W.H. SM-TH (Head Gardener and Prize Exhibitor). "HAD TO NIP OFF A LOT OF BLOOMS TO GET HIM UP TO THIS SIZE!!"
"At the Bimonthly Exhibition of the Royal Horticultural Society ... Mr. W.H. SMITH showed specimens of the same luscious fruit"—strawberries—"for which he received the thanks of the Society."—Daily Telegraph, Wednesday, June 10.
PORTRAIT OF A LITERARY FRIEND, WHO, LIVING IN A MAIN THOROUGHFARE, WAS AN ARDENT SUPPORTER OF THE 'BUS STRIKE, SUBSCRIBED TO ITS FUNDS, ADD HOPED IT MIGHT LONG CONTINUE. HE SAYS HE HASN'T HAD SUCH A QUIET TIME WITH HIS BOOKS FOR YEARS. BUT ALAS! SINCE LAST SUNDAY HE HAS NOT SMILED AGAIN.
"The demand for 'Buses is immensely stimulated by their presence, and when they are no longer there, the people who thought them indispensable get on very well indeed without them.... Under the influence of penny fares, Londoners are rapidly forgetting how to walk."—The Times.
Ah! it's all very fine, my good Sir, whosomever you are as writes such,
But of decent poor folk and their needs it is plain as you do not know much.
Which I ain't quite so young as I was, nor as light, nor as smart on my feet,
And you may not know quite what it is to be out late o' night and dead beat,
Out Islington way, arter ten, with a bundle, a child, and a cage,
As canaries is skeery at night, and a seven mile walk, at my age,
All along of no 'Bus to be had, love or money, and cabs that there dear,
And a stitch in my side and short breath, ain't as nice as you fancy,—no fear!
Likeways look at my JOHN every morning, ah! rain, hail or shine, up to town,
With no trams running handy, and corns! As I sez to my friend Mrs. BROWN,
Bless the 'Buses, I sez, they're a boon to poor souls, as must travel at times,
And we can't all keep kerridges neither, wus luck! Penny Fares ain't no crimes,
If you arsk me, as did ought to know. Which my feelings I own it does rouge
To hear big-wigs a-sneering at 'Buses. There may be a bit of a scrouge,
And the smell of damp straw mixed with pep'mint ain't nice to a dalicot nose,
Likeways neat "Oh be Joyful's" a thing as with orange and snuff hardly goes.
But we ain't all rekerky nor rich, we can't all afford sixpence a mile,
And when we are old, late, and tired, or it's wet, we can't think about style.
The 'Bus is the poor body's kerridge, young feller—and as for your talk
About not never missing a lift, or forgetting—dear sakes!—how to walk,
And the nice quiet streets and all that; why it's clear you ain't been a poor clerk
With a precious small "screw," in wet weather. Ah! you wouldn't find it no lark
With thin boots and a 'ard 'acking cough, and three mile every day to and thro',
Or a puffy old woman like me, out at Witsuntide wisiting JOE,
(My young son in the greengrocer line); or a governess, peaky and pale,
As has just overslep herself slightly, and can't git by cab or by rail.
"Ugly lumbering wehicles?" Ah! and we're ugly and lumbering too,
A lot of us poor Penny 'Bus fares, as isn't high-born or true-blue.
But the 'Bus is our help. Wery like some do ride as had far better walk,
Whether tip-toppy swells or poor shop-girls. But all that is trumpery talk.
What I arsk is, why shouldn't the 'Buses be kept a bit reglar, like Cabs,
In the matter of fares and of distances? Oh, a old woman it crabs
To hear of Perprietors pinching pore fellers as drive or conduck,
While the "Pirates" play up merry mag with the poor helpless fare, as gets stuck
Betwixt Dividend-grinders and Strikers? It ought to be altered, I say.
Whilst they talk of what 'Bus-folk should earn, they forget the pore Publick—who pay!
My life is held to be a round of Pleasures;
All I can say is, they who thus would rate it,
For life's delights have most peculiar measures:
For though in plainest English they don't state it,
'Tis clear "no recreation" meets their views,
Or why that sneering cry, "Le Prince s'amuse?"
Or do they think a Prince, without repining,
Foundation-stones unceasingly is laying,
Rewarded with a glut of public dining,
The pangs of hunger ever to be staying,
Is recreation such as he would choose?
If so—I understand "Le Prince s'amuse!"
But how a world that notes his daily doings,
The everlasting round of weary function,—
The health-returnings, speeches, interviewings.
Can grudge him some relief, without compunction,
Seems quite to me "another pair of shoes!"
Dyspeptic is that cry, "Le Prince s'amuse!"
I must confess I was agreeably surprised at the treatment to which I was subjected by my capturers. Instead of being loaded with chains and confined in a cell beneath the castle's moat, I was given perfect liberty, and had quite a pleasant suite of rooms. I should scarcely have known that I was in durance had not one of the less refined of the brigands shown me a revolver, and playfully informed me that its contents were intended for me if I attempted to escape. The Chief was absolutely charming. He treated me in the most courteous manner, and ended his first interview with me by requesting "the honour of my company at dinner."
"You need not dress!" he observed, "although I like to put on a tail-coat myself. But I know that you have had some difficulty with my people about your luggage, and so I shall be only too delighted to excuse grande tenue."
The "difficulty" to which my host referred was the seizing of my portmanteau by the gang of thieves of which he was the acknowledged head. I suggested that I might possibly recover some of its contents.
"I am afraid not," returned the Chieftain. "You see my people are very methodical, and by this time I fear all the goods will have been sold. The motto of the Club is 'small profits and quick returns.' We find no difficulty in trading. As we carry on business on the most economical principles, we can quote prices even cheaper than the Stores."
And this I found to be the case. Although the brigands were very civil to me, I was unable to trace any of my property. However, as my host in the kindest manner had allowed me to dispense with ceremony, I ventured to appear at dinner-time in my ordinary tourist's dress.
"I am delighted to see you," said the Chief, speaking English for the first time, "as you are now my guest, I must confess that we are fellow countrymen."
"Indeed!" I replied, considerably astonished. "If you are really of British nationality, how is it that I find you a professional thief?"
"You are mistaken," returned the Chief. "I merely belong to a society for the redistribution of capital. You know we are all balloted for, and I was myself afraid that I might get pilled."
"Indeed!" I exclaimed, in a tone of surprise. "Surely your accomplishments—for I noticed, on my arrival, that you were a first-rate hand at lawn tennis, and played the flute—would have secured your admission?"
"Well," he returned with a smile, "I fancy they helped me with the Committee. But unhappily my antecedents were bad—I had made a fortune on the London Stock Exchange, and my books were scarcely as satisfactory as our bandit auditors could have desired them to be. However they took a kindly view of the case, and allowed me to pass through. But pardon me, I see your ransom has arrived. I am afraid I must say good bye. A pleasant journey."
And shaking me warmly by the hand, he helped me into the conveyance that was to take me back to home and freedom. I have never seen him since.
PARIS, June 15.—It is stated here, on no authority whatever, that when the CZAR was recently visiting the French Exhibition at Moscow, his Imperial Majesty was heard to remark, "This makes me desire to see the Boulevards again." A visit of the ruler of Russia to Paris during the Summer is therefore considered to be certain. An offensive and defensive Alliance between the two countries is said to be on the point of signature.
A few evenings ago, in a low café in Belleville, M. NOKASHIKOFF, who left St. Petersburg lately to escape his creditors, and who conceived the happy idea of raising a little money by walking to Paris in a sack composed of the French and Russian national flags stitched together, was entertained to supper by his Gallic admirers. The proceedings, especially towards midnight, were very enthusiastic. Throughout the festivities, constant cries of "Vive l'Alliance Franco-Russe!" were raised. This incident is said to have placed the immediate signature of the Treaty between the CZAR and President CARNOT beyond a doubt.
Last evening a foreigner, who by appearance would have been taken for a Muscovite, was walking along the asphalte, when he was surrounded by a crowd of persons crying "Vive la Russie!" The foreigner seemed both surprised and annoyed by these attentions, and at length began to use his fists and his boots liberally on the ringleaders of the mob. This treatment, however, seemed only to increase their Russophil ardour, and the stranger was soon hoisted on to the shoulders of some of his foremost admirers, struggling violently. On the arrival of a gendarme, he explained that he was an English book-maker, and that "this bloomin' mob of boot-lickers had taken him for a bloomin' Russian!" The crowd shortly afterwards dispersed. The completion of the formal alliance between France and Russia is considered less certain than it was a few days ago.
The Frenchman, M. TÊTE-BOIS, who recently attempted to walk on his head from Paris to Moscow, in order to show the sympathy felt in France for the Muscovite Empire, did not succeed in carrying out his design. He was stopped shortly after crossing the Russian frontier, imprisoned, and heavily ironed. After suffering in this way for a week, he was told that he must leave Russian territory within twenty-four hours, or else continue his journey to Siberia. On being appealed to, the CZAR graciously extended the time given for quitting Russia to forty-eight hours. This Imperial clemency has caused the widest feeling of gratitude and satisfaction in France, and the signature of the definitive Alliance between the two countries is confidently expected at an exceedingly early date.
"THE LORD ARCHBISHOP OF NOVA SCOTIA, PRELATE OF THE ORDER OF THE SUN," CAUGHT CHEATING AT CARDS (HYPOTHETICALLY) BY THE LORD CHIEF JUSTICE, AND TAKEN, INSTANTANEOUSLY, BY OUR ARTIST.
House of Commons, Monday Night, June 8.—I knew DYKE first when (good many years ago now) as DIZZY's whip he hunted in couple with ROWLAND WINN; then always called HART DYKE. Like many other young men he has in interval lost his HART, and now known as Sir WILLIAM DYKE. Curious thing, as SARK reminds me, how absorbent is the name of WILLIAM. Quite probable that before Black-Eyed Susan's friend came prominently on the stage he had some other Christian name, sunk when he was promoted to shadow of yard-arm. Certainly there is an equally eminent man sitting opposite DYKE in House to-night, who like him is "Sir WILLIAM" to the present generation, and was VERNON HARCOURT to an elder one.
DYKE, under whatever name, done excellently well to-night. Holding comparatively minor appointment in Ministry, suddenly finds himself in charge of principal measure of Session. Handicapped, moreover, with recollections of time when he has uncompromisingly declared himself against the very principle he now embodies in Bill, and invites House to add to Statute Book.
That was first hedge for DYKE to take, and he went over in plucky style that threw the scorner off his trail. Didn't live in close communication with DIZZY through six long years for nothing. Not likely to forget what happened in very earliest days of Parliament of 1874, when DIZZY for first time found himself not only in office but in power. During election campaign DIZZY, speaking in the safety of Buckinghamshire, had made some wild statement about easing the chains of Ireland. Simply designed to gain Irish vote; forgotten as soon as spoken. But ROBERT MONTAGU—where, by the way, is ROBERT MONTAGU?—treasured these things up in his heart, and when DIZZY appeared in the House, Leader of triumphant majority, asked him what he was going to do about it?
"It is sometime since the observations referred to were made," said DIZZY, "and—er—a good deal has happened in the interval."
DYKE, recalling and admitting his former statements on Free Education, did not attempt to minimise their import. "But." he said, button-holing House as it were, and treating it quite confidentially, "the fact is we all change our minds." House laughed at this as it had laughed at DIZZY seventeen years ago, and DYKE, absolved and encouraged, went forward with his speech.
Not a brilliant oration in any way; neither exordium nor peroration, and the middle occasionally a little mixed. But a good sensible straightforward speech, and if DYKE had done no more than show that an important Ministerial measure could be explained within limit of an hour, he would not have lived in vain.
Business done.—Education Bill introduced.
Tuesday.—Nothing at first sight in personal appearance of HERBERT THOMAS KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN that suggests a swan. Fancy I have heard something of these birds being addicted to the habit of breaking forth into song when convinced of approaching dissolution. That, I suppose, is how the swan was suggested to the mind when just now, KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN rose from behind Ministers, and began to chant his threnody. Resolution on which Education Bill grafted brought up for report stage; agreed to, and HART DYKE about to bring in his Bill. Then from the back seat rose a sturdy yeoman figure, and a powerful voice was uplifted in denunciation of the Bill and of a Ministry that had betrayed the trust of the Conservative Party. It was, so the swan sang, a step on the road to Socialism. He feared it had come to pass that dangerous measures are more likely to emanate from the Treasury Bench than from the Front Bench opposite.
Liberals roared with delighted laughter and cheers; the Conservatives sat glum and ill-at-ease. OLD MORALITY's white teeth gleamed with a spasmodic smile. As for JOKIM he folded his arms, and bit his lips and frowned.
"What antiquated nonsense this is!" he muttered, "of course Free Education is not a Conservative principle. They all protested against it at the General Election. A year earlier I, who happened at the time to be numbered in the Liberal ranks, put my back against the wall, and, picturing the evils that would befall my country if its institutions were thus demoralised, I said I would die before I would lend a hand to free the schools. But you see, TOBY, I haven't died, and that changes the whole situation. Not only enables me to retain my place in Government bringing in Free Education, but permits me, as CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, actually to find the means for carrying out the system. Can't understand a fellow like this KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN sticking to his principles when it becomes expedient to swallow them. He's a disgrace to a family that counts BRABOURNE as its head."
"HUGESSEN's a good fellow," said ISAACSON; "wears well, but is politically a fossil. Now I'm a progressive Conservative, which I think you'll find, TOBY, my boy, to be about the time of day."
Business done.—Assisted Education Bill; firmly led up to table by HART DYKE.
Wednesday.—Lively fight round Deceased Wife's Sister Bill. Ascot in vain held forth its attractions; supporters of the Bill hoped opponents would go; opponents came down rather expecting HENEAGE's virtue would have given way, and Ascot would have claimed him as its own. But everybody there—MAKINS's men with long list of Amendments warranted to keep things going till half-past five, when progress must be reported, and chance of Bill for present Session lost. MAKINS himself in high oratorical feather. OSBORNE-AP-MORGAN, having made a proposition and subsequently withdrawn it, MAKINS, putting on severest judicial aspect, observed, "It is all very well for the Right Hon. and learned Gentleman to make a legal JONAH of himself and swallow his opinions."
"Bless us all!" cried ROWNTREE, looking on with blank amazement, "MAKINS evidently thinks that JONAH swallowed the whale." Bill seemed to shatter friendships and dissever old alliances. SQUIRE of MALWOOD naturally at home in the fray, but rather startling to find HOME SECRETARY running amuck at CHAMBERLAIN. MATTHEWS in his most hoity-toity mood; quivered with indignation; thumped the table; shook a forensic forefinger at the undesignedly offending JOSEPH, and, generally, went on the rampage. As for HENEAGE, he filled up any little pause in uproar by diving in and moving the Closure. Once, whilst GEDGE was opposing an Amendment hostile to Bill, HENEAGE dashed in with his Closure motion. GEDGE's face a study; mingled surprise, indignation, and ineffable regret mantled his mobile front.
"To think," he said afterwards, "that just when I was coming to HENEAGE's help with an argument founded on profound study and pointed with legal lore, he should suddenly jump up, lower his head, and, as it were, butt me in the stomach with the Closure. It is more than I can at the moment comprehend."
GEDGE so flurried that when Members returned, after Division on Closure, he being, in accordance with the rule, seated and wearing his hat, wanted to argue out the question with COURTNEY.
"I submit, Sir," he said, "that the Hon. Member, in moving the Closure, controverted Rule 186."
The Chairman: "I think the Hon. Member can scarcely have read the Rule."
Mr. GEDGE: "I have read the Rule, Sir. This is what it says—"
Chairman: "Order! Order!" and GEDGE subsided.
Then TOMLINSON fortuitously turning up on Treasury Bench, joined in conversation. But COURTNEY turned upon him with such a thunderous cry of "Order! Order!" that TOMLINSON visibly shrivelled up, and his sentence, like the unfinished window in ALLADIN's Tower, unfinished must remain.
Wrangling went on till a quarter past five, when TALBOT interposed, and with most funereal manner moved to report progress. HENEAGE almost mechanically lowered his head and had started to butt at TALBOT as he had upset GEDGE when he was providentially stopped and convinced that further struggle with obstruction was hopeless. So, Clause I. agreed to, Bill talked out. MAKINS, growing increasingly delightful, protested that a Bill that had been fifty years before the country, was not to be rushed through the House on a Wednesday afternoon. Argal, the more familiar the House is with the details of a measure, the more necessary is it to debate it.
Business done.—Marriage with a Deceased Wife's Sister. Banns again objected to.
Saturday, 1:25 A M.—Land Bill just through report stage. Nothing left now but Third Reading. "Well, KNOX," said WINDBAG SEXTON, "that will be our last opportunity, and we must make the most of it. In meantime I think we've done pretty well. I'm especially pleased with you. You're a boy of great promise. If anything happened to me—a stray tack in the bench, or a pin maliciously directed, and the wind-bag were to collapse—you'd do capitally, till I got it repaired."
WINDBAG JUNIOR blushed. As OLD MORALITY remarks, Ingenuous youth delights in the Approbation of Seasoned Seniority.
Business done.—Land at last—I mean Land Purchase Bill through at last.
SCENE—Tent in rear of a Battle-field. Political Officer in attendance upon Army, waiting for Military assistance.
Political Officer (impatiently). Now then, Orderly, have you not been able to secure a General for me?
Orderly (saluting). Beg pardon, Sir, but it's so difficult, since they have passed that new Royal Warrant, to know which is which.
Pol. Off. (more impatiently). Nonsense!—any General Officer will do. Ord. Very good, Sir.
[Exit. Political Officer stamps his foot irritably, when enter First General Officer, hurriedly.
First Gen. Off. Well, Sir, how can I assist you?
Pol. Off. (cordially). Glad to see you, General. Fact is, supposing we arrange a treaty, do you think it would be wise to surrender the fortress on the right side of the river, if we retain the redoubt near the wood as a basis of operations? You see—
First Gen. Off. (interrupting). Very sorry, but don't know anything about it.
Pol. Off. (annoyed). But aren't you a General?
First Gen. Off. Certainly. General-Surgeon. Ta, ta! [Exit.
Pol. Off. Well of all the—(Enter Second Gen. Off.) Well, Sir, what is it? Who are you?
Second Gen. Off. I am a General Officer, and I was told you required my poor services.
Pol. Off. So I do. The fact is, General, supposing we arrange a treaty, do you think it wise for us to surrender the fortress—
Second Gen. Off. (interrupting). Alas! my dear friend, I fear I can be of no help to you—it is entirely out of my line.
Pol. Off. (annoyed). But aren't you a General?
Second Gen. Off. Certainly. A General-Chaplain. Farewell, dear friend. [Exit.
Pol. Off. Well of all the—(Enter Third General Officer.) Well, Sir, who and what are you?
Third Gen. Off. (briskly). A General. Now then, look sharp! No time to lose. Hear you require me. How can I help you?
Pol. Off. (aside). Ah, this is the sort of man I want! (Aloud.) Well then, General, we are arranging a treaty, and I want your advice about retaining a fortress on the right of the river—
Third Gen. Off. (interrupting). Sorry. Can't help! Not my province. Good bye! [Exit.
Pol. Off. (shouting after him). But aren't you a General?
Third Gen. Off. (voice heard in the distance.) Yes. General-Postman!
[Scene closes in upon political official language unfit for publication.
MUSICAL NOTES.—Saturday Afternoon.—Albert Hall jubilant. M. PLANCON or PLANÇON—the production of the "c" depending on the state of his voice—was encored and "obliged again." So did Madame ALBANI, who was in superb voice. But her accompanist, M. CARRODUS, who had given us one violin obbligato, did not obbligato again, and so Madame sang, admirably of course, the ever-welcome "Home, Sweet Home." GIULIA RAVOGLI gave her great Orphéo song, and DRURIOLANUS, practising courtly attitudes, as one preparing to receive a German Emperor, smole beamingly on the gratified audience. At The Garden, Mireille, revived on Wednesday last, hasn't much life in her, but Miss EAMES charming.
NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.