,But just to show you don't resentThese lines—come up and stay with me!
Our grass is green, though yours is brown.
On every tree the lovely bud
Is bursting into lovelier leaf,
The Spring runs madly in one's blood.
To leave such joys I can't consent,
Too great a struggle it would be,
But just to show you don't resent
These lines—come up and stay with me!
(Imaginary Sketch of impossible Incident.)
Scene—Editor's Room.Time—Within measurable distance of publication.Editordiscovered in consultation with hisChief Sub.
Scene—Editor's Room.Time—Within measurable distance of publication.Editordiscovered in consultation with hisChief Sub.
Editor.We can't find room for everything.
Chief Sub.Quite so, Sir; still it seems a pity to slaughter this telegram from the front.
Editor.Does it make very much?
Chief Sub.No, Sir. If you will allow me, I will run through it. (Reads.) "Yesterday the Loamshire Regiment, headed by its Commander, ColonelSnooks, made one of the gallantest charges on record."
Editor.Sure it wasSnooks?
Chief Sub.Oh yes. We verified it in theArmy List.Snookswent out with the Second Battalion when they were ordered to the front. (Continues reading.) "The soldiers dashed forward over the Tam-Tam river, and up the steep sides of the Yah-Yah mountains, carrying all before them."
Editor.Sure of those names?
Chief Sub.Yes, Sir; verified them on the map. (Resumes reading.) "Nothing could withstand the rain of lead and the row of steel. The Chutnese attempted to use their 'pungarees'—a rude sort of pruning knife—but without the slightest effect. Uttering their weird yells of 'Tomata, tomata,' and beating their drum-like vessels known over here as 'bang-wangs,' they faltered, floundered and fled."
Editor.Sure that those names are correct?
Chief Sub.Quite, Sir. We verified the local colouring withMoke'sSix Months in Chutney on the top of a Camel.
Editor.Very good. Is there much more?
Chief Sub.About a third of a column, describing the taking of the native village, the storming of the stockade, and the bivouac by moonlight after the victory at Pennavilla.
Editor(after consideration). Well, it might give us an effective line for the bill. (A whistle is heard:Editorlistens at a speaking-tube.) Afraid we must sacrifice it. Manager tells me there is another rush of advertisements, so space is more precious than ever. You had better boil it down into a three-line paragraph.
Chief Sub.No need to do that, Sir. If there's a scarcity of room we had better give the original telegram.
Editor.The original telegram?
Chief Sub.Yes, Sir; from which we have worked up the extended account. Here it is. (Reads.) "Loamshire, after a skirmish, has reached Pennavilla." That, with a suitable heading, will just complete the column.
Editor.Quite so.
[Scene closes in upon the arrangement.
'Was he very much cast down after he'd spoken to Papa?'"Was he very much cast down after he'd spoken to Papa?""Yes. Three Flights of Stairs!"
"Was he very much cast down after he'd spoken to Papa?"
"Yes. Three Flights of Stairs!"
By a Weary Waltonian.
Oh, Maytime is a gay time for the artist and the dangler,The pretty girl, the parson, and the scout;And it ought to be a time of rosy rapture for the angler,In the capture of the delicate May trout.But thoughSmudge, R.A., "feels fine" with his six upon the line,And the dangler "does" the galleries with delight;Though white-chokered clerics muster amidst eloquential fluster,And our girls salute the Season sweet and bright;Though the "Cattylog" vendors shout, and cab-runners scout and tout,The disciple of OldIzaakis not gay,For although the "Grawnom" 's off, and the trout at "Alders" scoff,The May Fly—drat it, doesnotrise in May!
Oh, Maytime is a gay time for the artist and the dangler,The pretty girl, the parson, and the scout;And it ought to be a time of rosy rapture for the angler,In the capture of the delicate May trout.But thoughSmudge, R.A., "feels fine" with his six upon the line,And the dangler "does" the galleries with delight;Though white-chokered clerics muster amidst eloquential fluster,And our girls salute the Season sweet and bright;Though the "Cattylog" vendors shout, and cab-runners scout and tout,The disciple of OldIzaakis not gay,For although the "Grawnom" 's off, and the trout at "Alders" scoff,The May Fly—drat it, doesnotrise in May!
Oh, Maytime is a gay time for the artist and the dangler,
The pretty girl, the parson, and the scout;
And it ought to be a time of rosy rapture for the angler,
In the capture of the delicate May trout.
But thoughSmudge, R.A., "feels fine" with his six upon the line,
And the dangler "does" the galleries with delight;
Though white-chokered clerics muster amidst eloquential fluster,
And our girls salute the Season sweet and bright;
Though the "Cattylog" vendors shout, and cab-runners scout and tout,
The disciple of OldIzaakis not gay,
For although the "Grawnom" 's off, and the trout at "Alders" scoff,
The May Fly—drat it, doesnotrise in May!
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday, May 13.—"Well," said the Member for the Otley division of Yorkshire, "I suppose I've gone through as many vicissitudes as most men. First I was aBarran, now I'm a baronite. Really, I don't know but what, if they'd made me an earl, I wouldn't go and sit in the House of Lords. Not because, as good Radical, I don't despise them, but just to give them advantage of my company, and place in their way a useful example. Instead of which, here'sWolmerbecome Earl ofSelborne, and insists upon continuing to sit with us!"
The Pirate's Convoy. Penny plain, Twopence coloured.The Pirate's Convoy. Penny plain, Twopence coloured.
The Pirate's Convoy. Penny plain, Twopence coloured.
Incursion of the Pirate Peer effectively managed. Those old campaigners,George CurzonandSt. John Brodrick, took the business in hand. The thing was to be a great surprise. Accordingly, took theSpeakerinto confidence, also theSquire of Malwood(The Little Minister,Macfarlane, who has just been readingBarrie, calls him),Prince Arthur,Joseph, and a score or two others. The Pirate Peer was to come down in hansom at four o'clock, to be met byBrodrickin Palace Yard;Curzon, armed to the teeth, standing at fifty paces nearer entrance to House of Commons.
Brodrick, who likes to do the thing thoroughly, suggested that the Pirate Peer should fly a black flag out of port-hole at top of cab.Curzonliked idea, but thought it would attract inconvenient attention. Finally compromised by arrangement that cabby should tie bit of black ribbon on his whip. Effect symbolic without being obtrusive.
Everything went off excellently. Not a hitch in the arrangements. Whilst questions still going onGeorge Curzon, with frock-coat lightly but firmly buttoned over a belt teeming with pistols, sauntered in from lobby. Glanced carelessly round House. Accidentally, as it were, placed himself between unsuspecting Sergeant-at-Arms and glass door giving entrance to House. If the armed official attacked Pirate Peer it should be across his (Curzon's) body.
At preconcerted signalBrodrickrapidly entered; bustled down to Front Opposition Bench. Attention of Members thus attracted, the Pirate Peer followed, strode with firm step down House. "Just as if he were walking the plank," saidDonald Currie, looking on admiringly. Before House knew what had happened, there he sat, smiling and blushing, between those pillars of Law and Order,JoeandCourtney. Never since Parliaments began had British Constitution received such a staggering blow.Sage of Queen Anne's Gate, whilst anxious to see destruction of House of Lords, is not disposed to have stray fragments incorporated with fabric of Commons. CalledSpeaker'sattention to presence in their midst of the Pirate Peer. Asked what they were going to do with him?
An anxious moment.George Curzontugged nervously at the arsenal scarcely concealed under his frock coat.St. John Brodrickinvoluntarily stretched forth his hand in direction of Mace. Suppose he were to seize it, sweep the Treasury Bench clear at a blow, whilstGeorge Curzon, with pistol in either hand, and dagger between his teeth, let fly a volley or two? We might have had a revolution. Quieter counsels prevailed.Speakerdirected Pirate Peer to withdraw below Bar whilst his case was being discussed.
Selborneobeyed the mandate, and the ground thus left clear,Joeand theSquire of Malwoodhad a tussle.Josephaccused theSquireof acting in a fit of temper. TheSquireretorted that it wasnot only untrue, but that at the time of offering remarkJosephwas perfectly well acquainted with its entire freedom from the trammels of truth.
"Dear me," said Pirate Peer, looking round uneasily. "I hope they don't talk like that in the House of Lords."
Business done.—Clause I. Welsh Disestablishment Bill through Committee.
Tuesday.—Pirate Peer in the offing again. Ran in, as before, under protection of guns of consorts,George CurzonandSt. John Brodrick. Lay to under gallery whilst question discussed at large. House never able to keep up interest in this kind of thing over successive days. Novel and exciting enough yesterday; steam not to be got up for second day. Only forJoe, business would have come to conclusion after formal proposal bySquire Of Malwoodto refer whole matter to Select Committee.Joseph'sinterposition led to inevitable row. Wanted, for some inexplicable reason, to drag inCarmichael. QuotedDebrettto establish his claim to dormant Earldom of Hyndford.
Evidently a Dormant Duke!Evidently a Dormant Duke!(Mr. Kn-tchb-ll-H-g-ss-n.)
Evidently a Dormant Duke!(Mr. Kn-tchb-ll-H-g-ss-n.)
Joeleft alone in advocacy of this line.Squire of Malwoodhad rare good time. Read passage fromJoe'sspeech of last year, when question to succession of Coleridge Barony under discussion. Had said then exactly the reverse of what he to-day averred in respect of succession to Selborne Peerage, and status of new Peer in House of Commons.
"The fatal thing aboutJoseph," saidSark, "is that when he makes a statement on one side of a case or the other, he does it with such point, in such felicitous phrase, with such convincing emphasis, that it sticks in the memory. When, twelve months or nine years later, circumstances lead him to other side of question, he delivers himself on it with same incomparable gifts of point and lucidity. The bringing out of his former assertion is not so conclusive as you would think, because the two—affirming a thing is white one day, protesting on the next it is black—are so evenly balanced that the case stands exactly where it did. This sharp confronting ofJosephdenying withJosephaffirming would be fatal to some men. To ourJoeit is not even embarrassing. House roars with delight. He sits silent, apparently unconcerned, and somebody else will suffer by-and-by."
Business done.—Committee appointed to inquire into case of the Pirate Peer.
Thursday.—The longer MajorRaschlives, the fainter grows his faith in the nobility of human nature. To-night brought down with him a few carefully selected, choice specimens of the American pea-bug. Naturally expected everybody would welcome the little stranger. Especially interesting to Minister of Agriculture. Being a man of taste, Major had installed the insects in daintybon-bonbox; swung it lightly between forefinger and thumb as he inquired whatHerbert Gardnermeant to do about it? "Will the right hon. gentleman," he said, "have consignments of peas coming from America marked as such, and put in bond, so that the bugs may develop there, and not in the British market garden?"
At this way of putting it,Squire Of Malwoodpricked up his ears. To quick instincts ofChancellor of the Exchequerbugs in bond suggested new field of taxation. Made a note of it.
TheGrand Young Gardnersmiled at the claims of long descent put forward byRaschon behalf of the tenants of hisbon-bonbox. "Nothing new in it," he said superciliously. "Known the creature all my official life. Your so-called American pea-bug is nothing more than the pea and bean weevil. Came over with the Conqueror. Agricultural Department even now publishing leaflet describing manners and customs of the early settler, and suggesting various ways of soothing its last moments."
'I may have been Rash.'"I may have been Rash."
"I may have been Rash."
This hard; sorer still conduct of Members immediately near the Major. Began to sheer off, putting him, so to speak, in quarantine.
"I don't care," saidTomlinson, "whether its American pea-bugs or the pea and bean weevil. What I do say is that no man has any business to bring such things with him into the social circle."
"I may have been Rash," said the Major humbly.
"You are," saidTomlinsontartly.
Business done.—Coolness sprung up betweenTomlinsonand MajorRasch. Budget Bill read second time.
Friday.—"Pity the sorrows of the poor postman, whose wandering steps has brought him to your door." ThusKearley, in a long speech, from which it appeared that if there is a down-trodden fellow-creature whose state looks hopeless, it is the postman. The story of the man in Wales who trudged seventy miles a day, including the diurnal ascent of a mountain 7,000 feet high, sent thrill of horror through House.Kearleysubsequently explained he meant 700 feet high. But that a detail. Seven seems to be this man's fateful number, for his pay is seven shillings a week—a shilling a day, including the mountain.
Arnold Morley, on other hand, showed that the lot of the postman is truly idyllic. Handsomely paid when on duty; booted and uninformed; is accustomed to retire in the prime of life on pension amounting to two-thirds of his salary.
"Why," saidWillie Redmond, thinking regretfully of days that are no more, whenJoseph Gilliscarried the bag, "as things go now, it's better to be a postman than an Irish Member." Finally decided to appoint Committee to inquire into truth of these conflicting statements.
Business done.—Didn't get into Committee on Civil Service Estimates.
New Version of an Old Proverb.(For the Use of Local Optionists.)—One Vetoist may keep a toper from his favourite pub; but fifty cannot make him drink—water.
"The Immortal Williams" on the Anti-British Movement In Egypt.—"Oh, my prophetic soul,Deloncle!"—Shakspeare, adapted from the French.
Transcriber's NotePage 245: 'conseqeuntly' corrected to 'consequently'."... and Mr.Howewas consequently appointed to the post."
Page 245: 'conseqeuntly' corrected to 'consequently'.
"... and Mr.Howewas consequently appointed to the post."