THE NEW SHYLOCK.

THE NEW SHYLOCK.Mr. Redmond."LOOK HERE, I UNDERSTOOD YOU WERE TO GET ME MY FULL POUND OF FLESH!"Mr. Asquith(his counsel). "YES, YES, I KNOW: BUT IT RATHER LOOKS NOW AS IF WE MIGHT HAVE TO SETTLE FOR THREE-QUARTERS."

Mr. Redmond."LOOK HERE, I UNDERSTOOD YOU WERE TO GET ME MY FULL POUND OF FLESH!"

Mr. Asquith(his counsel). "YES, YES, I KNOW: BUT IT RATHER LOOKS NOW AS IF WE MIGHT HAVE TO SETTLE FOR THREE-QUARTERS."

(Extracted From the Diary of Toby, M.P.)

House of Commons, Monday, May 11.—For a whilePrime Minister'sprotest against inordinate questioning, his announcement of determination not to take part in further shorter catechism more or less distantly related to the "plot" and the "coup," had wholesome effect. As he stated, since the plot was discovered he had made seven hundred replies to friendly inquiries. A Member below Gangway to his right added the seven hundred and first. Wanted to know whether it is true that the argumentative questions crowding the notice paper are the product of a factory in the neighbourhood of Parliament Street, presided over by an official whose name suggests that he has been "made in Germany." Expeditiously turned out, as from a sausage machine, is it true that they are nicely sorted and distributed among Members of the Opposition, who in turn pelt thePremierwith them?

Mr. Lloyd George Regards Mr. Balfour's Attitude as Bellicose.Mr. Lloyd George Regards Mr. Balfour's Attitude as Bellicose."If every conciliatory offer put forward by the Government is to be treated in the spirit displayed by the right hon. gentleman, that is the way to promote civil war."Mr.Lloyd George.

"If every conciliatory offer put forward by the Government is to be treated in the spirit displayed by the right hon. gentleman, that is the way to promote civil war."

After brief lull epidemic breaks out afresh. Twenty-three Questions addressed toPrime Ministerto-day appear on printed paper. As each, with the aid of semi-colons, represents two, three, occasionally five distinct queries they reach aggregate of half a hundred. This not counting Supplementaries.

Happily thePremieris incomparable master of the rare art of brief reply, wherein he presents pleasing contrast to the manner of his old master,Gladstone. Had he chanced to be Premier when the Fourth Party were struggling into notoriety their task would have been more difficult, their triumph delayed if not unattainable.

WhenGrandolph,WolffandGorst, withPrince Arthurlooking on, set themselves to "drawGladstone," as was their custom of an afternoon, that astute personage became as a child in their hands.Grandolphled off with a question, to which long reply was made.Wolff, profusely grateful for the right hon. gentleman's courtesy, shunted thePremieron to another track, along which he cheerfully sprinted. Then cameJohn o' Gorst. With the subtlety of a trained but not practising barrister he put a third question, drawing a third speech. Thus merrily sped a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, deferring by so much the progress of public business.

Asquith'sshare in the conversation at the Question hour is based on a familiar Biblical injunction. It is largely composed of "Yea, yea," and "Nay, nay." In the case alluded to, wherein the Fourth Party gave play to their insatiable desire for information, he would have replied toGrandolph, "Yes, Sir;" toWolff, "No, Sir." Had he been exceptionally lured into verbosity he might have gone as far as to say, "The answer is in the negative," or "in the affirmative," as the case might be. As forJohn o' Gorst, he would have referred him to a speech made on a particular preceding date, "to which I have nothing to add."

Business done.—Lloyd Georgefurther explains his Budget. Resolutions founded thereupon agreed to.

THE BILL AND THE AMENDING BILL.THE BILL AND THE AMENDING BILL.NurseAsquith."Now, take the powder like a good boy."MasterBonar Law."Where's the jam?"NurseAsquith."Oh, that comes later."MasterBonar Law."Well, I want to see it now. What's it made of?"NurseAsquith."I must have notice of that question."

NurseAsquith."Now, take the powder like a good boy."

MasterBonar Law."Where's the jam?"

NurseAsquith."Oh, that comes later."

MasterBonar Law."Well, I want to see it now. What's it made of?"

NurseAsquith."I must have notice of that question."

Tuesday.—What at outset promised to be businesslike debate verging on dulness suddenly leapt into flame and fury, signifying angry passion stirred by Home Rule Bill. In studiously moderate speechPremiermoved resolution identical with that adopted last year, whereby Committee stage of Home Rule Bill, Welsh Church Disestablishment and Plural Voting will be forgone. Pointed out that Committee stage is designed for purpose of providing opportunity of amending Bills. Since under Parliament Act none of these measures can be amended in the Commons, what use to go into Committee on them?

Being in increasingly businesslike moodPremierwent a step further. Abandoned proposal to submit and discuss "suggestions" to Home Rule Bill. Authoritatively announced byWalter Longand others that the Lords are predetermined to throw it out on second reading. What use then to formulate and discuss suggestionsthat could be dealt with by the Lords only in subsequent Committee? Finally announced intention of getting Bill through all Parliamentary stages before Whitsuntide, placing it on Statute Book by automatic process of Parliament Act. Will then bring in Amending Bill dealing with Ulster.

It wasPrince Arthurwho roused crowded House from chilled condition following upon douche of this application of ordinary business principles to legislative procedure. In best fighting form. Stirred to profoundest depths of scorn for actual working of that detested statute, the Parliament Act.

"We are," he said, amid strident cheers from Opposition, welcoming their old captain back to the fighting line, "asked to force through under the Parliament Act a Bill which by hypothesis requires amendment. What is worse than that is that we are to be compelled to read it a third time and to part with it while we know that it is to be amended, but while we have not the smallest conception in what respects or in what way." Insisted that before Home Rule Bill is added to Statute Book Parliament should know in what points it would be amended. "Let us have the Amending Bill first."

Prince Arthurhaving stirred the embers of slumbering fire,Chancellor of Exchequervigorously fanned them.

"If," he said, "every conciliatory offer put forward by the Government is to be treated in the spirit displayed by the right hon. gentleman, that is the way to promote civil war."

Hereupon storm burst over Opposition quarters. Shouts of "Shame!" and "Liar" hurtled through the suddenly heated atmosphere. TheChancellor'sattempt to proceed with his speech baffled by continuous cry,—"Withdraw! Withdraw!" At lengthSpeakerinterposed with suggestion that theChancellorhad been misunderstood. Claimed for him the right of explanation. This conceded,Lloyd Georgepointed out that what he had meant to say was that argument such as that forthcoming from Front Opposition Bench, making it difficult for the Government to submit proposals of peace, would have effect of promoting civil war.

Prince Arthurnaturally falling into "old style" of House of Commons debate, not only frankly accepted explanation but chivalrously took upon himself blame of the outbreak, which he said "apparently arose from an unfortunate expression of mine." Ended with pretty turn of grave satire that greatly pleased the House.

After this, debate quietly proceeded to appointed end, everyone mutely invoking

Blessings on the falling outThat all the more endears,When we fall out with those we loveAnd kiss again with tears.

Blessings on the falling out

That all the more endears,

When we fall out with those we love

And kiss again with tears.

Business done.—Premier'sresolution carried by 276 votes against 194. Majority 82. House of Lords by common consent passed second reading of useful little Bill for protection of grey seals threatened with extinction by mercenary sportsmen.

Mr. ROWLAND HUNT IN HIS BEST FORM.Mr. ROWLAND HUNT IN HIS BEST FORM."I don't know [laughter] what honourable Members [renewed laughter] are laughing about [loud and prolonged laughter]."

"I don't know [laughter] what honourable Members [renewed laughter] are laughing about [loud and prolonged laughter]."

Thursday.—Remarkable howShakspeare(or was itBacon?) wrote not only for all time but for all circumstance. The marvel came to light again in scene in House yesterday. Writing of the time ofRomeo and JulietShakspearereports dialogue between two fighting men of the houses ofCapuletandMontague. MeetingSampsonin a public place in Verona,Abramtruculently asks. "Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir?Sam.I do bite my thumb, Sir.Abr.Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir?Sam. (aside, to his comradeGregory). Is the law on our side if I say ay?

Greg.No.

Sam.No, Sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Sir; but I bite my thumb.

Kinloch-Cooke, having put question toWedgwood Benn, following it up by two supplementary inquiries, put a third when theSpeakerinterposed. Shrugging his shoulders in silent protest against this tyrannyKinloch-Cookeresumed his seat.

Said theSpeakersternly, "It is no good shrugging your shoulders at me."

This is prosaic account of incident given in this morning's papers. Refer toHansardand see how it runs.

Speaker.Do you shrug your shoulders at me, Sir?

Kinloch-Cooke.I do shrug my shoulders, Sir.

Speaker.Do you shrug your shoulders at me, Sir?

Kinloch-Cooke(aside toWinterton).Is there anything in the Standing Orders that forbids my shrugging my shoulders at theSpeaker?

Winterton(who is training for Speakership and has them all by heart).Yes.

Kinloch-Cooke.No, Sir, I do not shrug my shoulders at you, Sir; but I shrug my shoulders.

Speaker.Order! Order!

Business done.—Another plot that failed. For some weeks Opposition have not attempted to snap a division. Ministerialists, lulled into sense of security, off guard. Secret preparations sedulously made for trapping them this afternoon. Questions over, division challenged on formal motion. Ministerial Whips awake in good time to emergency. Urgent messages had been sent out to their men by telephone and special messengers. Arrivals watched with feverish interest. Ministerialists hurriedly drop in by twos and threes, presently by tens.Illingworth'smassive brow, temporarily seared with wrinkles, smooths out. When, after division, Clerk hands paper to him indicating that ambush has been baffled, hilarious cheer rises from Ministerial benches. Renewed when figures read by theSpeakershow that the motion is carried by 255 votes against 234.

"Not a high-class game in imperial politics," saysSark. "Rather akin to the humour of making a butter slide on the pavement for the discomfiture of unsuspecting passers-by. But boys will be boys."

Once more the Atlantic liner has delivered Mr. Bamborough (néBamberger) back to us, and once more British concert-goers should in consequence rejoice. But their natural jubilations are unfortunately tempered by a momentous announcement which the great violinist made to our representative at Plymouth last week, on the arrival of theJulius Cæsar, to the effect that he has decided to retire from the active pursuit of his profession. On receiving the news of this national calamity our representative fell into a heavy swoon, and was revived with some difficulty. The thought of thepermanent withdrawal from public life in his golden prime of the great virtuoso, with his opulent physique, his superbly Mosaic features and his luxuriant chevelure, was altogether too poignantly overwhelming. Let us hasten then to reassure our readers that the blow, though it must inevitably descend one day, is mercifully deferred for a considerable period. To begin with, Mr. Bamborough is under contract to give five farewell tours in the United States at intervals of four years before entering upon the penultimate stage of his severance from the British concert platform. This, which will begin in the autumn of 1934, is likely to continue until the year 1948, when he is booked for an extended tour in Polynesia, Japan, New Guinea and Java. On his return to England in 1950 he proposes to give sixty farewell recitals at intervals of three months, culminating in a grand concert at the Albert Hall.

"And then," mused the illustrious artist, "farewell to the platform for ever! I find it hard indeed to realise that the concert-going public and I by that time will have been intimate friends for more than seventy years, but so it will be, for I was only nine when I made my first appearance in London, in a velvet knickerbocker suit with pearl buttons and a Fauntleroy collar. Still, it will all make a lovely retrospect for me, and when I finally retire it will be with a heart very full of gratitude to my generous friends in all four hemispheres of the globe."

"And after that?" suggested our representative, now partially restored by these reassuring tidings.

"After that—literature," was the emphatic reply. "I have already signed a contract with Messrs. Goodleigh and Champ to write my Reminiscences in the form of a Musical Encyclopædia. My father-in-law, Sir Pompey Boldero, is giving me valuable assistance in preparing the material, but as he is already sixty-five I cannot, unhappily, count with absolute confidence on his being spared to witness the completion of the work. Still, he is so full of vigour that M.Metchnikoffconsiders his chances of becoming a centenarian decidedly promising. In any case the collaboration of my children, whose filial devotion is only equalled by their talent, is secured, and Mrs. Bamborough, as you know, wields a vivid and trenchant pen. But literature will not occupy all my time. My estancia in the Argentine will need supervision, and I hope to spend an occasional summer in the Solomon Islands, where the natives are strangely attached to us."

Mr. Bamborough pointed out that SirJohnston Forbes-Robertson, who also returned by theJulius Cæsar, had only drawn receipts amounting to £107,000 in a tour of thirty weeks' duration, while he (Mr. Bamborough) had netted no less than £150,000 in a tour lasting twenty-seven weeks and three days. In addition to the receipts in specie, Mr. Bamborough had received several nuggets from the gold miners in Colorado, and a bull moose from Mr.Kermit Roosevelt, while Mrs. Bamborough had been the recipient of a highly-trained bobolink, and a charming young alligator from the cedar swamps of Louisiana.

Other notable passengers on theJulius Cæsarwere Miss Topsy Cooney, the famous coloured pianist, who plays only on the black keys and entirely by ear; Little Dinky, the marvellous calculating boy, who does not know the names of the numbers; and Elaine Runnymede, the child contralto, who can only sing the whole tone scale.

Come on, here's A bit of luck for you. I've made Rupert's nose bleed.Small Brother (whose sisters are working for their girl guides' ambulance badge)."Come on, here's a bit of luck for you. I've made Rupert's nose bleed."

From a catalogue:—

"Also made in cheaper and better quality models."

Grumpy. “better put the diamond in the safe, my boy.”

Grumpy."Better put the diamond in the safe, my boy. You'll be ruined if anybody steals it."Ernest."Yes, but the play will be ruined if nobody does."Grumpy.Mr.Cyril Maude.Ernest Heron.Mr.Edward Combemere.

Scene—Mr. "Grumpy" Bullivant'slibrary. Enter his grand-daughterVirginiaandMrs. Maclaren.Mrs. Maclaren.What a remarkable man Mr. Jarvis seems to be, dear—so amusing at dinner! And he writes forTiddly Bits, he tells me. Wheredidyou meet him?Virginia.Quite accidentally in Hyde Park. He told grandfather a long story about a gold brick, and grandfather was so charmed with him he asked him down at once for the week-end.Mrs. Maclaren.Such a knowledge of character your grandfather has, love.Virginia.Yes, but you must remember he used to be the cleverest criminal lawyer of his time. He saw directly that Mr. Jarvis was a nice man.[Exeunt.EnterErnest Heronand"Grumpy"by opposite doors.Grumpy (when the audiences delight at seeingMr.Cyril Maudeagain has at last been got under).Wow-wow-wow-wow-wow; tut-tut-tut-tut-tut (and other old-gentleman noises). Ah, Ernest, my boy, what are you doing here?Ernest.Just back from Africa, uncle, with a diamond weighing—I mean costing—ninety thousand pounds in my belt, which I'm taking up to the firm in London. May I sleep here?Grumpy.Do, my boy. (EnterMr. Jarvis.) Ah, Mr. Jarvis, let me introduce my nephew, Mr. Heron. He's just back from Africa with a—— (To himself) No, perhaps better not. Well, good night to you both. Wow-wow-wow, tut-tut-tut-tut.[Exit, followed byMr. Jarvis.Ernestis left alone with his diamond. Seeing a suspicious shadow at the window he rushes to it and leans out, so as to give anybody a chance of sand-bagging him. The chance going begging, he takes his diamond from his belt to see if it is still there. The only other precaution he can think of is to draw the curtains. At this moment a hand steals through the door and turns out the lights. A terrible struggle in the dark ensues; there is a noise of somebody's larynx going; and then the curtain goes down and up ... to disclose, the body of poorErneston the floor. Is he dead? Certainly not; he's got to marryVirginia; but the diamond is gone.Act II.—The Sleuth-Hound.Time—Next morning.Grumpy.Tut-tut. Is everything just as it was last night? Very well, then. You say that when you discovered Mr. Ernest he was lying on his back, and in his right hand he was clutching this—what did you call it?Ruddock (the valet).A dicky, Sir. A detachable shirt-front.Grumpy.Excellent. Then the first question is—to whom did this—er—richard belong?Ruddock.Yes, Sir.Grumpy (musing).Could it have been his own? In the fierceness of the struggle might he have torn it off in order to give himself greater freedom? Was he offering it to his assailant as a bribe? Was he—but first we must find if he was wearing one at all. Call Susan.EnterSusan, the lady's-maid.Grumpy.Susan, you were the first to see Mr. Ernest when he came in last night. Did you happen to notice if he was wearing a detachable shirt-front, a—h'm—dicky?Susan.Yes, Sir.Grumpy.Ah! (He hands her the all-important clue.) Was this it?Susan (examining it).No, Sir.Grumpy.Tut-tut, are you sure?Susan.Yes, Sir; Mr. Ernest's was an india-rubber one. I know, because he said he'd been travelling all day, and he asked me to sponge it for him.Grumpy.Thank you, Susan. Ruddock, we must find that india-rubber richard. If Ernest has his assailant's shirt-front, what more likely than that his assailant has Ernest's? Probably they exchanged them before the battle, as, you may remember, Glaucus and Diomed did at the siege of Troy.Ruddock.Yes, Sir.Grumpy.Every shirt-front we see we must suspect. Let us go and look for some.[Exeunt.EnterJarvisandVirginia.Virginia.Still in evening dress, Mr. Jarvis?Jarvis.Yes, I was so busy fetching the doctor last night that I had no time to change. I am going back to London now. (Tenderly) I should like to think you had some little memento of me. (He removes his shirt front.) Keep this and think of me sometimes when you look at it.Virginia.Oh, Mr. Jarvis! But I must giveyousomething too. (She goes out and returns with one of her grandfather's shirt-fronts.) Wear this in place of the one you have given me—always.[Exit.Re-enterGrumpy.Grumpy.Now, Mr. Jarvis, I wonder if you would help me. You were the first to find the body last night. Would you mind lying down in the position in which it lay? It may give me an important clue.Jarvis.Certainly. (He prepares to lie down.)Grumpy.Take care, you mustn't crumple your shirt-front. Perhaps it removes? Ah, allow me. (He detaches it and hastily substitutes the other one for it.) Ah, thank you so much. Here is your shirt-front again.[ExitJarvis.Ruddock (eagerly).Is that it, Sir?Grumpy(examining Jarvis's shirt-front carefully). No, linen, confound it. Ruddock, wemustfind that india-rubber richard. Who has it? Ah!Curtain.Act III.—Trapped.Scene—Jarvis'srooms in London.Keble (his man).Terrible thing that assault on Mr. Heron, Sir.Jarvis.Yes, terrible.Keble.I hope they don't suspect me of it, Sir.Jarvis.Why on earth should they suspectyou?Keble.Well, I was known to be jealous of Mr. Heron, Sir. I found Susan sponging his shirt-front, and Susan and I are as good as engaged.Jarvis (mildly interested).Howcanyou sponge a shirt-front?Keble.It was an india-rubber one, Sir; they sponge off quite clean, and save the laundry bill, Sir. My——Jarvis.Good Heavens, I'm ruined!EnterIsaac Wolfe, his partner. ExitKeble.Wolfe.Got the diamond, my boy?Jarvis (moodily).Yes ... I'm done for; I must leave the country.Wolfe.What d'you mean? You've got the diamond?Jarvis (rapidly).I throttled him in the dark and got the diamond. My shirt-front fell off in the struggle. I noticed one on the floor and picked it up. I thought it was mine. It was his; his had fallen off too; and he was found with mine in his hand.Wolfe.Well, why did you leave it there?Jarvis.I thought it was his own—and that, anyhow, as long as we each had one, no one would notice. But his was an india-rubber one!Wolfe.And that's the one you've got now? Well, burn it.Jarvis (burying his face in his hands).It isn't! I cannot! I gave it to Miss Bullivant. (Grimly) But I shall get it back again.Curtain.Act IV.—The Sleuth-hound's Triumph.The Library again.Grumpy.Well, Virginia, and how's Ernest? Better, hey! He ought—— Good heavens, child, what's that you've got in your hand?Virginia.Just a dicky, grandfather.Grumpy (excitedly).Let me look ... Virginia, it's an india-rubber one! (Sternly) Where did you get this?Virginia.Mr. Jarvis gave it to me.Grumpy.Mr. Jarvis! Aha! (He hides behind the sofa.)EnterMr. Jarvis.Jarvis (toVirginia).I'm afraid my conduct must seem very strange, but I had to come back to see you. I—er—lost the shirt-front you gave me. Could you let me have my own back again? You see, I'm going abroad and I must haveone.Grumpy (popping his head up).Ah, Mr. Jarvis, did I hear you asking for a shirt-front? Allow me to offer you one—an india-rubber one, Mr. Jarvis! (Jarvis blenches.) And the price, Mr. Jarvis, is the diamond in your waistcoat-pocket!Curtain.—except thatErnestgets engaged toVirginiafirst.Postscript.—On reading this through I feel that it hardly does justice to the clever acting of Mr.Maudeas an always delightful old gentleman, the excellent support given him by the rest of the company, and the pleasantly exciting melodrama provided for them by Messrs.Horace HodgesandT. W. Percyval. To all of them my thanks for an entertaining evening.

Scene—Mr. "Grumpy" Bullivant'slibrary. Enter his grand-daughterVirginiaandMrs. Maclaren.

Mrs. Maclaren.What a remarkable man Mr. Jarvis seems to be, dear—so amusing at dinner! And he writes forTiddly Bits, he tells me. Wheredidyou meet him?

Virginia.Quite accidentally in Hyde Park. He told grandfather a long story about a gold brick, and grandfather was so charmed with him he asked him down at once for the week-end.

Mrs. Maclaren.Such a knowledge of character your grandfather has, love.

Virginia.Yes, but you must remember he used to be the cleverest criminal lawyer of his time. He saw directly that Mr. Jarvis was a nice man.

[Exeunt.EnterErnest Heronand"Grumpy"by opposite doors.

Grumpy (when the audiences delight at seeingMr.Cyril Maudeagain has at last been got under).Wow-wow-wow-wow-wow; tut-tut-tut-tut-tut (and other old-gentleman noises). Ah, Ernest, my boy, what are you doing here?

Ernest.Just back from Africa, uncle, with a diamond weighing—I mean costing—ninety thousand pounds in my belt, which I'm taking up to the firm in London. May I sleep here?

Grumpy.Do, my boy. (EnterMr. Jarvis.) Ah, Mr. Jarvis, let me introduce my nephew, Mr. Heron. He's just back from Africa with a—— (To himself) No, perhaps better not. Well, good night to you both. Wow-wow-wow, tut-tut-tut-tut.

[Exit, followed byMr. Jarvis.

Ernestis left alone with his diamond. Seeing a suspicious shadow at the window he rushes to it and leans out, so as to give anybody a chance of sand-bagging him. The chance going begging, he takes his diamond from his belt to see if it is still there. The only other precaution he can think of is to draw the curtains. At this moment a hand steals through the door and turns out the lights. A terrible struggle in the dark ensues; there is a noise of somebody's larynx going; and then the curtain goes down and up ... to disclose, the body of poorErneston the floor. Is he dead? Certainly not; he's got to marryVirginia; but the diamond is gone.

Time—Next morning.

Grumpy.Tut-tut. Is everything just as it was last night? Very well, then. You say that when you discovered Mr. Ernest he was lying on his back, and in his right hand he was clutching this—what did you call it?

Ruddock (the valet).A dicky, Sir. A detachable shirt-front.

Grumpy.Excellent. Then the first question is—to whom did this—er—richard belong?

Ruddock.Yes, Sir.

Grumpy (musing).Could it have been his own? In the fierceness of the struggle might he have torn it off in order to give himself greater freedom? Was he offering it to his assailant as a bribe? Was he—but first we must find if he was wearing one at all. Call Susan.

EnterSusan, the lady's-maid.

Grumpy.Susan, you were the first to see Mr. Ernest when he came in last night. Did you happen to notice if he was wearing a detachable shirt-front, a—h'm—dicky?

Susan.Yes, Sir.

Grumpy.Ah! (He hands her the all-important clue.) Was this it?

Susan (examining it).No, Sir.

Grumpy.Tut-tut, are you sure?

Susan.Yes, Sir; Mr. Ernest's was an india-rubber one. I know, because he said he'd been travelling all day, and he asked me to sponge it for him.

Grumpy.Thank you, Susan. Ruddock, we must find that india-rubber richard. If Ernest has his assailant's shirt-front, what more likely than that his assailant has Ernest's? Probably they exchanged them before the battle, as, you may remember, Glaucus and Diomed did at the siege of Troy.

Ruddock.Yes, Sir.

Grumpy.Every shirt-front we see we must suspect. Let us go and look for some.

[Exeunt.EnterJarvisandVirginia.

EnterJarvisandVirginia.

Virginia.Still in evening dress, Mr. Jarvis?

Jarvis.Yes, I was so busy fetching the doctor last night that I had no time to change. I am going back to London now. (Tenderly) I should like to think you had some little memento of me. (He removes his shirt front.) Keep this and think of me sometimes when you look at it.

Virginia.Oh, Mr. Jarvis! But I must giveyousomething too. (She goes out and returns with one of her grandfather's shirt-fronts.) Wear this in place of the one you have given me—always.

[Exit.Re-enterGrumpy.

Re-enterGrumpy.

Grumpy.Now, Mr. Jarvis, I wonder if you would help me. You were the first to find the body last night. Would you mind lying down in the position in which it lay? It may give me an important clue.

Jarvis.Certainly. (He prepares to lie down.)

Grumpy.Take care, you mustn't crumple your shirt-front. Perhaps it removes? Ah, allow me. (He detaches it and hastily substitutes the other one for it.) Ah, thank you so much. Here is your shirt-front again.

[ExitJarvis.

Ruddock (eagerly).Is that it, Sir?

Grumpy(examining Jarvis's shirt-front carefully). No, linen, confound it. Ruddock, wemustfind that india-rubber richard. Who has it? Ah!

Curtain.

Scene—Jarvis'srooms in London.

Keble (his man).Terrible thing that assault on Mr. Heron, Sir.

Jarvis.Yes, terrible.

Keble.I hope they don't suspect me of it, Sir.

Jarvis.Why on earth should they suspectyou?

Keble.Well, I was known to be jealous of Mr. Heron, Sir. I found Susan sponging his shirt-front, and Susan and I are as good as engaged.Jarvis (mildly interested).Howcanyou sponge a shirt-front?

Keble.It was an india-rubber one, Sir; they sponge off quite clean, and save the laundry bill, Sir. My——

Jarvis.Good Heavens, I'm ruined!

EnterIsaac Wolfe, his partner. ExitKeble.

Wolfe.Got the diamond, my boy?

Jarvis (moodily).Yes ... I'm done for; I must leave the country.

Wolfe.What d'you mean? You've got the diamond?

Jarvis (rapidly).I throttled him in the dark and got the diamond. My shirt-front fell off in the struggle. I noticed one on the floor and picked it up. I thought it was mine. It was his; his had fallen off too; and he was found with mine in his hand.

Wolfe.Well, why did you leave it there?

Jarvis.I thought it was his own—and that, anyhow, as long as we each had one, no one would notice. But his was an india-rubber one!

Wolfe.And that's the one you've got now? Well, burn it.

Jarvis (burying his face in his hands).It isn't! I cannot! I gave it to Miss Bullivant. (Grimly) But I shall get it back again.

Curtain.

The Library again.

Grumpy.Well, Virginia, and how's Ernest? Better, hey! He ought—— Good heavens, child, what's that you've got in your hand?

Virginia.Just a dicky, grandfather.

Grumpy (excitedly).Let me look ... Virginia, it's an india-rubber one! (Sternly) Where did you get this?

Virginia.Mr. Jarvis gave it to me.

Grumpy.Mr. Jarvis! Aha! (He hides behind the sofa.)

EnterMr. Jarvis.

Jarvis (toVirginia).I'm afraid my conduct must seem very strange, but I had to come back to see you. I—er—lost the shirt-front you gave me. Could you let me have my own back again? You see, I'm going abroad and I must haveone.

Grumpy (popping his head up).Ah, Mr. Jarvis, did I hear you asking for a shirt-front? Allow me to offer you one—an india-rubber one, Mr. Jarvis! (Jarvis blenches.) And the price, Mr. Jarvis, is the diamond in your waistcoat-pocket!

Curtain.

—except thatErnestgets engaged toVirginiafirst.

Postscript.—On reading this through I feel that it hardly does justice to the clever acting of Mr.Maudeas an always delightful old gentleman, the excellent support given him by the rest of the company, and the pleasantly exciting melodrama provided for them by Messrs.Horace HodgesandT. W. Percyval. To all of them my thanks for an entertaining evening.

A. A. M.

There, ye deginerate little spalpeens, look at that and thry what ye can do!Pat (having hung up an ostrich's egg on the hen-house door)."There, ye deginerate little spalpeens, look at that and thry what ye can do!"

From a letter toThe Scotsman:—

"It goes without saying that when recognising a friend in the street one raises one's hat by the hand removed from that friend."

Of course. But it is proper to return the hand immediately after the little ceremony with a few words of thanks.

"For the latter an excuse must be offered in that he was badly hit on the left hip by the previous ball—a yorker—to that which bowled him."—Evening News.

In the over before he had been stunned by a sneak.

The Yorkshire Daily Observeron the income tax:—

"A Bradford widow has been left with five children under 15 years of age. Her income is £300 a ear."

Or £3,600 in all. We refuse to be moved by her hard case.

"Miscellaneous Volumes. 10s. per cwt. (No theology.)Theology. 5s. 6d. per cwt."—Catalogue.

"Miscellaneous Volumes. 10s. per cwt. (No theology.)

Theology. 5s. 6d. per cwt."—Catalogue.

Money being tight, we are ordering 8 stone 7 lbs. of theology for the drawing-room.

"The Government has introduced another Bill to regulate the sale of milk and the inspection of dairies. This disgracefully dilutory Parliament of ours has been playing with similar Bills for five years."—Daily Herald.

The dilutory milkman is really more to blame.

[Scene—A room at Niagara Falls. The Argentine, the Brazilian and the Chilian mediators are mediating; that is to say, they are sitting on rocking chairs not very close to a large table covered with papers, pens, ink, etc. A deep noise of falling water pervades the air. Out of compliment to Canada the conversation is carried on in English.]

Argentine Mediator.Cold, isn't it?

Brazilian Mediator.Yes, there's a great deal of cold in the atmosphere.

Chilian Mediator.We often get it colder than this in Chili.

(A pause.)

A. M.There's a lot of water coming down.

B. M.Yes, and it keeps coming, too, doesn't it?

C. M.It isn't as noisy as I thought it would be, though.

A. M.Oh, I don't know. It's quite noisy enough.

B. M.Yes, it's very difficult to concentrate one's mind. We've got a waterfall in Brazil which has the same effect. You can't do any work near it. People go there for a rest-cure.

C. M.There are a good many waterfalls in Chili, too, and they make more noise than this one.

(A pause.)

A. M.How long do you think we shall be here?

B. M.A week, or a month, or a year—I don't know.

C. M.It's a dull place, isn't it?

A. M.Yes, it is, dull as ditchwater.

B. M.Dull as a ditchwaterfall. Ha, ha.

C. M. and A. M. (together).Ha, ha. That's capital.

B. M.You fellows must remind me to telegraph that home to Brazil.

A. M.By the way, I seeRoosevelthas been in Brazil.

B. M.Yes; isn't it awful?

G. M.Discovered a river, hasn't he?

B. M.Something of that sort. He'll discover the world next.

A. M.Anyhow, I'm glad he's not here.

B. M.By Jove, yes. Wouldn't it be dreadful if he were?

C. M.Don't. You make my flesh creep.

B. M.After all, I'm not sure he's worse thanWilson. They're all alike, these Yankees. I've no use for them and theirMonroeDoctrine; have you?

A. M.Not the slightest. If they think we're children they'll soon find out their mistake.

C. M.Hear, hear!

(A pause.)

A. M.Anything new from Mexico?

B. M.No. Same old game.

C. M.What'sHuertaup to?

B. M.Sitting tight.

A. M.And what'sVilladoing?

B. M.Oh, he's been capturing Tampico a good deal lately.

C. M.Isn't a fellow calledZapatachipping in somewhere?

B. M.Yes, he's having a go too.

(A pause.)

A. M.I say, you men, I've got an idea.

B. M.Out with it, then.

C. M.Yes, let's have it.

A. M.Well, then, suppose we start by saying thatHuertaandWilsonmustbothbe eliminated. That'll please both sides.Huertawill be tickled to death ifWilsonhas to go, andWilsonwill be delighted at our backing up his policy. What do you think?

B. M.I can't think at all in this noise.

C. M.Nor can I, but I daresay it's all right.

A. M.I'm glad you like the idea. It's fair to both sides, you see. That's what mediation's for.

(Left mediating.)

My bath awaits me! It contains to-night,Besides the customary water—stay:Before I name ingredients, let me sayExactly who and what I am who write.(My bath awaits me!) I am known to fame,First, as a rising music-hall artiste;But, secondly and chiefly, I'm the beastWho Puts Things in his Bath. You've met my name.(My bath awaits me!) People come, you see,With sample packets of the Lord knows what,And want me to "endorse" the silly rot.Well, I "endorse"; receiving £.s.d.(My bath awaits me!) But I specialiseIn baths. I will not "like it in my soup,"Nor "take five drops before I loop the loop";Nor will I "find it helps to keep off flies."(My bath awaits me!) Am I over-nice?I cannot "thank you for the lovely sox,"Nor shall "my children quarrel for the box."I Put It In My Bath. Let that suffice.(My bath awaits me!) Now, to take the list:Mustard, by thirteen makers; salt, by six;Saponica; Shampoona; Sozothrix;Eau-de-Cologne (nine samples); Bathex; Vrist.(My bath awaits me!) These and more than these(I drop the catalogue) in pungent strife,Stench hard at grips with stench for loathly life,Yon seething cauldron holds. Excuse a sneeze.(My bath awaits me!) Why the cauldron? WhyNot desecrate the dustbin? Here's the rub:All the endorsements specify my tub;The dustbin is not mentioned. Can I lie?(My bath awaits me!) So I made a vow,Soon as the groaning shelf could bear no more,In one doomed bath to mix 'em. What I sworeI've done. The night of reckoning is now.My bath awaits me! True. But then I saidNot "use" but "put." Why have my beastly bath?Bed, too, awaits me; be the bedward pathMy choice. I do not Put Things in my Bed.

My bath awaits me! It contains to-night,Besides the customary water—stay:Before I name ingredients, let me sayExactly who and what I am who write.

My bath awaits me! It contains to-night,

Besides the customary water—stay:

Before I name ingredients, let me say

Exactly who and what I am who write.

(My bath awaits me!) I am known to fame,First, as a rising music-hall artiste;But, secondly and chiefly, I'm the beastWho Puts Things in his Bath. You've met my name.

(My bath awaits me!) I am known to fame,

First, as a rising music-hall artiste;

But, secondly and chiefly, I'm the beast

Who Puts Things in his Bath. You've met my name.

(My bath awaits me!) People come, you see,With sample packets of the Lord knows what,And want me to "endorse" the silly rot.Well, I "endorse"; receiving £.s.d.

(My bath awaits me!) People come, you see,

With sample packets of the Lord knows what,

And want me to "endorse" the silly rot.

Well, I "endorse"; receiving £.s.d.

(My bath awaits me!) But I specialiseIn baths. I will not "like it in my soup,"Nor "take five drops before I loop the loop";Nor will I "find it helps to keep off flies."

(My bath awaits me!) But I specialise

In baths. I will not "like it in my soup,"

Nor "take five drops before I loop the loop";

Nor will I "find it helps to keep off flies."

(My bath awaits me!) Am I over-nice?I cannot "thank you for the lovely sox,"Nor shall "my children quarrel for the box."I Put It In My Bath. Let that suffice.

(My bath awaits me!) Am I over-nice?

I cannot "thank you for the lovely sox,"

Nor shall "my children quarrel for the box."

I Put It In My Bath. Let that suffice.

(My bath awaits me!) Now, to take the list:Mustard, by thirteen makers; salt, by six;Saponica; Shampoona; Sozothrix;Eau-de-Cologne (nine samples); Bathex; Vrist.

(My bath awaits me!) Now, to take the list:

Mustard, by thirteen makers; salt, by six;

Saponica; Shampoona; Sozothrix;

Eau-de-Cologne (nine samples); Bathex; Vrist.

(My bath awaits me!) These and more than these(I drop the catalogue) in pungent strife,Stench hard at grips with stench for loathly life,Yon seething cauldron holds. Excuse a sneeze.

(My bath awaits me!) These and more than these

(I drop the catalogue) in pungent strife,

Stench hard at grips with stench for loathly life,

Yon seething cauldron holds. Excuse a sneeze.

(My bath awaits me!) Why the cauldron? WhyNot desecrate the dustbin? Here's the rub:All the endorsements specify my tub;The dustbin is not mentioned. Can I lie?

(My bath awaits me!) Why the cauldron? Why

Not desecrate the dustbin? Here's the rub:

All the endorsements specify my tub;

The dustbin is not mentioned. Can I lie?

(My bath awaits me!) So I made a vow,Soon as the groaning shelf could bear no more,In one doomed bath to mix 'em. What I sworeI've done. The night of reckoning is now.

(My bath awaits me!) So I made a vow,

Soon as the groaning shelf could bear no more,

In one doomed bath to mix 'em. What I swore

I've done. The night of reckoning is now.

My bath awaits me! True. But then I saidNot "use" but "put." Why have my beastly bath?Bed, too, awaits me; be the bedward pathMy choice. I do not Put Things in my Bed.

My bath awaits me! True. But then I said

Not "use" but "put." Why have my beastly bath?

Bed, too, awaits me; be the bedward path

My choice. I do not Put Things in my Bed.

"The following are good dishes for a small luncheon, not a complete menu, but suggestions for filling one out with those light and tempting dishes which the jaded modern palate so greatly prefers to the solid English cookery of our forefathers."—Truth.

That is all very well, but if one really wants filling out these little kickshaws are no good; roast beef and Yorkshire pudding is the thing.

"Folds of net and thick white face lighten the effect of the corsage."—Westminster Gazette.

The writer seems keen, but we are not.

THE SCRUTINEER.THE SCRUTINEER.Eliza Jane."'Ere, that last one didn't seem like a full sack to me."

Eliza Jane."'Ere, that last one didn't seem like a full sack to me."

(By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.)

Not the least attractive feature in MadameWaddington'snew book,My First Years as a Frenchwoman(Smith, Elder), is the revelation, undesignedly made, of a keen-sighted, vivacious, exceedingly womanly woman. During her residence in France as the wife of a highly placed Minister she had rare opportunity of watching the progress of historic events from a favoured standpoint behind the scenes. When she married M.Waddington, in later years known to this country as French Ambassador, the National Assembly was sitting at Versailles.Thiers, first President of the Republic, had been overthrown andMacMahonreigned in his stead. MadameWaddingtonwas brought into personal touch with these statesmen, with their successors,Jules Grévy,de Freycinet,Carnotand with their variedentourage. Of each she has something shrewd, sprightly and informing to say. While immersed in international politics, perhaps not wholly free from anxious conviction that she was in some measure responsible for their direction, she had a seeing eye for frocks. Frequently, when describing social gatherings at the height of political crises, she stops to tell you how some lady was dressed and how the apparel suited her. Amongst other men of the epoch she has something to say aboutBlowitz, the famous Paris correspondent ofThe Times. It is evident that, without premeditation, he managed to offend the lady. She reports how PrinceHohenloheexpressed a high opinion of the journalist, remarking, "He is marvellously well-informed of all that is going on." "It was curious," writes Madame, "how a keen clever man like the Prince attached so much importance to anything Blowitz said." For the side-lights which it flashes on high life in Paris at a critical period of the Republic the volume possesses exceptional value.

The subtleties of human motives, the fine problems of temperament, the delicate interplay of masculine logic and feminine intuition, what are these compared to blood, thunder, plots, counter-plots, earthquakes and, from the final chaos, the salvage of the "sweetest woman on earth" effected in the nick of time by a herculean and always imperturbable hero? Mr.Frank Savileis not out to analyse souls. The opening chapter ofThe Red Wall(Nelson) plunges us into a fray, irrelevant to the narrative save in so far as it introducesDick BlakeandEileen O'Creaghand removes any possible doubt that might ever have been felt as to their respective merits and their mutual suitability. That preliminary complete, we proceed to the real business of the agenda, and momentous, passionate, nefarious, diabolical, mysterious and incessantly exciting business it is, covering the gamut of private emotions and international complications. In such narratives I demand three things: the first, that my author should combine a graphic (and grammatical) style with the professional knack of imparting an air of probability to his tale; the second, that things should go all wrong in the beginning and come all right in the end; the third, that if any German schemers are involved these should be eventually outwitted. Mr.Savilehas abundantly satisfied me in all particulars; although I incline to carp at the opportuneness with which nature is made to erupt from time to time, and I venture to suggest that men and women never were and are probably never going to be likeDickandEileen. The book is, however, of the sort which is to be read and enjoyed but not considered further.

Joe Quinney, the curiosity shop man in Mr.Horace Annesley Vachell'sQuinneys'(Murray), is undoubtedly a "card," not unrelated, I should say, to Mr.Bennett'sMachen. He is an entertaining fellow with his enthusiasms, his truculences, his fluctuating standards of honesty. Mr.Vachelldidn't quite get me to believe inJoe'sexpert knowledge, which indeed seemed to be turned on and off in rather an arbitrary way as the exigencies of the story rather than the development and experience of the character dictated; but he did make me see and like the fellow.Mrs. Quinney, that faithful timid soul, is admirably drawn, both in her courtship and her matronly days. But I foundQuinneya little hypocritical in his denunciation ofMiggott, the chair-faker, who was not really sailing half so close to the wind or so profitably asQuinneyand his bibulous friend of a dealer,Tamlin. There are some interesting side-lights upon the astonishing tricks of the furniture trade, which are reflected by the authentic experience of the bitten wise. An entertaining and clever book; but why, why should H. A. V. drop from his Hill into the discreditable fellowship of those who have misquoted "honoured in the breach"?

Anybody can understand how extremely annoying and inconvenient the complete disappearance of a husband would be to a wife after a mere fortnight or so of married existence, before he had even begun to complain of the—well, anyhow that is what happens in Mrs.Belloc Lowndes'slatest novel,The End of Her Honeymoon(Methuen). TheDampiersarrive in Paris, a Parisen féteand crowded beyond all custom because of the state visit of theTsar, and are obliged to occupy rooms on different floors of thePoulains'hotel. Next morningMrs. Dampierawakes to find herself in the awkward predicament of Ariadne on the beach of Naxos, with the aggravation (spared to Theseus' bride) that the hotel people absolutely deny that she came with a husband at all. A punctilious if sceptical American senator (refreshingly guiltless of accent) and his enthusiastic son and daughter take pity on her, and the rest of the book resolves itself into a detective story, saved from conventionality by the pleasantly distinguished style in which the author writes and the intimate knowledge which she appears to possess of the Parispréfecture de police.Gerald Burton, the young American, not entirely platonic in his solicitude, is baffled;Salgas, a famous enquiry agent, is baffled; and I am ready to take very long odds against the reader's unravelling the mystery, unless he happens to be familiar with a certain legend of the plague (though no plague comes in here). Indeed, it is only a chance conversation in the last chapter that throws light, my dear Watson, on this particularlybizarreaffair. And what then, you ask, had happened toJack Dampierafter all? Ah!

I wonder why it is that so many books about walking tours should be written in much the same style. At least I don't really wonder at all, since it is quite apparent that R. L. S. andModestineare the models responsible for this state of things. And, since the style in itself is pleasant enough, I don't know that any one need complain. What put me upon this reflection wasVagabonds in Perigord(Constable), which, for the modulation of its prose, might almost have been an unacknowledged work of the Master, but is actually written by Mr.H. H. Bashford. It concerns the wanderings on foot of certain pleasure pilgrims along the course of the river Dordogne; and is, for those that like such things, one of the most attractive volumes I have met this great while. I liked especially the author's happy gift of filling his pages with a holiday atmosphere; there is, indeed, so much fresh air and sunshine in them that the sympathetic reader will emerge feeling mentally bronzed. Nor does Mr.Bashfordlack an agreeable humour of phrase. "Those wonderful three-franc dinners that seem to fall like manna upon France at seven o'clock every evening" is an example that lingers in my memory. Moreover, running through the whole is a hidden joke, and very cunningly hidden too, only to be revealed in the last paragraphs. Not for worlds would I reveal it here; I content myself with admitting that I for one was entirely fooled. I am less sure whether as a record of travel the book tempts to emulation. The drawbacks are perhaps too vividly rendered for this—heat and thirst through the flaming June days, and by night not wholly unbroken repose. But I am delighted to read about it all.

Bram Stoker, whose too early cutting off saddened a wide circle of friends, was the Fat Boy of modern writers of fiction. He knew how to provide opportunity in fullest measure for making your flesh creep. A series of stories named after the first,Dracula's Guest(Routledge), is a marvellous collection of weird fancies wrought with ingenuity, related with graphic power, that come as nearEdgar Allan Poeas anything I am acquainted with. There are nine, widely varying in subject and plot. I have read them all, and am not ashamed to confess that, finishing one before commencing another of the fascinating series, I found it convenient and agreeable to turn aside for a while and glance over less exciting pages. Not the least marvellous thing about the banquet is that it is provided at the modest charge of a shilling.

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