(fawningly, with a side-glance of withering hate at your chair)
.
Patience, peevish worm!Are you in such a hurry, then, to writhe?
[Fierce aside.(Here you draw the chair forward, and, placing yourself behind it, speak the following lines with easy fluency, accompanied by such pantomime as may suggest itself to you.)
I crave your pardon for my tardiness,—Allow me to dispose these lendings—thus:
[Here you shake out the wrapper.
This band above the elbows—tighter—so.I do assure you, Sir, this is no gag—'Tis but a poor contrivance of mine ownTo guard the mouth against th' encroaching sud.Refreshing, Sir, indeed, this change of weather!But one more knot.... and now
(here you stride to a position in front of the chair, which you survey with folded arms, and a mocking smile)
—my feigning's done!Writhe as you will, I have you at my mercy.Baldwin McAssir, have we met at last?
[In a terrible voice.
You know me not?—then quail, for I am heBy you bereft ofBandolina's love!Fear not that I would stoop to seek your life—My vengeance shall be sated on your hair,And that is doomed to perish past recall!Cast up your eyes to yonder whirling wheel:
[Point to ceiling with air of command.
Then on this brush—'tis set with bristling wires(Some frivoller termed it myCheveux de Frizz),Which, with revolving teeth, shall shortly rakeThose curls byBandolinaoft caressed,
[With a cold sneer.
You like the prospect? I have fluids here—"Elixirs to evolve the latent hair,"With others, christened (in some franker mood)"Depilatory Agents,"—scarce less potent:Upon your helpless head I'll pour themall!
(Arm raised—savage and threatening aspect.)
Nay, smile not thus defiance through your gag—I swear to lay that haughty crest so low,That never shall it soar in pride again!Enough of words—to action!...Still that smile—So bitter, yet so calm—it maddens me,I'll stay my hand no longer!—
(violent plunge with right arm—after which you recoil and seem to gaze aghast at some object you are holding)
—juggling fiend!Wasthisthe secret of your dauntless port?And could my practised eye be so deceived?
(In a tone of lofty and dignified resignation.)
Yet, seeing I am thus forestalled by Fate,I do renounce my purpose—since I must:Take back your wig,McAssir, go in peace.
[Bitter scorn.
Stay—while, in token that my heart is changed,I coax it into comeliness anew.Permit me to unloose you—you are free,And owe me but a trifle—eighteenpence,
[Mournfully.
Pay at the counter as you pass without.
(Here you are supposed to watch your rival's exit with a gloomy scowl.)
Thus ends my vengeance as some idle dream,Yet no—'tis but deferred, with interest!
(You conclude with a bitter apostrophe to your intended victim.)
Back to yourBandolina, plumaged daw!Be bald, but resolute, in your disguise,Till haply on her honeymoon she learnsHow you have drawn her with that single hair,And I may be avenged! Till then, adieu!
(Stalk gloomily off, and allow somebody else to remove the chair.)
On the Stump, in Two Senses.—So the Parliamentary Sessionandthe Cricket Season are over at last, and contemporaneously. The latter has been productive of long scores and high averages, the former of little but long speeches and low language. And nowtwoteams of British Cricketers are outward bound by theIberia, for a holiday campaign in Australia. Nobody knows exactly how many teams of slogging politicians are also going fortheirholiday campaign—"on the stump," all over the Kingdom.Mr. Punchwishes the two lots of willow-wielders, led respectively by Mr.VernonandArthur Shrewsbury, a far merrier time and much better "scores" than he fears will fall to the lot of the peripatetic Parliamentarians.
The Home Rule Cure.—Mrs. M. understands that the only remedy possible for Irish complaints is Antimony.
I have just received intelligence of so astounding a character and fraught with such glorious results to the great majority of mankind, that, although I may be said to have partly promised to keep the wondrous secret to myself until after I had turned the information to my own enormous advantage, I do not hesitate to reveal to a delighted universe, information which, if true, will so revolutionise the whole constitution of society, that every individual member of the almost innumerable class of the indebted, will feel at once enfranchised from the demon that now pursues him with his insatiable demand for more, and his poor oppressed soul will, as of old, sing with joy. What then is this glorious discovery that is thus wondrously to relieve the gentlemen of society from the base bondage of debt? I am naturally forbidden to reveal all its minute details, but a general outline I feel justified in laying before the world.
My informant, then, who will be one of the very first to take advantage of the discovery directly it has reached a practical stage, assures me that in an island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, named I rather think Ungyway, a discovery has been made of a Gold Mine of so extraordinary a character that the precious metal lies in it in huge seams like those of a copper or lead mine.
Now comes the financial part of this great discovery. My friend has calculated that the money, owing by the various respectable classes of society to whom I have already alluded, and the great National Debt, could all be paid off for, say, a sum of 2000 millions. This somewhat considerable amount could be raised from the Ungyway Gold Mine at a cost of two millions of money only, and leave a large profit. The quantity of gold to be so raised would be a mere trifle of 20,000 tons, which, at the fixed price of £3 17s.10d.per ounce, at which price the Bank of England is compelled to purchase any quantity offered to it, would be amply sufficient for all the glorious purposes to which I have referred. The members of the class above alluded to, would be permitted to purchase the quantity required by them to free them from their cruel liabilities, at the cost price of the gold, so that a debt of £1,000 could be extinguished by, say, an expenditure of twenty shillings! and the crushing National Debt by an immediate payment of about £750,000! Away fly at once the iniquitous Income-Tax, and the duties on tea and coffee, and wine and beer, and figs, and almonds and raisins!
No wonder that both France and Germany have been sending out expeditions to discover this Fortunate Island, but all in vain; and long before these lines meet the gaze of my astonished readers, the flag that has braved a thousand years the battle and the breeze will be fluttering bravely on the topmost towers of Ungyway. I need scarcely add that we shall in future pay for all our imports in gold, and send away our superabundant pauper population, native and foreign, each with about one hundred golden sovereigns in his capacious pockets, the cost price of which being about two shillings.
Of course the one thing to do before the great scheme is finally settled by Messrs.RothschildandBaring, will be to get largely into debt at the present price of gold, and pay it off at the price of the future, and so, asRobinsonsays, spoil the Israelites; and so great is his faith in the success of the scheme, that he actually offers to join me in the transaction, and to obtain the money on our joint security. I am to give him my final answer on Saturday.
Joseph Greenhorn.
A Ballad of Bulgaria.
A Ballad of Bulgaria.
THE BOY AND THE BEAR.
It was the little Bulgar boy, and oh! it was the Bear,Whose affectionate relations were remarkable as rare;For the Bulgar boy of Bruin was the glory and the joy,And if anyone loved Bruin, 'twas that little Bulgar boy.It was very very touching, for your Bear, however good,Has seldom any liking for your boy—except as food;And your boy—or man—from feelings that humanitymayblame,Has commonly no yearning for your Bear—unless as game.But this Bear—on his own showing—was a Bear of simple worth,He was not a western "Grizzly," but a Bruin from the North,Which we know is "true and tender," or at least so poets swear,And these Northern traits—who doubts it?—are conspicuous in the Bear.Had he not that boy befriended in the kindest sort of style,In a fashion full of valour, as 'twas destitute of guile,When a Bubblyjock gigantic from the Bosphorus who hailed,Had assaulted that small Bulgar boy, and—thanks to Bruin—failed?And all that Bear expected in return for what he'd done,(And who of such a sentiment will venture to make fun?)Was the gratitude, and confidence, and love, and—well subjection,Of the boy whom he had taken 'neath his paws—I mean protection.But alas for human nature, which is radically bad!(And conservatively sinful) this same little Bulgar lad,When he found himself in safety from that Stamboul Bubblyjock,Took and acted in a manner that humanity must shock,For says he, "Oh, thank you, Bruin dear,—and now I'll go and play,And I'll just select the game myself, and work it my own way.You were quite disinterested, for you said so your own self,And I'm sure you don't want power, and of course you can't seek pelf,At your little friend's expense, Bear. No, I thank you very much,You have made a free boy of me—and I mean to act as such."So he ups and makes selection, this ungratefullest of boys,Of his soldiers, and his swords and guns, and crowns, and other toys;And when Bruin put his paw down in expostulation vain,The Bulgar boy suggested he should—take it up again.You may easily imagine gentle Bruin's sore disgust,At this sad reciprocation of his fondness and his trust.Says he, "This little rascal is just rushing on his ruin,For his only place of safety is the guardian arms of Bruin."And sundry other animals, and birds, and things, agreed with him,And cried, "The boy is mad, Bear; we must preach to him, and plead with him.Ay, even if 'tis needful, though against our natures mild,We must—well, we mustn't spare the rod, and spoil the—Bulgar—child."There were several Eagles thought this way; the Lion didn't quite,But he had a sort of feeling that this fight was nothisfight;And the Bubblyjock at Stamboul was found acting with the Bear,From rather mingled motives, which that fowl did not declare.Well, the Bulgar boy persisting still in making his own game,The Bear assumes a sternness it is difficult to blame,From the Bruin point of view, at least, for strength must be put forthNow and then, e'en by a (so-called) Divine Figure from the North.And so Bruin rears his carcase, and his sanctimonious "mug,"Takes a menacing expression, "Come," he cries, "into my hug,And be happy, naughty Bulgar boy; whatcanyou have to fear?"And the rest of the Menagerie of Europe say, "Hear! hear!"But like another "little boy," of whom you may have heard,With a cabalistic action as discourteous as absurd,(The Bulgar boy maintains it means no more than prudent doubt)He "puts his thumb unto his nose, and spreads his fingers out."Now whether Bear will bear it, after all his love and care,Or whether that small Bulgar boy will cave in to the Bear,And how those Birds, the Eagles and the Bubblyjock, will turn,Are questions none can answer now; but he who lives will learn.
COSTUMES FOR THE RECESS.
Travel Notes, from the Diary of Toby, M.P.
Travel Notes, from the Diary of Toby, M.P.
Homburg, Monday.—George Trevelyanonce told me that his eminent Uncle, having gone all abroad to Dieppe, wrote to his sister, describing voyage from Dover by five groans. Our journey from Dover to Calais might be described by five smiles. Sea not absolutely calm; but dancing waves, curling in sunlight, nothing toVictoria—not our Gracious Sovereign, but Queen of L. C. & D.'s fleet. Made passage smoothly and swiftly in little over hour. Railway journey hither, by Brussels and Coblenz, pretty fair forle Continong, but not a patch on the L. C. D. Express from Victoria Station to Dover. They manage some things better abroad; certainly not express trains or express boats.
Arrived here to find it raining in torrents. Everybody said it hadn't rained for two months before. Glad to hear this, but didn't keep us dry. Rain only just commenced; all the shops and doorways thronged with people, in full summer costume; not an umbrella among twenty; forgotten what rain was like; now forcibly reminded of its peculiarities. With intermission of one full day, and occasional hours, been raining ever since. If it must rain, Homburg as good a place to be in as most public haunts; lies within narrow compass; soil rapidly absorbent; if it rains in torrents at ten o'clock, and sun afterwards comes out, roadways dry by noon. Then there is the Kurhaus always open; palatial building, not to be outdone in size and beauty by Casino at Monte Carlo; but sound of roulette tablets silent. The "game is made" for ever;on ne va plus. Sometimes, on wet afternoons, there is found in the lofty, and otherwise cool room, one or two elderly gentlemen, who play doleful game ofécarté, poor shivering ghosts of departed gamesters. Gambling played out, but there remain the magnificent halls. The Ball-room still used, the music on the Terrace still listened to, the banqueting-hall still crowded, and the gardens still glowing with roses, and shaded by lindens. Only disappointed gamesters who call the place Bad Homburgs; even with the rain, it is not so bad after all.
By the way, talking of nature of soil, a dog I met here drawing milk-cart, told me curious story. Homburg resorted to by invalids of both sexes and all conditions; take the waters inside and out; but my friend told me of another cure not less remarkable. Soil of Homburg composed of Fuller's-earth, warranted to absorb superfluous grease from cloth substances. Obese Englishman hearing this on arrival, asked why this quality should be confined to application to cloth? if Fuller's-earth took superfluous fat from piece of cloth, why not from body of stout Englishman? Decided to solve question; dug hole in back-garden; lay in it for twenty minutes with loose soil shovelled over him up to chin; repeated bath on alternate days for three weeks; end of first week hole too roomy; end of second week had to be further filled in; end of third week his clothes no use to him; had to lie in bed for three days whilst re-fitted. Went home quite a slim person.
Prince ofWalesstill here when I arrived. Been the lifes and souls of the party for nearly three weeks. "You here,Toby?" says he, when we met on first morning; "is House up, then?" "Not yet, Sir; butI've been all night. Doctor ordered me to be here at seven in morning; this an immaterial extension to us who have been sitting up at Westminster every night of week till three or four in morning. So had all-night sitting, and here I am punctually at seven o'clock."
Don't see how I'm going to keep it up though, through three weeks; must find some other way of getting up at half-past six. Can't imagine how H.R.H. does it; but here he is every morning at seven o'clock, taking his glasses of water with the rest of the "patients," and going the regulation walk in the intervals. For an invalid, looks uncommonly robust; does his final four miles well within the hour.
Saturday.—Rain again, but really so occupied with cure that haven't time to notice it, and certainly can't let it interfere with Doctor's orders. No more all-night sittings now. End of third went off to sleep at noon after bath. Didn't wake till six next morning, just in time to dress and down to Elizabeth Well with the rest. Found this much better arrangement. So now go to bed about nine in the afternoon; get up at 6.30 in dead of night. Arrived at Well, take glass of water, then march up and down for fifteen minutes by Homburg clock. Another glass and another fifteen minutes; a third glass, and hour's walk; after which allowed to totter home, and breakfast. Amount of things you are not to eat and drink amazing; some of them never tasted in my life; now strongly tempted. But hotels under sceptre of DoctorDeetz. He watches unseen overtable d'hôte, and prevents most nice things from coming to dinner.
After breakfast (bread, tea, or coffee, no butter, much less mild breakfast bacon), bath on alternate days, between eleven and noon. Something like a bath; on first investigation, seems bottomless; but plummet reaches conclusion at last. Here sit up to the chin fortwenty minutes, shivering at thought of what would happen supposing bath sprang a leak. Luncheon at one, strictly supervised; between three and five, more tumblers of water at another Well, with more vigorous walks round and round, as if you were looking for the Post Office, couldn't find it, and began to feel certain you would miss the next despatch. Dinner at six, with the shadow of the good DoctorDeetzpervading the place, and ordering off all the toothsome dishes. Afterwards a stroll in the Kurhaus, where the band is playing, and men, maids, and matrons, not all quite so young as they were, chatter and flirt.
Such is our life in Homburg, enlivened, about a fortnight ago, by great scandal, which wild horses shall not drag from me. But ask any lady fresh from Homburg. Will, at first, say, "No, she really can't; too painful," and so on. Butaprès, le délugeof confidence.
In ProfessorSkittles' chair—with the sun in my eyes. He has not begun to read my character yet; he is still measuring—with tape this time. I must say he takes great pains. Blazer contingent has moved up closer; they pretend to recognise me as "CousinBill." Take no notice of them—try to fix my thoughts far away—onEthel Dering. How pretty she looked that night! Wonder, if I had plucked up my courage and spoken, whether she might not have—— However, I didn't, and she couldn't. How full is life of these missed opportunities! ("You're leaving out his nose, Guv'nor!" from a Blazer, and giggles from idiotic girls in front.) I feel very forlorn and friendless up here. Professor has finished measuring, and is preparing to "delineate" me.
Cross my legs, and compose myself to listen seriously. ("Cheer up, Sir; he'll tell you when he's going to 'urt you!"yelps a beast in the background.)
"Here we 'ave a gentleman," says the Professor, passing his hand along the top of my head, "in some respects rather a contrast to our last subject." (I should hope so, indeed!) "This gentleman's 'ed is the second largest we have had under examination to-day." ("'Ear-'ear!"from the Blazers, and a meaningless suggestion that I should"make a good 'atter!") "His Mental Brain is scarcely so large as we might expect; in fact, if the development of the lower brain were in proportion, we should find the gentleman—well, Iwasgoing to say, an idiot. Fortunately the brain, though not tall, is wide. He has Firmness, Energy, and what we call Driving Power, very large. This is a very curious gentleman"—("Oughter be stuffed!"puts in a ruffian, and everybody laughs—even the Professor—confound him!—smiles indulgently.) "He likes to go everywhere, and see everything. He can sit down to a good dinner, and enjoy it." (Shouldn't have thought that a rare characteristic—but it delights the audience.) "His Self-Esteem is large." (There he is quite wrong—I haven't nearlyenough!) "Acquisitiveness also large; this gentleman believes in getting the full value for his money." (Don't believe I shall get it here, at all events!) "He is very cheerful and social." ("Don't helookit, too!"from a Blazer, and, of course, roars of laughter.) "In fact, if he were a littlelesssocial, it would be better." (This to me—who have come down here for absolute seclusion. This Professor is a fool!) "He will be fond of his children and of his wife." ("And can't she comb his 'air for him!"from the usual quarter.I am a bachelor, and this sort of thing is getting scandalous.) Professor says, "I must appeal to this gentleman's friends"—(this gentleman's "friends!")—"to keep a little more quiet while we are delineating. There is very small Eventuality—we should like to see a little more Eventuality—he must try to cultivate his Eventuality." (Indeed? Perhaps he will kindly tell me how I am to set about it!) "Approbativeness large; so we shall see him very anxious to gain the good opinion of others." (When I don't care a straw what people say of me! Phrenology is bosh—absolute bosh!) "Destructiveness small; this is not a gentleman who will do very much damage." (Sighs of mock relief from Blazers.) "Nor is he, we should find, particularly combative." ... ("You 'aven't seen 'im of a Saturday night,"interrupts some vulgar brute.) Psha!—I won't listen; regard the audience with calm reproach. What a face that is on the second bench! what a pair of brown eyes!—kind of eyesJulietmust have had.Ethel'sare light grey—what a serious, simple expression! She is not giggling, like all those fools—I could almost fancy she feels for me. How superior she seems to all the rest.Ethel Deringherself could not look more exquisitely out of place. In fact, I am not sure thatEthelwould keep her countenance so well as this girl, who is bending forward with parted lips, and that sweet, interested light in her eyes.... I am getting sentimental. WasRomeoever "delineated"? Professor is summing me up—I may as well listen.
July yet.July yet.
"This is a gentleman of excellent business ability, and I should say he would be perfectly capable of managing a tolerably large business concern." ("Then how was it he got the sack from the 'am-and-beef shop?"inquired one of the pests.) "He is pushing and energetic, and he would get on well—even in a 'olesale business." (He is growing absolutely fulsome!) "If in business for himself, we shall not find him in a hurry to shut up his shop exactly at the hour of closing, if he thinks he could make more by keeping open a little longer." (Considering that I am in Government employ, with a decided leaning to literary pursuits, which has not, as yet, met with much support—this is rather too much, but it would be snobbish, perhaps, to say anything.) "I may add," concludes the Professor, with the air of a man who is conceding somewhat, "that this gentleman would be qualified to succeed, would do very well, as an artistic decorator. Are there any questions you would like to ask?"
Row me O!Row me O!
Not after that—no, none; I haven't the heart to ask him if he thinks I could write even a creditable Nautical Drama! Besides, my faith in Phrenology is shaken. Let me get away—out of sight and hearing of these infernal Blazers.
Rise and leave with ironical dignity. Professor calls me back—thinks I forgot to pay my shilling. Annoying, because ithadescaped me. "You didn't tell us he had a bump for bilking!" jeers a fiend—"bilking," I believe, is 'Arryan for going away without paying. Ironical dignity a failure. "Will I pay half-a-crown extra, and have a written report of my character?" I willnot. Blazers seem sorry to part with me.
Afternoon.—Too much depressed to work at Drama. Sands again. Crowd—Conjuror. I shall see this time. "I want a soft gentleman's hat," he says, suddenly. "Do you mind?" He takes mine—the crowd roar. "Will I assist him in this trick?" I did not mean to catch his eye—but I don't like to be disobliging.
Parting is such sweet sorrow."Parting is such sweet sorrow."Shakspeare.
I am in the centre with the Conjuror. "May he do what he pleases with my hat?" "By all means," I say, graciously. Then he'llkeepit, he says. Childish joke that! "You're quite sure there's no hole in it?" he asks. I am not, I tell him, in the habit of wearing a hat with a hole in it. "Ain't you really? how do you get your head in?" he retorts, sharply. Very old—but Starmouth people easily amused.
Here's for thy panes."Here's for thy panes."Shakspeare.
"Do I ever toss for drinks?" No, I do not. Then he will show me how to do so, and win every time. He tosses up a penny on the little table, and covers it with my hat. "Which do I think it is?" I say heads—to please him. Again. "Now, Sir, heads or tails?" I happen to have seen it fall head uppermost—but no doubt he has manipulated it some way—if I say tails, he will look rather foolish. Tails, then. Will I lift my hat? I do—aguinea-pig!Renewed roars. I ought to be above feeling annoyed at this tomfoolery—but these conjuring fellows go too far.
Evening,—On Pier. Military Band. Bazaar: ladies and children touting for it. Wonder whether my "Firmness" is as large as ProfessorSkittlesdeclared.—Because I certainly neverintendedto buy a box of cracker-bonbons, or a basket of ripe tomatoes—and yet here I am, carrying them about! And when I took a ticket for a raffle, I hardly counted upon winning this particularly gaudy sofa-cushion. Clergyman wants to sell me a very small plumcake, only three shillings.... I find Icanbe firm after all.
The girl with the brown eyes is on the pier, too, with a stout respectable old female—probably her maid. I think they recognise me as the victim of Phrenology; they glance at me with interest. Ah me! I wish—I wish, but what is the use of wishing?
In the Bazaar again. Young lady proposes to tell me my fortune for a penny, with a revolving card. I am in a superstitious mood—I want encouraging. She spins the card; the dial indicates, as she informs me, with unnecessary glee, "You spend your time in trifles."—Is a Nautical Drama a "trifle," I should like to know? I can't be quite the thing, for this incident affects me almost to tears. I have had a depressing day. Bed in low spirits.
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