Quite Un-sectarian Girl. "OH, MY! WHAT A JOLLY ROW !" Equally Un-sectarian Boy. "AIN'T IT! I 'OPE THEY'LL KEEP IT UP, AND WE SHAN'T 'AVE TO LEARN NOTHINK!" Sporting Farmer (to young Pupil from provincial town, who has just made his first effort to ride over a Fence). "Now THEN, JUMP ON AGAIN! BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME YOU 'LL LIKE IT AFTER A BIT!" Pupil (still seeing stars). "SHALL I, SIR? SEEMS TO ME AS MUCH LIKE A RAILWAY COLLISION AS ANYTHING!" ["The so-called 'compromise' of 1871 was based on the assumption that, when all the differences of our English Christendom were struck out, there would be found the beating heart of a common Christianity' sending a quickening life through all its members. ... Believing it not impossible for 'all who profess and call themselves Christians' to reconcile themselves to these two forms, elementary and supplementary, I earnestly commend them for peaceful co-existence to the conflicting parties of School Board electors and members."-Dr. James Martineau's Letter to the "Times" of November 14.] O WISE and gentle teacher, whose appeal Is to the common heart, whilst general anger Distracts and darkens all our commonweal, And schools and churches ring with noisy clangour; Would they but heed thy loving call, though late, How would the prospect brighten! fanatic Zeal How send " a quickening life" through this dull craze Of deadly, deadening rancour rudely raving? What is their task, these teachers of the untaught, These would-be lighteners of our mental blindness? What is the lesson the child-crowds have caught From these tumultuous foes of humankindness? They told us, in quaint diction, the Three R's Should renovate the land, refine the people; [bars. Break down at last low-birth's invidious Alas! What rings from school-tower and church-steeple? Not the harmonious heaven-aspiring sound Of blessing-bearing bells, but furious clashing Of cracked creed-tocsins, spreading wrath around, Love's efforts thwarting, wisdom's high hopes dashing. [schism Where be the "Three R's" now? Sectarian Has cloven up the compromise, and ended In Ugly Rush! See rampant Rileyism Shaking its standard at the door, attended Close by the Nonconformist banner-bearer,"Religion without Dogma!" blazoned boldly, Denouncing the first "R" as child-ensnarer Next, vigorous be-rater of the Rates, Unsympathetic Gallio of the Shop Stop, mad zealots, stop! Lest all the toil of Board and School InSpector, Teacher and taught, end in one fourth RROW! A vulgar term, my masters, unscholastic; But-the great lesson ye are teaching now, To the young mind, and to the conscience plastic, Of gutter-waifs and children of the slum. They have "long ears," these "little pitchers," verily. come Think you without joint bidding they will Oh are sure, self-elected shepherds, with your crooks, Fighting, while round your folds the wolves are creeping![books, Pedagogues wrangling o'er your lessonWhilst your wrath rages human love sits weeping! If of "a common Christianity" were but practical and patient teachers, In Education's task ye might agree. Now sense is asking "Who shall teach our teachers ?" LYRE AND LANCET. (A Story in Scenes.) PART XXI.-THE FEELINGS OF A MOTHER. SCENE XXXI.-The Morning Room. TIME-Sunday morning; just after breakfast. Captain Thicknesse (outside, to TREDWELL). Dogcart round, eh ? everything in? All right-shan't be a minute. (Entering.) Hallo, PILLINER, you all alone here? (He looks round disconcertedly.) Don't happen to have seen Lady MAISIE about? Pilliner. Let me see- -she was here a little while ago, I fancy.... Why? Do you want her? Capt. Thick. No-only to say good-bye and that. I'm just off. Pill. Off? To-day! You don't mean to tell me your chief is such an inconsiderate old ruffian as to expect you to travel back to your TOMMIES on the Sabbath! You could wait till to-morrow if you wanted to. Come now! Capt. Thick. Perhaps only, you see, I don't want to. Pill. Well, tastes differ. A cross-country journey in a slow train, with unlimited opportunities of studying the Company's bye-laws and traffic arrangements at several admirably ventilated junctions, is not my own idea of the best way to spend a cheery Sunday, that's all. Capt. Thick. (gloomily). Daresay it will be about as cheery as stoppin' on here, if it comes to that. Pill. I admit we were most of us a wee bit chippy at breakfast. The Bard conversed-but he seemed to diffuse a gloom somehow. Shut you up once or twice in a manner that might almost be described as d-d offensive. Capt. Thick. Don't know what you all saw in what he said that was so amusin'. Confounded rude I thought it! Pill. Don't think anyone was amused-unless it was Lady MAISIE. By the way, he might perhaps have selected a happier topic to hold forth to Sir RUPERT on than the scandalous indifference of large landowners to the condition of the rural labourer. Poor dear old boy, he stood it wonderfully, considering. Pity the Countess breakfasted upstairs; she'd have enjoyed herself. However, he had a very good audience in little Lady MAISIE. Capt. Thick. I do hate a chap that jaws at breakfast. Where did you say she was? Lady Maisie's voice (outside, in Conservatory). Yes, you really ought to see the Orangery and the Elizabethan Garden, Mr. BLAIR. If you will be on the terrace in about five minutes, I could take you round myself. I must go and see if I can get the keys first. Pill. If you want to say good-bye, old fellow, now's your chance! She's Capt. Thick. It it don't matter. engaged. And, look here, you needn't mention that I was askin' for her. Mrs. Chatteris (with arch significance). I don't fancy I shall have the pleasure of your daughter's society this morning. I just met her going to get the garden keys; I think she has promised to show the grounds to- Well, I needn't mention whom. Oh dear me, I hope I'm not being indiscreet again! Lady Cant. I make a point of never interfering with my daughter's proceedings, and you can easily understand how natural it is that such old friends as they have always beenMrs. Chatt. Really? I thought they seemed to take a great pleasure in one another's society. It's quite romantic. But I must rush up and get my bonnet on if I'm to go to church. (To herself, as she goes out.) So she was "Lady Grisoline," after all! If I was her mother- But dear Lady CANTIRE is so advanced about things. Lady Cant. (to herself). Darling MAISIE! He'll be Lord DUNDERHEAD before very long. How sensible and sweet of her! And I was quite uneasy about them last night at dinner; they scarcely seemed to be talking to each other at all. But there's a great deal more in dear MAISIE than one would imagine. Pill. Of course, old fellow, if you'd rather not. (He glances at him.) But I say, my dear old chap, if that's how it is with you, I don't quite see the sense of chucking it up already, don't you know. No earthly affair of "I'll be off, or they'll nail me for church!" mine, I know; still, if I could manage to stay on, I would, if I were you. Capt. Thick. Hang it all, PILLINER, do you suppose I don't know when the game's up! If it was any good stayin' on And besides, I've said good-bye to Lady C., and all that. No, it's too late now. Tredwell (at the door). Excuse me, Sir, but if you 're going by the 10.40, you haven't any too much time. Pill. (to himself, after Captain THICKNESSE has hurried out). Poor old chap, he does seem hard hit! Pity he's not Lady MAISIE'S sort. Though what she can see in that long-haired beggar! Wonder when VIVIAN SPELWANE intends to come down; never knew her miss breakfast before... What's that rustling? Women! I'll be off, or they'll nail me for church before I know it. [He disappears hastily in the direction of the Smoking Room as Lady CANTIRE and Mrs. CHATTERIS enter. Lady Cantire. Nonsense, my dear, no walk at all; the church is only just across the park. My brother RUPERT always goes, and it pleases him to see the Wyvern pew as full as possible. I seldom feel equal to going myself, because I find the necessity of allowing pulpit inaccuracy to pass without a protest gets too much on my nerves; but my daughter will accompany you. You'll have just time to run up and get your things on. Sir Rupert (outside). We're rather proud of our church, Mr. UNDERSHELL-fine old monuments and brasses, if you care about that sort of thing. Some of us will be walking over to service presently, if you would like to Undershell (outside-to himself). And lose my tête-à-tête with Lady MAISIE! Not exactly! (Aloud.) I am afraid, Sir RUPERT, that I cannot conscientiously Sir Rup. (hastily). Oh, very well, very well: do exactly as you like about it, of course. I only thought- (To himself.) Now that other young chap would have gone! Lady Cant. RUPERT, who is that you are talking to out there? I don't recognise his voice, somehow. Sir Rup. (entering with UNDERSHELL). Ha, ROHESIA, you've come down, then? slept well, I hope. I was talking to a gentleman whose acquaintance I know you will be very happy to make at last. This is the genuine celebrity this time. (To UNDERSHELL.) Let me make you known to my sister, Lady CANTIRE, Mr. UNDERSHELL. (As Lady CANTIRE glares interrogatively.) Mr. CLARION BLAIR, ROHESIA, author of hum-ha-Andromache. Lady Cant. I thought we were given to understand last night that Mr. SPURRELL-Mr. BLAIR-you must pardon me, but it's really so very confusing-that the writer of the-ahvolume in question had already left Wyvern. Sir Rup. Well, my dear, you see he is still here-er-fortunately for us. If you'll excuse me, I'll leave Mr. BLAIR to entertain you; got to speak to TRED WELL about something. [He hurries out. Und. (to himself). This must be Lady MAISIE'S mamma. Better be civil to her, I suppose, but I can't stay here and entertain her long! (Aloud.) Lady CANTIRE, I-erhave an appointment for which I am already a little late; but before I go, I should like to tell you how much pleasure it has given me to know that my poor verse has won your approval; appreciation from Lady Cant. I'm afraid you must have been misinformed, Mr.-a -BLAIR. There are so many serious publications claiming attention in these days of literary over-production that I have long made it a rule to read no literature of a lighter order that has not been before the world for at least ten years. I may be mistaken, but I infer from your appearance that your own work must be of a considerably more recent date. Und. (to himself). If she imagines she's going to snub Me! (Aloud.) Then I was evidently mistaken in gathering from some expressions in your daughter's letter that Lady Cant. Entirely. You are probably thinking of some totally different person, as my daughter has never mentioned having written to you, and is not in the habit of conducting any correspondence without my full knowledge and approval. I think you said you had some appointment; if so, pray don't consider yourself under any necessity to remain. Und. You are very good; I will not. (To himself, as he retires.) Awful old lady, that! I quite thought she would know all about that letter, or I should never have However, I said nothing to compromise anyone, luckily! Lady Culverin (entering). Good morning, ROHESIA. So glad you felt equal to coming down. I was almost afraid-after last night, you know. Lady Cant. (offering a cold cheekbone for salutation). I am in my usual health, thank you, ALBINIA. As to last night, if you must ask a literary Socialist down here, you might at least see that he is received with common courtesy. You may, for anything you can tell, have advanced the Social Revolution ten years in a single evening! Lady Culv. My dear ROHESIA! If you remember, it was you yourself who-! Lady Cant. (closing her eyes). I am in no condition to argue about it, ALBINIA. The slightest exercise of your own common sense would have shown you- But there, no great harm has been done, fortunately, so let us say no more about it. I have something more agreeable to talk about. I've every reason to hope that MAISIE and dear GERALD THICKNESSE Lady Culv. (astonished). MAISIE ? But I thought GERALD THICKNESSE spoke as if -! Lady Cant. Very possibly, my dear. I have always refrained from giving him any encouragement, and I wouldn't put any pressure upon dear MAISIE for the world-still, I have my feelings as a mother, and I can't deny that, with such prospects as he has now, it is gratifying for me to think that they may be coming to an understanding together at this very moment; she is showing him the grounds; which I always think are the great charm of Wyvern, so secluded! Lady Culv. (puzzled). Together! At this very moment! Butbut surely GERALD has gone? Lady Cant. Gone! What nonsense, ALBINIA! Where in the world should he have gone to? Lady Culv. He was leaving by the 10.40, I know. For Aldershot. I ordered the cart for him, and he said good-bye after breakfast. He seemed so dreadfully down, poor fellow, that I quite fancied from what he said that MAISIE must have Lady Cant. Impossible, my dear, quite impossible! I tell you he is here. Why, only a few minutes ago, Mrs. CHATTERIS was telling me- Ah, here she is to speak for herself. (To Mrs. CHATTERIS, who appears, arrayed for public service.) Mrs. CHATTERIS, did I, or did I not, understand you to say just now that my daughter MAISIE? Mrs. Chatt. (alarmed). But, dear Lady CANTIRE, I had no idea you would disapprove. Indeed you seemed- And really, though she certainly takes an interest in him, I'm sure-almost surethere can be nothing serious-at present. Lady Cant. Thank you, my dear, I merely wished for an answer to my question. And you see, ALBINIA, that GERALD THICKNESSE can hardly have gone yet, since he is walking about the grounds with MAISIE. Mrs. Chatt. Captain THICKNESSE? But he has gone, Lady CANTIRE! I saw him start. I didn't mean him. Lady Cant. Indeed? then I shall be obliged if you will say who it is you did mean. Mrs. Chatt. Why, only her old friend and admirer-that little poet man, Mr. BLAIR. Lady Cant. (to hersel,). And I actually sent him to her! (Rising in majestic wrath.) ALBINIA, whatever comes of this, remember I shall hold you entirely responsible! [She sweeps out of the room; the other two ladies look after her, and then at one another, in silent consternation. "ALL IS NOT GOLD," &c. Gentleman (in waiting for his Wife, at "Great Annual Sale," to Head of Department). "YOU MUST DO AN ENORMOUS BUSINESS ON DAYS LIKE THIS." Head of Department. "NOT SO MUCH AS YOU MIGHT FANCY. THE GREAT MAJORITY OF THE PEOPLE HERE TO-DAY ARE SHOPPING NOT BUYING!" "Tyke three 'aputh of whilks, 'Erne By sort fer choice, and chuck 'em wiv a saveloy and a kipper into a sorcepan, if you can nick one from a juggins. Bile 'em till they're green, and add 'arf a glorss of unsweetened, tho it's a pity to wyste it. If toimes i 'ard, the kids and the missus can 'ave the rinsings, or go wivout. Laike my tip, and don't you be a bloomin' mug. You can blyme well stick to the juggins' sorcepan. You may, I dessay, raise arf a straight-forward egotism, worthy of a City alderman, in all the glory of a civic banquet. To none but an artist in guttlery would that touch of genius about the kids and the missus occur. THE WHIMS OF AMPHITRYON. ISN'T our good friend of the P. M. G. a little extravagant with his culinary raptures? However, we will not be outdone. If he rhap-dollar on it." There speaks the true gourmet, with single-hearted sodises the "Magnificent Mushroom," we have discovered a still more exalting theme, which, taking "whelk" as pronounced, we will call THE WITCHERY OF THE WHELK. Again, disdain not the sweetly subtle recipes and romantic fancies that you may gather during your sojourn at Colney Hatch. For there, far from the dull Philistinism of house-dinners and fried-fish shops, with all wild Mænad orgies may your divinity be adored. Learn but one magic formula, and you shall see the wizard-working of your incantation, as, like an enchantress herself bewitched, she assumes you an ensorceled, faery shape. Here, mark you, is this potent spell, culled from the inspired lips of a frenzied chef. Would you learn the divinest glory of a goddess among molluscs? Would you note the gastronomic charms of a succulent sea-nymph? Ostracise, then, from your table the blue-point impostor that foists his bearded banality on the faithful elect. Let the cult of that lusty Titan, the Limpet, sink awhile into the limbo of outworn idolatries. Forbear, if you are wise, to hymn the stern masculinity of the Mussel, gregarious demi-god but taciturn, hermetically sealed within the wilful valves of a sulky self-effacement. And let that other fakir of To Make Whelk Fritters.-Take one ripe whelk, draw and truss the sea-marge, the fantastic and Pharisaic Scallop, ply his Eleusinian it until you are black in the face, tie up the forequarter with chickrites, unrevered by the devout and metaphor-mixing epicure. weed, sit down, and smoke a pipe; parboil anything you like for a Rather let it be ours to celebrate, though baldest prose were all-in- few hours, or don't, if you don't care to; rub the purée through a sufficient, the allurements of a pandemic Aphrodite, the seductive tammy (I don't know what this is); flavour with elbow-grease, rgWhitechapel Whelk, and the coy grace of her sister, the wanton Winkle of Rosherville. Let us take the first-assume that the siren is yours, then consider how fitliest she shall be dressed. And here it shall be seen whether you have true chivalry and romance in your soul, or whether you grovel in mere sensual gourmandise. What says Master BILL NUPKINS, master-cook to the Blue Pig chop-house in Skittle-alley? Is there not an idyllic flavour of Cocaigne, a very fervour of simplicity about his spelling which goes straight to the gizzard of the whelk-worshipper? Listen to his wise counsel on whelks à la Shoreditch : faisandé, mud-salad, and bêtes noire; dredge the gallimaufrey, ad hold your nose; write some letters; the rol-au-rent will then explode; wrap the pieces in an old sock, and bury for six weeks; take the 2.13 train to town, and have your hair cut, or pay some calls; then start again with another whelk, and proceed as before; but it is better to buy the fritters ready-made." Is not this a lesson in devotion and perseverance? Rejoice greatly, and work out your sybaritic salvation. And now that you have food for pious reflection, after a space you shall, to your exceeding great advantage, be further instructed in the liturgy of the Winkle. Edith. "HERE COME THOSE DREADFUL BORES, THE BRONDESBURY-BROWNS ! How TACTLESS OF THEM, TO COME AND SEE US ON THE ONLY DAY IN THE WEEK WE'RE AT HOME!" "NOBODY LOOKING!" ["We will not evacuate Madagascar... we will pursue the advantages we have gained.... Madagascar will become a flourishing French Colony. (Cheers.)... Our freedom of action is complete. There can be no foreign interference."-M. Hanotaux on the French Expedition to Madagascar.] Lupus, on the prowl, loquitur: Oн, those Malagasy muttons! They are homicidal beasts, Yet, taken young, they furnish quite the toothsomest of feasts, My "attitude towards them" is-oh! well, the usual one Of the Wolf toward the Lamb the wide world over; The" attitude" of the imprisoned Bear toward the Bun, A "policy of division and of discord" must inspire These rivalries-of peace will not set the world in flames, So I think while no one's looking, I may drop down on these sheep Ah! there's a black-faced baa-lamb! On her track I'll slowly creep, A peaceful time like this is my time to make a pounce; Ah! there's nothing like a blend of magnanimity and bounce. Yes, I'm free, though not "afloat." There's a feeling in my throat She comes this way, amusingly unmindful of her fate. That my foes might call omnivorous voracity, But it is a noble hunger; on nobility I doat; So full of ill-will, too, in all circumstances! Yes, And black baa-lambs are so given to-pugnacity. They turn nasty at the thought of being eaten up! But omelettes still need eggs, as they ever will, I guess, You can't tie lambs to treaties, that's the worst of the false things, They bolt from my Protectorate as though the brutes had wings, Yet these Malagasy muttons would the entente simply ruin. At the lovely "words of concord and of peace" they simply-bleat, Aha! my Hova lambkin, I shall have you, I shall eat you up! There's no one will object, until too late, There's no one near will trouble take to save you! QUEER QUERIES. [Prowls on. THE L. C. C. AGAIN.-Is it possible that the Government is about to back up the London County Council in another attack on one of our time-hallowed institutions? I see that Mr. ASQUITH told a deputation that "one of the first acts of a Local Authority, if it had the power, would be to abolish the Ring." What on earth has a Local Authority to do with the mode in which marriages are celebrated? Englishmen should rise in their thousands to defend the weddingring, symbolising as it does the sanctity of the nuptial tie, and should hurl from power a Government which is about to hand us over, fingers and souls, to a tyrannical set of County Council busybodies. Mr. ASQUITH went on to talk rather disconnectedly, it seems to me, about gambling; perhaps he holds the cheap modern view that "Marriage is a Lottery." But I want to know why a Home Secretary meddles with subjects of this sort ? And how long is this conspiracy between a Radical Ministry and the L. C. C. to be allowed to continue? NOT TO BE CAUGHT NAPPING. |