*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74822 ***






OUR TRIP TO BLUNDERLAND

[Illustration]




                                 OUR TRIP
                                    TO
                               BLUNDERLAND

                                    OR

                      [Illustration: GRAND EXCURSION
                                    TO
                               BLUNDERTOWN
                                   AND
                                  BACK]

                                    BY
                               JEAN JAMBON

                      _WITH SIXTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY_
                              CHARLES DOYLE

                              THIRD THOUSAND

                        WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
                           EDINBURGH AND LONDON
                               MDCCCLXXVII

                          _All Rights reserved_

_THE NURSERY HAS ITS SHARE OF MY DAY, IN SUCH FASHION THAT LITTLE PEOPLE
MAY NOT THINK BIG PEOPLE CREATED TO STOP FUN AND TO BE A THROTTLE-VALVE
ON ANIMAL SPIRITS. BUT THERE ARE ROMPS AND ROMPS, SOME BEING BEYOND AN
ADIPOSE SIX-FOOT-TWO. HENCE THIS STORY. PERHAPS IT WILL PROVE ACCEPTABLE
AT COOLING TIMES IN OTHER NURSERIES, AS IT WAS IN OURS._

_IT MAY BE THOUGHT THAT IN INTRODUCING A CERTAIN LITTLE LADY ALICENCE
HAS BEEN TAKEN. BUT ROYAL PERSONAGES ARE PUBLIC PROPERTY. WILL HE THAT
CROWNED QUEEN ALICE DEIGN TO ACCEPT THE TWO LITTLE PAGES DEVOTED TO HER
AS PROOF THAT IT IS HELD AN HONOUR TO FOLLOW IN THE TRAIN OF CARROLLUS
PRIMUS? FORBID IT THAT THIS ONE SHOULD LOSE HIS HEAD, OR BE ~FACILE~,
EXCEPT IN CONJUNCTION WITH ~PRINCEPS~. LONG LIVE CARROLLUS LE WIS! FOR IF
HE FAILED US, WHO COULD BE GOT IN LIEU IS A QUESTION. NEVER WAS THERE ONE
GREATER AT THE FEAT OF PUTTING THINGS ON A CHILD’S FOOTING, AND TO HAVE
BUT HALF HIS UNDERSTANDING OF HOW TO DO IT IS THE SOLE AMBITION OF ONE_

                                                               _JAMBE ON._

[Illustration: OUR TRIP TO BLUNDERLAND

GRAND EXCURSION TO BLUNDERTOWN AND BACK]




[Illustration: GRAND EXCURSION TO BLUNDERTOWN AND BACK]


[Illustration: Three] little boys (whose names you must not know—so,
choosing something like them, they shall be called Norval, Jaques, and
Ranulf) had been reading all about Alice, and the strange, funny things
she saw and did when fast asleep.

[Sidenote: IF WE COULD.]

“I wonder,” said Jaques, “if I could ever get to sleep like her, so as to
walk through looking-glasses, and that sort of thing, without breaking
them or coming up against the wall!”

“Oh,” said Ranulf, “wouldn’t it be nice if we could! Only the funniest
thing is how she got through the wall. I don’t see how being asleep would
help her to do that.”

Norval, the eldest, broke in—“Oh, you big stupid! she didn’t go through
it; she only thought she did.”

“Well, then,” said Jaques, “I want to think it too. Last night when I was
in bed I tried to go to sleep, and to get through the wall; but when I
fell asleep I forgot all about it, and dreamed that I was sick, and that
the doctor gave me a big glass of something horrid.”

“Ah, but,” said Norval, “that was because you tried. Alice didn’t try,
you know. She knew nothing about being asleep till she woke up.”

“Well, I didn’t know I was asleep till I woke up, either,” answered
Jaques.

Ranulf looked very wise, although he was the smallest, and said, “Perhaps
if Alice was here, she would tell us how to do it.”

[Sidenote: HOW TO DO IT.]

“Of course I would,” said a sweet voice behind them; and, turning round,
who should they see but little Alice herself, looking exactly as she does
on page 35, where she is getting her thimble from the Dodo?

“Oh, how awfully jolly!” cried Norval; “will you help us?” He was very
much surprised, not at seeing Alice, but at not being surprised.

“Indeed I will,” said she, “although I don’t know, you know, whether boys
can manage it.”

Ranulf was just going to say, saucily, “A great deal better than girls, I
should think,” when Norval, who was older, and knew better how to behave,
checked him, and said—

[Sidenote: BY ORDER.]

“But, Alice, dear, surely if it’s done by going to sleep, boys can do
that as well as girls.”

“Well, so they can,” said she; “but then, you see, everybody who goes to
sleep doesn’t get to Wonderland.”

“Oh, but perhaps,” said Jaques, “if you will go to sleep too, you will
come with us, and show us the way.”

“Ah! I can’t do that to-day,” said Alice, looking very grave; “for, you
see, when I came to you I was just going to give Dollys their dinner—such
a nice dinner! cake and currants; and it would be cruel to leave them
looking at it till I came back.”

Now Norval suddenly remembered that he knew some boys whose uncle was a
Director at the Aquarium, and who, when he could not go with them and
pass them in himself, gave them a written order; so, turning to Alice, he
said—

“Oh, but if you would give us a pass, it might help us.” And sitting down
at the writing-table, he wrote in stiff letters, imitating the papers he
had seen, and laying the pass before her, said, “Now, write ‘Alice’ there
ever so big, and put a grand whirly stroke under it.”

Alice obeyed, and the pass was ready.

“Now then,” said she, “you had better go to sleep.”

Norval threw himself down on a sofa; Jaques and Ranulf coiled themselves
up on the rug.

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: SHUT UP.]

Norval could not resist the temptation to keep one eye half open, that
he might see what Alice did. But she, noticing this, held up her little
forefinger, and said, “Come, come, that won’t do.” Thus rebuked, Norval
shut his other eye.

“Now, all go to sleep at once,” said Alice.

[Sidenote: PLAGUEY BOYS.]

“I’m nearly asleep already,” said Jaques.

“Oh!” said Norval.

“No!” said Ranulf.

“That’s talking, not going to sleep,” said Alice.

All was still for a little, then Jaques half uncoiled himself and looked
at Ranulf.

Ranulf uncoiled himself and looked at Norval.

Norval raised his head, and looked at Jaques.

On finding that they were all awake, the three burst out laughing.

“That’s laughing, not going to sleep,” said Alice.

Down they all flopped again, and then Alice, to help them, said, “Hushaby
baby, on the tree-top!”

“I’m not a baby,” said Ranulf, much offended, as he was nearly six.

“I’m not on a tree-top,” said Jaques.

“You’ve waked me up,” said Norval.

[Sidenote: WE’LL BE GOOD.]

“That’s chattering, not going to sleep,” said Alice.

“I’m sure I must be asleep now,” said Norval.

“So am I,” said Jaques.

“And me too,” said Ranulf.

“That’s talking nonsense, not going to sleep,” said she. “I see it’s no
use; Alice’s way won’t do with wild rogues like you, and I really must go
back to Dollys.”

“What _are_ we to do?” said Norval; “we can’t fall asleep. Don’t you
think we could get to the funny places you went to without going to
sleep?”

“Will you do what I tell you?” asked Alice, holding up her little
forefinger in a dignified kind of way.

Jaques had some misgivings about compromising his position as a small
lord of the creation by agreeing to do what a little girl told him; but
his anxiety to see some wonders prevailed, and they all said that they
would obey.

“Shut your eyes, then, and don’t open them till I tell you, and perhaps
something will happen.”

[Sidenote: AN EYE-OPENER.]

Norval rolled down from the sofa to the side of his brothers. Then all
squeezed up their eyes quite tight, and although they heard a curious
rumbling noise, did not open them.

“That’s right,” said Alice; “you would have spoiled everything if you
had peeped. Boys who don’t do what they are told spoil everything, and
themselves besides. Now you may look!”

They had squeezed their eyes so tight that it took ever so long to get
them unfastened. Jaques got his open first, and saw that little Alice was
gone.

“Oh, Alice, where are you?” he cried.

A distant voice replied, “Off to Dollys!”

[Sidenote: OVER THE SLEEPERS.]

[Illustration]

Just as he was going to say, “What a shame, when I squeezed so hard!”
Norval and Ranulf got their eyes open, and before Jaques could speak,
they gave a wild shout, “Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!” Jaques’ head had been
looking the wrong way, but when he turned round he saw what the others
had seen—

                             THREE BICYCLES,

[Sidenote: FUNNY BOBS.]

only they were rather different from other bicycles, as, in place of the
small hind-wheels, there were funny little fellows, made up of a head
and three legs; and as they stood on one foot, with the other two in the
air, and their noses thrust through the end of the bar, they looked
very comical. Still more funny was it when the boys went forward to look
closer, and the little three-legged men made them a bow, which they did
by touching their caps with one leg, bobbing forward on another, and
back again. The wheels and treddles were made of gold, the seats were
lined with crimson velvet, and the little men had blue tights and silver
caps and shoes; so everything looked very smart. The boys could not
understand how the bicycles stood upright without anything to hold the
wheels, and began talking about them, wondering whether they could move
of themselves. They had scarcely spoken of this, when, as if to show off
their powers, the little men began to turn round on their three legs, and
move slowly about the room. They steered their way among the furniture
most cleverly, and at last as each stopped beside one of the boys they
all touched their caps, and bobbed from one leg to another, as before.

“Are we to get up?” said Jaques, timidly.

[Sidenote: OFF THEY GO.]

Bob went all the little men.

“Does that mean yes?” said Norval.

Bob.

“But where are we going?” said Ranulf.

“To Wonderland, of course,” said Jaques.

“All right,” said the other two, and they all scrambled up on the
bicycles.

The moment they were seated, the three little men gave a shrill
whistle, as a railway engine does before it starts, and off they went
at a tremendous pace. The boys had barely time to think how hard the
drawing-room wall would be, when the whole party went straight through it
as if it had been, like circus hoops, filled in with paper. Norval went
across the library and out at the window, but papa did not seem to notice
him; he only got up and closed the sash, as if he had felt a draught.
Jaques passed through the butler’s pantry, but the butler only scratched
his ear, as if something had tickled him. Ranulf shot at a slant through
the nursery, clutching a penny trumpet off the table as he passed, but
nurse only gave a shiver, and said, “Deary me, I do feel so queasy
queer!”

[Sidenote: DISTANCE LENDS.]

They were going so fast, that Norval, looking round the moment they
were outside the house, saw papa’s head, not bigger than a black pin’s,
looking out of a window, that seemed smaller than a halfpenny stamp; and
Jaques caught sight of Oscar, the house dog, who looked like a comma
with its tail wagging. Besides, they kept mounting up in the air as well
as going on, so that the fields looked no bigger than the squares of a
chess-board, and the trees between them, in their autumn tints, like rows
of brass nails on a green-baize door. Before they could count fifty, the
world itself, when they looked back, was like one of those funny worsted
balls that show a number of different colours. The little men were
spinning so fast that their silver caps, blue hose, and bright shoes ran
into circles, till they looked like silver wheels with a blue enamel ring
on them.

“Isn’t it funny that we aren’t frightened?” said Jaques.

[Sidenote: FAST IDEAS.]

“I think we would be if we had time,” said Norval (who was the thinking
one of the three), “only we are going so fast that there’s no time to be
frightened.”

“Perhaps it’s because we’re asleep like Alice, after all,” said Ranulf,
looking very wise.

“Oh no; because you see when people are asleep they are still, and we are
going so fast that it would be sure to wake us,” replied Jaques.

“But we can be still and go fast all the same, can’t we?” said Ranulf.

“Oh no, you silly!” said Jaques.

“Oh yes,” said Ranulf; “because we can go still faster; and if we can go
still faster, why can’t we go still fast?”

“Oh yes, to be sure,” said Jaques; “and besides, of course, a man can be
fast and still at the same time, for if he is made fast with rope he must
be still.”

“And we _are_ going fast still,” said Norval, as the bicycles flew on;
“but I don’t see yet how we can be still and fast both.”

[Sidenote: A STEADY SWELL.]

The three seemed likely to get into a regular muddle about this, when
their attention was suddenly called off by Jaques catching sight of
something that looked first like a new threepenny-piece, and in another
second like a big shining tin plate.

“What’s that?” said Jaques. While he was saying this, it had grown as big
as a drum.

“Perhaps it’s a giant’s dish,” said Ranulf. It was now as big as a circus.

“It’s getting too big for that,” said Jaques. By this time it was as
large as a race-course, and in another second it was too great to be like
anything.

[Sidenote: CRUSTY CRESCENT.]

Norval, who had been thinking, was just going to say, “Perhaps it’s the
moon,” when the Man in the Moon put his head out at one side, and looking
as grumpy as possible, called out—“Hi, you rascals! what do you want
here?” He had evidently been wakened out of a nap by the whirr of the
bicycles, for he wore a big red nightcap, and had got only one eye open.

“We aren’t rascals,” said Jaques; “if you say that, we’ll tell papa.”

“Oh,” said Norval, “are you the fellow that came down too soon?”

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: NEARLY MOON-STRUCK.]

Ranulf broke in—“I think you’ve got up too soon this morning. By the bye,
did you ever find the way to Norwich?”

The Man in the Moon got quite red with rage at this, opened his other
eye, and aimed a blow at Ranulf with a big stick.

“Ha!” said Jaques, “that’s one of the sticks you gathered on Sunday, you
villain!”

As his arm made the blow, it came nearer the boys; and the stick, which
had looked only like a porridge-stick, got as big as Nelson’s Monument.
Ranulf would have been knocked to pieces, but the little man at the
back of the bicycle gave a sudden dart to one side; the Man in the Moon
overbalanced himself, and if his wife had not caught him by the legs he
would have tumbled off the moon altogether. In struggling to get on again
his red nightcap fell off, and a breeze of wind carrying it away, left it
sticking on one of the moon’s horns.

They were now getting so near the moon that they began to wonder how they
were to pass it.

[Sidenote: KEEP YOUR SEATS.]

“Jump over, to be sure,” said Jaques.

“Oh, that would be a tremendous jump!” replied Ranulf.

“Not at all,” said Norval; “you know the cow jumped over the moon, so it
can’t be very difficult after all.”

The bicycles began to move a little slower, and the boys thought they
were going to stop, but it turned out that the little men were only
gathering themselves together, like good hunters, for the spring; for in
a moment they gave a whistle, as a train does when it goes into a tunnel,
and the bicycles bounding up, went right over the top of the moon, the
boys keeping their seats in a way that it would be well if some Members
of Parliament could imitate.

[Sidenote: ECHO ANSWERS.]

As they passed, the Man in the Moon, who had come up after his nightcap,
shouted, “Don’t you come here again!” and picked up a stone as big
as four hayricks to throw after them. But before he could do so, his
wife, who had come behind him, and who had a nose as big as a ship’s
long-boat, eyes like paddle-boxes, and a mouth like the entrance of a
harbour, seized him by the arm, boxed his ears, and said in a voice loud
enough to be heard hundreds of miles off—

“Would you hurt the dear little things, you old villain?”

“Old villain! ’ld villain! villain! ’illain! ’lain! ’lan! ln!” cried the
echoes in the stars.

The Man in the Moon dropped the big stone on his own toes, and muttering,
“Petticoat government again!” pulled his nightcap over his ears, shrugged
his shoulders, and went home meekly to breakfast.

“I wonder if we’re going the same way the cow went!” said Ranulf; “if we
are, perhaps we may get a drink of milk—I’m so thirsty.”

“And a beefsteak,” said Jaques; “for I’m hungry.”

“Faugh!” said Norval; “what would papa say if he heard of our eating
cow-beef in Fairyland? and as for milk, if she runs as fast as we do, she
must be run dry long ago.”

[Sidenote: MIST-ERIE.]

The pace was now greater than ever, so that the stars flew past them like
sparks from a smith’s anvil. They had been going through darkness for
some time, when they perceived a dim light in front; and soon they saw
that it was a grey cloud, into which the bicycles plunged, moving more
slowly, till they came to a walk. While they were in the cloud, the boys
felt that they had come to ground; and in a minute or two they passed
through it, and found themselves in a very bleak, cold-looking place—no
grass, no trees, no flowers, nothing but stones and sand, and an old
woman walking in front of them, thick fog enveloping all round. Ranulf
was almost going to cry, it looked so dreary; but Norval told him to
remember that papa often said, “Whatever happens, don’t cry, but be brave
boys; things are always made worse by crying.” So he gave three big gulps
and was all right. But they began to think in themselves that if they had
known Fairyland was like this, they would have preferred to stay at home.
They had little time to reflect, however, for the old woman tripped her
foot against a stone and fell down on her nose, which was very long. The
boys jumped at once to the ground, forgetting all about Fairyland, and
rushed to the old woman to help her up.

[Sidenote: BEAK ON ROCK.]

[Illustration]

“Poor granny!” said Jaques, “are you very much hurt?”

“Verily muchly,” said she, in a squeaky voice, that sounded like the
noise which a piece of paper stuck over a comb makes.

[Sidenote: A PICK-ME-UP.]

It was so funny that they all felt inclined to have a laugh; but they
kept it down, and helped the old lady up. Her nose was so long that
their handkerchiefs were too small to tie it up, so they fastened them
together and bandaged it as well as they could. They were going back to
the bicycles, when she said—

“Don’t go away, dears.”

Norval said, “We wanted to get on to the nice part of Fairyland, but if
you would like us to stay till you feel better, we will.”

“Yes, of course we will,” said Jaques; “won’t we, Ranny?” And Ranulf gave
a big nod.

[Sidenote: TRANSFORMATION.]

[Sidenote: FAIRY-EST OF ALL.]

Then the old lady, patting Ranulf on the head, replied, “You want to get
to the nice part of Fairyland? So you shall, for those who are kind
are sure to get what is nice and pleasant at the proper time.” While
speaking, she seemed to get enveloped in a kind of mist, through which
the boys could only trace her figure dimly. To their great surprise,
the fog that was all round and above them began to weave into lines;
and these plaited themselves together quickly, till they formed a vast
trellised dome. Then light began to break through, and the dark bars
became transparent gold. Lovely plants rose from the top of the dome,
twining themselves in and out all the way down. Each had hundreds of
buds, which, as they reached the ground, burst into leaves and flowers
in dense profusion—here a thread of blue, here of red, here of white,
which, mingling with the golden trellis, produced a charming effect. The
ground, which had been rough and stony, smoothed itself into stripes of
silver sand. The stones became precious ones of all colours, and ranged
themselves along the stripes of silver, making beautiful, shining walks.
In the plots between the walks, the most lovely grass appeared, soft
and delicate, like velvet; and from each there rose a crystal fountain,
playing waters of different bright colours; while all around richly laden
fruit-trees sprang up, with many splendid-coloured birds on the branches,
which began to fly in all directions, whistling and singing most sweetly.
All this time the mist remained round the old woman, only turning to a
beautiful rose colour. When the fountains and trees were rising, the boys
gazed in wonder and delight. Ranulf proposed to pluck some fruit and eat
it, but Norval said they must not do that without leave. Presently the
rose-coloured mist began to get thin, and, clearing away, they saw a
beautiful form appearing—a regular real fairy, standing perfectly still
in the middle of the canopy, shining so bright that though everything
else was beautiful, she was the loveliest of all, as she stood in the
midst of a bouquet of flowers formed of glittering jewels. For there
was a bright shining in her face that outshone all else—a something
so beaming, so winning, so unlike anything to be seen in the world of
every day, that you must just try to think of what cannot be thought of,
before you will get any idea of it. Her robe was dazzling white, and the
swan-like neck and rounded arms vied in delicate beauty with the strings
of gorgeous pearls that formed the only sleeves of her shining dress. The
slender waist was circled by a band of glittering precious stones, and
her skirt, falling to the knee, was one blaze of silver light, the fringe
at the edge sparkling with brilliants. A tiara of diamonds crowned her
head, and lovely golden hair hung below her waist.

[Sidenote: MANNERS.]

Jaques’ mouth and eyes opened wide, and Ranulf showed two large dimples
in his cheeks as these wonders came to view. Norval was the first to
remember what he was about, and said, “Come along, boys; we must go and
shake hands, you know, and say, How do you do?” So they all went forward.
As they came near, a lovely smile broke over the fairy’s face, and she
held out her hand, saying, “I am so glad to see you, dear boys; and
still more to see that you know how to behave like little gentlemen.” Her
voice was clear as a silver bell, and her hand very curious to touch, but
so nice. She went on, as she stooped down and smoothed Ranulf’s hair,
“You will see every day the advantage of being good and brave. Do you
know what would have happened if you had not helped me, when I was the
old woman?”

[Sidenote: BELLE FROM BELDAM.]

“Oh, but you couldn’t be the old woman,” said Ranulf, looking up
admiringly in her face.

“Indeed I was, dear,” said she; “I just wanted to see whether you were
unselfish, kind boys, so made myself very ugly and ridiculous. But do you
know what would have happened if you had not picked me up?”

“No-o-o-o,” said they all, shaking their heads.

“My servants would have whirled you back faster than you came, and
dropped you on the rug again.”

“What servants do you mean, please?” said Jaques; “we didn’t see any.”

[Sidenote: LIKE A BIRD.]

“I will show you,” said the fairy, giving a light bound to the ground,
and walking across towards the bicycles, which were modestly standing at
one side of the bower. She had shoes of transparent glass, with buckles
of lovely sapphire; but what astonished the boys most was, that the glass
was not stiff, but obeyed the movement of her beautiful feet, so that her
motion was splendid, the foot curving gracefully down as she stepped,
reminding the boys of one of the large stately-moving birds they had
seen at the Zoological Gardens. They gazed at her in amazement, as she
smoothly glided; and she, observing their surprise, said, smiling—

“So you admire my shoes. I get them from the same man who supplied my
sister fairy with those she gave to Cinderella. He’s the very best maker
in Fairyland.”

[Sidenote: A PAGE OF PAGES.]

As she came near the bicycles, the little men made their bow as they had
done to the boys, and then raising themselves off the ground, whisked
round two or three times in the air, as if in great delight. The fairy
tapped each of them with her wand, and at once they became handsome
pages, older and bigger than Norval, dressed in dark-blue doublets and
velvet caps, with pretty ruffs round their necks that looked transparent
like glass; and, with their light-blue tights and silver shoes, they were
very smart. Each stood leaning on the great gold wheel, which was all
that remained of the bicycles.

“Oh,” said Jaques, “we didn’t know they were real; we half thought they
were only funny machines like men,”—and turning to the other boys, added,
“Must not we say ‘Thank you’ to them for all their trouble?”

“Of course,” said Norval; and each went up to his own page, and said,
“Thank you very much.”

“That’s right,” said the fairy; and the pages smiled and made a bow—just
an ordinary bow, not whirling round as they had done before, for, of
course, pages cannot turn over of themselves.

[Sidenote: DINNER IS SERVED.]

“And now you must be hungry, dears, after your long journey,” said the
fairy, giving a graceful wave of her hand towards the three pages. In
an instant they were down on one knee with the golden wheels supported
on their heads, like three lovely Dresden-china art tables, while their
caps, which they tossed on the ground, grew and shaped themselves into
silver stools. And how it came about the boys never could make out, but
there was a neat little dinner laid out on the top of each wheel; and
still more curious, each boy had his own favourite dish, only nicer to
look at and better to taste than they had ever had it before. While
they feasted, low strains of music sounded sweetly through the air, and
a chorus of many voices, clear as the crystal brook, but gentle as its
murmur, sang[1]—

[Sidenote: GOOD ADVICE.]

1.

    “Boys of earth, be brave, be true,
      Linger not at vice’s call;
    Cords of love are drawing you,
      Chains that guide but not enthral.
    Break them not, their fragile lines
      Draw with strength the willing heart
    To the life that ever shines;
      Angels weep to see them part.

2.

    Let the cords of love entwine
      Round the heart-strings day by day;
    Let the threads of silver shine,
      Guiding by the narrow way.
    Watch, lest thorns of pleasure’s bower
      Tangle in their tender strands;
    Guard, lest Mammon’s subtle power,
      Fray and loose their gentle bands.

3.

    Worldling’s life is love’s decay,
      Pleasure’s slave hath joyless end;
    Squander not life’s fleeting day
      In the paths that downward tend.
    Follow truth and yield to love,
      Bravely keep the narrow way;
    Truth shall greet you from above,
      Love shall bring to endless day.

4.

    Truth and love endure for aye,
      Silver love in truth shall hide,
    Golden truth for love doth stay—
      Truth the bridegroom, love the bride;
    Sun’s strong beam to moon’s soft ray,
      Truth and mercy met in one,
    Blend in everlasting day,
      And again the work is done.”

When the boys had dined, which they did with exceptional ease, as their
knives and forks did not require to be handled, but performed their work
neatly and deftly of themselves; and when the table-napkins had unfolded
themselves, and touched their lips with deliciously scented water, the
last strains of the song died away; and the fairy, who had herself sung
the final verse in tones most winning, so that the boys had crept close
to her, nestling under the caress of her arms, stooped down and kissed
them tenderly.

[Sidenote: WHERE NEXT?]

“And now,” said she, “I know you want some fun, and quite right too.
Those who go steadily in the right road are well entitled to a little
diversion, and can enjoy it better than the boys who choose crooked
paths. Now, where would you like to go?”

[Sidenote: WONDERFUL BLUNDER.]

“Oh,” said Norval, “we have a pass from Alice to let us into Wonderland.”

“Ah! Alice; I have heard of her, or rather I’ve heard her. She was the
little girl that grew so big, was she not?”

“Yes.”

“Well, when she got big, her voice got big too, and it was heard all over
Fairyland.”

“But are there more places than one in your country?” asked Norval.

“Oh yes, dear, of course there are; we have Elfland, and Bogieland, and
Spriteland, and Wonderland, and Blunderland, and many others. But let me
see your pass.”

Norval produced it from his pocket.

“Why,” said the fairy, “this is not for Wonderland; it’s for Blunderland.”

And so it was, beyond all doubt, as may be seen by looking at this copy,
faithfully and literally taken from the original writing:—

[Sidenote: A PRETTY PASS.]

[Illustration:

                              Addmit the b.
                                 arers to
                               Blunderland

                                 _Alice_]

“Oh, how stupid!” said Norval. “When I was writing it I said to myself,
I will try not to make any blunder in spelling; and I must have written
Blunder from thinking of it. What are we to do?”

“Never mind,” said the fairy; “there is plenty of good fun to be got in
Blunderland, and you may just as well go there as anywhere else. So now
good-bye, and I hope you will enjoy yourselves.”

[Sidenote: PLACE AUX DAMES.]

[Illustration]

Once more the lovely hand was waved—this time the arm in its graceful
curve taking in every part of the palace of gold and flowers—when
instantly a thousand fairies stood in one vast circle around, and
gracefully bent low before their queen. Then with a bound each took her
place opposite one of the trellises of the bower, standing with the right
foot pointed, and waited for the signal to begin the dance.

[Sidenote: BELLES AND BELLS.]

[Sidenote: STARRING IT.]

The queen, with many a graceful turn, circled round the glittering ring
of dazzling fairy brightness, waving one hand outwards to this fairy and
the other inwards to that; and though there were a thousand of them,
and she thus, in soft floating dance, went round all, yet it seemed to
be done almost in the time that the eye could follow her; then with a
bound she once more stood in the centre of the great bouquet, and having
slowly drooped in a deep long curtsey, acknowledging the reverence of her
subjects, sprang to her full height on tiptoe, and threw her hand above
her head, holding a rose that she had worn at her breast, which burst
out into the form of a star, scintillating with light of most dazzling
brilliancy. This was the signal,—and in a moment, ching, ching, ching,
ringa, ringa, ring, went the million little silver bells upon the skirts
of the fairies, as they floated in graceful measure hand in hand. Then
each laying hold on one of the supports of the dome, they raised it up,
and danced round, carrying the canopy with all its myriads of flowers
with them, faster and ever faster, till the eye could scarce follow the
ever-shifting shades of dazzling colour,—the light from the queen’s hand,
varying ever and anon, changing the whole scene from dazzling brightness
to crimson glow, from green gold of sunset to soft purple of fading
twilight.

The boys stood gazing in mute wonder and delight at the graceful motion
of the queen and her fairies, having never seen any dancing but at a ball
at home, where people rushed about, elbows meeting ribs, and strips of
tulle and tarlatan torn and scattered about; or at a spectacle, where a
pantomime fairy seemed trying to jerk off her shoes.

[Sidenote: GOOD-BYE.]

Presently the rapid thrilling ching-a-ring of the bells—through whose
chiming a melody not to be described, but wonderful in its sweetness,
caught the ear—became slower, the fairies to whom the queen had waved her
hand outwards turned round, facing those to whom she had waved inwards;
and out and in they glided, ever faster and faster, the trellis-work of
the canopy unplaiting as they went, till the last crossing being undone,
the fairies ranged themselves on opposite sides, the bars making one
long, brilliant, golden-arched bower, the end of which seemed small in
the far distance. Then the queen, with a merry smile that had something
half-roguish in it, kissed her hand once more to the boys, saying—

                                “REMEMBER!
                             BRAVE AND TRUE;”

and before they had time to think what was going to happen, the bouquet
shaped itself into a magnificent chariot, the three golden wheels set
themselves one in front and one at each side, the pages sprang up behind,
and gliding like a flash down the golden bower, the chariot was lost to
view.

[Sidenote: A SIGNAL SURPRISE.]

The boys were just going to set off running after it, when a tremendous

                           WHEEEEEEUuuuuuu-UGH

sounded from an approaching train, the station bell rang close to their
ears, and a gruff voice above them shouted, “Train for Whackbury,
Flogland, Dunbrown, Sillybilly, and Blundertown.” Not that it sounded
like this, for it was spoken precisely as on all railways at home, and
sounded just

              “Train frwabryflugglindenbrunnsilblunblurtun.”

[Sidenote: EYE READY.]

[Illustration]

But that matters as little on fairy railroads as elsewhere. When the boys
looked up they saw that the voice came from a policeman, about as tall as
a three-storey house, and no thicker than a Maypole, standing with his
arms sticking straight out, and who had an extra eye to safety, blazing
red, both in front and at the back of his head. Just as they looked up,
one arm flopped down to a slant, and an eye winked funnily from red
to green, so that he was a caution to look at. The train now appeared
dashing out of the tunnel (golden and bright no longer), going so fast
that the boys thought it must pass the station, and were horrified when
they saw the porters busily throwing down a quantity of black things like
two-foot-long tadpoles on to the rails, and then, a little further on, a
big, round, black ball.

[Sidenote: STOP THESE BUFFERS.]

“What’s that for?” said Jaques.

“Well, them’s stops. We goes about as fast as thought, so we checks and
pulls our trains up the same way as they do trains of thought, with
commas and colons.”

And sure enough the train, after crashing through the commas, came to a
stand just as two funny little buffers, whose heads stuck out in front of
the engine, seemed on the point of being black-balled by the full stop.
It is true that the commas seemed not to be placed with any care, but
just dropped down on the lines anyhow; still in this the system varied
in no way from the mode in which commas are scattered about the lines of
other great works as well as railways. In fact it seems to be the rule,
that commas come as they like; and if they come upside down they can
bring any amount of material to one work from another—a new proof that
one of the greatest powers of the age is commars.

[Sidenote: A BLOWING UP.]

As the train came to a standstill, the policeman’s eye winked suddenly
back from green to red, and his arm flew up again, while he shouted—

                     “Smash’ll, smash’ll, smash’ll.”

                “Change furcrotnchipucklgublboranquklin;”

by which he meant, “Change for Crowtown, Cheepcackle, Gobbleboro’, and
Quackland.”

The boys’ attention was called to the engine, by the station-master
coming up in a rage to the driver, and stamping his foot on the ground,
shouting, “Here’s the ninth day this week that you have come in
punctually, when you know that it is against the rules. You must have a
blowing up.”

“All right, sir,” said the driver, meekly; and mounting the engine, he
quietly took his seat upon the safety-valve.

[Sidenote: ANOTHER.]

The boys, who had bought a little steam-engine with the savings of
pocket-money carefully hoarded for many months, knew something of the
danger of this proceeding from the printed directions sent with their
engine, and Norval cried out, “Oh, don’t do that, or there will be a
burst!”

[Illustration]

“All right, little un,” said the driver, “it’ll get me hup in the world.”

As he spoke he was shot into the air as high as the tall policeman’s
head, and the boys shut their eyes in horror, thinking he must be killed.
But on opening them again, to their surprise they saw him at his post,
quietly buttering a piece of bread with wheel-grease, and taking a drink
out of the engine’s oil-can.

“Are you not hurt?” asked Jaques, anxiously.

“Yes, ’urt in my feelin’s. It’s wery ’ard hafter getting so ’igh to have
to come down to this agin; but we must take things has they comes or
goes, has the man said when ’is ’ead flew hoff on bein’ axed to do so.”

[Sidenote: A POT-BOILER.]

[Illustration]

The engine did not appear to be more damaged than the driver by the
explosion, and on looking at it, the boys were surprised to see that its
boiler was shaped like a porridge-pot, with an immense porridge-stick
stirring it by steam. There was a tender behind, which kept the engine
up; for, as the driver said, in answer to one of the boys, “We keeps ’im
coaled to keep ’im ot. My hengine begins to ’eat up when ’ee’s swallered
two tons. In fact it’s with this coal ’ere that ’is bile is riz.”[2]

“And what have you got in the pot?” asked Ranulf.

[Sidenote: JUGGED ’ARE.]

The driver, who had just taken another pull at the oil-can, so long
and full that the fireman had to beg him to leave some for the wheels,
replied, “Don’t ye ax souperfluous questions.” But the fireman, picking
up a big spoon like a warming-pan, plunged it into the pot, and held it
down to Ranulf, saying, “There, you’ll find that ’ere souperfine stuff.”

“It ain’t ’are soup at all,” said the driver; “what are yer talkin’
about?”

“That’s just as well,” said Norval, “because one can’t live on air, of
course.”

“I dunno that,” said the driver; “jugged ’are’s wery good stuff for
dinner.”

“Oh, but,” said Jaques, gravely, “if we got nothing but a jug of air for
dinner we would be just full of wind.”

He thought to himself, just as he said this, that perhaps this was the
right thing for a driver of a puff-puff, as they called railway-engines
in the nursery, but he did not like to say so.

[Sidenote: TICKETS FOR SOUP.]

After Ranulf had tasted the soup, Norval and Jaques had some, just as the
porter came along the train calling out, “All tickets for soup ready,
please; tickets reade-e-e-e. All tickets for soup ready, please.”

“But we haven’t got any tickets,” said Ranulf.

“Then,” said the porter, “where’s your fare?”

“Well, we had fairy fare a little ago.”

“But I mean railway fare,” said the porter.

“Oh,” said Norval, “we’ve just had it too, and first-class fare it was;
at least it was fair fare.”

“All right,” said the porter; “but any boy who travels without his fare,
or his ticket for soup, will be breeched for breach of the company’s
pie-laws, remember that.”

[Sidenote: STOUT PORTER.]

He tried to look very fierce as he said this; but as his body looked
like a barrel, with three big X’s upon it, and his head was a large
pewter-pot, the boys could not help laughing, which Norval excused by
saying, “I beg your pardon, but you do look so dumpy.”

“In coorse I does,” said he. “Porters no good that bean’t stout, you
know.”

“Oh, but you’re so stout!” said Jaques.

[Illustration]

“No, I ain’t So’s stout,” said he; “I’m Dublin stout.”

[Sidenote: TURKEY CHANGING.]

“If you’re doubling stout,” said Norval, “that’s as stout as can be,
isn’t it?”

“No, it ain’t. I’m more than that already. Don’t you know treble X when
you see him?”

“Oh yes, I know now,” said Jaques. “I’ve heard papa say that X is an
unknown quantity; and you’re three times him, are you?”

[Sidenote: FOWL LANGUAGE.]

The porter was off by this time at the door of a carriage, looking at
tickets, so he gave no answer; and the boys’ attention was called off by
the passengers that were changing for Crowtown, Cheepcackle, Gobbleboro’,
and Quackland coming along the platform to cross the line. First came
Sir T. Urkey, of Gobbleboro’ Hall, in a white hat, a red handkerchief
sticking out from below it, a brown coat, and tight leggings. Next
followed Mr Shanty Cleary, his wife Henny, and half-a-dozen little cheeps
of the old block following. Mr Shanty Cleary’s head presented a most
combical appearance, and all the young Clearys of the male gender took
after their father in this respect. Last came M. U. S. Covy Drayck,
Esq., the tails of whose coat curled up in a very funny way, and who
carried his head very high, as if the whole country belonged to him,
although he was rather bandy-legged and very flat-footed. He seemed
altogether inclined to play the swell; and as they passed the boys,
bobbed his head to one of the Miss Clearys, and said, “Oh you little
duck!”

“Duck yourself,” said Mrs Cleary, with a most indignant sweep of her
head; “my daughter’s no duck, Mr Imperence.” Mr Shanty Cleary himself
stepped forward, with his head as high as he could; and looking as cocky
as possible, was just opening his mouth to say something severe, when Sir
T. Urkey turned back and said, “What’s the matter?”

“He’s giving my chick cheek,” said old Cleary.

“He’s trying to crow over me,” said Mr Covy Drayck.

“Come, Drayck, don’t be a goose,” said Sir T., “and behave yourself.
You’re no chicken now, you know.”

[Sidenote: IMPUDENT QUACKERY.]

“Who asked you to interfere?” said the other, throwing back his neck as
far as it would go, and waddling up to Sir T. in a most defiant manner.

Sir T. got purple in the face, and swelled out under his brown coat with
rage, his red handkerchief slipping loose, and a long end of it hanging
over his nose, nearly to his waist. He rushed at Mr Drayck, with his
coat-flaps trailing on the ground, and tried to speak, but nothing came
out except a gub-gubba-gubble-gubble-gubble. Mrs Cleary, seeing there
would be a fight, screamed out, “Police! police!” as loud as she could.
The tall policeman gave a horrible wink, showing the white of his eye, at
which signal two other constables seized the ill-behaved Mr Drayck by the
neck, and began to drag him to the engine.

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: POTTED.]

“What do you mean, you rascals?” said Mr Drayck.

“Means to pot you for breach of the pie-laws.”

“Where’s your warrant?” said Mr Drayck.

“Our pots is all Warrens,” said a constable, as they chucked him in.

“There,” said he, “you can commit breach of the peas in there if you
like; they won’t split on you, for they’re all split already.”

“Take your seats,” shouted the guard (who had a whistle instead of a
nose, and a big turnip fastened to his belt to tell the time by), as he
ran up to the boys, “and mind you don’t get in right side first.”

“Why?” said Jaques.

“Because if you gits in right side afore, you’re sure to be left behind.”

The boys went along the platform to look for a carriage. The first they
came to had a crown of a hat nailed on its side, and below in large
letters—

[Sidenote: EXHASPIRATING.]

[Illustration: ’ERE V.R. AGAIN.]

Looking in they saw a king in a long robe, standing before a number of
square holes (over each of which there was a letter of the alphabet),
with an armful of letters, which he was cramming into the different
holes. The H’s seemed to be very troublesome, for they were constantly
getting dropped, and those that he managed to force into their place the
boys saw slyly slipping out, and gliding into the holes of the vowels, so
that, struggle as he might, he could not get them right. Once he caught
an H with a corner of an I, just as it was trying to get in beside the
O’s.

“Oh ho!” said he, “is that what you’re after?” seizing him firmly. But
the H was determined, if he could not be where he ought not, that he
would be dropped; and as the king held on tightly to him, over they both
rolled together, the king tripping on his long robes, and coming down
in a most undignified position. The H’s that were on the ground could
do nothing, but those that had got in beside the vowels shouted with
laughter.

[Sidenote: A DROP SCENE.]

“Ha, ha, ha!” came from A pigeon-hole.

“Hee, hee, hee!” from E.

“Ho, ho, ho!” from O.

Those that had got in beside the I’s laughed in a Hi key. The H’s that
were in the U pigeon-hole alone remained silent, as they could only have
called out Heu, which, as it means alas! they were not in the Humour to
use.

The king made no attempt to rise, and looked as if he was much the worse
of the drop he had had, and in great need of a Pick-me-up; so Norval put
his foot on the step to get in and help him, but the king, observing his
intention, waved his hand and said majestically—

                               “ROYAL MALE.
                             NO ADMITTANCE.”

It was evident, however, that he was in great distress, for he called out
“Oh!” several times, only the boys could not understand why he put other
letters before it, so that it sounded like, “g. p. oh! g. p. oh! g. p.
oh!”

“Get out of the way,” said a voice behind them; and a gorgeous officer,
but who, strangely enough, wore canvas bags, and the orders on whose
breast were money-orders, stepped in beside the Royal Male.

“Who’s that?” asked Jaques.

[Sidenote: WIFE-BEATING.]

“That’s General Pustoffus; we calls him G. P. O. for short; it’s him as
looks after the Royal Male. He’s a queer sorter chap he is, the Royal
Male. He takes up ’is ’ole time a pullin’ letters out of bags, and
shoving ’em into ’oles; and when’s he’s tired o’ that, he takes them out
of ’oles and shoves ’em into bags. And, besides that, there’s never a
letter he gets that he doesn’t give the Queen’s ’ead a bang.”

“What a shame!” said Ranulf.

“Ay, it be a shame,” said the guard. “If you or me was to lick our wife
we’d get six months; but this ’ere Royal Male, he doesn’t mind ’er ’ead
gettin’ licked and stuck fast in a corner, and ’ee’s always a stamping on
it, and making her face all black. And I’m sure a patienter lady never
was, for though her ’ead’s being bumped all day, she never says a word.
He don’t hold the Queen’s ’ead worth more nor a penny to a hounce, he
don’t. But come on, or the train will be hoff.”

[Sidenote: PUFFY PIGGY.]

The next was the smoking-carriage, and the smoke was pushing out so hard
at the door, that the moment the handle was turned it flew open, so that
it took the united efforts of the guard and porter to get it shut again,
the cloud coming out as thick as gutta percha. Norval looked through the
window, and saw a pig puffing away at an enormous cigar.

“What a bore! It’s no use trying to go in there,” said he.

“I thought papa said smoking was a bad habit,” said Ranulf.

“Well,” said the porter, “ain’t ’ee trying to cure hisself?”

[Sidenote: SAMPLING.]

“I’d ha’ thought,” said the guard, “that amount of smoking would ha’
cured him already.”

[Illustration]

The pig, hearing the talk, opened the window and handed out a slice of
himself on a plate, saying, as he did so, “There, you see yourselves I am
not half cured yet, so don’t bother me any more. What can’t be cured must
be endured.” He gave such a puff of smoke as he said this, that Ranulf
sneezed a loud “H-a-a-a-m.”

[Sidenote: A FALSE START.]

“No, I am not ham,” said the pig.

“Bacon, then,” said Jaques.

“So I do mean to bake on,” said the pig, “in the smoke here, and when I
am ham I’ll let you know; so don’t take it for grunted till I tell you.”

He shut the window again.

“Why can’t he talk correct, and say ‘When I ham ’am’?” said the guard,
as, the pig closed the window.

The next carriage was empty; and no wonder—for it was the
sleeping-carriage, and was snoring so loud that even the wooden sleepers
below wouldn’t stay quiet, and were anything but chary of their raillery.
When Jaques looked in it only spoke in its sleep, and said, “Are we far
from Wakefield yet?”

“Very far, I should think,” replied Jaques.

They all laughed at this; and unfortunately the guard, in laughing, let
his whistle-nose go off.

[Sidenote: STEAD IS THE CURE.]

This made the driver start the train; just as the pig opened the window
of the smoking-carriage again, and handed out another slice, saying, “A
rasher individual than this pig would have made his eggsit as a cure at
once, but you see I’m no’[3] a ham yet; steady’s the word for a perfect
cure.”

This long speech gave time for a tremendous cloud of smoke to escape, so
that the train got out of the station under cover of it, before the guard
or the porter knew that it was off.

“’Ere’s a go!” said the porter.

“It’s more like there’s a go,” replied Norval.

“Yes, there’s a go, and here’s a stay,” said the guard. “We must get on
somehow. What shall we do?”

“Ax old Sammy Fore, ’ee’s your man,” said the porter, pointing to the
signal policeman.

“Vy, vot could ’ee do?”

“’Ee? ’ee’s the very man for movin’ people on, yer knows; ’ee’l be hable
to run yer in to the train yet.”

[Sidenote: POLICEMAN XPRESS.]

They all hurried across to the policeman, and begged him to take them on.

“Do you see anything green in my eye?” said he.

“Sometimes,” said Jaques, “when you wink.”

“Then you won’t this time,” said he. “Don’t you know that I’m a fixed
signal? If I were to leave here, I shouldn’t be found when I was wanted.”

“Just like other policemen,” said the guard, “so that wouldn’t make no
difference. Come, don’t be a fool; take us on.”

“Couldn’t we go by special train?” said Norval, who was by way of being
very knowing about railways.

“Special train be blowed!” said the guard; “let’s go by special
constable. We’ll soon hovertake the train by p’liceman Xpress.”

“No, you shan’t,” said the policeman; “I sticks to my beat.”

[Sidenote: COOKS FOLLOWERS.]

“If you sticks so hard, you’ll grow to the spot,” said the guard, sulkily.

“Then I’ll be a beetroot,” said the policeman.

“So you are, with your red and green.”

The policeman seemed determined not to help them, when the guard at last
said, in desperation, “If anything happens to that ’ere train, it’ll be a
pretty kettle of fish, for there’s a Cooke’s excursion in it.”

“Cooks and fish!” shouted the policeman; “why didn’t you say so before?
If there’s cooks in the train, I’m your man. Come on; cooks without
followers is no good; let’s after ’em at once.”

So saying, he whipped up Jaques and Ranulf under one arm, and Norval
under the other, and bidding the guard hold on by his coat-tails, started
off after the train. His long legs went over the ground at a tremendous
pace, and as they flew by, the people in the houses rushed out to behold
the sight of a policeman running, for they are generally slow enough, as
everybody knows. One old ploughman scratched his head as they sped past,
and muttered, “A’ve offen ’eard as how p’licemen’s never in an ’urry, but
that un goes like an ’urricane, he do.”

“Yes,” said another old man, “police rates are as slow as they’re heavy
generally.”

[Sidenote: VAN DRIVING.]

When they had gone several miles in as many seconds, the policeman caught
sight of the train, and rushed on faster than ever. But suddenly he gave
a terrible yell of pain; and no wonder—for he had bumped his shin against
a bridge crossing the line, which he had not noticed, as he was watching
the train. He staggered, blundered on a few strides of 300 yards each,
and at last fell heavily forward, and his head went bang through the van
of the train, which had come to a standstill, driving it all the way to
the next station, which was about half a mile off. When the policeman
fell, the little fellows ran great risk of coming to smash; but at the
back of the train there happened to be two obliging buffers, who, as the
shock of the fall made the policeman’s arms fly up, caught the boys,
and with the aid of one or two back springs, brought them safely to the
ground.

“Thou’st roon thyself in this time, lad,” said the guard; “it be looky
for oi that I warn’t in the van, or there ’ud a been two brakes in it
instead of one.”

[Sidenote: MOVE ON, THERE!]

The policeman vouchsafed no reply, but gathered himself up with a most
dignified air. One of his red eyes looked rather the worse for his
tumble; but being a glass one, it did not matter much, as it could be
easily replaced. He stuck his arms straight out once more, and said,
majestically, “Move on, there!”

The guard being anxious to get to the train, needed no further urging,
but set off with the boys for the station. After a little, he got so out
of breath that his nose was beginning to whistle again, and he had to
hold it for the rest of the way, lest it should cause the train to start
off without them once more.

[Sidenote: SLOW-PACED PROCEEDINGS.]

The boys, going forward to get into a carriage, found the people all
jammed up by large pieces of pasteboard, like the advertising placards
carried by two men in the streets, which turned out to be tickets. They
could not be got out at the doors without a great deal of bending and
squeezing and struggling, which tore and broke them; and as the officials
insisted on carefully pasting up each ticket as it was got out, the
collecting promised to be a very long affair.

“Why are the tickets so big?” said Jaques to the station-master, who had
used up a paste-pot as large as a drum. They had a paste-pump in the
station that was kept constantly going, like a battery.

“Well, you see, my little man,” said he, “people were always losing the
small tickets, so we thought they would take care of big ones; and we
have not had any mistakes since.”

“But doesn’t it take a long time?” said Norval.

“Well, ye-e-e-ss. We generally take about three hours and a half to get
things square,—I mean the tickets, for they makes a sad hash of them
getting them out; but then things is square when we’ve done, you see, and
that’s the great point.”

[Sidenote: CLOSE QUARTERS.]

Norval, who was beginning mathematics, wondered how a point could be
great, and how a square could be a point; but he did not like to trouble
the station-master, as he was so busy with the tickets, which, when they
were all mended and collected, made a pile that blocked up half of the
station.

A number of Sillybilly people came to the station to get into the train
for Blundertown. It was already so full that the boys were obliged to
squeeze themselves up in corners, till Ranulf called out, “Oh, I can’t
bre-e-eathe!” and Norval had to take him on his knee. When the Sillybilly
people came up, the guard ran along the train, calling out, “Plenty of
room! plenty of room! Every one sit on his own knee, and there’s plenty
of room!”

The passengers got very angry at this, and shouted out all sorts of cross
replies to the guard.

[Sidenote: GENERAL JAM.]

“There’s no need to do that,” said one.

“It’s not an easy position,” said another.

“There’s no necessity for it,” bawled a fourth.

“It’s packing us like negroes,” said a fifth.

[Illustration]

“It’s the _ne plus ultra_ of mismanagement,” said a sixth.

Those who tried to do it always found that they got on somebody else’s
knee instead of on their own, which, as it turned out, came to much the
same thing, as the moment anybody rose to try to sit down on his own
knee, a Sillybillier popped down on his seat.

[Sidenote: WISIBLY SWELLIN’.]

There was no need for hurry, as the train was only 22 hours and 49
minutes behind time; so, after everybody had with great difficulty got
in, and they were packed so tight that the sides of the carriages were
bulging out, the station-bell rang for 19 minutes, to show that the train
was going to start. Then the guard unscrewed his whistle-nose, wiped it
carefully with his pocket-handkerchief, and screwed it on again. It so
happened that he fastened it with the wrong end out; and when he blew, he
only whistled into himself, so that the driver could not hear; and he had
to get the station-master to give him a slap on the back with one of the
big tickets, to make the whistling that had stuck in him come out. The
train then started, but as there was a bridge just beyond the station,
and the carriages were so swelled, it had to be stopped again till the
porters had roped the carriages like trunks, to press the sides in and
let them pass.

[Sidenote: FREE AND EASY.]

The process made things so tight, that several persons called out, “Oh
dear!” At this the porters only laughed, and said, “Dear? it’s the
cheapest thing you get in twenty-four hours—you get it for nothing.”

The train having at last got fairly started, a big fat man, with a jolly
broad face, who seemed to get happier and happier the closer the squeeze
became, said in a wheezy voice—

“I move that we have a Free-and-Easy.”

“Move! that’s a good one,” said a voice from a corner. “Proposing to move
is all very well, but how will you get it done in a squash like this?”

“Well,” said the jolly man, “there’s nothing like trying.”

“No; except trying circumstances, like ours just now.”

“We must have a chairman,” said the jolly gentleman.

“Here’s what you want,” said Norval; “I saw him getting in.”

[Sidenote: PERE LA CHAISE.]

Everybody looked towards Norval, but in the crowd they could see nothing
but a broad, flat, smiling face.

“Why he more than another?” cried several.

“Well, if you could see him, you would know,” answered Norval.

[Illustration]

Instantly there was a shout—“Clear off, and let us look at him.”

Tightly as they were squeezed, they notwithstanding made a tremendous
push back from the man beside Norval, till the ropes round the carriage
creaked again. Sure enough, there he was—a chair beyond all doubt,
looking as inviting as possible.

“He’s just what we want for a Free-and-Easy,” said one, “for he’s an
easy-chair!”

[Sidenote: SUPPORTING THE CHAIR.]

“Come along, be our chair, old boy,” said another.

“All right,” said he; “but remember, if I agree to act, I won’t be sat
upon by anybody else; everybody must support the chair.”

“All right; we will, we will!” was heard from every side; and those next
him whipped him up on their shoulders—from which elevation he grinned a
great broad smile.

Everything seemed likely to go right, when a grumpy individual, whom
the crush to clear the chair had flattened up against the side of the
carriage, till he looked like half of himself, said in slow tones, as if
he had only breath for a letter at a time—

“I b-eg-g to mo-o-ve a cou-nt-er mo-shn.” Such sighs went from him as he
spoke, that it was no wonder he was much reduced in bulk. His words were
received with jeers of derision on all sides.

“Counter-motion!” said one; “how can you get a movement out of
shop-fixtures?”

[Sidenote: PRESSED TO WITHDRAW.]

“I wa-s a cou-nt-er-jum-per onc-ce, bu-t I a-ad-mit I’m a fi-xt-ure n-ow;
bu-t th-at’s be-cau-se th-is is a pa-ack-d meet-t-ing.”

Nobody felt able to deny that the meeting was packed, so there was a
dead silence. The chairman, however, with admirable tact, took up his
adversary on his own ground, and said—

“We don’t want any of your pax, so just hold your peace.”

“If you don’t,” said somebody, “we’ll turn you out.”

“Th-ere w-ill be ro-om to tu-rn the-n; I w-ish yo-u wo-uld do it no-w,
fo-r I fe-el tu-rn-ing di-zzy.”

“Turning dizzy! really now, you must be a clever party if you can do
that,” said one.

“You had better withdraw your motion,” said the chairman, blandly;
“everybody seems against you.”

“Ev-er-y-bo-dy-’s pr-ess-ing a-gai-nst me, if th-at’s wh-at y-ou mea-n.”

“Well, then, we’ll admit that you do it under pressure,” said the
chairman, cheerily; “we will press you a little more if you wish, but I
should think it was a case of _jam satis_.”

[Sidenote: SINGING SMALL.]

“_Sic, sic_; I fee-l ve-ry so-so,” said the grumpy man; “go-t a s-ing-ing
in my ea-rs.”

“It’s more than we have,” said the chairman; “but for you we would have
had it long ago—you’ve kept all the harmony from us; but now for a song.
Who’ll sing?”

Nobody seemed to like to be first, and there was silence for a minute,
when, to the astonishment of everybody, himself included, Ranulf’s little
voice was heard saying, “I will.”

[Sidenote: NURSERY RHYMING.]

[Sidenote: HIP, HIP, HIP.]

“Bravo, new edition of the Little Songster! sing away!”[4]

1.

      We are three jolly boys, you see,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      We are three jolly boys, you see,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      Norval and Jaques and Ranny—that’s me—
      As lively as so many crickets are we,
    And we wish you all a jolly good health, we do!
    And we wish you all a jolly good health, we do!

2.

      The fairy told us to be good,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      The fairy told us to be good,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      To be cheery and bright, not sulky or rude—
      We nodded our noddles, and said we would;
    And we mean to try, oh, ever so hard, we do!
    And we mean to try, oh, ever so hard, we do!

3.

      She said we never should tell a lie,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      She said we never should tell a lie,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      So we’ll rather go without pudding or pie,
      If it can’t be got without telling a lie,
    For we mean to hold on tight to truth, we do!
    For we mean to hold on tight to truth, we do!

4.

      She bid us keep our temper, too,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      She bid us keep our temper, too,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      So we shall try to put on the screw,
      To keep it down whatever we do,
    For we mean to be jolly, whatever turns up, we do!
    For we mean to be jolly, whatever turns up, we do!

5.

      In fact, we’ll follow her advice,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      In fact, we’ll follow her advice,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      To keep ever free from folly and vice,
      And to choose the ways that are noble and nice,
    Brave, true gentle men, whatever we say or do!
    Brave, true gentle men, whatever we say or do!

6.

      Fail we must, but we’ll try again,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      Fail we must, but we’ll try again,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      For we know, if we work with might and main
      And a trusting heart, we’ll not strive in vain;
    So we mean to hold on, true to the end, we do!
    So we mean to hold on, true to the end, we do!

There was great cheering, and cries, “Bravo, little un!” when Ranulf
finished, and the chairman said—

[Sidenote: COMPANY ADVICES.]

“The fairy gave you very good advice, so never forget it. Beware of bad
surroundings. Life’s like a railway journey—a great deal depends upon
your company not being too fast, and your having a good carriage, and
good couplings. If you maintain a manly upright carriage, and don’t
couple yourselves by bad ties, keeping truth and modesty for your
safety—chains, you’ll get on well enough; but if your life carriage gets
shaky, and your connections loose, and you get bad buffers about you, you
will be apt to come to grief.”

The boys listened attentively as the chairman spoke, and it is to be
hoped that neither they, nor any other boys who read this, will forget
what he said.

In the meantime, the people seemed not to be able to get Ranulf’s tune
out of their heads, and began to find their own words to carry it on.
From one corner came—

[Sidenote: A MEDLEY.]

      “A spoon of wood is the thing at night,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      A spoon of wood is the thing at night,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      Just swallow it dry, it will clear your sight,
      To see an invisible green so bright!
    Oh! we’re all jolly tight on our way to Blundertown!
    Oh! we’re all jolly tight on our way to Blundertown!”

“Stuff and nonsense!” said another, and then he went off himself:—

      “Spoon-meat may be good enough for thee,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      Spoon-meat may be good enough for thee,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      But there’s nought like a plank of a hare-soup tree,
      Or fresh-roasted ices to make you see
    Saw your way through a milestone of brick, you see;
    Saw your way through a milestone of brick, you see.”

“Shut up!” cried some one from the back of the carriage—“for

      “Milestones aren’t good looks at all,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      Milestones aren’t good looks at all,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      It’s easy to see through a stone mile’s squall,
      If your eyes are sour and your temper tol-
    Erably like a lump of chalk, you see;
    Erably like a lump of chalk, you see.”

This seemed to drive a man who had been sitting quiet almost frantic with
excitement, and off he went—

      “Chalk and stones, and spoons and trees,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      Chalk and stones, and spoons and trees,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      If your eyes aren’t made from a skim-milk cheese,
      What on earth is the good of talking of these?
    For you can’t whey what you are talking about, you see;
    For you can’t whey what you are talking about, you see.”

[Sidenote: A MORAL.]

“Last verse, and moral,” said the chairman, with great gravity—

      “Such noble thoughts improve the mind,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      Such noble thoughts improve the mind,
            Hurrah! hurrah!
      They belong to the true philosophical kind,
      And the moral is plain to be seen by the blind;
    For it just is this—that a vile un is fiddle-de-dee;
    For it just is this—that a vile un is fiddle-de-dee.”

[Sidenote: HEADS AND TAILS.]

When the noise was at its height, Norval said to the chairman, “It seems
to get greater nonsense at every verse.”

“To she bure it does,” said he; “you are etting ginto Blunderland, and
hings don’t thappen there as dey tho in pother laces.”

“Yes, indeed,” said an old gentleman; “look out at the floor and you will
hear with your own toes what cruel of a place this is.”

[Sidenote: AGES OF MAN.]

[Illustration]

Neither he nor the chairman could help speaking thus, being in
Blunderland; but Norval guessed that the old gentleman meant he was to
look and see what kind of a place the train had got into, so turned and
gazed out at the window. The first thing he saw was a man riding with
his face to the horse’s tail, holding the reins like the tiller-ropes
of a boat, which was rather difficult, as he had top-boots on his hands.
A little further on came an old man who had a string tied to his leg,
the other end of which was held by a pig in a poke-bonnet and a stylish
shawl. Next he saw a very old man with short trousers and a pinafore, a
satchel over his shoulders, and a slate hanging at his side, at whom a
boy not older than himself, in a green coat with brass buttons, and a
white hat, carrying a gold-headed cane, was looking through an eye-glass.
Jaques had joined Norval, and suddenly called out, “What are they doing
in that field?”

[Illustration]

“Oh,” said the chairman, “they are tigging the durnips.”

What they were really doing was emptying carts of large stones on the
field.

[Sidenote: SHAKERS.]

“Seeding sow for flint-soup,” said another.

“Flint-soup would be hard fare, I think,” said Jaques; “and besides, how
can soup grow?”

“Doesn’t it grow cold sometimes?” said the chairman.

Poor Jaques was quite dumbfoundered. He was sure there was some nonsense
about it, but he couldn’t make it out. However, there was no time for
more discussion, as the train began to move very strangely, going along
with a series of jumps that shook everybody.

“Treasant plavelling now,” said the chairman, smiling sweetly, as the
train gave a bump that nearly shook his head off.

“What does it mean?” said Norval.

“Blunderingshire lines are all thade mat way,” said the chairman; “it’s a
strittle lange at first, but it will get used to you.”

Bump, bump, bump went the train.

“Oh,” said Norval, “I hope there won’t be an accident!”

“Accident!” said the old gentleman, “what an absurd idea to get into
anybody’s backbone! That would be just the same as common pailways.”

“What’s a pailway?” said Ranulf.

“Down the hill, the same as Jack and Jill, I suppose,” said Norval.

[Sidenote: A LA GLACE.]

At this point the train went crash through the end of the station—which
was all filled in with glass down to the ground—sending the pieces flying
in every direction. Nobody seemed to care the least for this; and as the
boys looked surprised, the chairman said, “We don’t go in for class with
gare here as they do on French lines. What’s the use of glass being so
seasily mashed if you don’t break it?”

“It’s a gery vood arrangement, because it pets leople know there’s a
train coming,” said one gentleman.

“Yes, and she’s an ice arrangement, for she bakes the station warm,” said
the old gentleman; “fills him with shivers, you know.”

[Sidenote: TAKE NO NOTICE.]

The boys were getting completely puzzled, but there was no time for
explanation, as the train stopped almost immediately, and everybody made
a rush to get out. You never saw anything so funny as the station was.
The big advertisements on the sides were either upside down or had their
fronts to the wall. Only a few boards were hung right, and these were as
follows:—

                     ANY OF THE COMPANY’S SERVANTS
                   RECEIVING FEES OR GRATUITIES, WILL
                        HAVE THE AMOUNT DOUBLED
                           ON APPLYING AT THE
                          IMPROPER DEPARTMENT.

                                         BY ORDER OF THE MISMANAGER.

               IT IS REQUESTED THAT ANY WANT OF ATTENTION
                                 BY THE
                 COMPANY’S THUMBLERS AND CHAINDROPPERS
                             BE REPORTED TO
                              THIS BOARD.

                       _Be fair to Pickpockets._

                         PORTERS ARE CAUTIONED
                                  NOT
                 TO SHOW CIVILITY TO PASSENGERS ON ANY
                           PRETENCE WHATEVER.
                       INFRINGEMENT OF THIS RULE
                          WILL BE PRECEDED BY
                           INSTANT DISMISSAL.

[Sidenote: POLITICAL PLATFORM.]

[Sidenote: MAN-TRAPS.]

[Sidenote: WAYWARD.]

[Illustration]

The great clock, instead of using his hands to show the hours, kept
putting them to his nose at everybody that looked at him, and the big
station-bell stuck out his tongue most impudently. The mess that took
place on the platform was extraordinary—one point which Blunderland
railroads have in common with common ones. The porters were tremendously
busy picking their teeth and discussing the affairs of the nation, and
smiled blandly to those who asked them to do anything. When at last they
did move, their proceedings were of the strangest. One took hold of a
lady and dragged her along the platform, singing out, “Whose baggage
is this?” Another seized two fashionable young ladies, put them on his
truck, and accosting an old dowager, asked, “Are these your traps, mum?”
A third picked up two children by the legs, swung them over his shoulder,
and asked their father, “Shall I put the small things inside the cab,
sir?” The boys, seeing what a mess things were in, ran off to get out of
the station as fast as they could, for they heard the station-master say
that he thought they were lost luggage, and had better be locked up.
They made first for a large placard marked “THE WAY OUT,” with a hand
pointing on it, but found that it led into a stone wall.

[Sidenote: ALL A BOARD.]

[Illustration]

“Everything seems to go by contrary here,” said Norval; “let us take
the direction that seems least likely.” So seeing a placard marked “No
passage this way,” they went straight down the archway opposite it, and
found themselves outside the station at once, and in a broad roadway.
The foot-pavement was in the middle of the street, and the road on either
side of it next the houses, which would have been very inconvenient had
it not been that, as in Blundertown things are quite different from
other towns, the roadway was beautifully clean. On the opposite side of
the street from the station there was a building which, from its grand
proportions and ornamental style, the boys thought must be a palace. As
they stood looking at it, a black board, such as they had often seen
used at school for writing sums on, made its appearance at the door and
gravely walked down the steps. The board had two arms, one hand grasping
a pointer, and the other a piece of chalk and a towel. It came forward,
walking very clumsily with its wooden feet, and the whole appearance was
so ridiculous that the boys could not help laughing. The board seemed to
see this somehow, raised his piece of chalk and wrote on himself,

                        “_Do you know who I am?_”

[Sidenote: SELF-IMPORTANT FRAME.]

The boys confessed they did not. The board raised the hand with the towel
and wiped himself, and then wrote,

[Illustration]

                        “_I am the School Board_,”

pointing to the words with a grand sweep of the stick, as much as to say,
“What do you think of that?” They were not at all overawed by this great
announcement, and the ridiculous flourish of the pointer made them look
at one another and laugh again. At this the board looked blacker than
ever, and angrily wiping himself wrote,

                  “_You must make a bow to the board_.”

[Sidenote: SPLITTING WITH LAUGHTER.]

“Oh, all right!” said Jaques; and they all made a low mock bow, shaking
with laughter. When they raised their heads after bowing, they saw that
the board was wiped again, and that it wrote,

                  “_If you do that you will break me_.”

“How can laughing break you?” said Norval.

                        “_Solvuntur risu tabulæ._
                   _Boards are broken with laughter._—

                                                      _Free translation._”

wrote the board.

“Well, then, we won’t any more,” said Norval; and they all kept down
their laughter as well as they could.

[Sidenote: THE MEAN QUANTITY.]

“That is kind,” wrote the board. “We too often have splits in our School
Boards; but as you have stopped, I feel sound again.”

“Feel sound! surely you can’t do that; hear it, you mean,” said Jaques.

_Board._—“You mean what? Finish your sentence. Boards are generally
thought extravagant, and not mean.”

_Jaques._—“I don’t mean you’re mean. I mean you mean——”

_Board._—“If you are doing a verb, it is—

    I mean. Thou meanest.
    _not_
    I mean. You mean.”

_Jaques._—“But I did not intend to say that you were mean or meanest;
indeed I didn’t.”

_Board._—“You said mean, didn’t you?”

_Jaques._—“Yes.”

_Board._—“And you did mean to say mean.”

_Jaques._—“Yes; but——”

_Board._—“Stop. You did mean mean when you said mean.”

_Jaques._—“Yes, but I didn’t mean——”

[Sidenote: WHINE FROM THE WOOD.]

_Board._—“Stop. If you did mean mean, how can you say that you didn’t
mean?”

_Jaques._—“But when I say mean, I don’t mean the mean that you mean. You
mean mean something; it’s unfair.”

_Board._—“Not by any manner of means. You need not put on an indignant
mien in addition to all the other means.”

_Jaques._—“But I mean to say that I did not mean to say the mean that you
mean, when you say mean, but did mean the mean that isn’t mean.”

_Board._—“Take care, young man; you will become a hopeless prodigal if
you don’t look better after your means.”

How long this kind of thing might have gone on it is impossible to tell;
but it was put an end to by a little boy coming out of the school, and
taking the School Board by the ear, saying—

“What are you idling your time here for, sir? be off into school at once.”

“Oh dear, sir! please, sir,” whined the board, as he piped, or rather
pipeclayed, his eye, “I won’t do it any more, sir. Let me off this time,
sir; ah, you might, sir!”

[Sidenote: PRATING AND RATING.]

The boy let the board go, and it immediately walked its chalks into
school, wiping its eyes with the towel. He then turned to our heroes, and
said politely—

“These School Boards are a perfect nuisance, what with the power of
rating they have got, and the power of prating they assume, things are
coming to a pretty pass.”

In this our heroes thoroughly agreed with him.

“Perhaps you would like to step in and see our mode of tuition.”

They were quite proud at the idea of being treated as visitors, like the
grown-up ladies and gentlemen who came to their own school, and said they
would like it very much, so the boy led the way to the building.

Norval, thinking that a visitor should ask questions, said—

“What branches do you teach?”

[Sidenote: THE MODERN SCHOOL.]

“Oh, all kinds,” answered the boy. “Growing branches, green branches,
lopped branches, rotten branches, branches of the service, railway
branches, railway switches, courteous boughs, sprigs of nobility, and
many others. Do you twig?”

“But what things do you teach?”

“We don’t teach them at all. Putting pupils up to a thing or two is not
approved of.”

“But I mean what is your division of subjects?”

“We don’t cut up subjects here; we have no anatomical class.”

“But,” said Norval, who had seen an education report in a newspaper, “do
you follow any standard in your teaching?”

“No, there’s no flagging with us. We try to keep in advance in our
training; we go in for the truck system, so as to keep in the van.”

They were now entering one of the class-rooms, so that Norval’s
questioning was brought to a close, leaving him quite as wise as he was
before, for which it is to be hoped he was sufficiently grateful.

[Sidenote: FRICASSEE.]

The grammar lesson was going on, and in the course of a few minutes they
had illustrations of various moods—dull moods, sulky moods, cheerful
moods, rude moods, and good moods. They also learned a new point in
grammar—that there are an indefinite number of cases. Norval objected
when this was stated; but the teacher, who had a dominiering look, though
an M A ciated Fellow, met his objection at once.

“Beg pardon, sir; we do not in our modern school submit to the teaching
of old-fashioned grammars. We stick to facts, sir—to facts. Thomas, prove
to the gentleman that there are more cases than are stated in the old
grammars.”

Thomas, who went by the nickname of Soft Tommy—being bred though not born
a duffer—tried to look crusty, and did not rise.

“Case No. 1, a case of obstinacy,” said the teacher, with a grand air.
“Then there are sad cases, strong cases, long cases, card-cases, cases
of conscience, cases of instruments, cases of divorce, dressing-cases,
hard cases, puzzling cases, pencil-cases, cases of brandy, cases of
collision, packing-cases, caucases, ukases, ca-sas——”

[Sidenote: VIRUMQUE CANO.]

How long he might have gone on nobody can tell; but the small boy that
acted as conductor, seizing a cane, began belabouring the teacher with
it most vigorously. The master seemed to take this quite as a matter of
course (as indeed the class did also), and calmly brought his speech to a
close, saying, in a voice broken by sobs, “and lastly, for the present, a
case of discipline.”

[Illustration]

The smallest boy in the class now walked boldly forward, and said—

“We’ve had plenty of your cases, and, in our present mood, decline going
on with this intense sort of nonsense. Give us some history; come on, old
boy!” Saying this, he gave him a poke in the ribs.

[Sidenote: KNOTTY ARGUMENTS.]

Our heroes could hardly help feeling a considerably uncomfortable
sensation at the thought of what would have happened behind them had they
behaved to their teacher at home as the class were doing; but instead of
this one acting as they would have expected, he turned and said—

“I beg your pardon, young gentlemen, if I have detained you too long at
grammar.”

“Well, well, take care it does not happen again,” ran in a murmur through
the class, as the boys produced their history books.

“Now then, old stick in the mud!” said the top boy to the teacher, “read
us that jolly bit about the battle, and don’t make any mistakes, or
you’ll catch it.” As he said this, he and all the other boys pulled out
their handkerchiefs, and made them up with knots.

[Sidenote: ARMA CANO.]

The reading began; and the teacher, probably from fear, made every now
and then some trifling blunder. Whenever this occurred, the whole class
rushed on him and belaboured him with the knotted handkerchiefs. Our
heroes were at first afraid he would be seriously hurt; but as, being
a Board teacher, he paid no more attention to the blows than if he had
been made of wood, they soon began rather to enjoy the scene. The history
lesson was as follows:—

[Sidenote: FOOLISH FEEDING.]

[Sidenote: COMMON-COUNCIL SCREWS.]

“Hannibal, at the head of the invincible Roman legions, which had just
got their rout,[5] marched on Poke Stogis. His infantry was augmented
by an Amazon corps from the new British Woman’s Rights League, the
special feature of which was, that it allowed talking in the ranks, and,
indeed, used gossip and scandal as potent means of defeating its foes.
The cavalry, who were greatly improved in musketry since one General
Shoot had got the command, were mounted on highly-mettled steeds, cast
by the Board of Ordnance, and splendidly broken, especially about the
knees. On nearing Poke Stogis, Hannibal was met by General Wattyler, who
commanded the king’s troops. Hannibal, true to the traditions of the
house of Hapsburg, rode in a Magna Carta—a war-chariot invented by King
John when his subjects were taking liberties—while the General bestrode
a 50-inch bicycle that had been presented to him by Ptolemy on the
occasion of the opening of the Fiji water-works, at which the General,
who was a freemason, had, in Scotch parlance, proved himself a very wat
tyler indeed. The inhabitants of Poke Stogis, as is usual in tropical
countries, regaled the troops on both sides with gooseberry-fool, after
which the battle commenced in a field, and in earnest. After two hours’
hard fighting, during which splendid reinforcements arrived in Hansom
cabs from Connecticut and Pondicherry, and after tossing up a halfpenny
to decide which army they should join, went half to one side and half to
the other, an adjournment took place for luncheon, and another repast
of sponge-cakes and ginger-beer was provided by the energy of the Major
and Common Council of Poke Stogis, who, with that true nobility which
is the best evidence of genuine rank, drew the corks with their own
hands. These additional draughts added greatly to the strength of both
sides, and comforted the combatants much, as they knew that those of them
who might fall in the battle had their bier already provided for them.
Before resuming hostilities, each commander addressed his troops in a few
soul-stirring words. But small fragments of these celebrated speeches
have been handed down to the present day; yet these are so valuable, that
it is thought well here to reproduce them. Their noble sentiment and
stirring patriotism may well cause them to be engraven upon the hearts
of the rising generation. Lest any words unworthy of the rest should be
inserted, it is thought preferable to leave blanks where the actual
expressions are not known. Hannibal said—

[Sidenote: PRAVE ’ORDS.]

... on this occasion, it is with ... indeed, I may say ... ten thousand
... indeed, less and less ... may I not say ... words would fail me ...
brave soldiers of the ... enemy ... victory is ... nay was ... perhaps
may be ... disgrace ... shall add no more....

[Illustration]

“If these disjointed fragments convey so much, well might it be asked,
What may not the rest have been? The reader must answer this for himself.
Of General Wattyler’s speech still less has been preserved. In fact,
but for forty-nine h’s, which the pious affection of the citizens of
Poke Stogis collected, and preserved in carbolic acid, history would
be a blank regarding it. All honour to the men who spared no labour to
preserve to a grateful posterity these valuable records of a warrior
and a hero. When the memory of thousands of greater places is lost in
futurity, the glory Poke Stogis has haitchieved in handing down to us the
droppings of a great warrior’s lips will be blazoned on the scroll of
fame.

[Sidenote: WARM WORK.]

[Illustration]

“The battle having recommenced, was so hotly contested that the
thermometer rose to 549 degrees of Fahrenheit, and 272 men on one side
perished, drowned in the surging tide of battle; while 74 of the opposing
troops were roasted (although it was Friday) before the slow fire of
the enemy. Both sides won a decisive victory, and captured the whole
of the enemy’s artillery. A noble pillar, 1 foot 7½ inches high, still
marks the spot on which Hannibal and Wattyler adjusted the terms of the
general order to the troops, thanking them in the name of King Cole (not
the old one, but Parrot Cole, surnamed the Chatterer) for the glorious
stampede by which they had turned the fortunes of the day. The event was
celebrated in Poke Stogis by a grand illumination, in which seven bunches
of dips, four boxes of Bryant & May’s matches, and two rows of fusees
were expended—an extravagance not often perpetrated by a corporation so
careful of the public money as that of Poke Stogis. The people shouted
till they were hoarse,—they belonging to the class that cheers though not
inebriates.”

[Sidenote: LIGHT CONDUCT.]

This concluded the history lesson, and the school was then exercised in
prose composition. Want of space forbids the production of more than a
single specimen of the papers written; but the following is a fair one:—

THEME.—_Cloe’s parents desire to wed her to Strephon, the eldest son
of a noble house, and bid her accept his suit. She, being in love with
Alexis, the younger son, secretly meets him. They are discovered.
Cloe is rebuked for her heartlessness, and Alexis languishes in a
prison.—Moral._

[Sidenote: AWFULLY NICE.]

[Sidenote: STOLEN SPOONS.]

[Illustration]

“In such a state from heat so great, Alexis groaned and Cloe moaned, as
through the wood, in loving mood, they made their way, till close of day;
when homeward turning with cheeks just burning, to ’scape a shower they
sought a bower, in which they rested and playful jested, and did discuss,
promiscuous, their hopes and fears for future years, till moon uprose
and did disclose, ’neath graceful skirt, drawn up from dirt, her ankle
neat near two great feet, to anxious Pa, who cried, ‘Ha, ha! I’ve found
you out;’ then with a shout, flew on her swain and called his train, who
held the stripling in their grip, and made him sleep in dungeon deep;
while pretty Cloe wept in woe, as angry mater did soundly rate her,
rustling with fuss, calling her, ‘hussey, brazen jade, wer’t not afraid?
how couldst thou do’t? Lean to the suit of younger son, devoid of money!
Secret wooings! Hein! pretty doings!’”

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

“MORAL.—This may suffice as good advice, to lovers to keep skirts from
view, and draw their toes well in _sub rosa_, when in bower at evening
hour, and making spoons by light of moons.”

[Sidenote: A BORED TEACHER.]

When the prose composition was over, the teacher was about to commence
another lesson, but the small boy who had been so active with the cane
before, coolly walked up to the desk, took the teacher’s watch out of his
pocket, and holding it up called out—

“Mischief-class hour!”

In a moment the air was full of shouts and yells, slates and books,
satchells and ink-bottles. Norval and his brothers were quite picklish
enough to feel tempted to enjoy the fun; but seeing that the mischief was
going far beyond what ought to be joined in, he seized Jaques and Ranulf,
and made for the door. Fortunately for the boys, the teacher was between
them and the class on their way out; and two ink-bottles, five pieces of
india-rubber, a blotting-blad, and a handful of slate pencil, that came
flying in their direction, were stopped by the body of the master, who,
being a Board teacher, was not, as the boys expected, floored by the
missiles, but beamed pleasantly as if all was oakay, and the sensation so
dealicious, that he wood like some more treemendously. Just as the boys
were getting out at the door, the whole class rushed upon the teacher,
and made him fast to the wall with his own nails, where he stuck with a
plank look on his plane face, as if he was now bored through and through.
Somehow the whole thing seemed to everybody engaged to be so ordinary an
occurrence that the three boys felt no alarm, as they would have done
under other circumstances; and as they got out and shut the door, had a
hearty laugh at the ludicrous scene they had witnessed.

[Sidenote: MIXED STORES.]

[Sidenote: NO SHOP.]

On reaching the street they began to stroll through the town, amusing
themselves by looking in at the shop-windows. There was plenty of food
for merriment, as things were mixed up in a very curious way. The
contents of one window were, a leg of mutton, the Children’s Friend, a
bottle of senna, six farthing dips, two bunches of radishes, an oyster,
a wooden leg, and a stuffed goose. In another, over which was painted
upside down “Rafé and Cestaurant,” there were a millstone, a wooden
shoe, three india-rubber goloshes, a can of train-oil, two white hats,
a brass knocker, and a dead cat. A shop marked “Pluggist, licensed by
the Packulty,” exhibited a drum, two sucking pigs, a magic-lantern,
five cocked-hats, a green cotton umbrella, two packs of cards, a tin
soldier, and a frying-pan. The notices in the windows were also very
queer. One said, “No credit given, except without security. Any person
paying ready money will be handed over to the police.” Close beside this
was another: “Price down from 5s. to 7s. 9d. each.” The boys thought
either sum would have been rather dear, as the ticket was upon a common
peg-top, such as they had often bought for twopence. Another label bore,
“Try our Totalfailure Mixture, strongly remmocended by the Boil College
of Imposicians.” It would take too long to speak of all the funny things
they saw; besides, it is always bad taste to talk too much “shop.” If
any one would like to hear more on that subject, he has only to address a
polite note to

                MESSRS NORVAL, JAQUES, RANULF, & COMPANY,
                          The Nurseryfun Works,
                             Skrumpshustown,

enclosing five thousand stamps, when he will receive by return of post
a copy of the most amusing shop-label they saw in Blundertown. If he
considers the price too high, let him remember the poet’s query—

[Sidenote: AUGHT OR NAUGHT.]

    “What is aught but as ’tis valued?”

and if he thinks the answer is Naught, he can judge himself what is the
difference, if N y.

[Sidenote: LADY PAS LAIDE.]

Affairs in the street were quite as queer as in the shops. While the boys
were looking in at a window, a silvery voice behind them called out,
“Stalest Tellacrams—Last week’s paper at double price;” and turning round
they saw a young lady, dressed in perfect taste, the only blunders about
her being that she had no hair on her head but her own, which was neither
dyed nor bleached, nor combed down over her eyes _à la_ pet terrier, and
that she walked like a human being, not as ladies in the ordinary world
do, with their heels perched up on things like a couple of inches cut off
the legs of a chair, and wearing their dresses so tight, that their knees
seem to be tied together with tape. A footman followed her, who had the
calves of his legs in front, and the tie of his cravat at the back, and
whose neck was not at all stiff, but shook like a shape of calves-foot
jelly. He carried a quantity of newspapers, wrapped in scented
envelopes. Instead of getting pennies for her newspapers, the young lady,
whenever anybody took one, curtsied low, and kissing her hand, gravely
gave them a penny, saying, “Thanks, thanks—a thousand, thousand thanks;
Telegraphina will never forget your kindness.”

[Sidenote: CORDIAL BUMPERS.]

[Illustration]

The people, when they met in the street, instead of passing, walked
straight up to each other, bumped one another heavily, and then went on
smiling as if all was right. While Norval was gazing after the pretty
young lady with the newspapers, an old dame, with a reticule on her head
and a bonnet full of apples in her hand, made straight at him. Norval got
out of the way, and she nearly fell on her nose, the apples rolling out
on the pavement.

[Sidenote: ANCIENT THOMAS.]

“What a rude old man, to be sure!” said she, scowling at Norval.

“I only got out of the way, ma’am, if you mean me by old man,” said he.

“And what’s the use of people who are not in the way when they are
wanted?” said she. “Old men like you——”

“I’m not an old man,” said Norval, interrupting.

“When were you born?” said the old lady, snappishly.

“Eight years ago,” said Norval.

“Then you’re eight years old.” Norval did not see any answer to this, and
she went on, “Does your papa ever tell lies?”

“No,” said Norval, indignantly.

“Doesn’t he call you his little man sometimes?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re old and you’re a man, so you’re an old man.”

Norval did not quite see it—“I don’t feel old,” he said.

“How can I know how you feel,” replied the old lady, “when you won’t bump
me? Oh!” she added, screwing up her lips and clasping her hands, “I do
love a bumper! Is your name Tom?”

“No,” said Norval.

[Sidenote: SCARCELY APARIENT.]

“That’s a pity; there’s no bumper like an old Tom; he’s a noble spirit,
always ginoowine.”

“I can’t follow you,” said Norval.

“And did I say I wanted you to follow me? Gals have no followers here; I
only wanted my regular bump.”

Norval having a grandfather who was fond of phrenology, had picked up a
smattering, and was just going to say that he thought it was only silly
people that wanted regular bumps, when suddenly the old lady called out,
“Where are my pears? there were four of them.”

Jaques and Ranulf, who had picked up the apples, had been standing ready
to hand them back to her ever so long.

“I beg your pardon,” said Jaques, “they are apples.”

“I say they’re pears,” said the old lady, testily. “How many have you?”

“Eight,” said Jaques.

“Well, and isn’t that four pairs? I always like to buy them pared; it
saves knives and trouble,” said she. “It’s a pity that a boy like you
should be a beggar.”

“I’m not a beggar,” said Jaques.

“Didn’t you beg my pardon?”

“Yes.”

“Those who beg are beggars, that’s sure,” said she.

[Sidenote: COURTEOUS.]

Just at this moment a policeman came up. He took off his helmet, and
making a low bow, said, “I heard the word beg. May I take the great
liberty of inquiring whether any one has thought proper to beg? and if
so, from whom, and for what? If for anything real, good and well; but if
merely from politeness or courtesy, then to be visited with the utmost
severity of the law.”

Jaques, who had always been taught fearlessly to speak the truth, said at
once, “I begged the old lady’s pardon,” half doubting what would happen.
To his great surprise the policeman turned round sharp on the old lady,
and asked, “Did this boy beg your pardon?”

“Yes,” said she.

“Then, madam, with peelings of the deepest fain, it is my duty to inform
you that you must at once be led to the court.”

“The court!” screamed the old lady; “it has been my ambition for fifty
years to be courted, and now it has come at last.”

“It has, madam; you are now about to be presented at court by the aid of
the police. Will your Majesty deign to proceed?”

[Sidenote: XPLAINING.]

“Majesty!” said she; “I can’t understand it.”

“Let me endeavour to make it plain,” said the constable, with a wave of
his hand like a professor lecturing. “Will your gracious Majesty deign
to inform me whether I am correct in saying that this boy begged your
pardon?”

“Yes.”

“And would your Highness further permit me to inquire whether it is or is
not a fact that begging is contrary to law?”

“Yes.”

“May I also be suffered humbly and respectfully to put the question,
whether anybody can pardon people for breaking the law, except the
Queen?”

[Sidenote: EVERY INCH A QUEEN.]

“No.”

“Then I reverentially request permission of your gracious Majesty to
point out that as you were asked to pardon when he broke the law, you
must be the queen.”

“But I’ve got no crown,” said she, quite puzzled.

“I must be condescendingly excused for venturing to differ from your
Serene Highness. If you will feel for it, you will find you have a crown
to your head.”

“Why, so I have,” said she, and suddenly drawing herself up, and assuming
an air of most ridiculous dignity, added, “What, ho! bring hither my
sceptre.”

The boys could scarcely keep in their laughter, and the difficulty
increased when the policeman produced his baton, and going down on one
knee handed it to the old lady, who immediately aimed a fierce blow at
his head, crying,—

“Down with every one that has a crown except myself!”

The policeman mildly replied, “Your Majesty, I haven’t got a crown
in the world; my missus doesn’t allow me more than 4 and 9 a-week for
pocket-money.”

[Sidenote: A BOUNDING JOY.]

[Illustration]

“Just as well for you; those who are limited to four and ninepence can
feel proper respect for a sovereign,” said the old lady; “now for our
court.” So saying, she began to perform a most wild _minuet de la cour_,
the policeman beating time with his hands. Then ordering him to take off
his greatcoat, she fastened it on as a train, and set off for the court.

[Sidenote: RUNNING MELODY.]

The policeman went first, playing a grand march on a Jew’s harp, which
he produced from his pocket. It was as big as a fire-shovel, but this
did not matter, as he had a mouth reaching from ear to ear. The old lady
followed, holding her baton-sceptre up, and with her long, sharp chin
cocked so high in the air that you could have hung a hat upon it. The
policeman’s music made her quite lively, and she began to sing, with a
chorus to each verse, which ran thus,—

[Music:

    Hey tiddy-iddy-tiddy,
    Hey tiddy-iddy-tiddy,
    Hey tiddy-iddy-tiddy,
    tum-tum-tum.]

during the singing of which she skipped about from one side to the other
in a most lively manner.

[Sidenote: SOVEREIGN SPECIFICS.]

    I never thought to see
    The day I queen should be;
    It’s come at last, however,
    You well may cry—“I never!”
        Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.

    Nor I, but still it’s poz,
    However strange, because
    Policeman says ’tis so;
    X is ’xact, you know.
        Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.

    Our reign shall last so long,
    You’ll need umbrellas strong;
    Woe to the minion’s skin
    Who sports a gingham thin!
        Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.

    A sovereign we shall be,
    Ruling land and sea
    In straighter lines than youc
    Ould find in copy-book.
        Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.

    We’ll have a Parliament
    Cake and wine event
    Every day or two,
    Invites select and few.
        Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.

    To have a feast of rea
    Son at our royal tea;
    Likewise a flow of soul,
    By Punch from royal bowl.
        Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.

    And nominate a Prime
    Minister of rhyme;
    Pros and Cons shall banished be,
    Except conundrums after tea.
        Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.

    Look out for famous sport,
    For we are going to court;
    So bachelors beware,
    And let no caitiff dare
        Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.

    Refuse our royal suit
    Of livery, and put
    On his own airs instead,
    Or off shall go his head.
        Hey tiddy iddy tiddy, &c., &c.

[Sidenote: BAND-DITTY.]

Each time the old lady took up the chorus, she skipped about from one
side to the other with a briskness that did her credit; and as she
marched and tripped along the street, the policemen she passed joined
the procession, each producing an instrument from his pocket, so that
soon the old lady had a band before her, playing most vigorously on the
following:—

    A Jew’s Harp.
    A Penny Trumpet.
    Three Threepenny Fiddles.
    A Handbell.
    Two Twopenny Flutes.
    A Mouth Accordion.
    A Triangle.
    A Pair of Bones;

[Sidenote: BATONS D’ORCHESTRE.]

and the inspector led the band, with his hat fastened to his waist-belt,
keeping them to their beat by drumming in a spirited manner on the crown
of it with a pair of batons.

[Sidenote: DECIDED HITS.]

[Illustration]

The boys tried very hard to find out what the tune of the verses was, but
could make nothing of it. All the melody seemed to rest in the chorus
instead of running through the song. The people in the streets, however,
were evidently greatly delighted with it, as, the moment the procession
came within hearing, they all stood still and began gravely to beat time
with their sticks and umbrellas, those who had none wagging their heads
up and down, like China mandarins. The boys laughed heartily when they
saw several dozen umbrellas, sticks, and heads solemnly waving about,
while the policemen squeaked and croaked, banged and tinkled, on their
instruments, and the people slowly turned round their backs and bowed low
to the houses as the old lady passed. Whenever she, in skipping about,
came near any of the people who were bowing, she took a rise out of them
by administering a sound whack with the baton-sceptre, which knocked
them down, shouting, “Rise, Sir What’s-your-name Thingammy,” which the
poor fellows did with a very beknighted look. Presently they arrived at
a large building, at the door of which the policemen turned aside to let
the old lady enter, and having played a final flourish, repocketed their
instruments. The old lady on reaching the door turned round, and finding
the policeman who had given her the baton waiting, she grasped it firmly,
saying—

[Sidenote: A THUMPING GAL.]

“I’ll give it to you,” and, suiting the action to the utterance, she
brought it down bang as hard as she could, as he bowed low, so that he
fell flat on the pavement.

[Illustration]

“Rise, Sir Charle——”

“Stop, stop!” he cried; “don’t turn a day constable into a knight.”

[Sidenote: GIVE AND TAKE.]

“Back to your beat,” said she, majestically.

“I think it’s rather beat to my back,” replied he, although, curiously
enough, he did not appear at all discomposed or hurt.

“Take yourself up.”

“We take others up, not ourselves; besides, you’ve battened me down.”

“Oh, you downy fellow!”

“Yes, you can’t get a rise out of me, that’s plain.”

“X plain yourself,” said she.

“No pretty Bobby-she should say,” said he.

“Move on!” cried she—“move on, siree!”

“Peeler of the State, I stands,” said he.

Suddenly some one rushed out at the door (knocking the old lady so that
she tumbled over the policeman), and coming up to the boys said, “Are you
judges of sweet things?”

“I should rather think so,” replied Jaques.

[Sidenote: GETTING A WIGGING.]

“Then come along at once,” said he; and before they had time to think, he
hurried them upstairs into a room where three pompous-looking attendants
in white coats and enormous black neckcloths dressed them up in grand
robes, put immense full-bottomed wigs on their heads, and opening a door,
pointed to three large chairs. The boys went in and sat down on the
chairs, while everybody in the court rose up, making a low bow, and a
crier called out—

“All persons, without any further ado before my Lords the Justices of
Assize so small Boyer and Determiner, and Jug ale Delivery, draw beer and
give to attendants.”

This announcement about beer might have appeared to be an aberration on
the crier’s part, had it not been that, as is usual in criminal courts,
there were plenty of queer mugs among the people in the building.

[Sidenote: COURT BEAUTY.]

The boys hardly knew what to think of their new position. Norval and
Jaques were rather overawed by their robes. Ranulf had got between his
brothers, and so was seated in the Lord Chief Justice’s chair. At first
he looked as grave as a judge, which was just what he ought to have done
in the circumstances; but after a little he glanced round at Norval,
and seeing him in his wig, which came down to his waist, was just on the
point of bursting out laughing, when the Clerk of Court, who wore green
goggles as large as macaroons, peered over the Bench from below, saying,
“If yer Ludship pleases,” and sat down again.

[Illustration]

“I hope I do please,” said Ranulf. “Papa always bids us try to please.”

[Sidenote: A SWEET THING.]

“Your Lordship pleases me very much,” said a charming voice from the
prisoner’s dock, in which stood a lovely lady, dressed in full Court
costume, feathers and all, who kissed her daintily-gloved hand to Ranulf.

“But I thought we were brought here as judges of sweet things,” said
Jaques.

The Clerk of Court peering over the bench again, said, “’Xac’ly so, m’
Lud; the sweetest thing in prisoners we’ve had for a long time, m’ Lud,”
and sat down again.

“What is she charged with?” said Norval.

“P’tty lasseny, m’ Lud.”

“Pretty lasseny!” said Jaques aside to Norval. “I am sure she is guilty
of that.”

“But,” said Norval, “what is she charged with doing?”

“Stealing a heart, m’ Lud.”

Norval, who had once been in court at a trial, thought the right thing
to do was to take a note; so, seizing an enormous pen that was on the
bench, he wrote, repeating aloud as he went on, “Prisoner charged with
stealing a tart.”

[Sidenote: QUEER QUERIES.]

“The person who stole tarts was a knave, and I thought a knave was a
man?” said Ranulf.

“Yes,” said Norval; “but you know the women want to do what the men do
nowadays.”

“I’ve heard of their wanting rights,” said Jaques; “but stealing isn’t a
right, it’s a wrong, isn’t it?”

“Never mind,” said Norval; “it won’t do to appear not to understand.
Ranny, you’re the old judge, you know, because you’re in the middle,
so you must ask the questions. You had better ask what the prisoner’s
name is. Now, look grave,” said he, as he observed the dimples in his
brother’s cheeks beginning to show again.

Ranulf pursed his lips up very tight, and then said, “I want to know what
the pretty lady’s name is?”

“No, no,” said Norval; “prisoner.”

“I want to know the pretty prisoner’s name?” said Ranulf.

[Sidenote: STEAK TART.]

“No, no—just prisoner,” said Norval; “say it again.”

“Well, then, I want to know the just prisoner’s name?” said Ranulf.

“Just so, m’ Lud,” said the Clerk, bobbing up; “prisoner’s name is
Victoria Lawsenj. Yer Ludship had better ask her to plead.”

Norval whispered to Ranulf, “Tell her she’s charged with stealing a tart.
Ask whether she is guilty or not guilty.”

Ranulf looked as grave as he could, and said “Victoria Lawsenj, you are
charged with stealing a tart——”

“Beg pardon, m’ Lud,” said the Clerk, starting up; “some m’stake, my
Lud——”

Ranulf began again, “Victoria Lawsenj, you are charged with stealing a
tart and some steak.”

“Must pray yer Ludsh’p t’ excuse me ’gain; yer Ludship said tart and
steak.”

“Was that the wrong order?” said Ranulf, meekly; “then I’ll say steak and
tart.”

[Sidenote: NOTA DOUBT OF IT.]

“But, m’ Lud, the steak is a mistake, and the tart is another.”

“Very well,” said Ranulf; “I’ll say that she is charged with stealing
a female steak—cow-beef—and that the tart was not really a tart but a
beefsteak pie.”

“But, m’ Lud,” said the Clerk; “really, m’ Lud, yer Ludship knows best,
m’ Lud, of course; but, m’ Lud, I would suggest that your Ludship said
tart instead of heart.”

Here Norval, remembering what he had seen in court, broke in, “But tart
is right; it must be right—I’ve got it in my notes.”

This completely flabbergasted the Clerk, who gasped a feeble “M’ Lud,”
and sank down in his seat in despair.

Jaques, practical as usual, whispered to Ranulf, “Never mind whether it’s
a tart or a heart; just say, ‘You are charged with stealing a tart, or a
heart, or something. Are you guilty or not guilty?’”

Ranulf took this advice; and turning to the lady, who was gracefully
fanning herself, he asked her the question, only he got confused towards
the end, and made it—“Are you gilded or not gilded?”

“Oh, my Lord,” said the lady, “there’s no gilt about me; I’m as true as
steel.”

Up started the Clerk.

“Take down, m’ Lud, that she says it’s true she stole.”

“No, I didn’t; I only steeled,” said she.

“Steeeled!” said the Clerk, contemptuously; “how do you spell
‘steeeeled’?”

“S-t-e-e-l-e-d, you old goose!”

[Sidenote: WHOLESALE SLAUGHTER.]

“Yer Ludship sees how bad she is; her manner’s bad, her grammar’s bad,
and her spelling’s bad. Your Ludship had better add another count for
murder.”

“Murder of what?” said Jaques.

“The Queen’s English, m’ Lud.”

“That would be a great many murders, for there are more than thirty
million English,” said Jaques, who had learned the population in his
geography book; “how could she murder so many?”

The Clerk was quite puzzled at this, and tried to look as wise as he
could, which was not very wise, but otherwise. There was a long pause,
during which the prisoner ate an ice and drank a cool beverage that were
brought to her by a powdered footman, after which she looked brighter
and lovelier than ever, while everybody else in court was miserable with
stuffiness and heat.

“Could not we have ices too?” said Ranulf, eyeing the tray eagerly.

The footman said nothing, but turning round made a low bow, walked up to
the bench, and as the boys held out their hands for ices, gravely shook
his head, made another low bow, and walked out.

[Sidenote: BRUTAL BOXING.]

By this time the Clerk had recovered himself, and a jury having been
called, they were got into the jury-box. This was a matter of some
difficulty, as the box was made without any door, and the jurymen were
seized by ushers and thrown over the partition, tumbling in a confused
heap. When the whole twelve had been thrown over, they presented a sorry
spectacle of torn clothes and dusty faces. There were no seats in the
box, but the ushers threw in some chairs on the top of the jurymen,
who appeared to take all as a matter of course. The plaintiff was then
called forward, and a large wooden box placed over him by the ushers, who
padlocked it down and then sat on the top of it.

[Sidenote: CASE FOR PLAINTIFF.]

“Why do you lock him up?” said Jaques.

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: JACK IN THE BOX.]

“Shall ’ave to beg yer Ludship’s pardon,” said the Clerk; “we don’t lock
him up, we lock him down.”

“But why do you put him under a case?” said Jaques.

“To prevent him getting up case, m’ Lud.”

Jaques himself seemed rather shut up at this, and Norval, moved again by
what he had once seen at a trial, said, “What is your name?”

“John,” said the voice, out of the box.

“It should be Jack, when he’s in a box, shouldn’t it?” said Ranulf; “and
he ought to start up, oughtn’t he?”

“Oh, he will be sure to do that,” said the lady; “he always was an
upstart, indeed he was, my dear—Lord, I mean,” said she, correcting
herself with a smile.

“John What?” Norval went on.

“No, my name’s not John What,” said the voice from the box; “it’s John
Doe.”

“That’s strange,” said Jaques; “I thought the case was about a heart, not
about a doe.”

[Sidenote: LONGITUDE.]

“Yes, my Lud, but the charge is that she stole a Doe’s heart,” said the
Clerk.

“Doe and hart, hart and doe; I don’t think I’ll ever understand it,” said
Ranulf, with a sigh.

“P’raps if yer Ludship would keep in mind that in Doe _versus_ Roe——”

“Oh dear, oh dear! here’s a roe now; that’s another staggerer,” cried
Jaques.

“Never mind,” whispered Norval—“look solemn, and make believe you know
all about it.”

The examination of John Doe then began.

“How long have you known the prisoner?”

“Various lengths. I have known her from 2 feet 3 inches long to 5 feet 7½
inches long, as she is now. But even now she is sometimes pretty short
with me. I’ve known her so long, in short, that the longer I knew her the
more I got to long after her.”

“Well, I don’t want to know anything about long after; I mean, when did
you first come across her?”

“I cross her! I never crossed her in my life. She had her own way as
long as I knew her; it was she that was cross with me.”

[Sidenote: A TROUBLESOME TIME.]

“But I want to know the length of your acquaintance?”

“Some of my acquaintances are long and some short.”

“How shall I put it? Tell me, once for all, when you first met her.”

“When I first met her? I met her when I least expected it.”

“Really this is intolerable. I want you to tell me what was the time at
which your first meeting took place.”

“Wild thyme, I think; but I’m no botanist, you know.”

“Tut, tut! At what period of time was it?”

“It wasn’t a period of thyme, it was a bank of thyme.”

“Will you answer, sir? Give me the date of your first meeting.”

“We had no dates at our first meeting, only raisins; and we ate them
all, so I cannot give you any.”

[Sidenote: PUNY JUDGES.]

“A fig for your dates and raisins! I wish I could get at the _raison
d’être_ of your answers. How can I put the question?”

[Illustration]

“That’s just what I want to know. How can you put such stupid questions?”

[Sidenote: LOUD LAUGHTER IN COURT.]

“M’ Lud, what am I to do? I can make nothing of this witness.”

Norval, who had learned a little Latin, replied, “Do you mean that you
can annihilate him?”

“No, m’ Lud, but I can’t make head or tail of him.”

“Never mind his head, and let him manage his own tail. Perhaps he’s a bit
of a wag.”

“Very well, m’ Lud. Now, then, tell your story.”

“I’m not a story-teller. I always tell the truth.”

“Yes, yes, but come on with your own tale.”

“Tail! I haven’t a tail. I’m not one of your Darwin monkey-people.”

The lady in the dock gave such a merry laugh at this, that she infected
the whole court. Ranulf went into such fits, that his wig slipped down to
his chin, and an usher had to come up to the bench and slap him on the
back to bring him round. Norval recovered first, and putting on as grave
a face as he could, said to Jaques and Ranulf, “Don’t be silly; judges
are always stern and grumpy, so we must be too;” and turning to John
Doe, said, “What is your complaint against her? Did she steal your heart?”

“No, my Lord; it was her own heart.”

[Sidenote: O’ER ME STEELING.]

“Her own heart! How can that be? How could her own heart be stolen by
her?”

“I never said it was stolen, my Lord, I only said she steeled it.”

“Surely that’s bad grammar, again,” whispered Jaques.

“But I want to know,” said Norval, “how could she steal what was her own?”

“Well, my Lord, you see I gave her my whole heart.”

“Gave it her? I thought you charged her with stealing it?”

“No, my Lord, never! It was her own she steeled.”

“Well, well,” said Norval, “go on; try to explain it in your own way.”

“This was the way, my Lord; I wanted her to be my sweetheart.”

[Sidenote: OFFERING AMENDS.]

“That’s right, my Lord,” said the lady; “and I was tart without the
sweet, I admit.”

“Yes, my Lord, a regular Tartar; when I gave her my whole heart, she
steeled hers against me.”

“True,” said the prisoner; “your Lordship must know he came with so much
brass, that I could only meet him with irony, particularly as I fancied
he was after the tin.”

Practical Jaques here broke in once more, saying, “Would it not put the
matter all right if she gave you back your heart?”

“Oh, but, my Lord, I gave her my whole heart, and she’s broken it.”

“That need not be a difficulty,” said the lady; “I’ll soon put it
together; I’m very good at a patchwork quilt.”

The Clerk, who had been dozing, wakened up once more at this, and said,
“She admits her guilt, m’ Lud.”

“You make a Qurious mistake,” said the lady; “I said quilt, not guilt.”

[Sidenote: THE BOUNDING DOE.]

The Clerk was off to sleep again, so made no answer.

[Illustration]

“My Lord,” said the lady, “here is his heart; I have offered it back to
him often, but he always said he did not want it, he wanted mine.”

[Sidenote: FROM BOX TO BOX.]

So saying, she pulled out of a neat little chatelaine bag which hung at
her side a small bundle wrapped up in silver paper.

“Are you willing to give it back to him?” said Jaques.

“With all my heart,” said she.

No sooner were these words uttered than a tremendous hurrah rang out
from the box in which the witness was enclosed, and John Doe proved the
upstart character Victoria had given him, by bursting the lid of the box
open and starting up in the air, sending the ushers upon it flying, and,
jumping out on the floor, he rushed up to the dock and gave the prisoner
a great hug.

To this she replied by giving him a tremendous box on the ear.

“What!” said he, “did you not say you would give me all your heart with
my own?”

“Well, you have me there,” said she; “but you must take the whole or
none. When you asked for my heart, you asked for my hand as well, and you
must take the one with the other,”—giving him another box on the ear.

[Sidenote: OH GOODY!]

The curious thing was, that from each box a number of little round things
fell with a clatter and scattered themselves on the floor.

The noise woke the Clerk, who, starting up, called out, “Silence in the
court!”

The hubbub still continuing, he shouted, “What is all this?”

[Illustration]

“Oh, nothing,” said the lady, skipping out of the dock, and administering
a box on the ear to the Clerk; “only boxes of Victoria Lawsenj’s.”

“Lozenges!” shouted the jury. “Oh, give me some!” cried everybody.

[Sidenote: BEST MIXTURES.]

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: VICTORIA’S RAIN.]

“Certainly,” said she; and before you could count 10, the whole of
the jury, counsel, ushers, and spectators were sprawling on the
ground, showers of lozenges falling in all directions,—thus once more
demonstrating what every one knows, that there’s no rain like Victoria’s,
and that Royal Boxes often contain the sweet. As everybody scrambled
after the lozenges, the whole court became a scene of confusion. The
boys, however, who had a notion that judges must be dignified, remained
quite still, only peering over their desks to see what was going on. As
the boxes continued, the court got ankle-deep in lozenges, in which the
people tumbled about, cramming them into their mouths and pockets by
handsful. The pile rose so high that Ranulf could resist the temptation
no longer, but with his long pen drew a lozenge towards him, and keeping
as grave as he could, stooped down and picked it up. As he had been
taught not to be selfish, he broke it in three and handed two of the
pieces to Norval and Jaques. They were just going to eat them, when the
lady called out—

“Oh, boys, surely you would not eat what was picked up off the floor!
that would be being bad judges of sweet things.”

[Sidenote: VIRTUE REWARDED.]

They stopped at once. Ranulf could not help casting a wistful eye at his
bit of lozenge, but getting the better of himself, he threw it down, and
the others did the same.

“That’s right,” said the lady; “so now you will not get a Victoria
Lawsenj box on the ear, like the other stupid people tumbling about
there: here are some nice clean sweetmeats for you.” So saying, she
handed each of the boys a lovely little box, made of chased gold and
blue enamel, and marked out in diamonds on the lid, “Genuine—our own
manufacture.” A prompt “Thank you” came from each judge’s desk; and on
the boxes being opened, the boys found in them, not the common lozenges
that were flying about the floor, but most lovely bonbons, which tasted
more delicious than any they ever had before.

Meanwhile the scene in court baffled description. Everybody was cramming
himself with lozenges, which, strangely enough, set them coughing
furiously.

[Sidenote: PREPARE TO CHARGE.]

“Don’t you think we had better get out of this Babel?” said the lady.

“I think so,” said Ranulf; “but how can we do it?”

“Oh, well,” said she, “I will manage it; I will even charge the jury, if
necessary.”

So saying, she took little Ranulf up in her arms, and telling the other
boys to keep close behind her, turned and said to the jury—

“Now it is quite evident you have agreed, by the way you are over-eating
yourselves, so you can return your verdict.”

“No,” said the foreman, “don’t hurry us; we are not ready.”

“Oh, come, that’s nonsense; surely you can give it _tout de suite_, after
swallowing so much sugar.”

“Well, we must be charged first.”

“Oh, I’ll charge you.”

“But how?”

“At ever so great a rate.”

[Sidenote: CHARGING THE JURY.]

“Stop a minute!” cried one.

“I seconds that motion,” said another.

“The motion of seconds is too fast for minutes to be stopped; besides,
they don’t belong to us, not being hours, so we have no right to stop
them.” So saying, she charged across the court, tumbling the jury over on
the top of John Doe in the middle of the lozenges.

“Don’t do that,” gasped the jury, “and we will pay you whatever your
charge may be.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to pay for the lozenges. We don’t sell ourselves,
we only sell other people! Ta, ta” said the lady, and led the boys out
at the door. On reaching the entrance, she bid them good-bye, at which
they looked rather blank, as they had hoped she would stay with them; and
seeing this, she said—

“My dear boys, I cannot come with you, as it is time for afternoon tea,
and I must have that. T comes before U, does it not?” So saying, she
kissed them, and passed them out at the door.

[Sidenote: OMINOUS BUS.]

As they stepped into the street a voice shouted,

“Take your seats, take your seats! Blunderbus just going off!”

The boys turned round and saw a short fat gun, evidently an infant of the
Woolwich infant. On a sign on the wall opposite it was painted “DOUBLE
ACTION BLUNDERBUS CO𐞲. (unlimited).”

“Why does it point up so much?” asked Jaques.

“Well, ye see, sir, the street ’ere is pretty steep; that’s how it’z
erranged mortar-like.”

“Which way is it going?” asked Norval, not wishing to return by the
street they had already walked along.

“Both ways,” said the conductor. “Hinside passengers one way, houtside
t’other.”

“How do you manage that?” asked Norval.

“Himproved happlication of Mongrieff’s recoil utilizer. When we goes
hoff, hinside passengers blown to Hattems, houtside recoils with shock
and ’orrer in hopposite d’rection.”

[Sidenote: MISS MANAGE MEANT IT.]

The boys at once resolved they would not go inside, but from curiosity
ran round to look into the gun. They found, packed very tight in it,
three wooden soldiers, a grate party with two brass dogs at his feet,
a dancing nigger, a Miss Manage—who, being on her way to an archery
meeting, had a beau by her side—a dumb-waiter, and a snob.

This reassured the boys, who, not wishing to go up the steep street
towards which the gun pointed, clambered on to the top. They were
scarcely seated, when a clown with a red-hot poker rushed out of the
coach-office, and applied the end to the touch-hole. Immediately there
is a fearful bang, and the Blunderbus starts backwards. The inside
passengers fly down the street helter-skelter, except Miss Manage, who
keeps herself collected, shooting out gracefully _à la_ Zazel, being,
alas! a sell for her beau, who wishes to cut his stick; but she, without
a quiver even in her eyelid, holds on to him as he talks of flight,
turning ashy pale at such a narrow escape. Not having forgotten the
excellent rule to have two strings to your beau, she had made a bolt
impossible.

[Sidenote: AGUNNY.]

[Illustration]

The dumb-waiter, cured by what would make most people speechless (a proof
of the truth of homœopathy), flew in all directions, shouting “Yessir,
yessir!” The wooden soldiers pulled themselves together for a moment
to salute an officer who was passing, which they did with the wrong
hand, and then sped on in more fragments than before. The grate party
was smashed so small that even his dogs did not know him; the nigger’s
nether limbs went off down the street by themselves, and were at once
apprehended as black-legs by the police, while the rest of him formed
a kind of Black’s Atlas upon the pavement. The snob, as was natural,
disappeared in any number of vulgar fractions.

[Sidenote: HEAVY BACKING.]

[Illustration]

The Blunderbus ran back at a great pace for a mile, butting over two
Papal bulls, sending spinning mules without number, and ended by knocking
ten feet out of a square yard, in which a regiment of soldiers was being
drilled.

[Sidenote: SUCH A STATE.]

Our trio, who had been rather alarmed during their ride, jumped off the
gun the moment it stopped, and, as boys will always do, ran off to look
at the soldiers. On getting near they were surprised to see that each
man had a nigger lady beside him. While they were wondering what this
could mean, the Colonel, who wore a shell jacket, and had a husky voice,
rode up on a clothes-horse, and handed Norval a parade state, which was
as follows:—

  +--------------------------------------------------------------------+
  |     TWOTY-TENTH BOSHSHIRE RUFFS, _37th Marchuary 7718_.            |
  +----------------+---------+---------+----------+---------+----------+
  |                | Present | Present | Absent   | Absent  |   Tea    |
  |                |  with   | without |   in     |   in    | Tottles. |
  |                | Leave.  | Leave.  |  Mind.   |  Body.  |          |
  +----------------+---------+---------+----------+---------+----------+
  | Kernels,       |    0    |    1½   |    1½    |    0    |          |
  | Ragers,        |    0    |    2¾   |    2     |      ¾  |          |
  | Catpins,       |    0    |    7.09 |    5     |    2.09 |          |
  | Bluelandlords, |    0    |   10    |   10     |    0    |          |
  | Scar Gents,    |    0    |   15.4  |    0     |   15.4  |          |
  | Noodlers,      |    0    |   11    |   11     |    0    |          |
  | Fank and Rile, |    0    |  550.7  |  550.7   |    0    |          |
  +----------------+---------+---------+----------+---------+----------+
  | T Tottles,     |   Add   | them up | for your | self.   |          |
  +----------------+---------+---------+----------+---------+----------+
  |                                  A. NUTT,                          |
  |                                       _Kernel of the Core._        |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------------+

[Sidenote: BROWN BESSIES.]

“How is it,” said practical Jaques, who observed that the men had only
wooden guns, “that your men have no rifles?”

“Well, sir, we don’t go in for new-fangled notions here,” said the
Colonel; “we hold on to our Brown Bessies, as you see.”

All the nigger ladies grinned tremendously at this, and called out, “Ya!
ya! dat all right, Massa Kurnel.”

“Will you keep those brown Bessiers stock-still?” shouted the Colonel to
the men; “if you don’t, you shan’t have any ball.”

At this everybody looked very blank, and the Brown Bessies became
suddenly immovable. The Colonel then gave the word of command—

                            “Boshshire Roughs,
                                 ’SHUN.”

All the men at once turned away, and put their hands in their pockets,
displaying the most contemptuous indifference to the brown ladies, who
now were all attention and smiles, trying to coax the men to turn to them
again.

[Sidenote: GREAT SHAKES.]

“Will you inspect the corps?” said the Colonel.

The boys walked down to the end of the line, whereupon the band, which
consisted of one fife and 29 triangles, struck up—

    Tinkle, tinkle, little Shah,
      Did you ever see a nigger with a white papa?
    Pickaninny here and pickaninny da,
      You’ll never find a single darkey, ha, ha, ha!

As they came near the line, the Colonel took from his pocket a
magnifying-glass as big as the crown of a hat, and handed it to Norval,
who asked—

“What am I to do with it?”

[Sidenote: HE LIKE A SOLDIER FELL.]

At this question the entire regiment burst into a tremendous guffaw,
laughing till the tears ran down their cheeks, and the whole line was a
scene of pocket-handkerchiefs, each being as big as a Turkish-bath towel,
and as there was a high wind, of course this caused a great fluttering
and shaking. The boys thought this very unlike the soldiers they had
been accustomed to see, particularly as the officers and sergeants
laughed and shook more than the men, and the Colonel, going off into a
broad grin, laughed and grew so fat that his very steed became infected,
and losing half its understanding and all its breeding, indulged in a
horse-laugh, which shook it so that when the rider fattened, it sank
under his weight, bringing him plump to the ground. A fatigue party had
to come to his assistance, and when he had been propped up by two long
crutches, one on each side of his horse, he tried to speak, but could
scarcely get on for laughing.

[Illustration]

“You want, ha, ha, ha! to know, ho, ho, ho! what the big glass is for?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you see, ah, ha, ha, ha! it’s because of, ha, ha, ha, ha! Mr
Sadpebble and Lord Guardsell.”

“Who are they?”

“Oh! they, ha, ha, ha! were the mime primister and skekentary of skate
for raw, ho, ho, ho!”

“But what have they to do with the glass?”

[Sidenote: SMALL BY DEGREES, ETC.]

“They managed things so, you see, ha, ha, aha, ha, ha! that everything
was getting small, ho, ho, ho! the regiments were getting smaller, and
the men were getting smaller, and the chests were getting smaller, and
the efficiency was getting smaller, and the contentment was getting
smaller, ha, ha, ha, ha! so they, ha, ha! they, ha, ha, ha! they, ah, ha,
ha, ha! they took to military spectacles to make things look better.”

“But surely no one would be deceived by that?”

[Sidenote: A LAME HALT.]

“Oh yes, ha, ha, ha! they deceived the general.”

“Which general?” said Jaques.

“Oh, we’ve only one general here—General Public—he’s the boy for
mobilisation, oh, haha, haha, ha!”

He laughed so loud and shook so much that the crutches, trembling under
him, stuck in the ground, and his horse, walking off, left him up in the
air between the crutches. This did not seem to disconcert him at all, but
brandishing his sword, he shouted—

“Battalion, halt!”

As the regiment was standing still already, the boys thought this a very
funny order to give; but they were more surprised still when they saw the
whole line set off marching, all limping as if they had blistered feet.

“Very well, _very_ steadily done,” said the Colonel, as they came
bobbing and limping towards him, like a lot of ducks in a thunder-storm.
Presently, on their coming close to him, he shouted—

[Sidenote: PUSSIAN TACTICS.]

“Double!”

At this they all turned round and went off in the opposite direction,
limping slower and slower.

“Surely that’s wrong,” said Jaques; “that’s right about turn; they should
have gone straight on and faster.”

“Not at all,” said the Colonel; “in our movements we follow Levrett’s
manœuvres.”

“But that’s not the way to double march,” said Jaques.

“Oh yes, it is. Did you ever see a March hare double? Well, we double
just as he does. Pussian tactics, you know.”

Without waiting for an answer he cried—

                               “Discharge!”

and gallantly going at the head of his men on his crutches, shouted
“Victory!” After they were brought to a stand at one end of the ground,
he gave the order—

                             “Stand a tease!”

Upon this the Brown Bessies turned round upon the men and began to plague
them most horribly, pulling their hair, poking fingers into their ears,
and pricking them with pins. The men stood it for some time wonderfully,
but at last began to bawl out.

[Sidenote: LOOK TO YOUR DRESSING.]

[Illustration]

“No bawl practice without my orders!” shouted the Colonel; and then
tremendously loud—

                              “ALL DRESS!”

Everybody immediately stopped. The Brown Bessies at once produced combs
and brushes, and commenced a vigorous hair-dressing, and the men began
putting on white kid-gloves.

“What is the meaning of that?” said Ranulf.

[Sidenote: PRESTO! CHANGE!]

“Preparing for ball practice,” said the Colonel. “In our tactics we go in
for leading the enemy a pretty dance. That’s far the best way.”

                             “Change ranks!”

he shouted. The boys could not afterwards make out how it had happened,
but the Colonel had scarcely given this order when, instead of being
on the dull, dingy parade-ground, they stood on a most lovely floor
that seemed all to be made of ivory inlaid with gold. The Brown Bessies
were brown no longer, but fair ladies beautifully dressed; the men were
in splendid costumes; the band had no triangles, but discoursed most
lovely music. The boys, looking round, saw they were in an immense hall,
lighted by ten thousand wax candles; and as all the walls were mirror,
the brilliant scene repeated itself as far as the eye could see, and
probably further. But the most beautiful thing of all was, that when
the ladies and gentlemen began to dance, instead of bouncing about in a
crowd, bumping and knocking one another, each couple floated from the
ground, gliding along in the air smoothly and gracefully; and as the
music rose and fell, fast and then slow, they flew, now in joyous bounds,
now gracefully circling in soft dreamy waves, now whirling with birdlike
speed, anon wafted along like a gossamer borne on the almost motionless
air of a summer day; the measure having always such grace and ease in its
fury, such firm-swept curve in its calm, that the little fellows stood
gazing in rapt delight.

[Sidenote: SOMETHING LIKE DANCING.]

When the dance was over, half the mirrors on the walls folded back,
moved by unseen hands, and the ladies and gentlemen strolled out to a
lovely terrace, rich with flowers of every hue, where fountains threw
water in sparkling diamonds to the sun. As each couple emerged from the
building, a flower that grew on the parterre detached a lovely blossom,
which, floating in the air towards them, growing ever larger and larger,
moved wherever they turned their steps, shading them from the sun, and
surrounding them with its perfume. Strange, too, that it did not appear
to be matter of chance which flower performed formed this friendly
office, for the blossom that floated over the heads of each pair that
roamed the garden, was always of a colour harmonising admirably with
the costume beneath. A couple dressed in pale blue were attended by a
primrose; two that wore green had a lovely snow-white lily for their
shade; a third pair, who were in white, rejoiced in the protection of a
scarlet geranium; and a fourth, in a pearly grey, had a most delicate
pink blossom for their attendant.

[Sidenote: HARMONY OF COLOURS.]

It was a lovely sight, but small boys soon get tired of the beautiful
unless there is some fun going; so after our trio had gazed for a time on
the people with their varied dresses, they began to long for something
more exciting. Looking about, they saw at one end of the lawn a large
gateway, and started off at a run to see whither it led. On getting near
the gate, they observed a funny little man sitting on the arch above it,
who, the moment they came up, said, “Put them down.”

“We don’t carry anything,” said Norval.

[Sidenote: WHAT’S HE UP TO.]

“Yes you do, though,” said the little man. “What names do you bear?”

[Illustration]

The boys told him, at which he gave a triumphant sniff, and said, “If
you bear names, look at your dictionary and see what bear means. My
dictionary says it means carry. Don’t carry them any longer; put them
down.”

“What is he up to?” said Jaques, bewildered.

“Up to the top of the door, don’t you see, stoopid?” said the little man.
“Sometimes I’m up to anything, but just at present I’m only up to the top
of a door. Why do you make me a contradiction of myself?”

“But we don’t,” said Norval.

[Sidenote: DOWN, DOWN, DERRY DOWN.]

“Oh yes, you do. Here I am up at the top of the door, and yet you make me
be down upon you at the same time. It’s very inconvenient to be put in
two places at once; so don’t do it again, that’s all.”

“But you can’t be in two situations at once,” said Jaques.

“But I say you can,” said the little man, “and more than two. You can
be in the heat of an argument, in the middle of a cold audience, in the
wrong box, and in the hope of getting out of it, and in a great mistake
in thinking so, all at once. So once more I say, put them down.”

“But what are we to put down, and where are we to put them, whatever they
may be?” said Norval.

“Didn’t I say your names (everybody visiting towers should put down their
names)? and where would you think of putting names down but in a book, I
should like to know?” said the little man.

“But where is the book?” said Jaques; “I don’t see any.”

“Oh, most ill-informed little boy! in the visitors’ book, to be sure.”

[Sidenote: WRITING UP THE BOOKS.]

“But where is it?”

“You know that best. Surely you know where your own book is?”

“But you said the visitors’ book.”

“Well, and are you not a visitor? so if you put it down in your book it
will be in the visitor’s book, won’t it?”

This seemed to be nothing short of downright nonsense to the boys; but
to please the little man, they took out their pocket-books, and gravely
wrote their own names in them.

“Now, let me see,” said the little man, producing a pair of spectacles
with eyes as big as saucers.

They held up their books, and the little man took a glance through his
spectacles. The moment he saw the writing he gave a start of surprise and
disgust, and nearly tumbled off his perch.

“Woe is me!” he exclaimed, wringing his hands. “Is this the effect of
Education Acts and School Boards? Why, they are upside up, when I told
you it was down they were to be.”

[Sidenote: ON THE KEY VIVE.]

“But they are down in the book,” said Norval.

“No,” said the little man, sorrowfully, “they are not even that. They
are up at the very top of the page, all of them. Oh dear! it upsets me
completely,” he added, as, bending down, he raised his legs in the air
and stood upon his head.

“Ah, now,” he said, “it is all right! they are down now. You see if I
were standing on ceremony I could not have let you pass, but standing on
my head heals up the difficulty. It’s a pate-nt way of my own. Now you
may pass on.”

“But the gate is not open,” said Jaques.

“Well, open it,” said the little man.

“But we have not got a key.”

“Well, then, if you have not got A key, try the key of B.”

Jaques looked puzzled, and said, “I don’t understand.”

[Sidenote: STACCATO PASSAGE.]

“There,” said the little man, pointing to a rope attached to the bolt of
the gate—“you’re A flat; B E sharp now, and C what F-ect ten or a dozen
treble G-erks applied altogether to the bar at the base there may have
in the D-velopment of a passage.”

This speech made the boys look at one another, and laugh. “Well,” said
the little man, “passages generally do open with a chord seem funny as it
may; so just try.”

At this, Norval seized the rope, and, tugging it vigorously, the gate
swung slowly on its hinges.

“Ah! what lovely opening bars!” cried the little man, beating time with
one leg; “there never was a passage better done on the P an’ O.”

The remark may be made here, in passing, that a match against time with
both legs is common, but to beat time with one leg! extraordinary feat!!!
The passage must have been very legato, or it could not have been done.

When the gate was fully open, the boys all said, “Thank you.”

“Oh, never mind thanking me; it’s been a case of stuck-at-a passage long
enough; get through it in treble quick time, and be happy.”

[Sidenote: THE TALK OF THE HOUSE.]

No second bidding was needed, and the little fellows, running through the
gateway, found themselves in a courtyard in which stood a high tower,
whose stones looked like transparent green glass, and the lines between
them as if raspberry-jam had been used for lime.

After looking at it for a few moments, Jaques exclaimed, “I wonder what
the tower is for?”

“Nothing at all at present, thank you; I’m not ’ungry,” replied a _forte_
voice, in somewhat stony accents.

“Why, it can speak,” cried Jaques, quite astonished.

“Of course I can. If ’ouses may talk, why should not I?”

“But houses don’t talk,” said Ranulf.

[Sidenote: BIGGARLY ARGUMENTS.]

“’Ouses don’t talk, don’t they? Ha, ha, ha!” shouted the tower, till its
sides shook so that the boys were afraid it would tumble, and its tiers
would have fallen, only they had not the cheek to run down. “Ha, ha, ha,
ha! So you think ’ouses can’t talk. Now I’ve ’eard it said they talk too
much. Look at the ’Ouse of Commons, and you’ll see that you never made a
Biggar mistake; it seems to do nothing but talk.”

“Ah, but,” said Jaques, “that’s different; it’s not a great high stone
thing, like you.”

“Not stone, and not ’igh! Is that all you know? Isn’t a glad stone always
getting up in it, and ain’t the dizzy ’ights at the top? But I shan’t
talk to you hany more.”

“Why not, please?” said Jaques, timidly.

“Why not! you are not a purpose, nor a heffect, nor a hend,—are you?”

“No,” said Jaques.

“Then I shan’t talk to you. When I talk I always talk to some purpose, or
to some heffect, or to some hend. I like the last best. Give me some hend
to talk to, and I’ll talk no hend.”

“Some end of what?” asked Norval; “is it the end of a stick, or a cigar,
or what?”

“Oh, to the hend of time, or hanything. Make a hend of yourself, and you
will see how I’ll talk to you then.”

[Sidenote: FORTITER.]

The boys did not quite see that to be the talk of a tower was a
sufficient temptation to suicide, so remained silent.

“Well, I’m glad, at all hevents, you’ve made a bend of something; making
a hend of speaking is better than making a hend of nothing. Now that
you’ve made a hend, I can talk to it, if you will promise that the bend
will attend to the hend, that the bend in view may in the bend be brought
to a hend, and that——”

“Why,” said Norval, interrupting, “I beg your pardon, but you said you
would talk no end, and it seems to me it is all end together.”

[Sidenote: REVIEWING EXTRAORDINARY.]

At this the tower completely forgot itself, indeed went off into a
towering passion, and stormed away for ever so long. Some people may
think that it is strange a tower should storm itself, instead of being
stormed; but the fact was that its mortar being ill tempered, it exploded
spontaneously. The way in which a tower flies into a passion is very
difficult to describe, and it will not be attempted here. Suffice it to
say, that of course it used its wings. Its rage was so great as to make
it speechless, which, from the rubbish it had been talking on end before,
was just as well, for though it kept on end, it did so silently. The boys
began to walk round it, and on getting to the other side, they found a
very low door, over which was a large placard:—

                                VISITORS
                                WHO HAVE
                         NO VIEWS OF THEIR OWN
                             WILL FIND SOME
                       AT THE TOP OF THIS TOWER.

             _Those who change their views charged extra._

                FRAMES OF MIND FOR THE VIEWS MAY BE HAD
                          AT MODERATE PRICES.

                            ADMISSION FREE.
                       ON WHOLEYDAYS HALF-PRICE.

    N.B.—_Whatever goes in at the bottom must come out at the top._

                               By Order.

                                                       A. B. FEATER,
                                                       _Custodier._

[Sidenote: MUST I, THOUGH?]

Now “must” is a word that people are constantly telling little boys
not to use, but are just as constantly using themselves in speaking to
them. Accordingly it is not very surprising that when boys see the word
“must” painted up in large letters, they should feel inclined to resist.
When Norval, and Jaques, and Ranulf saw “must go out at the top” on the
placard, their bump of combativeness at once became irritated; and, after
a short conference, they resolved they would go into the tower, and
would not go out at the top. Norval’s idea was that there was some one
inside to catch anybody that entered, and force him to the top, so he
told Jaques and Ranulf that he would peep in, if they would be ready to
pull him back should any one try to take hold of him. He then advanced
cautiously, and put his head in at the door. The moment he did so, he
called out—

                              “OH HOLD ME!”

[Sidenote: A NECKSCRESCENCE.]

The “oh” was very loud, but the “hold” sounded more distant, and the
“me” was so far off as to be difficult to hear. Jaques and Ranulf held on
stoutly to Norval’s legs, but found they could not haul him out, though
pulling with all their might. While they were still struggling, Norval’s
voice behind them said, “It’s no use, you had better let them go.” On
looking round they were amazed to see Norval’s head upside down just at
their backs, hanging by a long neck, not thicker than a sausage, from the
top of the tower.

In ordinary circumstances this would have shocked them horribly, but then
wonders began to come almost as matters of course, and Norval’s head
drooping down like a ball at the end of a string had such an irresistibly
comical appearance, that they both burst into a loud fit of laughter,
in which Norval himself joined most heartily. But when they had enjoyed
their laugh, and began to look matters and Norval in the face, the puzzle
was what to do; for they saw that to resist going out at the top would be
useless, and feared that if Norval’s legs were released, his body would
go out at the top and be smashed. After thinking a little, Jaques asked
Ranulf for his top-cord, proposing to tie it to Norval’s legs, and let
him down quietly. “Oh, but,” said Ranulf, “the cord would never reach so
far.”

[Sidenote: EXTENDED ARMS.]

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: THE MISSING BOX.]

[Sidenote: EXTENSION MOTIONS.]

[Sidenote: PULLING, BUT NO PULING.]

“Oh yes,” said Jaques; “don’t you see that whatever goes in at the bottom
must come out at the top? so the string will get long if we hold it, just
as Norval’s neck did.” This proved to be correct; for on tying the cord
to Norval’s legs and letting them go, they flew up at once, and Jaques
and Ranulf holding on prevented Norval tumbling over. But while Jaques
was easing the cord down, by moving his hands forward, he thoughtlessly
brought them within the doorway, when at once his arms flew up the
tower, and Norval had in his turn to assist Ranulf to hold Jaques, whose
hands shot out at the top of the tower, and hung down behind them as
Norval’s head had done before. Norval and Ranulf began to get the cord
ready to let Jaques down safely in his turn, but Jaques (mechanical
again) relieved them from the trouble by making use of his long arms. He
seized each of his heels firmly in one hand, and bidding the other boys
let go, eased his body gently up the tower, out at the top, and down
to the ground, and then drew his hands out. The sight of him, with his
monstrous arms, produced another burst of laughter, which increased when
Jaques, wanting to give Ranulf a box on the ear[6] for laughing, found
that his hand, instead of touching him, flew into a rhododendron bush
ever so far down the garden-walk. Although neither he nor his brother
could shorten their drawn-out members to their original size, still these
were so far elastic, that they could draw them in to about half their
enormous length, and throw them out again as they pleased. After they
had experimented a little with their unwieldy projections, making them
perform all sorts of antics, so that the three screamed with laughter,
Norval took it into his head that he would like to have a look into the
tower; for on his previous journey through it, he had been so hurried
that he saw nothing—in fact, had gone through like winking. He therefore
raised his head, drawing in his long neck, till he and the tower looked
like a gigantic pewter pot with its handle. On getting his nose to the
edge, he at once exclaimed, “Oh, what a jolly smell!” This excited
Ranulf’s curiosity, so he at once rushed to the door to have a sniff, and
to make sure he was not caught as his brothers had been, he took care not
to put even his hands in at the door. But unfortunately he forgot the
slightly Roman tendency of his nose, which, as he tried to get a whiff of
the scent, flew up the tower, nearly poking out Norval’s eye at the top,
and ran down the outside to the ground. Ranulf, who did not like having
his nose pulled in this fashion, was just going to cry, but remembering
the fairy’s caution, exclaimed to himself, “Not if I knows it,” pulled
out his handkerchief, and turning round gently did as boys usually do
when they have had to gulp down a sob.

“Now, then, get on,” cried Jaques.

“But what shall I do?” said Ranulf.

[Sidenote: BRIDGING THE DIFFICULTY.]

“Do! follow your nose, to be sure. Why don’t you come down by your
bridge?”

“What bridge?”

“Why, the bridge of your nose. I’ll hold it steady for you.”

[Sidenote: YOU BE BLOWED.]

Jaques accordingly seized Ranulf’s nose in his long arms, and giving
it a hitch round the lightning-conductor at the top of the tower, held
the end slanting, making it hang like the rope for the terrific ascents
of tight-rope performers, and down this improvised bridge Ranulf slid
successfully to the ground, after which Jaques removed the hitch from
the lightning-conductor, and Ranulf, who had a taste for the sea, coiled
his nose neatly upon the ground, like a hawser on board ship, and taking
the coils in his hand, threw them over his shoulder. His brothers seeing
this, stowed away their slack also, and had scarcely done so, when there
was a tremendous flourish of trumpets, and a being that might have passed
for a pantaloon, as he was clothed entirely in golden trouser-legs (the
Blunderland substitute for coats of arms) entered the gate. In reality
he was a herald, although you would not have guessed it, as he wore no
ruff round his throat Behind him strode six stalwart trumpeters, each of
whom, instead of blowing his own trumpet—as is too common nowadays—held
his instrument to the mouth of his left-hand neighbour. There was an
awkwardness about this arrangement, however, for the man at the right
end of the line had no trumpet for his mouth, and the man at the other
end had no mouth for his trumpet. But in Blunderland, difficulties
which elsewhere would be thought insurmountable are soon overleapt.
Accordingly, the sixth trumpet was managed thus: The moment the others
were raised, trumpeter No. 1, who had no instrument, looked hard along
the line, and called out, “No. 6, you be blowed!” and as obedience is the
rule in Blunderland, as opposed to what occurs elsewhere, this command
was quite enough to make trumpet No. 6 tootle-ootle away as loud as the
rest.

[Sidenote: TRUMPERY OBSTRUCTION.]

It seemed to be the business of these trumpeters to make as much noise as
they could whenever the unfortunate herald opened his lips to make his
proclamation. The sort of thing that went on was this: The herald, having
unrolled his paper, cleared his throat, of which there was much need; for
if there was no ruff outside, that was more than could be said of the
interior. If he had had colera he could not have been more nekroky.[7]
Having given a hem, long enough to go round the skirt of a lady’s dress,
even of modern proportions, he began to read—

“Roy——”

Instantly his thread was broken by tra ta ta, ti ta ta, tatata ta tum,
tatatraratatata, from all the trumpets at once.

Another attempt to go on—

“—al.”

Tra ta t’t’t’a, t’t’a—tra ta ta ti ta ti tati ta tum ta tum ta, ta, ta.

[Sidenote: TRUMPET STOPS.]

[Sidenote: A BLOWING UP.]

When this had happened over and over again, the tra-ta-ta-ing getting
louder and longer each time, the herald calmly sat down on the ground,
laid aside his proclamation, produced from his pocket a gilt bladder,
which he quietly proceeded to blow up till it was full of air, and
fastened to the end of his baton by a string about a foot long. Having
carefully tested its strength by giving it a few thumps on the ground,
he rose, and recommenced reading his proclamation. Instantly behind him
began once more the braying of trumpets; but before one tra-ta could
escape, bang, b’ng, b’ng, b’ng, bang, bang came the bladder down upon the
heads of the six trumpeters. This stopped five of the too-toos[8] coming
from them, the whole six trumpeters being knocked out of time. But as
there was nobody to take the blow for No. 6 trumpet, it was brazen enough
to go on all by itself, as if it would be blowed if it would stop. The
herald, however, evidently knew what he was about, for he ran to No. 6
trumpet and gave it such a blowing up, up its mouth, that nothing could
get out for ever so long; indeed the air was too much for it, and it
could not give it off even in parts; as for the bass, it could not get so
low; treble X ecution was quite as impossible; the third part was ten or
more notes beyond it; and the only remaining one was altogether so.

Having thus succeeded in obtaining silence, the herald proceeded to
read his proclamation, and got through some lines before the trumpeters
recovered sufficiently to commence their noise once more; when seeing
them about to begin, he repeated the bang bang bang, bang bang, process
with most excellent effect—and making about fifteen pauses to perform
this operation, he managed to read the whole. In order not to try
the reader’s patience, it is thought better to give it without the
interrupting bangs—in fact, bang off.

[Sidenote: WHEREAS, ETC.]

                            By the King—

                          A Proclamation.

    WHEREAS it is our will and desire to maintain a clear course,
    so that we may be kept placed in the races of the earth, and
    that our people may continue to have a handy capacity for all
    athletic sports, likewise to avert the risk of the mussels of
    our subjects getting limp at the end of our royal line by any
    shellfish a’baiting (after the barb’rous manner of the fishy
    policy of the Angles) of the care bestowed by it on generations
    yet unborn—

    We have thought it would fit, with or without the advice of
    our Prating Council, and the Cakes of our Parliament, to
    appoint and declare, and we do hereby, by and with, or passing
    by and without the said advice, appoint and declare, that
    immediately, or even sooner, all who hear or do not hear of
    this proclamation, shall assemble without delay on a spot to
    be fixed by us at some future time, there to hold our annual
    games.

    [Sidenote: ODD JOBS.]

    And our will and pleasure further is, that prizes be awarded
    to those of our subjects who display the greatest skill in
    performing any of the following feats of agility and strength:—

    I. Running up a bill with spears and ponds.

    II. Taking a spring from a well in dancing pumps.

    III. Carrying 6 Woolwich infants in an estimate.

    IV. Handling a weighty argument, and hurling it at an adversary.

    V. Knocking down a five-storey house by one blow of a hammer at
    the bidding of the purchaser.

    VI. Carrying a measure with a Committee sitting upon it through
    two Houses.

    VII. Keeping a gentleman in your eye when you have a stye in it
    already.

    VIII. Carrying a crowded house along with you for three hours.

    IX. Running a tremendous risk, and beating it.

    X. Keeping time for the human race.

    And such others as we may appoint.

    GIVEN AT OUR COURT AT LUCKINGHAM ON THE 32ND OF APRIL 8177, IN
    THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH YEAR OF OUR REIGN.

[Sidenote: A BLOW FOR NO BLOW.]

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: STICKY.]

[Sidenote: AN EXTRA HAND.]

[Sidenote: HONOUR BRIGHT.]

The herald having completed the reading of the proclamation, evidently
expected that, the proper time having now arrived, his trumpeters
would blow a vigorous flourish, as in duty bound; but instead of this
there was dead silence, all the trumpeters standing stock-still, with
their hands hanging at their sides, and mouths wide open. At this the
herald got white with passion, the choler rose so at his throat that he
could bear it no longer, but cut up rough, the cuffs flying from him
in showers, till at last he burst the bladder with a terrific bang on
the nose of No. 1, who took no more notice than if he had been made of
gutta-percha. The herald calmed down as suddenly as he had flared up, and
after looking at the motionless figures for a moment, quietly remarked,
“Oh, I’m in no hurry, I can wait,” produced from the pocket of one of
his many trouser-legs a copy of ‘Enquire within upon Everything’—a book
much studied in Blunderland—and commenced reading, evidently in the hope
that he might in course of time come upon a receipt that would enable him
to settle the hash of his saucy attendants. The trumpeters could have
borne any amount of violence, but the herald’s tactics were too much for
them; so before he could get his spectacles adjusted to commence reading,
they all placed their trumpets to their mouths, and blew a most elegant
tootle-ootle, at which the herald, smiling sweetly, turned and said,
“Thanks, thanks, my children!” and producing a box from another pocket,
handed each of them a stick of barley-sugar. Now no one will think it
surprising that the sight of a free distribution of barley-sugar should
be rather exciting to three small boys like our heroes. And although they
had been well taught that little men should not thrust themselves on
people to ask for things, still, being in Blunderland, it is not strange
that they should be a little infected by the character of the country,
and do what would have been not at all good manners anywhere else. So
Jaques, taking advantage of his long arms, unwound one of them, and
passing it round to the back of the trumpeters, thrust it out between
two of them. The herald, quite unsuspecting, placed in it a stick of
barley-sugar, when it was instantly withdrawn, and Jaques handed the
barley-sugar to his elder brother. Repeating the process, he succeeded
in getting sticks for Ranulf and for himself, the herald being in great
astonishment, as he found that though he had given out more than six
sticks, and the trumpeters were all sucking away furiously, there was
always an empty hand stretched out from some quarter or another for more.
Looking behind the trumpeters, all he could see was what he took to be
a garden watering-pipe lying on the ground, but which was in reality
Jaques’ arm. Not to be beaten, he muttered to himself that he would go on
till he found it out; so, to the boys’ great delight, kept putting sticks
into Jaques’ hand, until his box was empty and their pockets full. They
felt, however, when all was over, that while it might not be of great
consequence, still, to be little gentlemen as they ought, they must not
leave matters unexplained; so, after a short consultation how it was to
be done, Jaques’ hand again appeared between the trumpeters holding all
the sticks of barley-sugar, minus one little bit that Ranulf, with a
haste excusable at six years, but no longer, had nibbled off, and a voice
behind the herald said, “Please sir, may we have them?” Turning round,
he saw the three boys, and gazing at them with their coils, exclaimed in
amazement—

“Why, you must be three rolls of endless wax-taper out for a walk!”

[Sidenote: WHAT’S YOUR LITTLE GAME?]

[Illustration]

“Oh no; we aren’t tapirs,” said Ranulf, who, having a recollection
of a beast with a long snout in his animals-book, thought this was a
reflection on his nose. He felt very much inclined to put his fingers to
it; but a sense of propriety, and a difficulty in finding the point of it
among the folds, combined to restrain him.

“Then if you’re not tapers,” said the herald, “you must be sons of a gun,
built on the coil system—Armstrong’s patent, eh? or perhaps you are in
the still line?”

“Nurse never thinks so,” said Jaques. “She says she would like to see a
little more of the still about us—that we are too full of good spirits.”

[Sidenote: A POSER.]

“And what is the still business for, except to produce good spirits;
but,” said the herald, suddenly assuming a tremendous air of official
dignity, “we must tarry no longer; the games are about to commence.”

“Oh, but please, sir, may we keep the barley-sugar?”

“Yes,” said he, and was going to add “but” something, only he did not get
time, for his Yes was instantly followed by three Thank-yous, and three
enormous bites at the barley-sugar.

“Stop, stop, stop!” he cried. “I thought you wanted to keep it.”

The boys knew that they should not speak with their mouths full; and
having as much in them as good manners allow, they were compelled to nod.

“And how can you both eat your lollypop and keep it? There’s a poser for
you,” said the herald, folding his arms, throwing back his head, and
planting his right foot forward in a manner which plainly meant, “I poses
for a reply.”

[Sidenote: CONFLICTING DUTIES.]

It was a poser in one way, for no answer could be given to it by nod or
shake; and as the mouths were still full, it remained unanswered, the
boys wavering between—

                      “Speak when you are spoken to”
                                   and
                   “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

The herald’s notion of his own dignity seemed to be greatly increased by
there being apparently no answer to his question, which was just as well,
for as he got full of importance he got empty of everything else (on the
well-known principle of natural philosophy, that two things cannot occupy
the same space at the same time), and so forgot all about his question.

While he was still posing, a mounted disorderly galloped on to the
ground, shouting—

“Here, hi, hollo, you there! What’s yer name? How long d’ye mean to keep
the king waiting?”

[Sidenote: TAKEN ABACK.]

In a moment all the herald’s dignity was gone. He trembled till his
trouser-legs were fluttering all round him, like a cock’s feathers when
he shakes himself, and cried—

“The king waiting! oh, oh dear!” gathered his trouser-legs about him, and
fled through the gateway, like an old woman running in a shower of rain.

The trumpeters, thus relieved of the dread of the gilded bladder, blew a
tremendous flourish, threw their trumpets in the air, and then the end
one giving a back, they set off in leap-frog after the herald.

[Sidenote: RACE-COURSE NOT COARSE.]

[Sidenote: DELICATE SHADE.]

[Illustration]

The boys made after them as fast as they could, soon outstripping them
with their young legs, and on passing through the gate found the people
assembled for the games. It was indeed a lovely sight. Unlike such
gatherings among those who do not blunder, there were no thimble-riggers;
no dismal niggers; no men with two black cards and a red; no shouts of
four to one, bar one; no little girls with careworn faces and work-worn
tights, faded and patched, performing on stilts to a consumptive drum and
a time-defying flageolet; no display of paint, false hair, and falser
smiles; no pouring in of sparkling gooseberry; no pouring out of wild
and wicked words; no reeling and staggering; no shouting and brawling;
no fingers in other people’s pockets, and fists in other people’s eyes.
Such things are only to be witnessed in countries where the people have
grown out of the condition of blundering, and have reached an advanced
stage of civilisation and intelligence. Here in this yet unenlightened
country things were quite different. The sight was lovely. The ladies
and gentlemen whom the boys had seen before on the lawn, were here
assembled, along with a host of other people of humbler rank, the rich
costumes of the ladies and gentlemen contrasting with the less costly
dresses of the lower classes, grouped as they were with the most charming
harmony and accommodation of colours too beautiful for description,
forming a sight never to be forgotten. The effect was made still more
charming by the flowers that had sheltered the groups on the lawn being
formed into a vast sun-shade above—a gigantic white lily, with its bell
turned downwards, being the centre, and the circles going out from it
in the most delicate gradations of colour through all the tints of the
rainbow; the edges of this gigantic and gorgeous _ombrelle_ being formed
of enormous bright fern-leaves, the points of which, bending towards the
ground, were by some unseen means kept gently waving, wafting the air
charged with the fragrance of the flowers in delicious coolness over the
whole assemblage.

In rather incongruous contrast to the elegance and luxurious refinement
of the scene was the conduct of one individual, who, although he had a
crown on his head, was rushing about with an apron on and a napkin under
his arm, carrying dishes and bottles in all directions.

[Sidenote: WEIGHTY.]

“_Waiter!_” shouted a voice on one side.

_The King._ “Yessir.”

“Four sausage rolls, a hice, and three pops.”

[Illustration]

_The King._ “Yessir.”

“_Waiter!_” cried another.

_The King._ “Yessir.”

“Two ’alfs ’alf-and-’alf, an’ ’alf a sandwich.”

[Sidenote: THE CORRECT TIP.]

_The King._ “Yessir.”

“_Waiter!_” roared a third.

_The King._ “Yessir.”

“Cold beef and pickles, two brandies, and a split.”

_The King._ “Yessir.”

“Come along, king,” said a fourth, “attend to the comforts of your
subjects.”

_The King._ “Yessir.”

“Two churchwardens and a screw of tobacco.”

_The King._ “Yessir.”

The poor king did his very best, and rushed about most energetically. He
managed, like a good waiter, to keep up a considerable fire of chaff.
A man having offered him a tip of 2s. 6d., he exclaimed, “Oh, sir, you
cannot give a king less than a crown!” To a party who gave him 15s., he
objected, “This won’t do, sir; I must have five more.”

“Why?”

“Three crowns is the Pope’s allowance. It takes four to make a real
sovereign, sir.”

[Sidenote: NO SPEAKING BACK.]

But although trying to be as merry and lively as possible, he found it
very hard work, and the moment the herald appeared, dropped his napkin,
six plates of lamb and salad and eight pewter pots he was carrying, tore
off his apron, changed a crown, and picking up his robe of state and his
sceptre and ball, gave a royal wave of his hand.

[Illustration]

The herald was at once seized and brought forward, and, addressing him,
the king said, “What, ho, thou caitiff! say, how hast thou dared so long
to keep thy sovereign waiting?”

[Sidenote: 10 CARRIED FORWARD.]

If the herald had been a log, he could not have remained more stolidly
immovable. There was dead silence for a few moments, and then the king
again spoke, “’Tis well thou knowest thou shouldest not dare to answer
back to a king, for this is half thine offence pardoned. Canst thou bring
forward anything why punishment should not overtake thee for the other
half?” At this the herald did bring something forward, for he brought
up one hand, and placing the thumb to the end of his nose, he slowly
extended the fingers as far out as he could, and waggled them about,
then he placed the thumb of the other hand to the little finger already
stretched out, and extending his other fingers, waggled them too. The
boys were aghast at thus seeing a subject making a long nose at a king,
and still more when he finished by bringing his hand sharply up against
his open mouth, producing a sound like the popping of a well-fitted cork.

[Illustration]

The king, however, seemed not at all struck in the way they were by the
herald’s conduct, but turning to an attendant said, “Bring forward the
whys man, that we may get the interpretation of these heraldic emblems.”

[Sidenote: VERY QUEER EH?]

The whys man was, as might have been expected, the querist man that
ever was seen. Nobody could fail to see that he was a man of mark of
interrogation, for when you looked at him you saw a great deal of curl at
the head, and when you reached his feet he came to a stop.[9]

[Illustration]

“Your Majesty, come and I obey,” said the seer.

The boys thought this bad grammar, and very rude on the part of a subject
(not knowing that he meant, “Command, I obey”); for, as Norval said to
Jaques, a subject giving dictation, instead of a subject being given in
dictation, was contrary to all their school experience. But they were
beginning not to be surprised at anything.

“Didst thou behold the mysterious signs just made by our herald? What
mean they?” said the king.

[Sidenote: AVERSE TO PROSE.]

“Will your Majesty deign to say whether you desire to be answered with
rhyme and reason or without rhyme or reason?”

“Whichever seemeth best unto thee, oh seer!”

“Then, seriously speaking, I would say that if a point of view be taken,
such as those who take points of view, with a view to getting the point
of view, that brings best into view the true view of the point, which
ought to be kept in view, in the view of getting at the point——”

“Oh, stop, stop, stop!” cried the king; “which is that—‘with’ or
‘without’?”

“‘Without,’ sire,” answered the seer.

[Sidenote: VAIN SOOTHE SAYING.]

“Then, for pity’s sake, let us have with, if it will save us from being
compassed with so many points. I feel pricked all over.”

    Your Majesty shall be obeyed,
    Although in sooth I am afraid,
    A pointless rhyme is not the thing
    To lay before so great a king.
    You fain would know why herald’s nose
    By aid of fingers longer grows,
    And why by slap upon his mug
    He makes a hollow sound like “jug.”
    Methinks he by these signs would say,
    ’Twas well he stayed so long away.
    By sound of cork he first would tell,
    How waiting long, you waited well.
    Fired by desire for subjects’ weal,
    You ran about with plates of veal
    And ham, hot kidneys, bottled stout;
    In short, you wildly flew about,
    The slave of all, though monarch great,
    Good lesson in the cares of state.
    He next the royal attention draws,
    To all the tips on nose and paws,
    By which he plainly means to in
    dicate how ’twould have been a sin
    Had he by quick return to you
    Deprived you of the tips you drew,
    While you were waiting on your p-
    eople drawing corks and serving tea.
    Indeed he’d say, by him your pop
    ularity is now tip-top.
    He therefore claims a pardon free.
    The seer hath spoken.

[Sidenote: WHINES FROM LOW SPIRITS.]

“Fiddle-dee-dee!” cried the king; “to such defence I cannot listen. It
may be with rhyme, but is certainly without reason. If it comes to
anything it comes to this, that he kept me waiting so long in order that
I might get tips, eh? That is seeking to give the king the sack. I would
be mad ere I accepted such a mumm sham penitence. I declare it brand’ed
as a shabbily-concocted whine; so turn from it, and laugh it to scorn. He
shall have his mead. Summon the headsman, and let him whisk it off.”

The executioner at once appeared, set his block in front of the throne,
felt the edge of his axe, advanced to the herald, and began to drag him
forward.

“Friend,” said the herald (he had turned quaker at the sight of the
block), “why dost thou draw this way?”

“Because my business is funny cuts,” said the executioner, giving him a
sudden pull.

“Don’t ketch me up so if thou art a Jack in the box wood way; thou
shouldst not put such hard lines on a fellow.”

“I call you rather knave than fellow,” replied the executioner, getting
somewhat surly, “I don’t need you to tell me how to make the cuts on my
block.”

[Sidenote: HEADS OR TAILS.]

[Illustration]

The boys began to feel rather uncomfortable at the idea of seeing a
head cut off. They were somewhat relieved, however, to notice that the
executioner and attendants, on getting the herald to the block, did not
apply his neck to it, but made him sit down. They then began searching
among the many trouser-legs that hung behind him, and were so long at
this operation that Jaques, who, being a schoolboy, had an impression of
his own as to what they were after, suddenly exclaimed—

“Instead of fumbling that way, why don’t you take dow——”

But care-taker Norval stopped Jaques’ mouth with his hand before he could
get anything unmentionable out.

“We can’t find them, your Majesty,” said the executioner.

“Nonsense!” replied the king; “Darwin has put it in a book, and therefore
there must be. Besides, the Family Herald has lots of tales; and what a
Family Herald has, surely a Royal Herald can have too!”

[Sidenote: TAIL-KETCHING.]

At last they found them—two very small swallow tails indeed—one of which
was duly chopped off, but the other spared, as the king had forgiven half
the fault; and the executioner, taking his stand on the form used at
Charles the 1st’s execution, lifted up the tail and solemnly said, “This
is the end of a cratur.”

[Sidenote: ONE LEFT ON, THE OTHER RIGHT OFF.]

The herald looked very disconsolate, and the executioner, clapping him on
the shoulder as he sat on the block, said to him—

[Illustration]

“How do you feel now, old boy?”

“No thanks to you for axing; your chop’s a very cruel kind of cut let’s
say no more about it.”

“Pooh, my good fellow! you’re not so badly off; you’ve one all right.”

“No, I’ve one left—it’s the right one that’s gone.”

“Well, well, but you don’t need to have it left so; they’ll right you at
any retail place in no time.”

“Enough of chops, and cutlets, and tails,” suddenly shouted the king;
“now for the royal stakes—is that course ready?”

[Sidenote: RACY ENTREES.]

“Yes, your Majesty,” said the Secretary of Steak; “the entries are just
over, and so the beef-eaters can come on now.” They soon got through the
removes necessary, and the game course cleared; whereupon the king’s and
queen’s suites were set in their places, including the cream of society,
and a following which was quite the cheese.

“Now,” said the king, “every man shall have his desert. Go on with the
heats,”—heats being apparently the Blunderland substitute for ices.

[Sidenote: VERY DISTONGUEE.]

This injunction made the officials warm to their work, so that all
was quickly ready, and the competitors came running up to take their
places. They were a funny-looking set altogether. There was a fast young
gentleman, who looked as if he had not been in bed all night, but had
just come out of a bandbox. There was a scarlet-runner, who was the pink
of condition; a post-runner, who of course was clad in a mail suit; a
fore-runner, who went sometimes on his fore legs, and sometimes on his
four legs; and an old woman, who said she would warrant her tongue to
go faster, and to run on longer, than anybody on the ground. A solemn
discussion arose among the judges, upon the question whether a tongue
could be allowed to enter for the race; and it was at last decided that
it must not, as the race was a flat one, while the old woman’s tongue was
more than usually sharp.

[Illustration]

The aged dame was very angry at this, her much-despised member going on
at such a rate, that she, when told to hold it, excused herself on the
ground that it was going too fast to be caught up without a stretch of
imagination, which, at her age, was quite beyond her powers. So, as her
tongue could not be stopped, the police took a homœopathic process, and
simply ordered her and the offender to “move on;” whereupon, with female
contradiction, she did the very opposite, and moved off.

“That woman’s tongue is equal to any two,” said the clerk of the course;
“so, if a couple more would like to come forward and take its place, they
may do so.”

[Sidenote: A PAIR OF SCREWS.]

Thus invited, Norval and Jaques stepped out. Their appearance, with their
coils wound round them, was that of a pair of screws, and this led the
other competitors to look on them with contempt, apparently thinking that
such well-hooped casks could never run.

But the boys paid no attention to the sneers. They intended to run for
the sport of it—to win if possible, and to take it cheerfully if they
could not; which is the proper spirit for all boys, young or old, when
they are going in for a contest.

[Sidenote: ELONGATED PROJECTILE.]

[Sidenote: OVERREACHING.]

On the start taking place, the fore-runner was soon left behind, the
post-runner found his mail suit rather heavy, the scarlet-runner proved
to be only a creeper, and there were none left except the fast young man
and the two boys. At first Norval and Jaques with their young legs got a
good start, as the fast youth, not having been in bed, had forgotten to
wind up his watch, and being unaccustomed to get on without tick, had to
stop till he got it wound. But as the race was a long one, he soon made
up for lost time, and it looked as if the boys would get the worst of
it, for at the third round of the course, Jaques was many yards behind,
and his brother also losing ground; when, to the surprise of everybody,
Norval suddenly shouted “Neck or nothing!” uncoiled his neck, and
collared his opponent by shooting it out to the winning-post. This feat
was received with deafening cheers, which were redoubled when Jaques,
taking the hint, threw his long arms out over the head of the fast young
man, and vaulting on his hands, flew over him, far past the winning-post,
and got in a second before him.

[Sidenote: LOUD YET DISALLOWED.]

[Illustration]

The fast young man lodged a protest, maintaining, in a style even louder
than the style of his trousers, that Norval had won by neck-romantic
arts; and that Jaques, instead of going on foot, had taken a fly, and so
cabalistically over-reached him by craft. After the judges had looked
very wise for ever so long—in fact, as long as Norval’s neck itself—they
decided that the neck being a neck, it did not matter whether it was
romantic or not; and as it could not be alleged that Jaques had used any
other craft than handicraft, his using feats of arms for feats of feet
was quite allowable, he having only availed himself of his own handy
capacity; and that as to his taking a fly, it was not a handsome thing to
call it cabalistic, and an argument that only a for weal or woe begone
growler would think it fair to take his hackneyed stand on. Norval was
therefore declared first, and Jaques second, amid loud applause; and the
fast young man, with his views dissipated, went off a bad third.

The next race was a blindfold one. The competitors having their eyes tied
up at the winning-post, were led back to the scratch, and started; the
rule being that, if any one wandered to the side of the course and fouled
the ropes, or went beyond the post without touching it, he was out of the
race. Now Ranulf, who came forward to run, kept wondering to himself
what he should do to win.

“You see,” he said, speaking to himself, “I’ve not got anything but a
nose; and how can a long nose help me to see? and it’s the blindfolding
that is the bother. If I only had an eye at the tip, that would be jolly,
only it wouldn’t be fair not to tell them to tie it up too. What _am_ I
to do?”

[Sidenote: A SWEET IDEA.]

[Sidenote: BACKER STOPPER.]

Now Ranulf had still some of Victoria’s sweetmeats in his pocket, and
Ranulf was a boy; so it fell out that when he felt perplexed and did not
know where to turn, he, as a matter of course, thrust his hands into his
pockets, and it followed naturally that the sweetmeats got into his hand,
and that his hand set off on a journey to his mouth. They had a most
delicious perfume, so strong that though Ranulf’s nose was wound round
him so many times, the scent got through it into his head in a jiffy,
or rather in a sniffy. The moment this happened, he began to rub his
head very hard, as if something had struck him. He was struck, as it so
happened; and although it was only by an idea, it had got so firmly into
his head that it must have struck him pretty forcibly. He immediately
set himself to work it out. When the competitors were ready to start,
Ranulf shot his nose out up the course, sniffing for the first thing he
had noticed lying on the side of it that could be discovered by smelling.
It looked so funny to see this projection waving about, like some dozens
of those long wooden serpents that they have at the toy-shops put end to
end, that the whole crowd set up a tremendous shout of laughter. One man,
however, did not seem to like it at all. He was the backer of another
competitor, and rushed up in a very forward manner (particularly for a
backer), shouting—

“I object; it’s not fair!”

[Sidenote: ANTITIPATHY.]

Upon this the umpires were at once summoned; and after being told what
the matter was, one of them addressed the backer, and said—

“We understand you have some objection to this gentleman’s nose; state
your proposition.”[10]

“He’s got his nose out in front of him; it’s not the correct tip.”

The referees again looked very wise, pursing up their mouths, as if the
words that were to come from them were gold; and after comparing notes,
one of them solemnly said—

“While it seems to the referees that it is scarcely their province to
sit upon long noses, these not being matters of course, we think we are
justified in holding that a gentleman who wishes to follow his own nose,
and trust to his own tip, instead of getting a tip from anybody else, is
entitled to do so.”

The backer at this got very excited, and shouted, “Nay, nay, but you
surely won’t go so far——”

“Sir,” said the referee, sternly, “this is a foot-race, so you need not
mount your high horse, neighing at us in that way. The referees have
carefully considered the length of the gentleman’s nose, and, long as it
is, their opinion goes that length. So let there be an end of it.”

The backer, seeing he could make nothing of it, marched off, muttering,
“End of it, indeed! it’s _no_ end of a nose that fellow’s got. There’s
one comfort, it can’t be called a straight tip.”

[Sidenote: SCENTENTIOUS.]

All this wrangling had served Ranulf’s purpose, for it gave him time to
con over his lesson. And a very funny lesson it was. He had observed all
the smelly things on the sides of the course that the people in taking
their refreshments had thrown on the grass inside the ropes; so his
lesson went thus:—

    Right side,      Peppermint-drop.
    Left side,       Ginger-beer bottle.
    Right side,      Cigar-end.
    Left side,       Skin of onion.
    Right side,      Orange-peel.
    Left side,       Nosegay.

[Sidenote: NASAL TACTICS.]

The winning-post was opposite the place where the ladies and gentlemen
sat, and of course they did not throw orange-peel, or anything of that
kind, about. Ranulf had been greatly puzzled how to find his way there;
but, luckily, a lady had put a splendid nosegay on one of the posts, and
Ranulf, in going forward to be blindfolded, had a good sniff of it, so
that he was sure he would find it all right.

At last the race began, and a very queer business it was; for the
runners, in trying to avoid coming against the ropes, wandered about
in the most extraordinary fashion. But Ranulf’s performance was quite
irresistible, and it would have cured the worst fit of sulks in all
the world just to see him for a minute, stretching out his nose, and
working it from side to side, like an elephant’s trunk. He first found
the peppermint-drop, up to which he rushed, winding up his nose on the
ground like a coil of rope in a ship, then throwing it out again he found
the ginger-beer bottle, and so on. He was rather put out by coming upon
orange-peel just after passing the cigar-end; and when this happened, the
puzzled look of his nose, as it caught scent of the peel at the wrong
place, made the crowd roar again. The truth was, that some one in the
crowd was throwing orange-peel; but, fortunately, a piece hit him on the
nose, so that he guessed what was wrong, and with a bold sweep caught
scent of the onion-skin from afar, and on he went, winning easily by a
nose. The ladies were so delighted with this performance, that they all
wanted to kiss him at once, and for a couple of minutes his nose was in
great requisition.

[Sidenote: WINNING A PONY.]

In the distribution of prizes, Norval was made merry as a cricket by the
gift of a golden bat; Jaques being declared entitled to an armful of
toys, was able to claim enough to fill a bazaar by the aid of his long
arms; and Ranulf, whose greatest delight was horses, rejoiced in a real
Lilliputian pony of 25 pounds, the proper figure for a pony gained at
races. When the prize distribution was over, the boys were led to the
king’s table, on which an elegant feast was spread.

While they were enjoying it, there was a sudden flutter, and every eye
turned one way.

[Sidenote: BIG MAN—BIG FRIGHT—BIG WORDS.]

“Oh, here he comes! here’s Blunderbore!” was the cry that rose on all
sides.

“Blunderbore?” said Ranulf, turning rather pale; “that’s the giant with
the awful teeth and the big club. I thought Jack had killed him. Oh dear,
what shall we do?”

Norval did not feel quite comfortable either, but, seeing little Ranulf’s
pale face, he forgot himself, and, trying to cheer him, said as bravely
as he could—

“Never mind, Ranny; you know with my long neck I can make myself as big
as he is, and I will brandish my bat as a club—perhaps that will frighten
him.” He was not very confident of this, but put on as much appearance of
being at ease as he could, so as to encourage his little brother.

“It’s Jaques’ business to kill him,” said Ranulf, solemnly. “It’s a good
thing he has got long enough arms.”

Jaques did not seem to see it, and the whole three were anything but
comfortable in their minds.

[Sidenote: A GREAT BORE.]

It was somewhat reassuring, however, to notice that the news of the
arrival of Blunderbore appeared to distress none of the rest of the
company. The ladies were all looking through their opera-glasses, with
faces which showed that he had no terrors for them. The gentlemen
seemed, on the whole, to be rather disgusted, as the announcement of
the giant’s approach appeared to throw them entirely into the shade so
far as the fair sex were concerned, and they looked at one another with
glances of pique and contempt, as the ladies twittered away in eager
conversation—eyes sparkling, lips smiling, and that curious buzz that
always heralds a great arrival running through the whole assemblage.

[Sidenote: HE STOOPS TO CONQUER.]

“Any room for me?” said a voice (which, though evidently kept as mild as
possible, made a sound very like the Westminster chimes striking the
first quarter), as a face about three yards long, below a three-cornered
cocked-hat, made its appearance under the fern-leaf fringe of the tent of
flowers. Blunderbore had been compelled to stoop down so low in order to
look in that his face was level with his knees, and as it was very round,
the effect was ludicrously like a circular clock on pillars. The moment
the face became visible, all strange and unpleasant thoughts began to
fade from the boys’ minds, for it was the picture of jolly good-nature.
His eyes, the balls of which were larger than a Christmas plum-pudding,
fastened themselves specially on Ranulf, and putting out a vast hand, he
shook a forefinger as large as a bolster at him, saying—

“Now, I know you are expecting me to say Fe-fo-fum, something about
grinding bones, and all that.”

“Y-e-e-e-e-s, sir,” said Ranulf, half frightened, but only half; for
the jolly face was so good-humoured that it was almost impossible to be
afraid.

[Sidenote: INVITING A LARGE PARTY.]

[Illustration]

“Well,” said Blunderbore, taking him up on his vast hand, “giants in
Blunderland don’t talk rubbish of that kind, and they are not such geese
as to grind bones when they want to make bread.”

“Come in, Blunderbore; we will make room for you,” came in a surging
ripple from hundreds of fair lips, while, with many a rustle of silk and
velvet, they cleared a large space on one side of the amphitheatre, the
seats of which rose in tiers one above the other.

[Sidenote: BEETLE-CRUSHERS.]

[Sidenote: A GREAT SWELL.]

“Well, but your ceiling is so low. However, perhaps old Blunderbore
can cure that for you,” said the giant, as, pushing his head in below
the _ombrelle_ of flowers, he placed his forefinger in the centre of
the white lily at the top, and, apparently without an effort, raised
the canopy aloft. Showers of diamond drops fell thick and fast from
between the fern-leaves as the gorgeous ceiling rose, faster and ever
faster, till at every leaf there stood a glassy pillar, glittering and
sparkling with wondrous lustre, and in a twinkling the bower became a
crystal floral palace, to which that of Covent Garden is but a dingy,
dull, depressing dungeon. Blunderbore then made his way through the
crowd with great care, of which there was much need, his feet being
nearly as big as the dingies of a ship of the line, and seated himself
on the side of the hall that had been vacated for his accommodation. He
certainly was very unlike the old kind of Blunderbore, from the top of
his three-cornered hat down to the red heels of his buckled shoes. A
magnificent single-breasted coat and long flap-waistcoat, with golden
stripes, separated by lines of rich maroon-coloured velvet, took the
place of the short armless blouse, and the great belt with a buckle like
a wicket-gate, that are supposed generally to be the orthodox costume
of gentlemen more than eight feet high. And instead of the gnarled
club or grievous crab-tree cudgel of the story-books, our Blunderbore
carried a most elegant cane with a golden top. It is true that the cane
was as thick as an ordinary lamp-post, but still it looked quite neat
and tiny, appearing slight enough in Blunderbore’s vast hand to suit
the most foppish taste. His breeches were of yellow satin, below which
were stockings of silk of the same colour, and his curly hair was of a
golden tint. Altogether, he made a most presentable-looking giant, and
seemed to be a special favourite with the ladies, to whom, as he sat
down, he kissed his hand right gallantly. This done, he produced from
his waistcoat-pocket a snuff-box, larger than a full-sized trunk, and
took a pinch out of it, giving his hand an elegant shake—in fact, quite
_à la_ Cox-comme il faut of the last century, sending a shower of snuff
from his fingers like the stream from the rose of a watering-pot. This,
the boys expected, would set every one sneezing; but such snuff was not
likely to get into any one’s nostril by accident, the particles being as
large as ordinary peas, and no one seemed inclined intentionally to make
his nose a _pis aller_ for what the giant threw away. As what remained
between his fingers would have stuffed an ordinary pillow, it proved that
Blunderbore was anything but a bad fellow at a pinch, and completely
allayed the fears of our little men, so that they were not the least
alarmed when he gave a terrific sneeze, like a squall of a north-easterly
gale—a perfect Blunder Boreas.

[Sidenote: NOTES ON DEMAND.]

“Now, then,” said he, “what can I do to promote the harmony of the
meeting?”

“Give us some music; let’s have a Monstre Concert,” was the cry that rose
on every side.

“All right,” said Blunderbore; “will you have the Jolly Waggoner?”

“No, no! no Wagner, please; we don’t want the music of the future; no
promissory notes for us.[11]

“Well, I daresay you are right,” replied Blunderbore; “the music of the
future is no pastime. What do you say to a present of Chopin Morceaux?”

“The very thing,” arose in a shout of delight from every side.

“All right, then; here goes,” said the giant; “and I am sure you will
admit that I give you admirable concerted pieces.”

[Sidenote: 60 TO 1.]

The ladies seemed to know what was going to happen, for about 60 of them
at once clustered round Blunderbore.

“Are you ready?” said the giant.

“Yes,” rippled in feminine tones all around him.

[Sidenote: AN ORGANIC CHANGE.]

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: A VIGOROUS BREAKDOWN.]

[Sidenote: NO STRINGS NO CHORDS.]

[Sidenote: HARPEGGIO.]

Blunderbore at once stiffened up, in a manner that formed a marked
contrast to his previous easy affability, squared at the whole company,
and displayed any amount of brass. It soon appeared, however, that,
just like a great many other people when asked to give a little music,
he was making a fuss about the preliminaries, for presently, when he
had looked stuck-up for a minute or two, he executed a most elegant
breakdown, ending in a thoroughly organic change and brilliant musical
parts, which latter the ladies caught neatly as they fell, and there, in
a moment, stood a full orchestra, with a monster organ in the middle, as
Blunderbore’s gold-striped coat and waistcoat became gilded pipes, his
curly locks fell in a shower of cornets and French horns, his stock made
a full-sized drum, his cuffs a couple of brass drums, his cheeks a pair
of cymbals, the bones of his nose naturally became a group of trombones;
the fingers and nails scattering in a shower of violins, flutes,
piccolos, clarionets, and oboes, and the thumbs in violas and bassoons;
his arms making a splendid set of sax-horns, euphonions, and ophicleides;
the legs forming two enormous double basses, and his feet dividing into
two pairs of violoncellos; while the pin at his breast dropped down
as a neat jewel-mounted conducting-baton, the cane bent itself into a
magnificent harp; and, to crown all, his hat settled on the top of the
organ, forming an elegant carved screen over it. Tap, tap, went the baton
in the lovely hand of the conductress, as the gentlemen formed themselves
into animated music-desks, which, in the case of the ladies who held the
different classes of violins, reversed the usual saying, by giving them
two bows to their strings. Wave, wave, wave, swept the baton—one, two,
three, and off they went in a grand overture, the fair performers playing
their parts (of Blunderbore) to perfection. The lady with the harp was
the only disconcerted one, for, unfortunately, Blunderbore had lost the
cords and tassels of his walking-cane, so when formed into a harp the
instrument was stringless, and the lady holding it, who had a solo to
play, was in despair. Ranulf, seeing her distress, mounted the orchestra,
saying, as he looked and fumbled among the confused mass that forms the
proper contents of a boy’s pocket, “Here is something that will perhaps
do.” The lady, seeing the coils over his shoulder, misunderstood him; and
there being no time to lose, she, in the very act of saying, “Thank you,
dear,” slipped his nose off his shoulder, and before he had time to know
what was to happen, strung it on the harp, up and down, up and down, just
as the conductress turned towards her to indicate the time for her solo.
Her nimble feminine fingers were so gentle that Ranulf was not at all
put out, and there was little time to think, for the beautiful arms were
stretched out, the taper-fingers gave a rapid wave, and the harp poured
out its richest notes, so that all stood listening entranced, as the
graceful fingers made it speak, now in round rolling roughness, like the
storm; now in rich fulness of music; and now in gentle brilliant trills,
like the birds in a distant wood. Ranulf himself, who had a good ear,
drank in the sweet sounds with eager delight, wondering as nothing since
he left home had made him wonder. But, in an evil moment, forgetting his
good manners, which forbid speaking when a solo is going on, he exclaimed—

[Illustration]

“Oh, how awfully jolly!”

[Sidenote: THROUGH THE NOSE.]

Terrible was the result. Everybody knows how horrid the sound is when a
person speaks holding his nose; but then he only grasps it at one place.
Now Ranulf’s, of course, was held at about a hundred places on the harp,
and so it sounded 100 times over the fearful twang, making everybody put
hands to ears; and the lady harpist, whose sweetest notes had been made
so false as to turn her harp into a lyre, was so struck that she looked
despair as black as blue eyes could.

[Sidenote: ANOTHER STYLE OF ORGAN.]

Instantly, an indignant but good-natured cry burst forth from the ladies
of the orchestra, as they turned upon Ranulf and sang[12]—

    You’ve made a pretty mess, Sir Nose;
      Why did you try to chatter?
    A check you give to all our bows,
      Our notes of hand you scatter;
    Our organ’s drown-ed in a C
      From nasal organ vile,
    Which now by us shall punished be
      In most pertickler style.

And so it was; for all the ladies that were immediately round the harp,
arming themselves with feathers from their hair, or flowers from their
bouquets, rushed off in a chorus and down upon Ranulf, to tickle his long
nose, singing—

[Sidenote: DEFENDING THE BRIDGE.]

    Little rogue, ha! ha! I’ll make you pay
      The false notes you have forced on us in this offensive way.
        I’ll strike you with a feather,
        I’ll stab you with a rose,
    For making of our harp a liar,
    By talking through the nose.

[Sidenote: TWO TOO MANY.]

And, suiting the action to the utterance, the feathers and the roses
were thrust forward in a score of dainty hands to tickle poor Ranulf’s
offending organ. But the lady who had strung him on her harp, though
she was shocked at the nasal twang he had brought out of her and his
instruments combined, did not forget the aid he had given when she was in
a difficulty; so, as the merry group came to the attack, taking Ranulf
up in her arms, she seated him on the very top of the harp out of reach
(where, though not gilded, and in knickerbockers, he did very well for a
Cupid), and did all in her power to protect him from the thrusts of the
feathers and roses. She succeeded pretty well while only her own sex were
engaged, for, being a harpist, she could move her hands rapidly over the
strings and wave off the attack in all directions. But what was Ranulf’s
horror to see Norval and Jaques, like a pair of rogues as they were,
unable to resist the temptation to join the fun, thrust their long neck
and arms over the bevy of fair ladies who surrounded him—Norval with a
rose in his mouth, and Jaques with a feather in his hand. Ranulf knew
at once that he must go off into fits, for the lady could not protect
him from the wild flights of the long neck and hands as they flew about
tickling his poor nose in all directions. He resigned himself to his
fate, slid down to the ground, and went off in screams of laughter, while
the merry chorus round him sang—

    Lazy dog, ha! ha! wake up, I say,
      You surely don’t intend to sleep upon the rug all day.
        I’ll strike you with a feather,
        I’ll stab you with a rose,
    Unless you stop that horrid snore,
    That’s groaning through your nose.

[Sidenote: CHANGE ARMS.]

And as he lay, the arms were still out to protect him, only, instead of
their being uncovered except by handsome bracelets at the wrist, they
seemed to get grown over with something very like brown merino; and
when a voice spoke, saying, “Now, boys, leave him alone, will you?—stop
tickling him at once,” it was that of his nurse (for whom his pet name,
appropriately, was Harpin); and there he lay, sprawling on his back on
the rug, as she kept his brothers off him.

[Illustration]

“But where’s my nose?” he exclaimed, as on putting up his hand to his
tickled face he found that his coils were gone.

This question was received with a shout of laughter, in which Harpin
joined, and Ranulf awoke to the fact that he had been dreaming.

[Sidenote: ABOUT THE END OF IT.]

But although he has returned from Blunderland, leaving behind him his
long nose, he has brought a pretty long tail home with him instead of it;
and now, as he was often taught never to be a tale-bearer, it has been
carried to the Black woods, and hid away in these leaves, in the hope
that it may amuse other little people who chance to unfold it.


THE END.

                  PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.




FOOTNOTES


[1] _Air_—“Silver Threads among the Gold.”

[2] The words, “Till ’ee gits it he’s coal as a cokeumber,” are
interpolated in the MSS.; but doubts of their authenticity, and fears of
ruptured sides in the case of those who might think a joke was intended,
make it prudent to delete them.—ED.

[3] This pig must have been north of the Tweed, to forget his Tees
thus.—ED.

[4] _Air_—“Johnny come marching home.”

[5] It is perhaps not generally known that before troops march forth to
victory, they are first routed by the Quartermaster—General’s Department.
Should the reader think this a joke, he will probably say it is a very
poor one; but if he will take the trouble to ask any of his military
friends, he will find that they think it anything but a joke that they
get routed so often.—ED.

[6] In fun, of course. These boys had learned what all boys should learn,
never to get angry at being laughed at.

[7] Perhaps the small reader does not understand. Let him wait till he
begins Greek.

[8] If any one, with a mind not delivered from the bondage of mere
vulgar arithmetic, should object that two 2’s make 4, and not 5, we
have only to say that we don’t care a fraction, and refuse to alter our
addition for any such common multiple of a fellow. If any other spelling
B-ound individual should say that “toos” is not according to English
orthography, we beg to remind him that Eng means narrow, and we prefer to
go in for all abroad in such matters; and this being a book of fun, we
adopt the funnytick mode.

[9] If anybody should think, on reading this, that the statement is
superfluous, because all men come to a stop at their feet, he will please
remember that men often have more sole under their feet than anywhere
else: in fact, they are so fond of fishy and slippery ways that they
always go upon soles and eels; and some of them are so fast, that so
far from stopping at their feet, they go such lengths that they stop at
nothing.

[10] In the original MS., this word was written proboscition by the
author in his innocence.—ED.

[11] Boys should take this as one of their mottoes—“No bills or
promissory notes for us.” There are too many sharps ready to press them
on young naturals and flats, and they very often end in harsh keys and
gloomy bars.—ED.

[12] _Air_—“I’ll strike you with a feather.”



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74822 ***