HIS 
 
 i-T^t: 
 
 MMM 
 
 L O N D O N : - WE LDONand 
 
 INineO^fice Court FieET STRGGT.' 
 
SPOONS & 
 
 SLACK'S 
 
 SILVER-ELECTRO 
 
 PLATE 
 
 Is a coating of Pure Silver 
 
 Over Slack's Nickel Silver. 
 
 For Silverlike appearance, 
 For every-day wear, 
 
 Forexcellence in Wo rkmanship, 
 Is^equ al to S terling Silver. ~ 
 
 A great variety of USEFUL ARTICLE S 
 Suitable for Wedding or other Presents. 
 
 A Sample Spoon sent 
 free for 2o Sta?nps 
 
 12 Table Forks 
 
 12 Dessert Forks .., 
 
 12 Tatile Spoons ... 
 
 12 Dessert Spoons . 
 
 12 Tea Spoons 
 
 Fiddle 
 Pattern 
 £ s. d. 
 I lO o 
 I o o 
 I lO o 
 I o o 
 
 O 12 O 
 
 Strong 
 Fiddle 
 £ s. d. 
 I i8 o 
 I lo o 
 I i8 o 
 I lo o 
 o i8 o 
 
 Figured 
 
 Patterns 
 
 £ s. d. 
 
 2 lO O 
 
 1 15 O 
 
 2 10 O 
 I IS O 
 
 I 5 o 
 
 IVORY KNIVES, 
 
 BALANCE HANDLES. 
 
 Table ...I 18/ 
 Cheese... 14/ 
 Carvers ..| 5/9 
 
 ^5/ 
 18/6 
 
 7/9 
 
 28/ Dot. 
 22/ ., 
 8/6 Pair. 
 
 Made qfthejimsi Double Sheer Steel. 
 
 Every Blade Warranted, 
 
 Orders above £2 Carriage Free per Rail. 
 Catalogues ■with Drawings and Prices ?nay be had Gratis or Post Free. 
 
 RICHARD & JOHM SX,AC1£, 
 
 336, STRAND, Opposite Somerset Houte, LONDON. 
 
 CrOBEH^ OOSn^EHLL cSc OO-'S 
 
 PERFECT FREEDOM 
 
 FROM 
 PREMATURE DECAY, 
 
 Sold hy all Perfumers and Chemists 
 throughout the World. 
 
 AND TEETH 
 
 OF A PEARL-LIKE 
 
 WHITENESS. 
 
 Acknowledged by all who have made trial of its 
 
 superior Cleansing and Preservative Properties 
 
 to be beyond coinparison the 
 
 John Gosnell d Co.'s Toilet and Nursery Powder, Celebrated for its purity and Exquisite Fragrance. 
 JOHN GOSNELL & Co.'s Real Old Brown Windsor Soap. JOHN GOSNELL & Co.'s BriUiantine for the Hair. 
 
 Tke aioz'e, with every description of Perfumery, Fancy Soap, and Brushes, may be obtained of all Chemists and Perfumers throughout the Iforld. 
 
 WHOLESALE: JOHN GOSNELL &. Co., 93, UPPER THAMES STREET, LONDON. 
 
 KEATING'S COUGH LOZENOiS 
 
 Medical testimony states, that unquestionably no other remedy exists which is so certain in its eflects. 
 
 WINTER COlfGH, 
 BRONCHITIS, 
 DIFFICVIiT'S' OF 
 
 alike yield to its influence. One Lozenge alone gives the sufierer relief. Many remedies are sold that 
 contain Morphia, Opium, or violent drugs, but lO^ATING'S COUGH LOZENGES are composed only of the 
 pm-est simple drugs, and the most delicate in health may use them with perfect confidence KEATING'S 
 COUGH LOZENGES are prepared by Thomas Iveating, St. Paul's Churchyard, and sold by all Chemists, 
 in Boxes, Is. l^d. and 2 s. 9d. each. 
 
 " For the BLOOD is the LIFE." 
 
 See Deuteronomy, chap, xii., verse 23. 
 
 CLARKE'S WORLD-FAMED BLOOD MIXTURE. 
 
 Trade Mark "BLOOD MIXTURE." 
 
 THE GREAT BLOOD PURIFIER AND RESTORER, 
 
 For cleansing and clearing the Blood from all impurities, cannot be too highly recommended. For Scrofula, Scurvy, .Skin Diseases and 
 
 Sores of all kinds, it is a never failing and permanent cure. 
 
 It Cures Old Sores, 
 
 Cures Ulcerated Sores on the Neck, 
 Cures Ulcerated Sore Legs, 
 Cures Scurvy Sores, 
 
 It Cures Cancerous Ulcers, I It Cures Glandular Swellings, 
 
 Cures Blackheads, or Pimples on Clears the Blood from all Impure 
 
 the Face, | Matter, 
 
 Cures Blood and Skin Diseases, From Whatever cause arising 
 
 As this Mixture is pleasant to the taste, and warranted free from anything injurious to the most delicate constitution of either sex, the Pro- 
 prietor solicits sufferers to give it a trial to test its value. Thousands of Testimonials from all parts. 
 Sold in Bottles, 2s. 6d. each, and in Bottles, contiining six times the quantity, iis. each — sufficient to effect a permanent cure in the great 
 majority of long-standing cases— BY ALL CHEMISTS AND PATENT MEDICINE VENDORS throughout the UnitedKingdom and the 
 World, or sent to any address on receipt of 30 or 132 Stamps by 
 
 F. J. CLARKE, Chemist, Apothecaries' Hall, High Street, Lincoln. 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 AD VERTISEMENTS. 
 
 JOHm BRINSIKEEAD ^'-'-'^^■s^--, .868 .87,... 
 
 1875, througlioiit hurope and 
 The Highest Award, Tlie Grand Diploma 0_ ^S^^'WffCfc^ America, 
 
 of Honour, Paris, 1^-}^,. ** »^^ Ali O 
 
 The Gold Medal, Paris, .^,0. GQllD MESDALl 
 
 Lc Diplome de la Me?ilion Extraordinaire, ^^ ^"^ mamimm mt^^^t^^^ ^^^1^ 
 
 Amsterdam, 1869. 
 La Medaille d'Ho7inenr, Paris, 1867. 
 
 Prize Medal, London, 1862. On the Three Years' System. 
 
 TJie Grajtd Prize Medal, Philadelphia, 1876. 
 GILBERT L. BAUER, PRIZE MEDAL ENGLISH HARMONIUMS. 
 
 PIANOS. 
 
 Three Years' System. 
 
 18, Wigmore St., London, W. 
 
 PABTRIDCEXCOBPER 
 
 WHOLESALE & RETAIL MANUEACTUEING STATIONERS, 
 
 792, FLEET STREET, AND 1 & 2, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. 
 
 The Public supplied at Wholesale Prices, Carriage Paid on all Orders over 20/-. 
 
 THE VELLUM WOVE CLUB~ HOUSE PAPER. 
 
 Sample Packets of the various sizes of Paper and Envelopes Post Free for 24 Stamps. 
 
 i=.a.:pe:r. & eistvel oi^es. 
 
 Samples sent Post Free, witli Illustrated Catalogues. 
 
 XMAS PRESENTS 
 NEW YEAHlS GIFTS 
 
 AN IMMENSE ASSORTMENT OF USEFUL PRESENTS TO CHOOSE FROM. 
 
 GIKBISTJ^AS AJ7Q JfEW YEA(B'S CA(BQS. 
 BIBLES, CHURCH SERVICES AND PRAYER BOOKS. 
 
 DISPATCH BOXES, GLOVE & HAWDKERCEIEP SETS, ftc, &c. 
 
 PAINLESS DENTISTRY. ARTIFICIAL TEETH. 
 MR. G. H. JONES, Surgeon Dentist, 
 
 57. a-:E^EJLT E.TJSSELXi STIiEDET, LOHSriDOlT 
 
 (Immediately opposite tho British Museum), has obtained 
 
 HER MAJESTY'S ROYAL LETTERS PATENT, 
 
 For his perfectly Painless system of adnptin^ Prize Medal (London and Paris), 
 
 ARTIFICIAL TEETH BY ATMOSPHERIC PRESSURE. 
 
 PAM PHLET GRAT IS A N D POST FREE. 
 
 [TESTIMONIAL.] October i8, 1873. 
 
 "My DEAR Doctor,—! request you to accept my grateful thanlcs for your preat professional 
 assistance, which cnaldes me to masticate my food, and wherever I go I shaU show your pro- 
 fessional skill, .as I think the public ought to know where such great improvemtnts in dentistry 
 and mechanical skill can be obtained.— I am, deardoctor, yours truly, 
 
 " G. H. Jones, Esq., D.D.S. By appointment, Surgeon-Dentist to the Queen." 
 
BEhJAAIIN D- 
 
 ADVERTISEMENTS. 
 
 THE 
 
 QUEEN'S 
 
 LAUNDRESS 
 
 SAYS THIS STAECH 
 
 IS THE BEST 
 
 SHE EVER 
 
 USED. 
 
 " Useful," " Economical," "Acceptable," " Cheap," Pocket Handkerchiefs. 
 
 No Present is so much appreciated by a Lady as a Dozen of our Fine Irish Cambric Hemstitched Handkerchiefs, 
 at Half-a-Guinea per dozen (post free, 10/9), or by a Gentleman, as a Dozen of our Fine Irish Cambric Handkerchiefs, 
 
 ready hemmed for use, at 8/1 1 per dozen (post free, 9/5). 
 
 SAMPLES POST FREE. 
 
 GRANT'S MORELLA CHERRY BRANDY. 
 
 The delicious product of the famed Kent Monellas. 
 Supplied to Her Majesty at all the Royal Palaces. 
 
 GRANT'S MORELLA CHERRY BRANDY. 
 
 Used in place of Wine. A valuable tonic. 
 Recommended by the Medical profession. 
 Refreshing with Soda-water. 
 
 GRANT'S MORELLA CHERRY BRANDY. 
 
 LTuch favoured by Travellers and Sportsmen, 
 Sold by all Wine Merchants and Dealers. 
 
 MANUFACTURER: 
 T. GRANT, DISTILLERY, MAIDSTONE. 
 
 CHEESE.— Cheddar, Cheshire, Somerset, 
 and Wiltshire, 
 
 The produce of some of the Choicest Dairies in constant supply. 
 
 Buyers are requested to inspect the produce of some of the Finest 
 
 United States Dairy and Fancy qualities of Factory Cheese 
 
 now arriving, in splendid condition. 
 
 HY. WEBBEE, Cheese & Bacon Factor, 17, Long Lane, 
 
 Also Pork. Poultry, Game, Meat, Butter, &■ Pro^^ision SaUstnan. 
 
 238, LONDON CENTRAL POULTRY & PROVISION MARKET, WEST SMITHFIELD, LONDON, E.C 
 
 Fine Cheese for Christmas Presents. 
 
 IMPORTANT DISCOVEKY. 
 
 SANDELL'S HAIR RESTORER, 
 the certain Cure for Dandiiff and Bald- 
 ness, and the only reliable and harmless 
 preparation for restoring' g-rey hair to its origi- 
 nal colour. Sold by all Chemists, in bottles, 
 2s. and 3s. 6d. Do not be ferstiadedio have any 
 other kind. 3s. 6d. Bottles sent carriage free. 
 
 S. 0. SANDELL, Sole Manufactorer, Teovil. 
 
 For ihe Blood! The Bloodi! The Bloodm.! 
 
 o 
 u 
 0C(JJ 
 
 COLl 
 LU 
 
 JWr(JiiH(JUiElS! 
 
 :RiiM.iliiiilMi 
 
 3D 
 
 o 
 
 Throughout ;iLl Jiuiopc and the Colonies is now the only acknowledged 
 efficient, safe, and speedy remedy for Gout, Rheumatism, Sciatica, 
 Ulcerated Throat, Sruri'y, and all Blood diseases from whatever cause 
 arising, in proof of which, many thou?ands of Testimonials have been 
 received from all parts, scores of which cases have been pronounced 
 incurable by Medical Practitioners of high repute. Sold in Large 
 Bottles at 2s. od. and 4s. 6d. by Chemists and Patent Medicine 
 Vendors, orsentto any address for 33 and =,4 Stamps by the Proprietors, 
 
 WOODHOUSE Z, CO.. 
 
 Chemists, Grimsby Dispensary, Grimsby, (12 years Head Dispenser at 
 
 the Royal Infirmary, Bristol and Grimsby Hospital). 
 
 London Depot — 150, OXFORD STREET. 
 
 RMQiilBmillEEi 
 
 M01ENSQ»M& GLARKE 
 
 GOUT AND RHEUMATISM. 
 
 THE excruciating pain of Gout or Rheumatism is quiclcly 
 relieved and cured in a few days by that celebrated Medicine, 
 
 BLAIR'S GOUT & RHEUMATIC PILLS. 
 
 They require no restraint of diet during their use, and are certain 
 to prevent the disease attacking anj' vital part. 
 
 Sold by a.11 Chemists, at Is. 1\d. and 2s, 9d. per box. 
 
 FRAMPTON'S PILL OF HEALTH, ~ 
 
 THIS excellent Family IMedicine is the most effective 
 remedy for Indigestion, Bilious and Liver Complaints, Loss of 
 Appetite, Drowsiness, Giddiness, Spasms, and all Disorders of the 
 Stomach and Bowels ; or where an aperient is required, nothing can 
 be better adapted. 
 
 For FEMALES, these Pills are truly excellent, removing the dis- 
 tressing headache so very prevalent. Depression of Spirits, Dulness 
 of Sight, Nervous Affections, Blotches, Pimples, and Sallowness of 
 the Skin, and give a healthy bloom to the complexion. 
 
 Sold by all Chemists, at Is. Ud. and 2s. 9d. per box. 
 
 l?A0EWGJOOe0GK? 
 
 iiiiatiLLs 
 
 GOOD for the cure of WIND on the STOMACH. 
 
 GOOD for the cure of INDIGESTION. 
 
 GOOD for the cure of SICK HEADACHE. 
 
 GOOD for the cure of HEARTBURN. 
 
 GOOD for the cure of BILIOUSNESS. 
 
 GOOD for the cure of LIVER COMPLAINT. 
 
 GOOD for the cure of ALL COMPLAINTS arising from a 
 
 disordered state of the STOMACH, BOWELS, or 
 
 LIVER. 
 They are sold by all Medicine Vendors, in Boxes, at is. ijd., 2s.9d., 
 and 4S. 6d. each ; or should any difficulty occur, enclose 14, 33, or 54 
 Stamps, according to size, to PAGE D. WOODCOCK, "Lincoln 
 House," St. Faith's, Norwich, (formerly of Lincoln), and they will be 
 sent free by return of post. 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 AD VERTISEMENTS. 
 
 LAMPLOUGH'S 
 
 PYRETIC SALINE. 
 
 Important to all, more especially English Ministers, British Consuls, and Europeans seeking to reside in safety 
 in Tropical and Foreign Climates. 
 
 Her Ma,iesty's representative, the Governor of Sierra Leone, in a letter of request for an additional supply of 
 PYRETIC SALINTS, states :— " It is of great value, and I shall rejoice to hear it is in the hands of all Europeans 
 visiting the tropics." 
 
 SICKNESS, HEADACHE, and NAUSEA are in most cases immediately relieved by taking a tcaspoonful in a 
 tumbler of cold ■^^■ntcr. Tliis can bo repeated once or twice in tivo hours, if needful. 
 
 SEA VOYAGES. — It is a very valuable accompaniment, and should on no account be omitted. It instantly 
 allay.s the sea or bilious sickness. 
 
 For BILIOUS CONSTITI'TIONS, gi^'ing rise to vitiated secretions, Indigestion, and Eruptions on the Skin, a teaspoonful should be 
 taken daily ■with the dinner in a tumbler of water, and the same quantity on going to bed. 
 
 CAUTION.— Other Salines beine placed before tlie public with the mere ti-ansposition of the words of mv labels, which do not contain 
 any of the health-restoring elements of LAMrLOUGH'S I'YKETIC SALINE, it is of the utmost importance" that the Name and Trade 
 Mark, on a Buff-coloured Wrapper, envekipes each bottle, and on which dependence alone can be placed. 
 ]VIay be obtained of all Chemists, and tlie Proprietor, 
 
 H. LAMPIiOUGH, Consulting Chemist, 118, HOLBORN, E.G., 
 
 Second door from Hatton Garden, London. Bottles, 2s. 6d., 4s. 6d., lis., and 21s. 
 
 Established upwards of Half-a-Century. 
 
 LOWEST PRICES. 
 
 Patterns can be forwarded to the 
 
 Country free. 
 
 FIRST-CLASS DRAPERY. 
 FIRST-CLASS SILKS. 
 
 Patterns Post Free. 
 
 FIRST-CLASS FURNITURE. 
 
 LOWEST PRICES. 
 
 FURNITURE 
 
 
 lili 
 
 i^ Contractors to the School Board 
 y " for London. 
 
 An niitstrated Price List Post Free. 
 Members of Co-operative Societies and Country Residents can have the full advantage of Lowest London Prices by writing for 
 
 PatS:erns, which will be forwarded Post Frpn. 
 
 T. VENABLES & SONS, 103, 104, & 105. WHITECHAPEL, 
 
 And 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, & 29, COMMERCIAL STREET, LONDON, E. 
 
 Postal Address: T. Vexarles & Sons, 103, AVhitechapel, London, E. 
 
 Grey Hair speedily restored to its Original Color and Beauty by using 
 
 Mrs. BATCHELOR 'S HAIR CO LOR RESTORER. 
 
 A dclightfidly Cooling and Invin-orating' Lotion, contains No Dye, and perfectly Harmless to the most delicate Skin. As a Hair Wash for 
 general use it stands unrivalled for Cleansing the Head from Scurf, allaying' irritation, keepinjf the ^ikin of the head cool and moist, and 
 promoting- the Luxuriant Growth of the Hair, the use of grea-se in any form being entirely done away with. The rapidity and certainty of its 
 action, its agreeable fragrance, and freedom from injm-ious Chemicals, have secured for tlus preparation a lai-ge and increasing number of patrons. 
 
 MILLARD'S CHERRY TOOTH PASTE. 
 
 One Shilling per Pot. Cannot be sm-passed. 
 
 MILLARD'S "INVISIBLE" FACE POWDER. 
 
 6d. Packets. Is and 2s. Boxes, \^ith Puff. Eminently Pure and Fragrant. Sample Packets Free per Post for Six Stamps. 
 
 MILLARD'S INVISIBLE WOOL for the Ear. 
 
 This Wool, of a delicate Flesh Pink Tint, is introduced to obviate the unsightly appearance of ordinary White Wool. In Packets, 3d. & 6d. each. 
 
 Sold bv all Chemists^ Perfumers, &fc. 
 Prepared only by R. H. MILL ARD & SONS, 44, BARBI CAN, LONDON. 
 
 ROYAL DEVONSHIRE SERGE, 
 
 Made of Selected and Elastic Staple Wools, 
 
 In the required and fashionable colours and homespun mi.xturcs, especially in NAVY-BLUES, DARKGREENS, INDIGO, PRl^NE 
 AND BROWNS. No article woven FOR LADIES' DRESSES equals this in general utdity. It makes a Warm garment without 
 being heavy, and can be relied upon for durability. It does not cockle, and can be washed as a piece of flannel, or brushed aa a piece of cloth. 
 Prices IS. iid., 28. 6d.,2s. 9d., and 3s. per yard. |T IS MOST SERVICEABLE FOR CH I LDREN, for whom a lower quality, 
 Iso all wool, is made in NAVY BLUK and natural mi.\tures, at is. 6id. per yard. 
 
 Books of Patterns {conlainins 100) •vill be sent on amplication t-o 
 
 SPEARMAN & SPEARMAN, 
 
 DEVONSHIRE SERGE FACTORS, PLYMOUTH. 
 
 This address is sufficient, the Firm being well known in the West of England. 
 'J.B. — Good wear is positively guaranteed. The Navy Blue is Indigu Dye; sea-water will not hurt it. It is the best material made for 
 yachting and sea-side wear. The ROYAL DEVON SERGE is specially woven in 54 in. for Boy's Hard Wear & Gentlemen's 
 Suits. Prices from 4s. gd. per yard. 
 
 The ROYAL DEVONSHIRE SERGE is woven in LIGHT WEIGHTED YARNS for LADIES' SUMMER WEAR in Natural Wools 
 and Navy Blue Dyes. The Summer Serges are now sold with the new patent CASHMERE FINISH. 
 
 VI,L PARCELS ABOVE £2 IN VALUE WILL BK .SENT CARRIAGE PAID to London or Bristol, and by Steamer to Dublin, Cork, 
 Belfast, Waterford, and Glasgow. Parcels packed for export. American, Continental, & Colonial dispatches & freights upon application. 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 A D VER TISEMENTS. 
 
 Prepared with the Best Milk, 
 as it always ought to be, 
 
 BROWN k POISON'S 
 
 CORN FLOUR 
 
 Affords all the essentials of a perfect 
 Diet. 
 
 Complaints are occasionally made that 
 families ordering- Brown & Polson's Corn 
 Flour are supplied with some other kind, 
 either without remark, or with some evasive 
 explanation. The only reason for such sub- 
 stitution is that an extra profit attaches to 
 the sale of others. Brown & Polson there- 
 fore trust that those who have proved the 
 the value of their Corn Flour will not allow 
 themselves to be imposed upon by the un- 
 scrupulousness of their tradesmen. [1461 
 
 ^^^^ ^^o^so,.^ 
 
 TRADE MARK! 
 
 PATENT 
 
 Possessing all the properties of 
 the finest Arrowroot, 
 
 BROWN & POLSON'S 
 
 CORN FLOUR 
 
 Is a Household Requisite of constant 
 titility. 
 
 EVERY GENUINE PACKET 
 Bears the Fac-simile Signatures. 
 
 Note. — The pretension of another Corn 
 Flour to be " the best " is entirely ground- 
 less, and the imperfect quotation from the 
 Lancet which is being used in support of 
 this pretension does not convey the opinion 
 of that journal. — Vide Lancet, Nov. 13th, 
 1875. 
 
 Sole London Address — 
 
 QUEEN VICTORIA ST., E.G. 
 
 THE PRIMA DONNA 
 
 IS THE BEST 
 
 HAND SEWING MACHINE. 
 
 THE PRIMA DONNA Lock-Stitch Hand Sewing Machine will do 
 all kinds of Family Sewing in a most superior style. It is extremely 
 simple and easy to learn, and in its construction THE DEFECTS OF 
 OTHER Machines have been avoided. It can be worked either by 
 Hand or Treadle. 
 
 ^ Price Four Guineas. Treadles, 30s. and 35s. extra. 
 
 THE FAMILY SINGER SEWING MACHINE 
 
 As Improved and Manufactured by us, is far superior to tlie American make. 
 
 The Best of its kind. Price Complete, SIX GUINEAS. 
 
 THE DUCHES S SINGLE-THREAD MACH INE, £2 lOs. 
 
 Patentees and Manufacturers, 
 
 12, HOLBOEN BARS, LONDON, E.G. 
 
 TOOTH-ACHE 
 
 INSTANTLY CURED BY 
 
 BUNTER'S NERVINE. 
 
 IT ALSO FORMS A STOPPING-PREVENTS DECAY-DESTROYS THE NERVE-SAVES THE TOOTH. 
 
 DOES NOT INJURE TEETH OR GUMS. 
 
 ^VLEiaiC-A-Ij TESTITVCOnsrij^IiS. 
 
 J. HOUNSELL, Esq., Surgeon, Bridport, Dorsetshire, writes: 
 
 " I consider Bumter's Nervine a specilic for Tooth-ache. 
 Very severe cases under my care have found instantaneous and 
 peinianent relief. I therefore give my testimony of having 
 used it with invariable success, and recommend its use to the 
 Profession and the Public as invaluable to all who suffer from 
 Tooth-ache." 
 
 E. SMITH, Esq., Surgeon, Sherston, near Cirencester, writes : 
 
 " I have tried Bumter's Nervine in many cases of severe 
 Tooth-ache, and in every instance permanent relief has been 
 obtained. I therefore strongly recommend it to the pubUc." 
 
 Sold by all Chemists, Is. IJd. per Packet, 
 or in Cases containing Three Bottles, 2s. 9d. 
 
BENJAMIN D 
 
 IS Little Dinnei^ 
 
 [SECOND EDITION.) 
 
WELDON & Co. 
 
 COPIES OF 
 
 JON DUAN, 
 EDWARD VII., 
 
 Also the Original Edition oj 
 
 THE COMING K— 
 
 AND 
 
 THE SILIAD, 
 
 JSIay he obtained on application to tlic Puhlislicrs of 
 
 BENJAMIN D - 
 
 WELDON & Co, WINE OFFICE COUET, FLEET STREET, 
 
7 
 
 
 CONTENTS. '"^^^ 
 
 DEDICATION .. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BEFORE DINNER i 
 
 Am I Right for Colney Hatch ? ... ... ... ... ... ... 3 
 
 Is that Sweetly Grecian Frame .'' ... ... ... ... ... ... 4 
 
 The True Story of Little Ben ... ... ... ... ... ... 7 
 
 Young Stephey Cave ... ... ... ... ... ... 9 
 
 AT DINNER 12 
 
 The Heathen M.P 14 
 
 The True Story of the Canal .(Egyptacus and the Golden Fleece ... 16 
 
 The Good Little Fat Turk-ce 19 
 
 The Russians ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... 21 
 
 How King Leo Solved the Problem that Puzzled the Three Wise I\Ien... 23 
 
 Dord Lerby's Vision ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .... 24 
 
 The Fiends' Song ... 25 
 
 Raika's Prayer ... 27 
 
 The Song of the Bashi-Bazouks 28 
 
 The Good Little Sultan Az-waz ... ... ... ... ... ... 31 
 
 Pop goes the Weazel... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 39 
 
 Lob Rowe's Grace ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 40 
 
 AFTER DINNER 41 
 
 The Row in the Club ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 42 
 
 The only True Story of the Golden Apple... ... ... ... ... 46 
 
 The Lord of Intrigue... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 49 
 
 Lost for the Love of Him ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 51 
 
 The Blue-eyed Soldier-Bo\ ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 53 
 
 The Hoky-poky Owner ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 55 
 
 The Egyptian Alphabet ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 60 
 
 Benjamin's Lines from the Poet ... ... ... ... ... ... 62 
 
 The Ballad of Hoary Anna ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 63 
 
 You Dear Invalided (Jkl 'I'hing 66 
 
 Ode to a Cabbage ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 67 
 
 Beautiful Flo 68 
 
 The Belles ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 69 
 
 Sir Verdant's Poem ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 72 
 
 468 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 AD VERTISEMENTS. 
 
 "WANZ ER" SEWING MAC HINES. 
 
 THE TRUTH ABOUT THE MEDALS. 
 
 The" WANZER"were the ONLY Machines obtaining the CENTENNIAL MEDAL & DIPLOMA, 
 
 TOGETHER WITH THE 
 
 ONU GOLD MEDAL AWARDED TO SEWING MACHINES. 
 
 THESE DOUBLE HONOUHS KO OTHER MACHINE CAN CLAIM, 
 
 ipHE ''LITTLE W'ANZER." 
 
 Machine superior to all others. Half-a-million in use. 
 the Seven Tl^ousancl National Schools of Ireland. 
 
 With Marble Slab. As a Hand 
 
 Adopted by the Council of Education, and used throughout 
 
 fpHE "WANZER" A— STRAIGHT RACE, with New Patented 
 
 Motion. Suitable for all kinds of Work. The best Light Family Foot Machine, and is easily worked by hand. 
 " AVanzer " A is the greatest success of 1876. It combines all the known advantages of other Machines. 
 
 "WANZER" F— NEW FAMILY 
 
 Reversible Feed Motion, and all the Latest Improvements. 
 
 Light Manufacturing Purposes. 
 
 ypHE " WANZER " 
 
 MACHINE. With Patent 
 
 Specially adapted for Families, Dressmaking, and 
 
 E— WHEEL 
 
 ._ _ FEED MACHINE. With 
 
 ■*■ ROLLING PRESSER for Boot-Closing and Heavy Leather Work, and with a Special Foot for Tailoring. 
 
 OFFICES:— 4, GREAT PORTLAND STREET, LONDON, W. 
 
 And 58, BOAR LANE, LEEDS, 
 ISl, BOULEVARD SEBASTOPOL, 131, PARIS. 
 
 SIX PRIZE MEDALS AWARDED. 
 
 OODALL'S HOnSEHOLl 
 
 CIALITIES, 
 
 A. Single Trial solicited from those who have not yet tried these Splendid Preparations. 
 
 GOODALL'S BAKING POWDER. 
 
 THE BEST IN THE WOULD. 
 The cheapest because the best, and indispensable to every household, and an inestimable boon to Housewives. 
 !Makes delicious puddings without eggs, pastry without butter, and beautiful light bread without yeast. Sold by 
 Grocers, Oilmen, Chemists, ^-c., in Id. Fuckets ; 6d., Is., and 2s. Tins. 
 
 PREPARED BY GOOD ALL, BACKHOUSE & CO., LEEDS. 
 
 YORKSHIRE RELISH. 
 
 THE MOST DELICIOUS SAUCE IN THE WORLD. 
 y^i/ This cheap and excellent Saixce makes the plainest viands palatable, and the daintiest dishes more delicious. To 
 Chops and Steaks, Fish, &c., it is incomparable. Sold by Grocers, Oilmen, Chemists, ^c., in bottles, 6d., Is., and 2s. each. 
 PREPARED BY GOODALL, BACKHOUSE & CO., LEEDS. 
 
 GOODALL'S aUININE WINE. 
 
 I n:^jr|- The best, cheapest, and most agreeable Tonic yet introduced. The best remedy known for Indigestion, Loss of 
 j[£lK!l^' Appetite, General Debility, &c. Restores delicate invalids to health and vigour. Sold by Chemists, Grocers, ^-c, at 
 i&!>"n,f l«-> 1«- Hd; 2s., and 2s. od. each bottle. 
 ''^""'"" PREPARED BY GOODALL, BACKHOUSE & CO., LEEDS. 
 
 DR. HASSALL'S FOOD, FOB INFANTS, CHILDREN, AND INVALIDS. 
 
 Dr. Arthur Hili, Hassall, 31. D., the Inventor, recommends this as the most nourishing of all the In/ants' and Invalids' Foods which have hitherto 
 
 been brought out. 
 It is beyond all doubt that the lives of tens of thousands of infants and young children are annually sacrificed through the use of innutritious 
 and improper articles of diet, prepared, as tlicy so frequently are, wth milk that has been largely diluted with water, and hence its nutritious 
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p 
 
 EDICATI O N . 
 
 I. 
 
 H, hang it all ! this world's become so moral, 
 And so profoundly pleased v.'ith its morality, 
 That really I shall seek some island — coral, 
 Or try my luck across some unknown sea ; 
 Or drop among the mermaitls in the ocean, 
 Or carry out some other absurd notion. 
 
 II. 
 
 I am by bent a saint, and pre-clected — 
 
 Come, don't you laugh ! ;t won't admit of doubt 
 
 Or if I sin, at least I'm not detected, 
 And sin's not sin unless it be found out 
 
 But this is argument so very subtle 
 
 That p'raps you think its cribbed from Aristotle I 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 III. 
 
 Well, being such a saint, you must admit it — 
 
 In this last sentence really there's no fudge meant — 
 
 That if there is a blot I'm sure to hit it ; 
 
 That's half the reason why I sit in judgment ; 
 
 The other half is this — it's scarcely civil — 
 
 The world is rushing headlong to the devil ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 A man can marry now-a-days on such a salary 
 That really I'm quite glad I am not Croesus, 
 
 For save some chef d' ceuvre from the Gallery 
 
 Man's wants don't travel far beyond this thesis — 
 
 A pretty wife, a nice suburban villa. 
 
 Champagne, a nag, one's club and his Manilla ! 
 
 V. 
 
 On woman's wants there's even more embargo — 
 Let's say a parcel once a week from Worth, 
 
 Some months at Carlsbad or, perhaps, Monaco — 
 For after all a woman's only earth ! 
 
 Receptions in the season — don't they choke us ! — 
 The opera, Mudie's, and those meetings Dorcas. 
 
 VI, 
 
 His son no parent now need keep his eye on. 
 
 Or think his conduct needs the slightest trimming ; 
 
 'Twill be enough if in the coming Zion 
 
 That son still keeps his cards, and wine, and women- 
 
 I mean — but let it pass — I've been a youth ; 
 
 He lies besides who dares not speak the truth. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 VII. 
 
 For, after all, sweet youth's romantic spell 
 
 Is seldom but a dream of some fair goddess — 
 
 Cocotte, Lorette, Madonna, or Pucelle — 
 Some Venus, let us say, of Cos or Paphos ! 
 
 If there's a book in which I like tautology 
 
 It is — I say it boldly — the mythology ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 It's often struck me in a way that's hurt, 
 Why classic women's morals were so shady ; 
 
 I can't bear Daphne, she was such a flirt. 
 And Phryne was a fearful fast young lady ; 
 
 Then Cynthia was a modish sort of merdrix, 
 
 While Lais and Thais were simply moral heretics 
 
 IX. 
 
 But steady, mine old Muse— not quite so fast ! — 
 
 This verse is earthy— worse, indeed, than Swinburne, 
 
 Who's been converted. Have you seen his last ? 
 Let's soon expect to see a tiger's skin turn. 
 
 Or witness Marwood hung with his own rope, 
 
 Or Mr. Whalley flirting with the Pope ! 
 
 X. 
 
 The loves of princes and the wars of poets 
 Have been exciting since the days of David ; 
 
 Buchanan's not the first who's sought the law courts, 
 Nor Swinburne's Muse the only one depraved. 
 
 Still, hang two poets who can show ill-will. 
 
 Or let their tempers prostitute their quill ! 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 XL 
 
 To see good men go wrong makes angels weep 
 (At least, 'tis said so in a work by Madder) ; 
 
 To see two poets slanging like a sweep 
 Must be, of course, a fortiori sadder. 
 
 When will they learn — these pasquinaders fier}' — 
 
 That Satire's derivation's not sat. ircB ? 
 
 XII. 
 
 I'm fond of duels fought with pen and ink — 
 
 They serve to bring such pretty things to daylight ; 
 
 But as to choice, I rather like, I think, 
 To see a critic slashing at a playwright ; 
 
 An author's newhere who can't take a dram 
 
 And stab the donor with an epigram ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Lord, raise the stage ! it's sunk to such a level 
 
 That plays are sent from France to make it decent. 
 
 O, Sardou! Dumas I save us from the devil ! 
 Some ancient plays look vastly like your recent. 
 
 The same old plot, used with the same impunity — 
 
 A wife, a lover, and an opportunity. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I rank the stage as one of the fine arts ; 
 
 I've often thought his mind must be grotesque, 
 And sadly wanting in the finer parts, 
 
 Who cannot see the moral of burlesque ; 
 For though it's gross and stupid in portraiture 
 It holds, at least, the mirror up to Nature ! 
 
DEDICA TIOX. 
 
 XV. 
 
 It's said Dundreary's rooted in the West 
 
 And won't come back to London — well, at present ; 
 An actor's not Platonic at his best, 
 
 And injured men are fools, which isn't pleasant. 
 Dundreary'll have his rompings v/ith the ladies 
 In spite of gods, and men, and Heaven, and Hades. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Though Dun's no Plato we'd hurrah him back 
 From Yankee-land, and women, aftd vile grog. 
 
 Poor Buckstone's languished since he left his track 
 Across the ocean and — the Decalogue ! 
 
 Still, retribution waits on those who so do — 
 
 I wonder if he thinks of where he'll go to ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The air is charged with rumours — quite a flood — 
 On dit that Bisch has burnt his fingers badly ; 
 
 The Opera Comique "spec." was scarcely good. 
 And Amy cost him sums that hurt him sadly. 
 
 It's strange rich men so often prove, alas ! 
 
 The noblest work of God is but an — ass ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Ingratitude is getting quite an art, 
 
 And one mankind's an almost perfect Davy at ; 
 I cannot bear a man who's got no heart ; 
 
 The next time you write " Cave," please write it 
 " Caveat I " 
 And Edgar B., here's good advice, which follow — 
 Put not your trust in Caves, for caves are hollow ! 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 To count earth's pleasures you must count her sins, 
 They're wed together like perfume and flowers ; 
 
 I wish they sold, say, nightly larks in tins, 
 
 'Twould save a world of latch-keys and late hours ; 
 
 The scheme is new, he'll save who will embark it, 
 
 From certain Hades Mayfair and Haymarket. 
 
 XX. 
 
 To promenade to sound has been prevailiag- 
 
 o 
 
 Since music broke upon our ear and history ; 
 
 Old Covent Garden profits by the failing 
 
 To give us yet another Area-n Mystery ! 
 The object may be moral — pray don't smile ; 
 They burn at least less gas at the Argyle ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 But hang you, Muse, old gal ! your verse grow=i vapid ! 
 
 (My Muse and I, you see, are quite familiar), 
 My pen's so slow, while Ginx's is so rapid, 
 
 But he and I, thank God, are not quite similar. 
 You've read, of course, his " Blot on the Queen's Head,' 
 A shocking blot upon his own instead ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 I hate a vulgar writer worse than Guido 
 
 Fawkes ; or dances at a Kursaal, or Spa waters, 
 
 Or Paul de Kock, or novels by Ouida ; 
 
 He spoils the morals of your sons and daughters. 
 
 But Ginx's Baby, take thee thine acquittal, 
 
 I've read a ruder book but — very little ! 
 
DEDICA TION 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Well, our's the age of philosophic fietion, 
 A novel's nothing that's not analytic ; 
 
 If I may state my views of modern diction, 
 I most admire the pseudo-scientific ; 
 
 It sounds to reason, though it's seldom stated. 
 
 The work floats best that is the most inflated! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 A decent novel speculates on causes, 
 
 Quotes all the tongues, the living and the slain ; 
 Dates back its architecture, say, from Moses, 
 
 Its sculpture, say, at least, from Tubal Cain. 
 Of all which things a novelist, no doubt, 
 Has learned as much as most men^'ust about. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Besides the above a novel's an arcanum 
 Of art, of science, literature, and law ; 
 
 I've often wondered how it could contain 'em. 
 But that it does most novel-readers know : 
 
 Yet learn, who quote from Bacon, Locke, and Davy, 
 
 A novel may have weight yet not be heavy ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 I love thee. Science, still I much deplore. 
 The inroads on our speech you're making daily ; 
 
 Farewell to Saxon, Gaelic evermore, 
 
 Farewell the tongue of Spenser, Carlyle, Bayly. 
 
 Our race is Simian ; we can bear the anguish ; 
 
 But do not. Science, Darwinise our English I 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The world's demands on talent's not appalling, 
 Yet " Daniel D's " by no means what we hoped it, 
 
 And "Dead Men's Shoes" is really dismal scrawling, 
 Although some critics who'd not read it soaped it. 
 
 The truth's not far to seek to those who look — 
 
 It's woman's fate to write but one good book. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Georges Sand wrote " Consuelo "—nothing more ; 
 
 George Eliot rose from " Middlemarch " to fame ; 
 Poor Mrs. Stowe expired to sounds of encore, 
 
 While Lady Audley's yet Miss Braddon's name. 
 1 could quote lots of others — several — double, 
 But then the fact's so old I needn't trouble. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 But quantum stiff. "We're better than gwx pi res ; 
 
 We go the pace ; he's lost who skulks or ambles ; 
 The meanest clerk now speculates in shares, 
 
 And ** bulls " and " bears," but, oh 1 he never gambles ! 
 Of course, at times, there come a few odd crashes, 
 But betting on the course explains all smashes. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Then take those Bubble Co.'s — I mean directors, 
 They downright ask the public to bamboozle 'cm 
 
 At such a sacrifice — in the prospectus — 
 That I look daily for the New Jerusalem ! 
 
 It's true the Emma ^line made lots of scandal. 
 
 But then the critics always find a handle! 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Besides, what matters, if you fill your purse 
 
 Who's crushed to-day or struggl<>s o'er to-morrow ; 
 
 For every blessing there must be a eursc, 
 For every joy a compensating sorrow. 
 
 Stretch forth your hand, b*id every ruined cub lick, 
 
 Then " square " — yes, Leicester Square — th' indignant 
 public ! 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 I hate a parvenue, I loathe, detest 
 
 With Quakers, Jumpers, and fliose horrid ^Mormons ; 
 ■\Iy own's blue blood — but that, of course, you've guessed ; 
 
 Our founder crossed the Channel with the Normans. 
 I cannot bear low breeding — it's a pity ; 
 I hate a pedigree that smells of city ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 I fly the man whose world is stocks and shares, 
 Or grease, or hides, or sugar, boiled or raw ; 
 
 Whose soul is Argentine or Buenos Ayrcs, 
 Who quotes no poet's lines except to know 
 
 The rate of interest fixed between the two 
 
 When distance lent enchantment to the view ! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But go " Ben D " before my tears ooze through 
 
 And sorrow for my kind has soaked my cambric ; 
 
 Some friendly eye may perhaps discern in you 
 The higher altitudes of things in Sam Slick ! 
 
 And some may take a difierent view, of course — 
 
 If praise — 'tis well ; if blame — it is no worse. 
 
DEDICA TIOX 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Yet still, I own, I wonder which 'twill^be — 
 Who'll put thee on a shelf, who in a gutter ! 
 
 Who'll make thee lining for his trunk, " Ben D ," 
 
 And who the grave-clothes of short pounds of butter, 
 
 What cynics curse thee, and what critics praise, 
 
 And if they'll find thee after many days. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Enough ! Unto this wicked world, for which there's no 
 cure, 
 
 I take the liberty — it's nothing less — 
 To dedicate the pages of this brochtlre, 
 
 Which show the world is in an awful mess ; 
 But p'raps the world may think it doesn't need it — 
 Well, if it does, it isn't bound to read it. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 I may just say, while turning on my axis. 
 
 If you'd be happy scorn to tell a lie ; 
 Make love, as Byron says, and pay your taxes, 
 
 Fear God, of course, and keep your powder dry ; 
 And then, perhaps, when things mundane are over 
 You'll meet me up above where all is clover. 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
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BENJAMIN D 
 
 f^is "Little Dinnei\. 
 
 Seven o'clock, and an evening- in August. 
 
 I iind myself on the platform of the pretty little 
 station at Hughenden. 
 
 1 am utterly exhausted in aa effort to catcli the 
 train. 
 
 A locomotive dwindles away in tlie distance. 
 
 T am in a condition of high-pressure physical 
 and mental excitement, 
 
 I wipe tlie perspiration off my forehead. 
 
 " Porter ! " 
 
 "Yessir !" 
 
 EFORE DINNER, 
 
 " The last train to town ? " 
 
 " Gone, sir." 
 
 "What!" I make a dart for my Benson. 
 Seven o'clock! For my time-table. Seven 
 o'clock ! 
 
 " Velveteens !" 
 
 "Yessir!" 
 
 " You're before your time 1 " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " I tell you you are. I shall sue the company. 
 Exemplary damages ! " 
 
 " Some mistake, sir." 
 
 "Eh? What? Some mistake, sir! A devil 
 of a mistake, sir ! An infernal mistake ! " 
 
 " The first day of the month, sir." 
 
 "Hang the day, sir! Smother the month! 
 I'm not an almanack ! I'm not Old Moore ! I'm 
 not a book of dates ! What ? Ought to know 
 what ? Seven o'clock one month's like seven 
 w'clock the next, isn't it? It used to be when I 
 was a boy." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but times is changed now." 
 
 "Don't care a hang about the 'Times;' it 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 isn't my Standard. The ' Times ' is always 
 changing ; it's its nature to." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but new time-tables. Train to town 
 five minutes earlier." 
 
 I tear my " Daily Telegraph" to atoms. 
 
 I stamp upon k. 
 
 I grind it to powder with my feet. 
 
 " Then, hang you ! why didn't you say so 
 before? Why the " 
 
 But I check myself. I never use strong language . 
 
 "Porter!" 
 
 " Yessir!" 
 
 " Look here ! Get yourself a bottle of Allsopp." 
 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 " But, Velveteens!" 
 
 "Yessir!" 
 
 " Come here ! I say, hang it! Is there any- 
 thing going on in Hughenden to-night ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; only the grand Parliamentary dinner 
 at the Manor." 
 
 I prick up my ears. 
 
 " Grand Parliamentary dinner at the Manor ! 
 Who lives there ? ' ' 
 
 " I thought every one knew that, sir ! " 
 
 "Velveteens! Pardon me; but a fellow like 
 you, who's supposed to keep a wife and family on 
 a guinea a week, isn't paid for thinking. It's a 
 wrong point. It's a false signal. Don't do it 
 again. Who lives at the Manor ? " 
 
 " The celebrated Benjamin D , sir; Eng- 
 land's pri-me^r.' " 
 "The diners?" 
 
 " Don't know, sir ; but — a — my — " 
 ' ' Young woman ? Out with it i It's the custom 
 of modern society not to hesitate in speaking of 
 its women. Remember Balham. What did she 
 
 say 
 
 ?" 
 
 " The gentlemen coming are all members of 
 Parliament." 
 
 " And the reason for this gathering of lambs 
 into the fold of the political shepherd ? Quick ! ' ' 
 
 " Nothing, sir. It's a knack Benjamin's got. 
 Love your enemies. Feed them that hate you." 
 
 " Are the gentlemen here ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; all coming up in a special due in 
 about an hour and a-half." 
 
 " Thank you. Velveteens. Here ! Another 
 Allsopp." 
 
 I pause, reflect, introspect. 
 
 I think something must be done. 
 
 I resolve that something shall be done. 
 
 Happy thought ! The new Sultan ! 
 
 The Insurrection ! 
 
 The War ! 
 
 The Atrocities ! 
 
 Egypt! 
 
 The Khedive ! 
 
 The Canal ! 
 
 The Session ! 
 
 I wave my hand tragically — " Benjamin D , 
 
 I will interview thee ! " 
 
 "Porter!" 
 
 " Yessir !" 
 
 " The shortest cut to the Manor ?" 
 
 " The cut direct." 
 
 " Don't be saucy, porter ! " 
 
 " Through the gate, sir, and straight on." 
 
 I start. 
 
 It is a lovely evening, warm and still. There 
 are summer breaths of Eden in the sighing of the 
 wind, romances in tomes in the whispers of the 
 trees and the fading of the sunlight. 
 
 I walk on briskly. 
 
 I suddenly stumble over a small packet. 
 
 I pick it up. 
 
 I feel that it contains a sheet of note paper 
 and a carte de visile. I determine to more closely 
 inspect its contents. I am doing so, when my 
 attention is distracted by an excited figure in the 
 avenue, far down in the vista. 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 The figure advances upon me, flourishinq- its 
 umbrella in the most deadly manner. 
 
 It draws nearer and nearer. 
 
 It waves a tasselled felt hat, with a yard and-a- 
 half of brim, as if to attract my attention. 
 
 I start back. 
 
 I stand stock-still, electrified. 
 
 The figure draws rapidly upon me. 
 
 I discover it to be a man — a creature with a 
 long clerically-cut coat, a white linen stock — a 
 creature with its hair parted down the middle to 
 make the most of an inch and-a-quarter of fore- 
 head — a young — a very young ritualist priest. 
 
 The creature frightens me. 
 
 I try to avoid him. 
 
 I cannot. 
 
 He comes directly for me. 
 
 I cram the letter and its contents into my 
 pocket. 
 
 In another instant he is within hearing. 
 
 He flourishes his umbrella in my face, and 
 bursts out in the following alarming way :— 
 
 ^m I gtgM for Colacg fatrfj r 
 I. 
 
 Man of Mammon, e'er we part 
 Read the words upon my heart ; 
 Or, if that has left my breast. 
 Go to Rome and read the rest. 
 By my vesper-breathing watch 
 Am I right for Colney Hatch ? 
 
 II. 
 
 By mine alb and stole and cope. 
 By my tonsured head and Pope, 
 By my banners' silken flow. 
 By my chalice veil of snow, 
 By the laces that attach. 
 Am I right for Colney Hatch ? 
 
 III. 
 By the chancel dossals hung, 
 By the incense burnt and swung, 
 By the candles lit at noon. 
 By the Sacramental spoon. 
 By my napkins, cutters, such, 
 Am I right for Colney Hatch ? 
 
 IV. 
 By my chasuble and stool, 
 By Loyola's holy rule. 
 By the font's baptismal jugs, 
 By my maniples and mugs, 
 By my altar-cloths to match. 
 Am I right for Colney Hatch ? 
 
 V. 
 
 By the acolytes that file 
 In procession down the aisle. 
 By the silken flags they bear. 
 By the holy Cross that's there. 
 By my vigil, fast, and watch, 
 .Am I right for Colney Hatch ? 
 
 VI. 
 By my piping treble tones, 
 By my loved Gregorian groans, 
 By the priest's Confessional, 
 By man's faults transgressional ; 
 Ah ! that whispered word I catch — 
 Yes, I'm right for Colney Hatch. 
 
 Before I can recover my surprise the figure has 
 rushed past me, and vanished into space. 
 
 I simply mention this incident as a fact. Please 
 believe it who wish. I take it myself to have been 
 an apparition ! 
 
 Happy thought ! Will write to Tyndall, Huxley, 
 Darwin, Lj'ell, Carpenter, (Sec, &c., for an imme- 
 diate explanation. 
 
 I pursue my journey. 
 
 A short walk in the drowsy evening, and I come 
 upon Hughenden Manor. 
 
 I look at my Benson. 
 
 It is eight o'clock. 
 
 I make a note of it. 
 
 ^Vhat a glorious place, this Hughenden Manor! 
 What a wealth of vale, of wood, of hill, of dale ! 
 
 Condensed Elysium ! A pocket Arcadia ! 
 Switzerland in crown octavo ! 
 
 A door — a veritable pea-green painted door. 
 
 I knock. 
 
 I am opened unto by a page-boy whose lips are 
 still redolent of oleaginous matter. 
 
 I quer}'. I'm in luck. Benjamin D is 
 
 at home. I chuckle. 
 
 My card. 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 Exit page-bo}'. 
 
 I am requested to enter. 
 
 I walk in. 
 
 I am sliown into an ante room. I am requested 
 to take a seat. 
 
 I wait. I suddenly remember the letter I found 
 in the avenue. 
 
 I open it. 
 
 It contains a carte de visife, as follows : — 
 
 It is addressed to the Editor of the Matrimojiial 
 News. 
 
 I g"uess this from the contents. 
 
 After expressing his doubts about the genuine- 
 ness of ladies in general, the writer proceeds to 
 ask the following questions about the above lady 
 in particular : — ■ 
 
 Is that sweetl}" Grecian frame 
 Squeezed up in a — what's its name ? 
 Is its Hyacinthine flow 
 Fashioned with a — don't you know ? 
 Is that skin's transparent blonde 
 Bought in Oxford Street or Bond ? 
 Is that cheek's inviting glow- 
 Rouge from Breidenbach and Co. ? 
 Are those teeth so pearly white 
 Left in water all the night ? 
 Is that breath, my love, my queen, 
 Fragrant but with Floriline ? 
 Is the brightness of that eye 
 Sipped in corners on the sly ? 
 Are those locks of auburn hair 
 Held by pins to keep them there ? 
 Is that palpitating breast 
 Merely wadding on the chest ? 
 
 Are those small and tender feet 
 Pinched to death to make them neat ? 
 Has that ring-encircled hand 
 Been to Steward's in the Strand ? 
 Did those diamonds take their shape 
 From Alaska or the Cape ? 
 Tell me, maiden, on my life, 
 Could' st thou make a man a wife ? 
 
 I have scarcely concluded the reading of these 
 lines before a page-boy announces that Benjamin 
 is ready to receive me. 
 
 I am ushered into the august presence by four- 
 and-twenty flunkeys. 
 
 The august presence receives me kindly. 
 
 I subtend at an angle of forty -five. 
 
 Benjamin, not to be outdone, subtends at an 
 angle of forty-six. 
 
 " Delighted ! " says Benjamin. 
 
 "The proudest moment of ni}- existence!" I 
 reply. 
 
 We subtend at three points round the tabic. 
 
 " Do me the honour," says Benjamin, politely, 
 setting out a chair. 
 
 I do him the honour. 
 
 We sedentate. 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 " Plush ! " says Benjamin, with a fine sense of 
 what is required, " a flasch of Johannisberg'er, the 
 O.D.V., and the Havanas." 
 
 Exits Plush. 
 
 " Thunder and Lightning," he says, turning- 
 upon me one of those smiles of irresistible oiliness 
 peculiarly his, "some of my colleagues and friends 
 are coming to dinner at nine. Do me the honour, 
 will you ? ' ' 
 
 "Ah — yes," I say; "a — thanks," pretending 
 to be confused. " Benjamin j-ou flatter me. I 
 will do you the honour. Certainly." 
 
 We subtend again ; angle unknown. 
 
 We throw ourselves into graceful attitudes, and 
 smoke and talk. 
 
 Whereof the sewage of towns, mangold wurzel, 
 guano, and cattle plague constitute the first course 
 of our mental aliment. 
 
 We slide into politics. 
 
 "Benjamin," I say, puffing at my Havana, 
 " what is the present Tory policy ? " 
 
 "Policy!" says Benjamin, knocking o\er his 
 Johannisberger. " Policy ! Bah ! Policy, sir, is 
 the curse of the political system. It's been the 
 ruin of every party that ever existed." 
 
 I look out of a corner of my eye. " Have YOU 
 a policy, Benjamin ? " I ask, watching- the smoke 
 curl over my head. 
 
 "Ah! I thought as much," says Benjamin. 
 " There you go ! Pray help yourself to some more 
 cognac." 
 
 " Benjamin," I say, firmly but polite))-, " don't 
 equivocate. Have — you — a — policy ? " 
 
 " No, sir ! There! No government can have 
 a policy and hope to endure. The thing's absurd. 
 The proper policy for a government is no policy. 
 I haven't had a policy for years ! " 
 
 "An example, Benjamin," I say. 
 
 "Take William. He had a policy — in fact, 
 he'd no end of policies. He'd a iDolicy of liquor, 
 and made a mortal enemy of every hog's-head in 
 the country. He'd a policy of adulteration, and 
 raised currents of ill-feeling among the grocers. 
 He'd a policy of purchase, and bought himself 
 out of the army. He'd a policy of law reform, and 
 provoked ever)' Whig in the country-. Thunder 
 and Lightning " 
 
 I subtend. 
 
 "In m}' opinion there's only one policy worth a 
 ducat ! " 
 
 " And that, Benjamin," I ask in my captivating 
 way, " is ?" 
 
 "Pointedly expressed in the following lines of 
 the poet : — ■ 
 
 Let Rads delight to bark and bite. 
 
 For God has made 'em so ; 
 Let Butts and Biggars growl and fight. 
 
 For 'tis their nature to ; 
 But Hardy, you must never kt 
 
 The landed gentry rise 
 To see the games that I am at 
 
 Beneath their nose and eyes." 
 
 " Ah ! Just so," I say, with a laugh. 
 At this point Benjamin, with classic grace, 
 plants his feet on the table. 
 
 "Benjamin," I say, getting languid, "what 
 about the re-action ? " 
 
 "Re-action be d . But pardon me, sir ; I 
 
 never use strong language. There's been no re- 
 action. There's been a revulsion, if you like." 
 
 " Exactlv. The country, t apprehend, did not 
 send a Tory majority to Parliament because it 
 loved Conser\--4tism more, but because it loved 
 Liberalism less." 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 I make a note of it. 
 
 " Let me tell you," says Benjamin. " the secret 
 of all re-actions. To me politics appear like this : 
 I see before me two great armies of thinking men. 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 They are called parties. These two main bodies 
 are supported by an infinite number of other and 
 smaller bodies, which attach themselves to this 
 party or to that as self-interest or a natural bias 
 may happen to determine. Offend one of these 
 smaller bodies, or appear to injure it, and the 
 negative force of predilection becomes the positive 
 force of active hate, and it goes over to the 
 enem}'. A powerful and popular government, like 
 that with which William entered office in 1868, 
 may offend one, or even several, of these little 
 bodies with impunity. But — and this is the point 
 — when you come to harass and annoy them in the 
 way and to the extent I pointed out to my dear 
 Grey, you si.gnthe death-warrant of your ministry." 
 
 "Ah! Then you believe, Benjamin," I say, 
 " that "William's sacrifice, and that of his party, 
 were the necessary consequences of the honesty 
 and assiduity with which the Liberals carried out 
 their policy ? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 I make another note of it. 
 
 " William fell because he did too much. If / 
 fall it shall be because I've done too little. Do 
 you see ? " 
 
 "The country expects as much," I observe, 
 with a sly wink. " But what are you going to do 
 for the working man ? ' ' 
 
 " Working man ! " says Benjamin, with a look 
 of contempt. "Working man! Nothing. The 
 working man's an ass — -a humbug ! " 
 
 "Never mind!" I say, with a perceptible 
 increase of bile, " Humbug or ass, you gave him 
 the franchise." 
 
 " True," says Benjamin, taking his legs off the 
 table, " true, Thunder and Lightning ; I did. 
 I confess it. But why ? Sir, I gave the franchise 
 to the working man on the same principle that I 
 would give a razor to a suicide — because I knew 
 how readily he would cut his throat with it. I 
 don't disguise it. I fought this battle against my 
 party, but the facts have borne out my anticipa- 
 tions. I knew they would. Of a large proportion 
 of the working men who voted in 1868, I do not 
 hesitate to say — and I say it emphatically — that 
 with a baseness not to be found in any other class, 
 they overthrew and abandoned their best and 
 wisest friends— that, with a folly impossible to 
 surpass, they launched into power we who, as a 
 
 party, were for generations the unswerving oppo- 
 nents of every measure for their social and political 
 amelioration. William's misfortune has been to 
 have worked too hard — to have done too much, 
 not only for the working man, but for the country ; 
 and when a man works too hard, or does too 
 much, whether for an individual or for the nation, 
 base ingratitude is his common reward." 
 
 " Bravo ! " I exclaim. " Bravo, Ben ! One 
 word more. How about the decay of truth in 
 Parliament ?" 
 
 " That,"'' says Benjamin, heaving a sigh and 
 placing his hand upon his heart, " grieves me 
 very much. I have a respect for the truth, 
 amounting, I may say, to almost a veneration ; 
 and I really think, do you know, Thunder and 
 Lightning, that if I caught my friend, my dearest 
 friend — say, my mother-in-law — in a lie, I should 
 cut her dead." 
 
 " Benjamin," I say, soaring into the senti- 
 mental, " falsehood is a disease — a canker-worm, 
 slowly but surely gnawing its way into the country's 
 heart." 
 
 " Truth," says Benjamin, " truth in a senator 
 is like one of Norton's* Camomile pills in that 
 same senator's stomach — it prevents a great deal 
 of bile." 
 
 I smile. 
 
 "I'm sorry," adds Benjamin, in a tone of gi'eat 
 penitence, looking into the smoke that curls over 
 his head, " that the veracity of some people is not 
 proverbial. But, Thunder and Lightning, not to 
 be personal, I put it to you — may I say, as a 
 friend? " 
 
 I say he may. 
 
 "When I was young I WTote fiction ; is it un- 
 natural that now I am old the habit should cling 
 to me, and that I should s_peak fiction ? " 
 
 "Not at all," I say. "Nothing is unnatural 
 in you, Benjamin. You are among us — not of us." 
 
 " Do you know. Thunder and Lightning, that T 
 attribute a great deal of my habit of — what shall 
 I say ? — of inexact speaking to my early connec- 
 tion with the Press. We did a great deal of that 
 sort of thing on the Press." 
 
 I smile pityingly. " If you would care to hear 
 it," I say, " I'll read you a short story I happen 
 to have in my tweeds in MS." 
 
 " Certainly," says Benjamin. " But before you 
 
 Vifir Mr. Lnynrd's strrch in the House of Cotnvions 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 begin, take a little more cognac. Is the story in 
 any way personal ? ' ' 
 
 "Not a bit of it," I say. " It is entitled the 
 * True Story of Little Ben,' and has a moral." 
 
 "Ah ! I like morals," says Benjamin, dispersing 
 the smoke with a wave of his hand. " Morals is 
 a scarce commodity now-a-days. But pray begin." 
 
 I read as follows : — 
 
 S^k (JDruc ^torn of pttic §cn. 
 
 There was once a little boy named Ben, the son 
 of rich but honest parents, who, whenever he found 
 himself in a difficulty, used to invent wicked little 
 stories on the spur of the moment. And when Little 
 Ben told a particularly large one, or a small but 
 particularly transparent one, he never used to hang 
 down his head after the fashion of other boys. 
 Not a bit of it. He used to give himself spruce 
 and jaunty airs, like a perfectly truthful boy, and 
 wear a large flower in his buttonhole, for Little 
 Ben was an Israelite, and understood not the ways 
 of the Gentiles. 
 
 And Little Ben used to go to a very select 
 Academy for boys, called St. Stephen's School, 
 kept by a bluff, hearty, honest, indulgent old 
 gentleman called'John Bull. 
 
 And Little Ben, though the boys made game of 
 him at first, soon made himself a position in the 
 school, and became a great favourite with the 
 upper form boys because he used to say rude and 
 cruel things about the lower form boys, and so 
 make the upper form boys laugh. 
 
 And after a time Little Ben rose to be a monitor 
 in the school, and after that he got to be head of 
 all the other monitors, his popularity was so great. 
 
 ^Vnd when the lower form bo}-s used to ask him 
 questions, as head monitor, which he could not 
 answer, he used to snub them in a way that made 
 him many friends. 
 
 Now good John Bull, the master of the school, 
 had in his possession a richly bound book i<i 
 morocco and gold, entitled the " Empire of India," 
 of which he was very proud, and which was the- 
 envy of the masters of all the other schools. 
 Several lustful persons were known to have designs 
 upon this book, and particularly the master of a 
 school in the North called Alick. 
 
 Now one day the devil put it into the head of 
 Little Ben to get hold of this priceless book and 
 
 alter the title. So Little Ben, under the direction 
 of the devil, did get hold of it, and scratched out 
 the word "Empire" and wrote in the word 
 " Empress." 
 
 Now when honest John' Bull, the master, came 
 to look into his desk the next morning, he dis- 
 covered what had been done, and his bile rose 
 within him. And when he could not find out who 
 had really done this thing, he fell into a towering 
 passion, and called Little Ben before him, and 
 said, " Ben, who has dared to alter the title of my 
 book in morocco and gold ? " 
 
 And Little Ben, wishing to please Dame 
 Britannia, who secretly egged him on to do what 
 he had done, jauntily equivocated with all the 
 assurance of a truthful boy, then tried to chaff 
 the head master, and, finally, when he found it 
 wouldn't do, confessed. 
 
 But John Bull was exceedingly wroth at being 
 trifled with, but most of all at the violence done to 
 the title of his volume in morocco and gold, for he 
 valued that book beyond all price. 
 
 So he took Little Ben by the arm, and placed 
 him in front of all the boys, and said if he could 
 not give sound and substantial reasons for what 
 he had done he (the head master) would have no 
 option but to tickle his little cuticle in the presence 
 of the whole school. 
 
 Then Little Ben, knowing that a great majority 
 of the boys in the school were ready to back him 
 up in what he had done, winked at the head 
 master quite openly, and said he could give no 
 end of good reasons if he had time, for the devil 
 had possession of him. 
 
 Then the head master, good honest John Bull, 
 not wishing to do an injustice, gave Little Ben 
 three clear days wherein to prepare his reasons. 
 
 And on the first day Little Ben, radiant with 
 much cunning and carrying on a flirtation with 
 his ;pince-7iez, stood up in his place in the school, 
 and, in presence of all the boys, said the reason he 
 altered the title of the book in morocco and gold 
 was because it was wished for by the monitors 
 and boys of a school which the master kept in 
 the East. 
 
 But the head master said this was a lie, because 
 the boys of that school had never been consulted, 
 and sent Little Ben to his place. 
 
 And on the second day Little Ben, who was not 
 at all abashed, came forward again and said the 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 reason he altered the title was to make it agree 
 with certain old almanacks, and particularly with 
 a geography book which a little ^^\x\ had sent him. 
 
 But the head master, feeling sick and ill over 
 Little Ben's want of accuracy, said this was 
 another lie, and sent him again to his place. 
 
 And on the third day Little Ben came forward 
 again, bolder than brass, with a bigger flower in 
 his coat, and a whiter waistcoat beneath it, and 
 said this time he was real!}' going to speak the 
 truth. The reason he altered the title of the book 
 in morocco and gold was to prevent Alick break- 
 ing into the school in the East. 
 
 On hearing this the head master nearly fainted 
 av^av in his shoes, and put his hand to his heart, 
 and said this was too much. Little Bon was 
 worse than .-Esop. He must be instantly and 
 severely punished. 
 
 So the head master whipped down Little Ben's 
 trousers, and hooked him up to the great easel by 
 a curl that grew on his forehead, and made him 
 howl. And when it was all over the head master 
 reproached Little Ben for his want of accuracy, and 
 his growing contempt for the details of the business 
 of the school, and deposed him from his high office 
 of head monitor, and sent him about his business. 
 
 And Little Ben's disgrace caused a great sen- 
 sation in the school, and so preyed upon Little 
 Ben's mind, and his habit so grew upon him, that 
 his friends found it necessary in the end to send 
 him to an as3-lum for the cure of the inveterately 
 ^Esopical. 
 
 But Little Ben's disease was found to be ab- 
 solutely incurable, and after a series of " woppei's" 
 which choked off half the immatcs, he was 
 ultimately snuffed out in a fit of the colic. 
 
 This is the true storj' of little Ben. 
 
 "Thunder and Lightning," says Benjamin, 
 rising, " give me your hand, old man. Your story 
 has interested me very much. If my face is of a 
 little deeper crimson, believe me, I don't mean 
 it." 
 
 We subtend. 
 
 " Thunder — excuse the omission of the Light- 
 ning- if you would prefer to follow me to the 
 drav.ing-room, do so. If you would prefer to 
 amuse )-ourself in the garden, why " 
 
 " Oh, the garden, certainly ! " I say, stepping 
 through the open frame of an elegant French 
 v,-indow on to a closely-shaven parterre which, 
 from the quantity of stock everywhere observable, 
 I conclude to be an Egyptian lawn. , 
 
 I lounge and smoke on the grass. 
 
 I indolentl}' untie a charming bundle of cigar- 
 ettes I brought with me from Alexandria. 
 
 I fall into an Egyptian reveine. I dream. Of 
 the Cafe II Paradiso, where m}' talent for idleness 
 was first perfected. Of the style and the splendour 
 and the daslj of Alexandrian life, and the luxurious 
 and glorious indolence of Egj'ptian existence 
 generally. Of unending siestas, and melons and 
 citrons, and baths in oceans of sheibet. Of the 
 musical plashing of creamy blue wavelets down 
 there below me, as of a perpetual honeymoon of 
 water-nymphs. Of that lovely black-eyed Arab 
 girl, Fadl-ed-Deen, and my naughty — my Acry 
 naught}'^ — flirtations with the Venus of Alexandria, 
 the Signora Messalina. 
 
 I call to mind the song she sung to me under an 
 acacia the night I left, accompanying herself on 
 the harpoon. It was an Egyptian song, and told 
 of the deeds of a doughty knight. It ran as 
 follows : — - 
 
JUS LITTLE DINXKR, 
 
 tloung Stephen Cube. 
 
 O, j'oung Stephey Cave is come out of the East, 
 Through borders Levantine his steed was the 
 
 beast ! 
 And save his grey goosequill he v^eapon had 
 
 none ; 
 He rode all unharni'd, and he rode all alone. 
 So renowned at accounts, so iinancially brave, 
 There never was knig-ht like the young Stephc}' 
 
 Cave. 
 
 II. 
 He staid not for passport, lie stopped not for 
 
 Stone ; 
 He took the first steamer where train tliere was 
 
 none ; 
 But ere he alighted at Ismail's gate 
 The Khedive was ruined ; the banker came late, 
 For a babe at accounts and a scripholding slave 
 Had forestalled the proud mis.-^ii-kfi of yoi'.ng Stephey 
 
 Cave. 
 
 III. 
 
 So boldly he entered proud Isn-i.-iil's hall. 
 Among Pashas and Agas, Effciidis and all. 
 Then spoke those Egyptians, ineffably bored, 
 (For the poor craven Khedive said never a word,) 
 " O, come ye to fleece us, or come ye to save, 
 "Or to prove us insolvent, thou yoimg Stephey 
 Cave?" 
 
BENJAAIIN D- 
 
 IV. 
 
 " I long thought ye bankrupt — the truth ye denied ; 
 " Loans swell like the Solway, but ebb like its tide, 
 ' ' And now I am come with this ledger of mine 
 " To go through your figures . You dare not decline ! 
 " There are countries in Europe as bankrupt, proud 
 
 knave, 
 " Who'd gladly be tipped by the young Stephey 
 
 Cave." 
 
 V. 
 
 They threw down the records, bills, bonds, and 
 
 such stuff ; 
 He tested the figures through sums on his cuff ; 
 He bent down to blush, and he got up to sigh. 
 With a curl on his lip and disdain in his eye ; 
 He gave his right hand a most tragical wave — 
 "They've swindled thee proper," said young 
 
 Stephey Cave. 
 
 VI. 
 
 One pull at the bell, and one crocodile's tear. 
 And they ope'd the hall-door, and the Khedive 
 
 stood near. 
 So plain to his Highness the plan that he showed, 
 So strongly perceiving the same he avowed — 
 " We are saved! We are saved ! spite of loan, 
 
 bond, and knave ! ' ' 
 " They'll have sharp wits that beat us," said 
 
 young Stephey Cave. 
 
 VII. 
 
 There was raving and stamping 'mong Pashas 
 
 galore ; 
 Frenchi^en, Germans, and Yankees, they cursed 
 
 aqd they swore ; 
 There was hoping and waiting 'mong bondholders 
 
 free, 
 But the fruits of his mission ne'er did they see. 
 So renowned at accounts, so financially brave. 
 Have ye e'er heard of banker like young Stephey 
 
 Cave ? 
 
 But the sun has not yet set. It beats down 
 upon me. I find myself becoming a frizzled man 
 — a dried-up madrepore — a badly-baked terra- 
 cotta likeness of Adam ! 
 
 I hear voices — a chorus. 
 
AND SAVE HIS GREY GOOSEQUILL HE WEAPON HAD NONE." 
 
HIS LITTLE J)IA'XI:K. 
 
 They descend upon me. 
 
 Ijcnjamin in the flesh comes laughing- and 
 smirking, as if he intends to die away in a smile 
 on the first convenient opportunity. 
 
 Two fellows follow. 
 
 [ rise from the grass. 
 
 " O, pray don't disturb yourself!" says Ben- 
 jamin. " Only two of my much respected col- 
 leagues. Allow me to introduce you. The Flying 
 Correspondent of the Thunder and Lightni)ig 
 Herald — Dord I.crb}-. The Flying ditto — Mr. 
 Mard Hunt." 
 
 We subtend ; angles very obscure. 
 
 Dord Lcrby agrees with me that the weather is 
 \-ery hot, and falls in with my suggestion for a 
 bath in an ocean of lemonade, and a long, steady 
 downpour of soda-water. 
 
 •• What's this fellow doing here ? " asks Lerby, 
 politely referring to me. 
 
 •'Ah! there you go," says Benjamin, with an 
 olive-oily smile. " Going to stay dinner. Wants 
 
 lo know our views about the War, Egypt, the 
 Cinal, the Atrocities ! " 
 
 " Won't know mine," says the hero of the Navy, 
 coming into collision with the rockery ; "they've 
 gone to Ijcsika llay ! " 
 
 "And mine," chimes in the cold-blooded Lerby, 
 ' ' appear to' be known to everybody but myself. 
 I'^ide the Press." 
 
 Another hon. member appears at this moment. 
 It is Bass. Ah ! Ale fellow, well met. I'm par- 
 ticularly glad to see Bass. I contemplate getting 
 married shortly, and it is a great pleasure to me 
 to become acquainted with the gentleman who 
 supplies families in casks and bottles. 
 
 We link ourselves arm-in-arm, and proceed to 
 dinner, Benjamin obliging us en route with the 
 first verse of ]\Ioody and Sankey's next hymn — 
 
 O, '•rectitude ! where are the charms 
 Th.at sages have seen in thy face ? 
 
 The slave of political qualms 
 
 Never tasted the pleasures of place. 
 
 
BENJAMIA^ D- 
 
 Benjamin, who undertakes tlie ox-tail, is sup- 
 ported on his right by Air. Lob Rowe, and on his 
 left by Sir Verdant Hardcoat. 
 
 The soup at the lower end of the table — carrot — • 
 is gracefully presided over by Sweet William. 
 Sweet William is supported by Dord Lerb}' and 
 Mr. Hard Hunt. 
 
 Among the other guests I observe Sir Wellfried 
 Lawson, Dr. Gonenearly, Mr. Marmalade Yenkins, 
 Mr. Slimsoul, Mr. Icano'er Power, Mr. Ime 
 Gorman and the rest. 
 
 At the request of Benjamin, Mr. Slimsoul says 
 grace. 
 
 He also hopes no gentleman will take advantage 
 of too high a load-line. 
 
 m 
 
 INNER, 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 Mr. Bates rises to orJi-r. He wishes to know 
 if the remark is intended to be personal, or if 
 Mr. Slimsoul is only seeking- for an opportunity to 
 repeat his recent wail. 
 
 Sir Wellfried slily remarks that it was not a 
 whale — it was onl)- the blubber. 
 
 Mr. Slimsoul objects to the term whale bein.y- 
 applied to him, especially by the member for 
 Carlisle. He leaves that term for tliose who are 
 more in the habit of spoutinq- ! 
 
 Sir Wellfried demands an immediate apologfv. 
 He thinks spouting- — or any allusion to spouts — ^a 
 grossly insulting- term to apply to an advocate of 
 temperance. 
 
 Mr. Slimsoul gracefull}- apologises. 
 
 Lob Rowe will take ox-tail. He graciously 
 remarks that this is not the iirst time he has taken 
 his queue from Benjamin ! 
 
 We smile. 
 
 Mr. Hard Hunt will take ox-tail too. The tail 
 of an ©X is no doubt a lowly portion of the animal, 
 but as head of her INIajesty's Navy he cannot 
 object to anvthing that follows a stern ! 
 
 Mr. Forcit will take carrot. He never did say 
 " no " to a radical and never will. 
 
 Dr. Gonenearly will take ox-tail. He is 
 delighted to take anything that reminds him, 
 however faintly, of Wagga-Wagga ! 
 
 Dord Lerbv is not quite sure what to take. It 
 is best to act with caution. He will take carrot. 
 In an age like this it is a pleasure to take any 
 vegetable, however humble, that goes below the 
 surface of things. 
 
 We laugh. Lob Rowe makes a special point of 
 it. " To what a tremendous depth," he says, in 
 accents of soft sawder, "you went below the 
 surface of the Suez Canal thing! " 
 
 "That I did!" says Lerby. "I should have 
 gone deeper only a Cabinet Minister in foreign 
 affairs can't do exactly as he likes. It is necessary 
 before all things to hold the faith of the Foreig^n 
 Office, which faith unless a Minister keep whole 
 and undefiled he must perish ministerially. And 
 the faith of the Foreign Office is this, that there 
 be three courses open to us, and yet not three 
 courses but one course. I'^or in the godhead of the 
 Foreign Office there is one course of the musty 
 precedent, another of the diplomatic formula;, 
 
 and another of the red-tape. But the godhead of 
 the musty precedent, of the diplomatic formula;, 
 and of the red-tape, is all one, the inconvenience 
 equal, the absurdity co-eternal. Such as the musty 
 precedent is, such is the diplomatic formula;, 
 and such is the red-tape. The musty precedent 
 incomprehensible, the diplomatic formula; incom- 
 prehensible, and the red-tape incomprehensible. 
 The musty precedent eternal, the diplomatic 
 formukc eternal, and the red-tape eternal. And 
 yet not three eternals but " 
 
 Lerby is prevented trespassing further in this 
 shocking way by cries of "Hold!" "Cut it 
 short!" and " Quantum suff.'' 
 
 " Lob," says Benjamin, pushing him the bottle, 
 " There's plenty more Veuve Clicquot in the 
 cellar." 
 
 Lob laughs — you know that horrid laugh of his — 
 and we begin to fear the Clicquot is getting into 
 his head. 
 
 Marmalade Yenkins will take turbot. Par les 
 imnies voles on ne va pas totijours aux mc/ues 
 fins ! 
 
14 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 Sir Wellfried declines to take salmon. Some of 
 the worst forms of intoxication he has ever met 
 with have been attributed to the salmon. 
 
 Mr. Newdegate declines to take turbot until a 
 strict inquiry has been instituted into the con- 
 ventual and monastic habits of that fish. 
 
 Mr. Whalley declines to take salmon, or fish of 
 any kind, while the unhappy nobleman continues 
 to languish in Dartmoor. 
 
 Mr. Marmalade Yenkins will not take turbot on 
 the ground that he objects to anything fishy— the 
 Royal Titles Bill for instance. 
 
 "Talking about the Royal Titles Bill," says 
 Mr. Bass, "let me read you a cutting I've got in 
 my pocket from the Chinese comic periodical 
 O-mi. It comes from the pen of the Chinese 
 comic poet, Hot-tee. It is entitled ' The 
 Heathen M.P.' " 
 
 I. 
 
 Which I wish to remark, 
 
 And my language is plain, 
 That for words that are dark 
 
 And for tricks that are vain 
 The Heathen M.P. is peculiar, 
 Wliich the same I would wish to explain. 
 
 II. 
 
 Ben D was his name. 
 
 And I shall not deny 
 That who went by the same 
 
 Was exceedingly sly ; 
 But his smile it was pensive and child-like, 
 As I often remarked to Bill-jy ! 
 
 III. 
 
 It was April the third, 
 
 And quite soft were the skies ; 
 Let it not be inferred 
 
 That Ben D was likewise ; 
 
 Yet he played it that day upon V/illiam 
 In a way too adroit to be wise. 
 
 IV. 
 Which we had a debate, 
 
 And Ben D took a part. 
 
 After begging to state 
 
 That it came from his heart ; 
 But he smiled as he stood by the table 
 With a smile that was hollow and tart. 
 
 V. 
 Now his speech it was stocked 
 
 In a way that I grieve, 
 (And my feelings were shocked 
 
 As you cannot believe,) 
 It was stuffed full of stories and crammers, 
 And the same with intent to deceive. 
 
 VI. 
 But the points that were made 
 
 By that Heathen Ben D , 
 
 And the fibs he essayed 
 
 Were quite frightful to see, 
 Till at last he came out with a crammer 
 That was known to be such unto G . 
 
 VII. 
 
 G looked to the skies, 
 
 (Which was sad for to see,) 
 And he rose up likewise, 
 
 And said, "Darling Ben D , 
 
 ' ' This is false what you say about Russia ! ' ' 
 'And he went for that Heathen M.P. 
 
 VIII. 
 In the scene that ensued 
 
 William took a large part. 
 For the way he'd been Jewed 
 Had gone straight to his heart, . 
 
 Like the fibs that Ben D had been telling 
 
 In the speech that had come "from his heart." 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 15 
 
 IX. 
 
 In which speech, which was long, 
 
 He had twenty-four ^^(T/C'j-, 
 Which was coming- it strong 
 
 As departing from facts ; 
 And they found in that speech, which was rant, 
 What is frequent in speeches — that's cant ! 
 
 X. 
 
 Which is why I remark, 
 
 And my language is plain, 
 That for words that are dark 
 
 And for tricks that are vain 
 TJie Heatlien M.P. is peculiar, 
 And the same I am free to maintain. 
 
 Lob is seen to be placidly smiling into space. 
 It is whispered round the table that he has had 
 something to drink before he came. 
 
 " I say, Lerby, old bo}'," he ejaculates, " when 
 you invested in all those lovely Suez Canal Shares 
 you didn't want scrip, did you ?" 
 
 "No; never thought of it," placidly answers 
 Dord Lerby. 
 
 "Whatyou wanted was^oecrr, eh ? P-0-W-E-R 
 — in great big capitals ? " 
 
 " In the main, certainly," answers the immobile 
 but cautious head of the Foreign Office. 
 
 " And all the power that was to be bought with 
 money," persists the relentless Lob, "was ten votes 
 in the affairs of the company, eh ? " 
 
 "Well," says Lerby, " if you like to put it so, 
 it was." 
 
 " And stock enough to give us those ten votes 
 might have been bought any day on the Paris 
 Bourse for ^7,000 ? ' ' 
 
 " Hang it, Lob!" protests Dord Lerby, turning- 
 very red in the face, and twisting uneasily in his 
 chair, " this is scarcely the sort of conversation 
 for a dinner-party ! ' ' 
 
 " Now, Lerby," persists Lob, in tones of heroic 
 mocker}-, "don't prevaricate. Could you have got 
 those ten votes for ;^7,ooo ? A plain question ; I 
 •want a plain answer." 
 
 Dord Lerby appeals to Benjamin for protection. 
 This is too much. 
 
 But Lob is inexorable, and repeats his question. 
 " Could you have got those ten votes on the Paris 
 Bourse for^^.ooo ? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Eh ? I repeat it." 
 
 "Well, then, if you must know," replies Leiby, 
 in a little bit of a tiff, " I could.'' 
 
 "Then, hang it! why didn't you? Why did 
 you spend four millions ? (No answer.) You 
 knew that devil of a Chancellor of the Exchequer 
 of yours (Sir Stafford is observed to try to assassi- 
 nate Lob with his fish-knife) was going to put 
 
 another penny on the income-tax, eh ? Yet, when 
 you have the chance of getting ten genuine votes 
 for ;^7,ooo, you go and spend four millions upon 
 ten doubtful ones, eh ? " 
 
 " Preposterous ! " 533-3 Sir Verdant. 
 
 " Swindling the country out of a solid 
 ;^3,300,ooo 1 " says Goschen. 
 
 " Gross incapacity ! " says Newdegate. 
 
 " Man Newdegate !" says Lob, sternly, "don't 
 make yourself lugubrious. Lerby, old boy, you're 
 the greatest financier of the age. Believe me 
 yoii are. Newdegate, Whalley, Goschen, Sir 
 Verdant, and even William, finding themselves in 
 want of ten votes, would have taken their ^7,000 
 and gone to Paris and got them straight, genuine, 
 and unquestionable. But you, Lerby— the greatest 
 financier — the most cautious man of the age — go 
 to a channel nobody ever before thought of, and 
 get the same number of votes — useless, couponless, 
 and mutilated — for FoUR MILLIONS ! Lerby, let 
 me embrace thee ! " 
 
 Lerby blushes behind his napkin. 
 
 " But the best of it's yet to come," proceeds 
 Lob. " Lerby is always cautious. He was par- 
 ticularly so about these precious Suez Canal 
 
i6 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 shares. They were refused again and again when 
 offered in the Paris market for three and a half 
 millions, with eleve7i per cent, interest secured on 
 the revenues of Port Said ; but Lerby— the greatest 
 financier — the most cautious man of the age, 
 bought them afterwards for FOUR MILLIONS, 
 at FIVE per cent, with NO security." 
 
 We blush behind our napkins, and smile upon 
 each other most blandly. 
 
 "Splendid!" cries Goschen. "Yet all the 
 world has to say about the perpetrator of this 
 astounding thing in finance is that he is wise ! 
 brilliant ! cautious ! the ablest man of the times ! 
 
 But vanitas vatiiiatum. Politics are like the- 
 ology — believed in by everybody and understood 
 by nobody. A transaction that would have been 
 an eternal disgrace to the financial capacity of an 
 agricultural labourer becomes in a Statesman — a 
 peer of the realm — a magnificent piece of high 
 
 State policy ; a thing — yes, a thing- — for the world 
 to look on at in breathless admiration. Bah ! It 
 makes one sick." 
 
 " Joe ! " cries Lob in peremptory tones, " hold 
 your tongue ! " 
 
 "Gentlemen," interposes Sweet William, fear- 
 ing a quarrel, " have you read or heard the true 
 story of the Canal /Egyptacus." 
 
 We confess that we have not ; we confess that 
 we should like to hear it very much. We confess 
 — but before we have time to confess an}i:hing 
 else, William has begun the story as under : — 
 
 There was once upon a time a King naihed 
 Ismailia,who held sway over the landof.iEgyptacus. 
 And Ismailia the King commissioned his nephew, 
 
 Riaz Pacha, likewise called Jason, to proceed to the 
 land of Gallia, and to fetch from thence the Golden 
 Fleece of the ram Four Millions Sterling, which 
 was locked up in the coffers of the bankers of 
 Lutetia and Londinium, and guarded by the sleep- 
 less dragon Ample Security. And Riaz Pacha, 
 nephew of Ismailia, the King, caused to be 
 gathered together the scrip of the shares of the 
 Canal ^Egyptacus, and set sail for Gallia in the 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 h3S(\Vi(tI)isolvcncy. A?k1 after many thrilling and 
 
 heroic adventures in the Mare Internum Financii 
 the barque lay, under the favour of ^-Eolus, direct 
 for the shores of Gallia, wherein dwelt a horrible 
 species of monster called Creditors. And Riaz 
 Pacha, when he saw these dread monsters prepar- 
 ing to receive him, felt ill in the liver, for he feared 
 for the safety of his shares of the Canal -(Egj'ptacus. 
 And Lessepsius, the blind seer of the Portus Saidus, 
 
 whom Saidus Corpulcntis, uncle of Ismailia, had 
 delivered from the hands of the harpies of 
 Londinium and Pera, advised Riaz Pacha to float 
 a small loan, and to judge by its fate of the fortune 
 that awaited them. And Riaz Pacha, profiting b\' 
 the advice of Lessopsius, floated a small loan, which 
 escaped with the loss of thirty-five per cc-nt. pre- 
 mium. Then Riaz Pacha, judging the omen to be 
 reasonably favourablf, resolved to risk landing with 
 his shares of the CanaLEgyptacus. And after many 
 heroic efforts to deceive the dreaded cn>ditors, he 
 
 bore his scrip safely to land with only the loss of 
 their coupons. And after numerous exciting ad- 
 ventures, firstwith the ghoul Miros and afterwards 
 with the giant Rothschild, and after that with 
 J^evaux and others among the heroes of finance 
 in the land of Gallia, Riaz Pacha found himself at 
 the house of one of the kings of banking in Lutetia, 
 now styled Paris, called Dervieu. And King 
 Dervieu, not liking the errand of Riaz Pacha, said 
 unto him, " Yoke ye the brazen-hoofed bull. Eleven 
 per Cent., to the plough called Bankruptcy, and 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 sow the teeth of the dragon Securit)-, and I will 
 yield ye the Golden Fleece of the ram Four 
 Millions Sterling." And Riaz Pacha, unable to 
 obtain better terms, accepted the conditions 
 imposed upon him by King Dervieu, and, aided 
 by the sorceries of Lessepsius, fulfilled the King's 
 conditions. And straightway from the teeth of 
 the dragon Security there sprung up crowds of 
 the dreaded monsters called Creditors, armed with 
 the weapon of previous hypothecation. But 
 Lessepsius, under promise of further concessions 
 on the Canal iEgyptacus, invested Riaz Pacha 
 with the charm of his name and fame, \\-hich were 
 all-powerful in the land of Gallia, whereby he 
 was enabled to slay the armed monsters as they 
 arose. And King Dervieu, when Riaz Pacha 
 had completed his task, repented of wjiat he had 
 promised, and resolved to put to death the credit 
 of Ismailia, and to drive his shares out of the 
 market. But Riaz Pacha, informed of the scheme 
 by Lessepsius, and aided by his sorceries, hastens I 
 into the market, stupified the dragon Security cy 
 the opiate of a mock loan, made seizure of his 
 
 scrip of the Canal -ffigyptacus, and left Lutetia by 
 night. And after many trials and temptations by 
 the way, in which they were equally successful in 
 resisting the seductions of the Syrens of the Stock 
 Exchange, and of avoiding the Scylla of exorbitant 
 interest and the Charybdis of low values, they 
 arrived within view of the island of Britannia. 
 Blessed by the favours of Neptune, and wafted by 
 the gentle breaths of ,^olus, they sailed without 
 adventure to Londinium, in sight of which a storm 
 arose, and threatened to cast them away on the 
 rocks of Despair. Happily, however, in the last 
 moment of their despondency, Dominus Derbysius, 
 
 guardian of the Golden , Fleece, appeared unto 
 Riaz Pacha in the guise of Apollo, and revealed 
 
 unto him the Bank of England, and in the coffers 
 thereof the fleece of the ram Four Millions Ster- 
 ling. And Dominus Derbysius, suffering at that 
 moment from a dire disease called Turcophilum 
 tremens, gave to Riaz Pacha the magic key of the 
 secret coffers, and likewise helped him to steal 
 therefrom the fleece of the ram Four Millions 
 Sterling. And Dominus Derbysius, who had thus 
 proved traitor to his countiy- and the betrayer of the 
 Golden Fleece, refused to comiDcnsate his countr}" 
 by the present of the brazen-hoofed bull Eleven per 
 Cent., or that of the teeth of the dragon Security, 
 left by Ismailia at Portus Saidus, but accepted only 
 the hull Five per Cent., and the scrip of the Canal 
 .ffigyptacus, which were useless to his country and 
 generation because of the loss of their coupons. 
 And this is the True Stoiy of the Canal -ZEgyptacus 
 and the Golden Fleece. 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 19 
 
 Before we have time to applaud this storj' the 
 bell rings for the next course. 
 
 Lerby's eyes sparkle like diamonds whilst 
 Turkey is being- deposited before Benjamin. 
 
 Benjamin is visibly excited, and nervously toys 
 with his knife and fork. 
 
 The silence is broken by Sir Verdant.* 
 
 Sir Verdant observes that the sight of the jDlump 
 and savour}' bird deposited before Benjamin 
 reminds him of a poem which he had heard during 
 his recent visit to Constantinople, which he should 
 like to repeat. It is entitled " The Good Little 
 Fat Turk-ee," and goes something like this :— 
 
 I. 
 
 Hamid Aga was his iionien , round and ;plcuiis 
 
 was his vest, 
 And he got himself appointed to a sanjak in the 
 
 West, 
 For to be that sanjak' s ruler, which is simply for 
 
 to say. 
 To amass his little fortune in a quickish sort of 
 
 way. 
 
 II. 
 
 When he reached his little sanjak on the Arab 
 
 steed he rode, 
 Hamid Aga strained his eyeballs for to pick on 
 
 his abode, 
 Till he spied a most umbrageous and enchanting 
 
 little dell. 
 When he said " I thank thee, Alia, this will suit 
 
 me ver}' well." 
 
 III. 
 
 And he called upon the owner of that lone and 
 
 mossy dell. 
 And he blandly did inform him where he'd chosen 
 
 for to dwell, 
 And he said " you'll get the needful, since f must 
 
 my dwelling fix," 
 And he sat and smoked his hookah till they hunted 
 
 up some bricks. 
 
 * It is a curious fact that a man -who breaks the silence 
 
 (Iocs not keep the peace. But this is stujiid. 
 
 \\ 
 
 When for days the people'd builded and a stately 
 
 mansion rose. 
 It Qccurred to Hamid Aga that the land was rich 
 
 and close, 
 So he pointed out unto them that it might be just 
 
 as well 
 If they clapt a thousand acres on his little piece 
 
 of dell ! 
 
 V. 
 
 When the land had been appended Hamid thought 
 
 there'd be no harm 
 If he utilised a portion for the purpose of a farm , 
 So he simply told those peasants he detested 
 
 shedding blood, 
 Still he needed lots of cattle and his pasturage 
 
 was good ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 While the lowing kino were coming Hamid 
 
 thought 'twould be no worse 
 If he put a little money to the trifle in his purse. 
 So he just informed the sanjak he was rather 
 
 short of cash . 
 So he'd double all their taxes for he wasn't going 
 
 to smash ! 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 VII. 
 
 « 
 
 And by such a course of conduct Hamid Aga 
 
 soon arose 
 For to be a little Croesus in the sanjakof Chenose, 
 Which he ultimately quitted for his native land 
 
 and rest 
 With the Star of the Medjidie shining brightly on 
 
 his breast. 
 
 The reading of this poem (which Sir Verdant 
 assures us is true) is the signal for a general dis- 
 cussion on the Eastern Question. 
 
 Sir Verdant lays down, as a general proposition, 
 that under a Mahometan government the equality 
 of Christians and Mussulmans is impossible. 
 
 Dord Lerby replies, with a laugh — not a sneer- 
 ing laugh — that would have been incautious, but 
 with a perfectly cautious laugh, which is ever>'- 
 thing. ' ' Verdant, ' ' he says — very cautiously, mind 
 you — "hewho steals your style of argument steals" 
 (he was going to say, "trash," but that would 
 have been incautious), " steals stuff. It is a 
 fact — "(it is always a good sign of caution to pre- 
 mise that what you are going to say is a fact) — ■ 
 " It is a fact that in India not only Christians and 
 Mahometans but even Jews live together on terms 
 of equality." 
 
 "That," replies Sir Verdant, "may be either 
 true or false. The government of India is Christ- 
 ians It does not affect in any way the proposition 
 I've laid down. What I assert is this — that no 
 such thing as the equality of Christian and Maho- 
 metan has ever yet existed under a Mahometan 
 government. Is that a fact or not ? " 
 
 "It may be true or false," answers Lerby— 
 (you observe the caution). " If the Mahometans 
 are bad, the Christians are not much better." (It 
 is always a sure sign of caution to assert that your 
 opponent is as bad as you are.) " If there can be 
 no equality for Christians under a Mahometan 
 government, there certainly can be none for 
 Moslems under a Christian government." 
 
 Sir Verdant laughs. " Lerby," he says, "you 
 must be a little more cautious. You have dis- 
 tinctly contradicted yourself. You referred a 
 moment ago to India. In India, you said, not 
 only Christians and Mahometans, but even Jews 
 
 lived together on terms of equality. The govern- 
 ment of India is Christian. What do you mean, 
 therefore, by declaring to be impossible in Turkey 
 what you distinctly told me to observe a moment 
 ap-o was not only possible but an actually sub- 
 sisting fact in India ? " 
 
 Dord Lerby is unable to reply, and moves about 
 uneasily in his chair. 
 
 "If the Mahometans of India live happily 
 together under a Christian government, why 
 shouldn't the MaJwmetans of Turkey ?" 
 " Ah ! " laughs W^illiam. 
 " Ah ! ah ! " laughs Goschen. 
 " Ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! " laughs Lob. 
 Benjamin finds it necessary to stand in the 
 breach, and to come to the rescue of his cautious 
 — of his z'ery cautious — but utterly routed Foreign 
 Secretary. 
 
 " If I understand you correctly, Verdy," inter- 
 poses Benjamin, " jou propose to limit the rule of 
 the Turkish IMahomctan government to Turkey in 
 Asia, in which thirteen out of the seventeen mil- 
 lions of Turkish Mahometans are, and in Turkey 
 in Europe, which contains ten million Christians 
 and only four million Mussulmans, of whom 
 scarcely two millions are Turks, to put a CJiristian 
 government in place of a Mahometan one." 
 
 "That is my idea exactly," says Sir Verdant, 
 " and I see in it a complete, and the only com- 
 plete, settlement of the Eastern Question. You 
 can't drive the Turks out of Europe. It is impos- 
 sible. But if three Christians to one Mussulman 
 make a country a Christian and not a Mahometan 
 country, then Turkey in Europe is Christian, and 
 it is quite within the province of the Christian 
 Powers of Europe to declare that while the Mus- 
 sulmans of European Turkey continue to live in a 
 Christian country, they shall be compelled also to 
 live under a Christian government." 
 " Certainly ! " says W^illiam. 
 " Certainly ! " says Bruce. 
 " Certainly ! " hiccups Lob. 
 Benjamin laughs compassionately. " You for- 
 get, my dear Verdy, the practical difficulties. 
 You are at present flying entirely in the region of 
 sentiment. In the first place, how do you propose 
 to carry this sclieme into effect— how do you pro- 
 pose to supplant the Turks by the Christians ? " 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 "And not only that," interposes the cautious 
 Lerby, "but how are you going to give the 
 Christians the Turk's land, the Turk's houses, the 
 Turk's commerce, the Turk's Imperial and Muni- 
 cipal offices and appointments ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " laughs Cross. 
 
 "Ah, ah ! " laughs Hardy. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! " laughs Hard Hunt. 
 
 Sweet William comes to Sir Verdant's rescue. 
 
 " My beloved Ben," he says, " you talk like a 
 child." 
 
 " In other words you talk ' kid,' " puts in Sir 
 Wellfried, always on the alert for a joke. 
 
 " IVe don't rvant to give the Turk's property to 
 the Christian. We only want to give the Christian 
 a chance of getting it for himself." 
 
 " That's our position," says Goschen. 
 
 " Certainly ! " says Bruce. 
 
 " Certainly ! " hiccups Lob. 
 
 " Nothing, dear Ben," adds Sweet William, 
 "is more certain than that if the Christians in 
 European Turkey were allowed to compete on equal 
 terms with the Mahometans in schools, in courts of 
 justice, in the army, the navy, and the civil ser\'ice, 
 they would PxECO:me the rulers of European Turkey. 
 Nothing could prevent them." 
 
 We murmur a general assent. 
 
 " The Turks know it. They recruit the army 
 solely from among themselves. They are willing 
 to suffer all the hardships of a crushing blood-tax, 
 rather than allow Christians to be trained to the 
 use of arms." 
 
 " That is known to everybody," says Benjamin ; 
 " but you argue, William, in a vicious circle. 
 You first say that the equality of Christian and 
 Mahometan is not possible in European Turkey, 
 and then you assume it to be possible by formula- 
 ting a scheme of Turkish regeneration of which 
 that possibility is the basis." 
 
 " Ah !" laughs Cross. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! " laughs Hardy. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! " laughs Hard Hunt. 
 
 " Besides, William," proceeds Benjamin, "you 
 forget our foe in the North. Let me repeat to 
 you a verse or two from the pen of the most 
 talented of our Turcophile poets : — 
 
 Z\it iiussians. 
 
 Who spread no Sclavic Empire far 
 O'er Khiva's deserts and Kashgar, 
 And murder not, and name it war? 
 
 The Russians ! 
 
 Whose scourging armies never chosn 
 To make Darius' sons their foes. 
 And dye in blood the Persian rose ? 
 
 The Russians ! 
 
 Who camp by Attrek's lonely shore ? 
 Whose sunny vales and Barakpore 
 Shall hear the clang of arms no more, 
 
 The Russians ! 
 
 Who did not dare destroy, annul, 
 (Nor since defy us — coward, fool,) 
 The record of Sevastopol ? 
 
 The Rusiiians ! 
 
 Whose new embrasures speak not scorn ? 
 Whose fleet's on never a billow borne 
 That flows towards the Golden Horn ? 
 
 The Russians ! 
 
 Who turn no envious gaze upon 
 
 The lands which Clive subdued and won — 
 
 Our Indian Empire and Ceylon 'i 
 
 The Russians ! 
 
 Who were our friends in 'fifty-four. 
 And spared our country's life and gore, 
 And hope to shed them nevermore .•' 
 
 The Russians ! 
 
 Whom should we court and value more 
 Than bearded statesmen's art and lore, 
 And love and cherish evermore .■■ 
 
 The Russians ! 
 
 " These verses are all very nice," says William, 
 " but they cannot have the slightest possible 
 bearing upon our present discussion. In re-laying 
 down Sir Verdy's argument you have completely 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 misrepresented him. He said — not that equality 
 was impossible in Turkey, but that it was im- 
 possible wider a Maliometan government.'" 
 
 " Certainly ! " says Sir Verdant. 
 
 " Certainly ! " says Goschcn. 
 
 " Certainty ! " says Lob. 
 
 " Verdy refuted Lerby's insinuation that it was 
 also impossible under a Christian government, by 
 pointing him to;his own example of India. Thus, 
 our dear Lerby has been hoist with his own 
 petard. / then asserted that if equality were 
 accorded to Christians — I did not say how, or by 
 whom — the problem of Christian supremacy would 
 work out its own solution." 
 
 " See that, Lerby ? " asks Lob. 
 
 "Yes," says Lerby. "What I don't see is, 
 how the equality's to,be brought about." 
 
 " That,'' answers^.Sir Verdant, "you were not 
 made to see. You were educated in the wrong 
 school, my boy!7;'jWhy shouldn't the Powers of 
 Europe unite together to enforce the literal fulfil- 
 ment of the Hatt, Humayoun of 1856 on some such 
 principle as this ? Why shouldn't they unite and 
 say to the Mahometan government of Turkey — 
 * We have allowed you twenty years in which to 
 enforce your Charter of Rights. You have hope- 
 lessly failed to enforce it. We'll stand it no 
 longer. We've had'enough of this sort of thing. 
 Out you go !,,' We'll try a change. If a Ma- 
 hometan government can't carrj' out the simplest 
 act of constitutional justice, we'll try what a 
 Christian government can do ! ' Now, Lerby, 
 why don't YOU proceed on some such lines as 
 these ? " 
 
 "Because," answers Lerby, "we are waiting 
 j to see if the Turk won't do the thing himself." 
 I " And what's plainer still, old man," interposes 
 
 I Benjamin, " we mean to go on waiting." 
 
 I Sir Verdant curls his lip in scorn. " Blind, 
 
 drunken^fools ! " he answers; " always with your 
 fingers tied up with official red tape, or poking 
 your noses in dusty archives, can't you see that 
 you've been waiting long enough ? Why don't 
 you look at plain facts ? " 
 
 " My dear boy," replies Benjamin, "we are too 
 
 highly educated in the solemn fictions of our 
 official routine to do that. Besides, if we did 
 open- our eyes, and did see the facts, we shouldn't 
 understand them. W^e can't ALL be Sir Verdant 
 Hardcoats, you know ! " 
 
 We smile. 
 
 " You ought to have known from the beginning," 
 persists Sir Verdant, throwing himself into an 
 oratorical attitude, " that the Hatt Humayoun 
 could never be enforced by a Mahometan govern- 
 ment ; first, because of the Turk's religion, which 
 is the Turk's law ; and, secondly, because of the 
 intuitive principle of self-preservation, which is 
 the first law of all races." 
 
 " Hear ! " says William. 
 
 " Hear, hear ! " says Goschen. 
 
 " Hear, hear, hear ! " hiccups Lob. 
 
 " England ought to have looked these facts in 
 the face in 1856. Twenty j^ears ago England 
 ought to have cast out from her councils, proudly 
 and remorselessly, the whole of that Palmerstonian 
 brood who did then, and do now, feed public 
 opinion with the foul lie that the exclusion of 
 Russia from Constantinople is necessary for the 
 safety of our Indian Empire." 
 
 "Hear!" says William. 
 
 " Hear, hear ! " says Goschen. 
 
 " Things might then have been different," says 
 Newdegate. 
 
 " And would have been," says Mr. ]\Iarmalade 
 Yenkins. " As the poet says — 
 
 There are persons on the Bosphorus 
 
 Who do not care a toss for us. 
 
 That fellow, Hussein Avni — -no the duft'er has 
 
 been shot^ 
 But there still lives Pacha Mahmoud 
 And Midhat — who mean us no good. 
 And that man they call Aarify — O,. I 
 
 execrate the lot ! " 
 
 " Marmalade having quoted poetry," &a3-s 
 Bruce, " and whilst we are waiting for the next 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 course, shall I read you a little poem I jotted down 
 coming- up in the train ? " 
 
 "Yes, do ! Bruccy, dear," says Cross. 
 
 " Yes, do, do ! " say all of us. 
 
 " It is entitled, ' How King Leo Solved the Pro- 
 blem that Puzzled the Three Wise ]\Ien,' and 
 s:oes like this— 
 
 ijobj llmg ^^0 Sxrlbxilr tk problem 
 
 that llit^rletr ik Ckec Mise Pctt. 
 
 I. 
 
 King Leo called for his trumpeters three, 
 ' O trumpeters blow me a blast ! ' 
 O'er mountain and sward, 
 O'er valley and fjord 
 The sound was heard 
 Of the blast of those trumpeters three ! 
 
 II. 
 
 King- Leo called for his wise men three, 
 ' O, three wise men,' said he, 
 ' I crave by my beard, 
 ' The oil which besmeared, 
 ' And all that's revered, 
 ' The love of my wise men three ! ' 
 
 III. 
 
 King Leo called for his henchmen three, 
 ' O, henchmen three,' quoth he, 
 ' O, bring- unto me 
 ' As quick as may be, 
 ' From my poulterie, 
 ' The best of my Turkeys three ! ' 
 
 IV. 
 
 King- Leo spake to his wise men three, 
 ' O, three wise men,' quoth he, 
 ' By my three-edged sword 
 ' So divide this bird 
 ' That there be a third 
 ' And a leg ! for my wise men three ! ' 
 
 V. 
 
 Outspake the first of those wise men three. 
 The wily Russ spake he, 
 ' By Aga and Beg 
 ' If I take this leg 
 ' There must be a leg for me ! ' 
 
 VI. 
 
 (Outspake the next of those wise men three, 
 Tlie Austro-Mag spake he, 
 
 • If I take this other, 
 
 • My Russian brother, 
 
 ' riicre's also a leg for me ! ' 
 
 VII. 
 
 Outspake the third of those wise men three. 
 The valiant Deutsch spake he, 
 ' It may not do, 
 • The legs are two, 
 • Where is the limb for me ? ' 
 
2X 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 VIII. 
 
 They thoug-ht full oft, those three wise men, 
 They held of councils three, 
 
 At last to vow 
 
 They knew not how, 
 To change two legs to three ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Outspake the whole of those wise men three, 
 Outspake those three wise men, 
 
 ' As we live, O king, 
 
 ' An impossible thing- 
 ' Thou biddest thy three wise men ! ' 
 
 X. 
 
 King Leo called for his trusty sword. 
 His sword with its edges three, 
 ' O solved by the blade, 
 ' By the gods ! * he said, 
 ' Must this baffling problem be ! ' 
 
 XI. 
 
 King- Leo dealt a doughty blow. 
 Three doug-hty blows dealt he. 
 
 And Austria fell where Deutschland stood. 
 And Russia drank of Magyar blood. 
 Outspake the King-, 
 ' My wise men three, 
 ' So solved at last 
 ' Must this problem be ! ' " 
 
 A long silence follows the reading: '^f these 
 lines. 
 
 We feel it impossible to conceal from ourselves 
 that the solution of the Eastern Question depicted 
 in these verses is the only possible termination of 
 the present Eastern policy of England. 
 
 So we are sad, and while the next course is 
 being served no one speaks. 
 
 Suddenly Dord Lerby breaks the silence. He 
 assures us that a fearful load, which he can bear 
 no longer, is pressing upon his mind, and begs us 
 to hear him relate a vision he has had only tin- 
 previous night, and which has kept him ever since 
 in a state of continual terror. 
 
 Having nothing better to do we listen. 
 
 g0r!ty ^^rlju's Vision. 
 
 I seemed in my sleep to be borne to a distant 
 land on the wings of the -wind. The countries 
 over which I was whirled were radiant and happy 
 — so much so, indeed, that I scarcely believed it 
 was earth. Nature, down there below me, in 
 cornland and woodland, in vinej^ard and village, 
 lay all laughing and beautiful. I heard the carol 
 of the maiden at her spinning. I heard the songs 
 of the reapers as they gathered the treasures of 
 harvest. I heard, as I was being hurried along, 
 faster and yet faster, the first prattlings of little 
 lips and the gentle words of young mothers, which 
 were borne, high up above to me, on the wings of 
 soft winds. 
 
 But suddenly the scene changed. The earth 
 below me seemed hard and neglected. The 
 further I advanced, the more lonely and still and 
 weird appeared the scene, as if unde'r the spell of 
 some strange forgetfulness. The mountain slopes, 
 groaning under their load of golden corn, called 
 in vain for the hand of the husbandman. The 
 han'est rotted on its stalks. 
 
 Faster and faster I was borne along, till the 
 earth became parched and black. A deadness, a 
 stillness, an unutterable desolation oppressed me. 
 My blood was freezing. I dared not think. 
 
 Faster and faster the wind bore me along, over 
 deserted homes and untended cattle and rotting 
 crops, till, with a suddenness that sent the blood 
 smarting through my veins, the air became thick 
 with the smoke of arms, and ever and again 
 patches of withered herbage crossed my vision, 
 red with the gore of men. 
 
 Then it dawned upon me where I was. I knew 
 I was in the midst of ruin ; I dared not look. I 
 knew I was in the midst of horrors I might have 
 prevented ; I dared not think. 
 
 I was whirled along. Human skulls, bleaching 
 in the silence of unutterable desolation, dotted the 
 green of the roadsides. 
 
 I passed over a village. The winds whispered 
 in my ears that it was Panaghurista. I looked ; 
 some malignant influence opened my eyes. 
 
 I saw a hundred young men gathered together 
 in a dim light, listening to the harangue of a 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 white-headed old man, and shouting'- " Death or 
 Freedom ! " Then I saw tliem raise a flimsy 
 barricade of stones and branches, and retire with- 
 out arms to the peaceful shelter of their homes. 
 
 But in a moment methought the corn on the 
 slopes of the mountains changed into a harvest of 
 armed devils, who swept down on the doomed 
 
 village of Panaghurista with the terrible swiftness 
 of a pestilence. I saw them demand the arms of 
 the crowding, supplicating people, and I saw 
 them delivered up without a reproach or a 
 murmur of resistance. 
 
 Suddenly a fearful presentiment laid hold upon 
 me. Voices whispered to me that Panaghurista 
 was doomed. A dread sinking within my own 
 heart told me that something horrible was about 
 to happen. Suddenly the sky around me in every 
 direction flashed lurid with the work of incen- 
 diaries. I saw swarms of Bashi-Bazouks pouring 
 everywhere — burning, pillaging, and destroying — ■ 
 murdering men, women, and children ever}-where, 
 with horrible cruelties and mutilations. 
 
 The blood rushed violently through my veins. 
 I raised my hand to strike a withering blow for 
 God and my own humanity, but a thousand 
 gibbering spectres burst upon me, whispering, 
 "Caution, my lord; caution!" The word 
 " Caution " was the fiend's talisman, under the 
 
 influence of which I was powerless. I saw three 
 thousand people cut up— sabred — butchered in 
 cold blood, without power to defend themselves, 
 without arms in their hands. I saw mothers offer 
 their treasure— their life — everything, body and 
 soul, in exchange for the honour of their daughters. 
 
 I tried to speak. I felt the hot blood darting 
 upwards towards my brain. "Let me go!" I 
 cried to the fiends that surrounded me and held 
 me back, " Let me go ! " but they only leered at 
 me, and cried "Caution, my lord, caution!" 
 " Caution ! " cried \, "caution to the winds ! I 
 am a man, let me go!" But the fiends only 
 laughed at me saying I was not a man— o;//)' a 
 Statesman. 
 
 I saw an old man violated in holy church, ay, 
 on the steps of God's altar, and I saw him cast 
 into a fire and roasted alive. I saw old men's 
 e3'es torn out, and their limbs hacked from their 
 bodies piece by piece. I saw pretty little children 
 driven at the point of the bayonet to carry the 
 mutilated heads of their little comrades while the 
 warm life-drops were still dripping from them. I 
 saw pregnant women ripped open to slay the un- 
 born babe, and I saw children so snatched from 
 the womb spitted in wild glee on the points of 
 Turkish bayonets. Again I tried to burst the 
 invisible bonds that held me, but again the fiends 
 only replied with derisive cries of "Caution!" 
 " The Status Quo ! " and " Our Indian Empire ! " 
 
 For three days and nights was I kept hovering 
 (as I deserved to be) in unspeakable terror over 
 this ruined and gutted village of Panaghurista, 
 my senses fed day and night with incendiarisms 
 and infamous violations and assassinations, with 
 the shrieks of the mutilated and the groans of the 
 dying. Ever and anon the fiends sung to me, 
 and this is the song they sung — 
 
 (Tbc /lent).?' .$*ong. 
 
 L 
 
 D y, this is thy day's work ! 
 
 Fold thy palms across thy breast, 
 Turks but kill— and Statesmen jest ! 
 
 Let them kill ! 
 Terror ^f the Russian dirk 
 Answers for the blood they spill- 
 Let them kill ! 
 
BENJAMIN ]J' 
 
 II. 
 
 Far from thee be care or pity ; 
 Nothing but the status quo 
 Stirs thy sullen mental flow — 
 
 Let them kill ! 
 English ships guai^d yonder city, 
 England's Turkey's ally still — 
 
 Let them kill ! 
 
 ! %,;%:^^ 
 
 HI. 
 
 Statesmen's hearts weren't made to feel : 
 Is not high State poUcy 
 More than Christianity ? 
 
 Let them kill ! 
 Kill — thine England's strength and weal, 
 Shielding her from Russian steel — 
 
 Let them kill ! 
 
 A seeming eternity of unspeakable infamies and 
 tortures and the scene was changed. 
 
 I was whirled over wider and wider expanses of 
 ruin, of rapine, and of slaughter. 
 
 I was whirled over Tatar-Bazardjik, where these 
 aching eyeballs saw churches and schools — more 
 than I dared to count — burnt to ashes with 
 petroleum and gunpowder ; where, amid unspeak- 
 able terrors and horror, I saw altars overturned, 
 and holy pictures and holier places denuded, 
 desecrated and defiled. 
 
 To Perustitsa, where methought I beheld a 
 thousand persons — men, women, and children — 
 driven into a church, and swept into eternity with 
 bullets and grape shot. 
 
 Over two hundred villages whose only memorial 
 was ashes, Avhose only epitaph was pestilence. 
 Over hamlets strewn with outraged and mutilated 
 dead, which their murderers had vainly en- 
 deavoured to burn, until at last .the winds lulled 
 and we hovered o'er Philipopolis. 
 
 Here the fiends directed ni}^ wandering gaze to 
 a low, miserable, dilapidated prison of wood and 
 stone, confined in which I beheld the wreck — the 
 ruin — shall I say the remnant ? — of a once proud, 
 sweet, susceptible, and even still surpassingly 
 beautiful girl. 
 
 It was Raika, "Queen of the Bulgarians," so 
 styled by the Turks in derision, the pride of her 
 people, and only a few daj'S before the star and 
 glory of her native village of Panaghurista. She 
 appeared so weak, so wan, so lovely even in her 
 loneliness and brokenheartedness, that had I had 
 a tear in my whole nature I could have wept. 
 But I had not, and I simply fastened my eyes in 
 the simulation of compassion on this beautiful 
 creature who but a few short hours ago trod her 
 native village green with the queenly grace, nay 
 with almost the power, of an emj)ress, but w^ho 
 was now only the refuse of the vile insults and 
 viler outrages of a cowardly and brutal soldiery. 
 
 Raika was kneeling in the horrible prison below 
 me, on the cold hard stones, her face upturned to 
 heaven, with the tears glistening in the soft light 
 of her large hazel eyes, praying to the Great God 
 in Heaven for help, for pity, for mercy, and for 
 death. 
 
HJS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 Her prayer still haunts my mcmor)', and I will 
 repeat you a portion of it as it came to me hovering 
 o'er her prison in Philipopolis, wafted on the 
 wings of soft breaths. 
 
 |[ai(ia's ^Inincr. 
 
 Hear my prayer, lost and heart broken, 
 
 Spurned by all, my God, but Thee, 
 Light of Judah, Star and Token, 
 
 Saviour of the world — and me. 
 Stars their vigil watch are keeping, 
 
 Rainy eyes are pleading Thee 
 Hear — by tears of Thine own wei ping, 
 
 Tears of lone Gethscmane ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Hear my prayer, poor, blind, mistaken, 
 
 O that I had wings to fly ! 
 Wounded, bleeding, lone, forsaken, 
 
 It were sweet indeed to die ! 
 Waft, ye hushed winds, waft ni}- stor)', 
 
 Holy hearts, O feel for me, 
 Tom, insulted, spat on, gory. 
 
 Help, Thou Hope of Galilee ! 
 
 III. 
 
 O, if tears could save^our nation, 
 
 Or if torture could redeem. 
 Bright had dawned our land's salvation 
 
 Through the darkness of her dream ! 
 Or if long dark nights of sorrow 
 
 Could remove our curse and rod, 
 Long had dawned a brighter morrow 
 
 For our country and our God I 
 
 Barely had the last holy word dropped from :lic 
 lliin and pallid lips of the beautiful Raika, than 
 the wind again arose, and I was whirled farther 
 and more rapidly over this seemingly interminabK; 
 battle-field of infam}'. 
 
 At last, at the command of the fiends, v,;ir) at 
 every step sustained my spirit in its sinking flight 
 with their awful chorus, " Caution, my Lord 
 
 D y, caution!" (which was their talisman, 
 
 and which is being continually dinned into my 
 ears even now, and threatens one day to be my 
 ruin, and the ruin ef my country) we came to a 
 standstill under the shade of the Balkan moun- 
 tains. 
 
 Below me lay Batak, the sweetest village ever 
 beholden by mortal eye, rich in cornland an^l 
 woodland, the Eden of the Balkan. 
 
 Then in a moment, as with the speed of a sudden 
 tempest, I saw a dusty cloud of Bashi-Bazouks 
 sweep down from the hills upon the peaceful and 
 smiling village. I heard them demand the instant 
 surrender of all the arms possessed by the inhabit- 
 ants, and I beheld them delivered up along witli 
 cries for protection and entreaties for mercy. 
 
 I 
 
28 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 I heard Achmet Aga, the chief of this scourging 
 horde, command the assembhng of all the j'oung 
 girls of the village, from among whom I saw one 
 hundred selected for the gratification of the brutal 
 impulses of this filthy and ignorant scoundrel and 
 his officers and associates. 
 
 I would have interfered to prevent this, but 
 those horrible fiends held me back with derisive 
 yells of " Caution ! " " Constantinople ! " and 
 "India!" 
 
 Then commenced in real earnest the terrible 
 work of destruction and carnage. I saw Bulgarian 
 fathers killing their own wives and children, so as 
 to put them out of the reach of the horrors that 
 awaited them. I saw whole families burned alive 
 in their houses. I saw children cut in two by 
 blows from a sabre. I heard innocent babes 
 shrieking out their little lives on the points of 
 Turkish bayonets. I saw girls dishonoured and 
 then beheaded. I saw the most notable man in 
 the village spitted upon a pike and then roasted 
 alive under a slow fire. 
 
 In the midst of the wild, piercing shrieks of the 
 mutilated and dying, I heard ever and again the 
 wild yelling of the Bashi-Bazouks as they shouted 
 their song of victory, and even now the horrible 
 anthem rings vividly in my ear. 
 
 CIjc ^01X0 of % gasbi-§a^oitIiS. 
 
 Drink deep of his blood, my falchion blade. 
 
 Let the cursed Giaour die ! 
 Or call on his Christ to stem the stream 
 
 That runs so red and high ! 
 Oh, long before the sunset's glow 
 Women shall weep, and weep for woe, 
 With ever a husband a-lying low, 
 
 Red in his gore for Alia ! 
 Then down with the Cross 1 Burn, kill, and dissever ! 
 And Giaotir O etdsen ! Mahomet for ever ! 
 
 
 II. 
 
 Drip, drip with his blood, my reeking spear, 
 
 And three curses be on the slain ! 
 High waves the Crescent o'er the Cross 
 
 Her triumph and disdain ! 
 Oh, long before the sunset's glow 
 Fathers shall mourn amidst ashes for woe, 
 With the pride of their manhood a-lying lov/, 
 
 Dead ! — dead in his gore for Alia ! 
 Then down with the Cross! Hack, hew, and 
 
 dissever ! 
 And viiriinuz eii/sen ! The Prophet for ever ! 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 29 
 
 III. 
 
 Riodk, -peek withlfcis blood, mine ataghan, 
 'Tis to-day that the Giaour dies ! 
 
 Ajafltxijeave me ajpath to Paradise 
 
 And the'li^t of the Houris' eyes ! 
 
 Lomg,'long before the sunset's glow 
 
 Maafieis shall waep in their ruin for wae, 
 
 WitSn^ver a lover;ji-lying low, 
 
 Rediim his gore for Alia 5 
 
 Them Sewn with theCross ! Destroy and dissever ! 
 
 And Alia il Alla.'J Mahomet for ever 1 
 
 While the last echoing notes lingered in my 
 ears of this terrible wild war song the scene 
 changed. Horror grrew upon horror. To the left 
 and right — all aroiKtd me — I beheld a hideous 
 wildemeBi; of small s'lulls, intermixed in one place 
 
 with the rags of women's clothing, and in another 
 with tresses and ribands. I saw innumerable foul 
 holes, full of putrid and decomposing bodies. I 
 saw them floating in dams and festering in pits. 
 I saw one hundred young girls — the same I before 
 spoke of as reserved for the lust of the conquerors 
 — violated and killed, and their bones and flesh 
 cast to the dogs ; and I saw dogs gna\\ring their 
 heads in the open street. Then burst upon me 
 a foul and horrible deed, which I thought im- 
 possible of conception — at least on this side of 
 hell. I saw two hundred terrified women and 
 
 children fly from the ferocity of the Bashi-Bazouks 
 and seek refuge in a schoolroom. I saw a whole 
 army of these organised assassins sweep down 
 upon and surround it. I guessed what was 
 coming, and made a desperate effort to free my 
 limbs from the imprdpable bonds which held me, 
 but the fiends only jeered at me, screeching out in 
 hideous Babel their fearful chorus of " Caution, 
 my lord, caution!" "Traditional policy!" "Status 
 qu6 ! " " Russia ! " " Constantinople ! " and 
 "India!" I saw these Bashi-Bazouks make 
 bands of hay and straw and steep them in petro- 
 leum, and when they had made sufficient I saw 
 them ignite them and cast them through the 
 windows among the weeping and shrieking women 
 and children. In another moment I saw the 
 whole place burst into flame, and in an instant, 
 as it were, the two hundred women and children 
 were enveloped in fire. Then occurred an incident 
 which was, if anything, the most fearful of all. 
 In the midst of this awful conflagration, almost 
 completely enveloped in the smoke and flames of 
 the burning edifice, I beheld — I cannot conceal it 
 — I beheld Benjamin. The sight of Benjamin in 
 this horrible situation sent the blood burning to 
 my brain. I saw him — I almost fancy I can see 
 him now— I saw him standing in the midst of it 
 all, with his arms folded as became the hero of 
 such a tragedy, and with a glittering coronet upon 
 his brow, which seemed the fitting reward of the 
 avowed apologist of such murder and infamy. 
 Then, in the midst of the flames, I saw wives and 
 mothers exposing to his gaze the mutilated trunks 
 and limbs of their husbands and sons and brothers, 
 shaking their fists in his face, and importuning 
 and imploring him on all sides, saying, " Give us 
 back the lives of our husbands ! " " Give us back 
 our sons and daughters!" and imprecating 
 curses upon his head. I saw heart-broken 
 orphans appealing to him with hot tears in their 
 eyes, in accents that would have moved any but 
 the heart of a Jew, saying, " Give, give, give ! 
 Give us back the lives of our murdered fathers 
 and mothers!" But Benjamin, standing there 
 in the conflagration stem and silent, rela.ved not 
 a muscle, nor looked like pity, nor whispered 
 one word in ccsmmiseration of their fate. All he 
 did was to stand there with his arms folded, 
 
BENJAMIN D 
 
 contemplating' the advancing' flame and frowning 
 contemptuously upon the widows and orphans 
 whose tears and prayers ■were being quenched in 
 smoke and ruin. Only one word did Benjamin 
 utter, and that was to tell these shrieking, mur- 
 dered women and children to be of good cheer, 
 for these wholesale murders and mutilations 
 were simply " quaint incidents " of rebellion, and 
 mere "peculiarities of Eastern warfare;" and 
 then I awoke with a start in a cold sweat. 
 
 The conclusion of this extraordinary vision of 
 Dord Lerby's is hailed with a visible sense of 
 relief. 
 
 Dord Lerby says, by way of addendum, that 
 the only thing he can't understand about his 
 dream is the fact that he was not in the fire as 
 well as Benjamin. He thinks he ought to have 
 been. 
 
 So do we. 
 
 Mr. Bruce, who is helping himself to the salad, 
 remarks that he should not be surprised to hear if 
 the dream were all true. 
 
 But Benjamin, delicately waving his hand into 
 space, pooh-poohs the idea as so much cafe 
 gossip and mere "coffee-house babble." He 
 adds that, even if true, the British Government is 
 not going to change its Eastern policy at this late 
 period of the existence of the Tory party ! 
 
 Sweet William suggests, as he cuts up his 
 cheese into little dices, that there is such a power 
 in England as the vox populi. He adds that it is 
 scarcely to be supposed that a people who have 
 overturned the tyrannies of more kings than one 
 will calmly allow themselves to be set at defiance 
 by a newly-created earl. 
 
 Sir Stafford Northcote comes to the rescue 
 of his chief by remarking that it ought to be 
 remembered that tlie people of England don't 
 understand foreign politics. 
 
 Sir Verdant remarks that a people who can be 
 satisfied with the foreign policy of Dord Lerby 
 certainly don't understand foreign politics. At 
 the same time he advises the Government not to 
 presume on their ignorance. It does not follow 
 that because they have mistaken incapacity for 
 caution in the Earl of Derby they will be so ready 
 to mistake senseless inflexibility for high State 
 policy in the Earl of Beaconsfield. 
 
 Benjamin, smiling his olive-oiliest, and putting 
 aside his cheese plate, observes that, as a par- 
 ticular friend and admirer of Lord Beaconsfield's, 
 he is privileged to say that, so far as the 
 war in the East is concerned, his lordship's par- 
 tiality for Turkey is easily explained. Lord 
 Beaconsfield hates the Turks, not from any desire 
 to curb the ambition of Russia — nothing so noble 
 — but because the Servians have been the relent- 
 less persecutors of the Jews. Perhaps there is no 
 truth in this belief — there seldom is in any of his 
 lordship's beliefs — still it is an idea he shares in 
 common with the Daily 2'elegra;ph. He is also 
 privileged to state that Lord Beaconsfield has 
 recently become a great admirer of that journal, 
 and always keeps his coronet wrapped up in a 
 copy of the D. T. 
 
 Sir Verdant remarks that fhe only apparent 
 difference between Benjamin and Lord Beacons- 
 field is that Benjamin had net the audacity to 
 dare the people of England, while Lord Beacons- 
 field has. 
 
 Lob Rowe. who has, in common with most of 
 us, finished his dinner, and reclines languidly 
 back in his chair, remarks that the newspaper 
 was not far from the truth which said that since 
 Benjamin had been made an earl he had conducted 
 himself as if the dignity had made him drunk. 
 
 Sir Wellfried (always ready with his little joke), 
 instantly swoops down upon us with an epigram 
 he had intended to send to the Exajuincr. 
 
 That liquor's much to answer for 
 
 Is true and antiquated ; 
 'Tis said since Ben became an earl 
 
 He's seemed intoxicated ; 
 The reason must be obvious — 
 
 (Or will be when it's stated) — 
 How could it well be otherwise 
 
 In one so elevated ? 
 
 Benjamin turns appealingly to me. 
 
 " Thunder and Lightning, old man," he says, 
 " do _)'(?« believe there's any truth in this horrible 
 vision ? ' ' 
 
 I see the compliment and subtend. 
 
 "Having," I repl)', "having been in Crete at 
 the seat of war dur-ing the late insurrection, I 
 unfortunately believe every word of it." 
 
 Benjamin smiles upon me benignly. 
 
 "Thunder and Lig^htning, sir," he saj's, "we 
 understand each other. Thanks for your kindly 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 31 
 
 reference to the seat of war. I've been on the 
 Press. I know what the seat of war is," and 
 Benjamin Lfraciously winks upon me. 
 
 " The true reason, in my opinion," savs Hard 
 Hunt, " of the change of public feeling in 
 England on the Eastern Question is not Turkish 
 cruelty, but Turkish bankruptcy and extravagance 
 
 — -not the sufferings of the Eastern Christians, but 
 the hardships of the Western bondholders — not, 
 in short, the atrocities in Bulgaria, but the atroci- 
 ties in finance. " 
 
 " Hard Hunt," says John Bright, who has 
 hithorto abstained from taking a prominent part 
 in the discussion, "you astound me. Is it pos- 
 sible that you — a Tory minister — can believe your 
 country so devoted to money, so base, so com- 
 pletely and infernally selfish as to be ready to 
 decide a question involving the fate of empires 
 and the future of millions of the human race by 
 reference to no other standard than scrip ? Have 
 the meetings, the echo of whose voice still rever- 
 berates through Europe, been meetings of bond- 
 holders ? Have tlie finances of Turkey been the 
 all-absorbing topic of debate ? No, Hard Hunt, 
 when 3'ou attempt to find in unpaid interest the 
 secret of the nation's indignation at the infamies 
 of the Turkish soldier)', you not only do violence to 
 your own intelligence, but insult to that of your 
 countrymen." 
 
 Hard Hunt makes no attempt to reply, but looks 
 completely crumpled up. 
 
 " Talking of Turkish bankruptcy and extrava- 
 gance," says Benjamin, "you. remind me of the 
 story of the Good Little Sultan Az-waz." 
 
 Cbc 600b f itt(c Pultun ^^bn,\=^^ 
 
 I. 
 
 Z-WAZ could trace his lineage from Mahomet, 
 
 Which quashed all questions of blood, breed, 
 and purity ; 
 He wasn't clever, learned, nor wise — far from it, 
 
 Nor nearly ripe, though much beyond maturity; 
 His fatness, too, was awful inconvenient. 
 And that's the reason why he wasn't lean-ient ! 
 
 n. 
 
 In I'^astern countries morals are not fi.xed 
 Except for women — there the barrier's rigid ; 
 
 P'raps harems keep the breeds from getting mixed, 
 Or 7V0iild do if the climate were but frigid ; 
 
 But as it isn't (barring bettt^r reasons), 
 
 We'll lay the blame on ichor and the seasons ! 
 
 HI. 
 \/.-\\:v/., we've said, descended from the Prophet 
 (Which really means his pedigree was devious) ; 
 The Sunnites say so, but the Shiites scoff it, 
 So no one knows the stock he sprung from 
 previous ; 
 The only certain fact's an old and dumb one. 
 And that's that Az-waz must have sprung from 
 someone. 
 
 • This story can bo vourlu-d for in Pall Mall. 
 
32 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 IV. 
 
 Az-waz progressed by waddles, short and jerky , 
 His eyes looked heavy, bloated, blase, spent ; 
 
 He ruled his toilet even worse than Turkey, 
 And blazed with diamonds, dirt, and lace from 
 Ghent. 
 
 If such a fellow sprung — forgive the doubt — 
 
 The way, I'm sure, was very roundabout ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Where morals are so scarce, no quip or quirk 
 Is needed to explain the course we're limning. 
 
 He scorns to look on wine, your holy Turk, 
 But falls an easy prey to songs and women. 
 
 Ye fools who think the Maine Law's Britain's need, 
 
 Just look at Turkey where its half the creed ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Well, Az-waz — this of course distinctly chimes 
 In with the theory held by learned Zany — 
 
 Shared all the vices of his race and times, 
 Invented some and never shrank from any ; 
 
 Denied a soul to woman yet needs find 
 
 In soulless woman his own soul and mind. 
 
 VII. 
 Az-waz had wives by hundreds, young and fair ; 
 
 The rose-buds of all climes ; the bluest eyes. 
 The ripest lips and wealths of auburn hair, 
 
 The richest fruits that bounteous earth supplies ; 
 Won, bought or dragged — e'en kidnapped on a 
 
 stretch — 
 To feed the lust of our Imperial wretch. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Dark eyes from Spain, in wbkh the biurning glow 
 Of hot Castilian blood urged on desire ; 
 
 And Tuscan eyes in which, not far below, 
 Slept sunny laxighter wjth her hidden fire ; 
 
 And darker eyes and hotter blood from Naples 
 
 Where corn and wine and loveliness are staples ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 And softer eyes by far than many a knight 
 Has won in tourney or seduced in dance, 
 
 The Queen of all that's beautiful and bright, 
 Dainty or languid in the bowers of France ; 
 
 The chosen home of all that is romantic, 
 
 And much that sends some moral people frantic. 
 
 X. 
 
 The sweet blue eyes of fair Teutonic maids, 
 
 Those placid orbs that seem too cold to love you, 
 
 Too silent and too deep for classic shades, 
 
 More bright and frigid than the moon above you. 
 
 Yet pray beware ; a mountain's ice-clad summit 
 
 May cap a lava pit that knows no plummet ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 And eyes — dark eyes — that whisper subtle things. 
 With long black lashes fringing dusky cheeks. 
 One glance from which means volumes of sweet 
 things. 
 And tells them plainer than a tongue that 
 speaks. 
 Dear Arab maid, the Prophet was not beery 
 Who took thee for his model of a Peri ! 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 2,1 
 
 XII. 
 
 And luscious lustrous eyes of classic Greece, 
 Whose glance made heroes and sent souls to 
 Hades, 
 
 So that the devil's fond of eyes like these, 
 And keeps a nice cool place for Grecian ladies ! 
 
 Without the orbs of one frail Athens syren 
 
 He feels, of course, he'd never have had Byron ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Hence, as you see, Az-waz was so much married 
 That Brigham Young compared was quite a 
 bachelor. 
 
 His progeny was small ; they most miscarried, 
 In spite of MM. Kraus and Paulovitchilor ! 
 
 Yet taken as a whole it's fancied rather 
 
 He made a decent sort of Turkish father ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Az-waz had foibles like his meanest eunuch. 
 
 His doats were lions, tigers, leopards, rats — 
 A perfect Barnum-Sanger sort of monarch, 
 
 A maiden hidy-Ma/i that kept his cats. 
 It's often stated by the learned and wise 
 That pets and natures are two good allies ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 And here's the point. A good and clever man 
 Soaked through the skin in diplomatic learning, 
 
 Got telegraphic orders and a plan 
 
 To wait upon our Sultan one fine morning ; 
 
 So to a second at the hour appointed 
 
 He sallied forth to see the Lord's anointed. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The slaves and splendour sent his eyeballs aching, 
 Or nearly so, they seemed so vast and endless ; 
 
 So in the audience room he squatted down 
 
 With all the feelings of a man that's friendless. 
 
 While slaves, with lowsalaams, relieved his sweat 
 
 With sherbet, coffee, and a cigarette. 
 
 XVI 1. 
 
 The slaves retired, still lower their salaams, ■ 
 And left the learned man tothoughts and silence; 
 
 He tried to hum some verses from the Psalms, 
 Then wished to God that he had been a mile 
 hence ! 
 
 A sense of fear made nightmare of his will 
 
 Despite his splendid diplomatic skill. 
 
 XVIll. 
 
 He tried his coffee, lit his cigarette, 
 
 Hut felt too languid to take much of cither. 
 
 Admired the lordly room in which he sat, 
 Some broken trinkets and a stringless Zither; 
 
 Then murmuring Az-waz was an awful bore 
 
 Re-tried his Turkish and his a//<f noire. 
 
34 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But in the fulness of all things there comes 
 A time vhen patience can hold out no longer ; 
 
 And hence our Diplomat first twirled his thumbs, 
 And next used "damn," then words a little 
 stronger ; 
 
 When in there walked, his mane in fierce erection, 
 
 A lioii fi'om the Sultan'' s Grand collection / 
 
 XX. 
 
 To saj' our hero started were untrue — 
 
 No words can picture how he jumped and ran ; 
 
 He found his coffee somehow in his shoe, 
 And sherbet soaking all the grand divan ; 
 
 And then he found he'd lost the power of squealing, 
 
 And somehow'd clambered half way up the ceiling. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 'Twas precious lucky for our learned wight 
 Quaint carvings made the wall more animated. 
 
 And precious lucky when he took to flight 
 
 He found the roof what's known as laminated ; 
 
 And that is how, more agile than a mandril, 
 
 He found himself at last perched on a spandril ! 
 
 XXII. 
 Thence, breathless, he sur\-eyed the scene he'd 
 quitted. 
 And thought of blood he might have been 
 imbrued in ; 
 
 Then wondered if his country would have pitied 
 
 The shocking way he nearly had been slewed in ! 
 And whilst the lion eyed him from the floor 
 Declared the brute was panting for his gore ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 And then he tried to feel quite nerved and cool, 
 And think his clifnbing there was mere pre- 
 caution ; 
 But someiiow thouglit of hj'mns he'd sung at 
 school, 
 Particularly " Brief life is here our portion," 
 And how his darling mama had admonished, 
 When entered Az-waz, very much astonished. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 What puzzles most our diplomatic hero 
 Is that the lion doesn't run and fix him, 
 
 But simply canters when he calls out " Nero," 
 And rubs his nose against his robe and licks him , 
 
 And otherwise declai^es his vast affection. 
 
 As leading lion of the Grand Collection ! 
 
 XXV. 
 Az-waz, of course, was much surprised to find 
 
 That diplomatic wisdom was non est ; 
 He knew (at least) he was an hour behind. 
 
 But previous Sultans .-jlway kept their guest ; 
 So, muttering " Dash it ! " he was walking off. 
 When from the spandril fluttered down a cough ! 
 
f 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 35 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The Sultan looked amazed — -then stood and \von- 
 dercd, 
 I-'xamined all his~ pistols and his dagger, 
 And finding them all right, most bravely thun- 
 dered, 
 " Who's there ? Come in ! " with true Imperial 
 swagger ; 
 But 'fore a slave could answer this appealing. 
 He spied our hero sitting near the ceiling ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Az-waz smiled sweetly, blandly on our hero. 
 
 In fear and golden lace so high above him : 
 But guessing at the reason, patted " Nero," 
 
 As if he'd found some sudden cause to lovi' him ; 
 But recollected it gave indications 
 Of fearful diplomatic complications. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 So Az-waz raised his eyes, with low salaam 
 
 Expressed the sorrow that his brute had caused 
 him ; 
 
 Was glad our hero'd saved himself from harm, 
 And that the lion hadn't metamorphosed him ! 
 
 Begged he'd descend, and, waiving all formality, 
 
 Accept a little royal hospitality. 
 
 XXIX. 
 Hence, with a consciousness he locjkcd absurd, 
 
 Our hero left his airy elevation; 
 And scrambled uffito earth without a word, 
 
 E.xcept some inward whispers of damnation, 
 And hopes they'd use a little circum.spection 
 In letting out the Sultan's Grand Collection ! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Then Az-Waz called for coffee, sherbet, ices. 
 Which slaves with low salaams set down before 
 him. 
 Some knelt with flowers, and some with Eastern 
 spices, 
 And some with prostrate forms lay to adore him. 
 'J'hen Az-waz called a dark and crouching knave, 
 " Go — lead this lion out and beat him, slave ! " 
 
 XXXI. 
 Hast seen the ashen hue of death o'ertake 
 
 A black man's face when ordered out to die ? 
 If so, thou knowest well the deadly shake. 
 
 The zvJiiteited cheek, the far-protruding ej^e ; 
 So blanched his face who, being not a lord, 
 Must heat a lioii ! at a tyrant's word ! 
 
 xxxn. 
 
 The tragedy was over verv quickly ; 
 
 A whip a man — a lion — and a blow, 
 A spring- -a shriek, and then (the scene was 
 sickly) 
 A lifeless body crushed beneath a paw ! 
 And Az-waz smiled: 'twas murder — he said fun — 
 And crouching slaves' salaams hailed what he'd 
 done 1 
 
36 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Then Az-waz bade his concubines retire ; 
 
 They fled in groups, low crawling on the earth ! 
 God knows what terror tyrants can inspire 
 
 In souls their betters in all things but birth. 
 But what are fetters, toil, to this foul THING, 
 Where death is made the pastime of a King ! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Our hero's blood seemed turning into ice. 
 He hummed and hawed — "Your pistols, Sire, 
 believe me. 
 Hold matchless jewels far above all price." 
 " They're quite as certain shots, I won't deceive 
 thee ;" 
 
 And taking aim he killed 1 beg his pardon — 
 
 An unsuspecting slave that crossed the garden ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 'Twas awful fun, of course, and nice to see, 
 And Az-waz smiled, and thought the sport 
 amazing ; 
 
 " I judged them rightly, as you must agree." 
 Our hero was too fearful ill for praising, 
 
 They brought him coffee, but he couldn't sup : 
 
 He felt his diplomatic liver coming up ! 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Unbridled despots shoot at whom they will, 
 " E'en pluck and learning sometimes take a 
 shot at ;" 
 
 So with the deepest diplomatic skill 
 
 Our hero showed that certain MS. must be got at. 
 
 Then demonstrating how he'd get the papers. 
 
 He fled from Az-waz and his deadly capers ! 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And Az-waz never more beheld him kneeling, 
 And when en voyage in Britain vainly sought 
 
 The diplomatic wight who clomb the ceiling, 
 And told the story to the Queen and Court. 
 
 We only wish to add to it beside, 
 
 That Az-waz proved a tyrant till he died ! 
 
 We resume our discussion on the Eastern 
 Question. 
 
 Hard Hunt, who is a desperate anti-Muscovite, 
 ventures to descant on the policy of Russia. He 
 says her policy appears to him to be to add in- 
 definitely to the confusion of the Porte by keeping 
 alive against i-t the deadliest animosities of its 
 Christian subjects, deepening the mutual hatreds 
 of creed and race, hoping, finally, to turn the 
 Christian provinces of Turkey into such a horrible 
 and hopeless mass of conflicting aims and ambi- 
 tions that despairing Europe shall at last call 
 upon her, in the name of European peace, to 
 annex them all for the good of humanity. 
 
 Sir Verdant Hardcoat, who is always ready for 
 combat, declines to believe in any such theory. 
 The policy of Russia is, he says, to wait. It is 
 enough for her to know that the rapidly rolling 
 years are doing her work in Turkey far more 
 surely than it can be done by Muscovite armies. 
 The Conference of 1871 has finall}^ abolished the 
 treaty which was the principal result of the 
 Crimean war. The fortifications of Sevastopol are 
 being rebuilt. A Russian fleet rides the Black 
 Sea. With the inevitable future so obviously at 
 work in her favour, he cannot bring himself to 
 believe that Russia, which is so perilously near the 
 verge of bankruptcy, wishes to force on a war. 
 It is self-evident that her wisest policy is to assist 
 the action of time, and not to fight against it. 
 
 " Hear, hear!" says Goschen. 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 " Hear, hear!" hiccups Lob. 
 
 Benjamin remarks that one striking effect of the 
 abolition of the Black Sea clauses of the Treaty of 
 Paris has been a complete revolution in the rela- 
 tions of the Czar and the Sultan. In the time of 
 Sir Stratford Canning, the ascendancy obtained 
 by the British Embassy over the imbecile and vacil" 
 lating mind of the Sultan was the despair of the 
 diplomacy of the Continent. Not a bit of it now 
 remains. England has changed places with 
 Russia. Sir Henry Elliot has been supplanted 
 by General Ignatieff. If Russia had been serious 
 in her desire that Servia should keep the peace, 
 ample power was provided for that purpose under 
 the Twenty-ninth Article of the Treaty of Paris. 
 The rebellion in Eastern Europe existed at all only 
 because Russia permitted it to germinate and 
 break out. It continued to e.xist only because 
 Russia was not sincere in wishing it to be put 
 down, and did not exercise her means and 
 influence of suppressing it. 
 
 " Hear, hear!" says Cross. 
 
 " Hear, hear!" says Hardy. 
 
 Sweet William replies that the position of 
 Russia is perfectly logical. The corruption, and 
 almost all the internal misgovernment and difficul- 
 ties of Turkey are to be traced to three sources — 
 to Mahometanism — to the necessities imposed 
 upon the minority when it attempts to govern the 
 majority — and to the ill-conceived and ill-timed 
 efforts of philanthropic Europe after the close of 
 the Crimean war to graft Western civilisation on 
 the Oriental stem. Russia had no propaganda in 
 the Sclavonic provinces of Turkey until it was 
 manifest that the equality promised to Christians 
 in the Hatt Humayoun, and satirically recorded 
 in the Ninth Article bf the Treaty of Paris, was 
 never likely to be forthcoming. Russia's crime 
 seemed to be to have seen years ago what every 
 man knows and sees now — that the equality of 
 Christians and Mussulmans is impossible under a 
 Mahometan government, if only for the reason that 
 it is denied in express terms in the creed of the 
 dominant sect. 
 
 " Certainly !" says Sir Verdant. 
 
 " Certainly!" says Bruce. • 
 
 " Certainly!" hiccups Lob. 
 
 " Everything there is in Turkey," proceeds 
 William, "of corruption, of oppression, and of 
 
 difficulty, is the product of Mahometan spawn. 
 Let that fact be admitted. If it mean that no 
 remedy is forthcoming, that hope of cure is 
 past, that diplomacy has brought its patient to 
 the door of death, still let it be admitted. 
 The time has anived when we ought to make 
 an effort to free ourselves from the solemn 
 impostures and fictions of diplomacy. The first 
 step towards curing a disease is to know what the 
 disease is, and he, for one, is of opinion that no 
 cure can be efficacious that does not involve the 
 separation of the Mahometan religion from the 
 Mahometan system of government. In England, 
 theology and law are different and distinct things. 
 In Turkey the State religion is the State law. 
 Mahometanism is not onl}' a creed but a system 
 of government ; not only a code of morals, but a 
 code of civil law. Equality of religion is no more 
 comprehensible to a Turk than equality ef caste 
 to a Brahmin." 
 
 " Hear, hear!" says Goschen. 
 
 " Hear, hear!" says Bright. 
 
 " Hear, hear, hear!" hiccups Lob. 
 
 There is a general disposition to applaud. 
 
 " Gentlemen," says Dord Lerby, " if there is 
 one thing on this earth I value more than another 
 it is caution. Sweet William, your speech is in- 
 cautious, and (which is nearly as bad) it is un- 
 patriotic." (It is always a good sign of caution 
 to say that your opponent is unpatriotic.) What- 
 ever may be the popular feeling in England, there 
 is another thing to be considered scarcely less 
 important — the popular feeling in India. Every 
 advancing step of Russia is regarded in Asia as 
 evidence of one of two things — cither that the 
 possession of India is a matter of no importance 
 to England, or that England is powerless to check 
 Sclavonic advance. Either of these impressions. 
 Sweet William, if permitted to deepen, is calcu- 
 lated to weaken the hold of this country upon the 
 affections of its Indian subjects, and to do us, in 
 consequence, an incalculable amount of practical 
 injury. The road which Russia has trodden into 
 India is a road red with the blood of hundreds 
 upon hundreds of murdered Asiatic nomads. 
 Russia is a political octopus. Her limbs are 
 stretched out in every direction both in Europe and 
 
38 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 Asia, and she is slowly but surely dragging to 
 their doom not only Servia, Montenegro, Bosnia, 
 the Herzegovina, and Bulgaria, but quite as cer- 
 tainly Khiva, Persia, and Afghanistan." 
 
 " Certainly," says Cross. 
 
 " Certainly," says Sir Stafford Northcote. 
 
 " Certainly," says Benjamin. 
 
 " Dear Lerby," says John Bright, " the ambi- 
 tion of Russia is one thing, the corruption of 
 Turkey another. If you ^Yere to ask me who had 
 done most to destroy Tui'key — who was her 
 greatest enemy — who had accomplished most for 
 her humiliation, disintegration, and ultimate and 
 certain ruin, Russia or England, I should say 
 England a thousand times over. You may tell 
 me that I am no patriot. It is an insult to which 
 I am inured. The ruin and destruction of Turkey 
 lie, I repeat, chiefly at the door of England. I 
 will tell you why. At the close of the war with 
 Russia, the Western Powers, and most promi- 
 nently England, determined that Turkey should 
 be assisted to civilise herself, to develop her 
 natural resources, and to raise the material con- 
 dition of her people. At that time Turkey had not 
 contracted a State debt. Her people of all races 
 accepted tyranny and oppression like heat in sum- 
 mer and cold in winter. The Sultan slept within 
 the walls of his harem the sleep of the politically 
 dead. Turkey was no longer a part of the world. 
 The condition of the great mass of her people, 
 Christians and Mahometans, was little superior 
 to slavery, her government was a farce, her army 
 and navy a sham. As long as England was willing 
 to let her alone Turkey was content to go on in 
 the old way, inhaling the deadly miasma arising 
 
 from her natural corruption, forgetting all and 
 forgotten by all, manifesting occasionally a spas- 
 modic sign of life, but held otherwise without 
 power of motion or hope of cure in the grip of the 
 Oriental idea. But the thunders of 1854 woke her 
 to a new life. She came out of her dream like 
 one waking up from a trance. England assured 
 her that the time had come when she ought to, 
 and must, be admitted into the community of 
 civilised Powers — when she must know the mean- 
 ing of the " fraternity of nations," the " balance 
 of power" — the meaning of armies, of fleets, of 
 railways, of loans, and of debts. But England 
 forgot to teach Turkey the responsibilities which 
 they entail, and the qualities of wisdom, of honesty 
 and of honour, which they require and imply. 
 Later on, when the financial embarrassments 
 produced by the Crimean war had begun to cripple 
 Turkey in her most vital parts, England pointed 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 39 
 
 out to her the fatal ease \s'\\\\ which she could 
 borrow loans. But En.^-land, when she taught 
 Turkey how easy it was to borrow, forgot to instil 
 into her how much easier it was to fall into the 
 abyss of bankruptcy, and what a cruel and hor- 
 rible abyss it is. The Crimean war cost this 
 country a hundred millions, and evcrv farthing of 
 that hundred millions has been spent by England 
 in a fight against nature. The attempt of this 
 countr)' to force Western civilisation upon Turkey 
 has had no other result than to reduce her to a 
 condition of the most profound contempt and 
 beggar}-. The present position of Turkey is 
 execrable. There is scarcely a stick or stone of 
 State property, or tax or tithe of State revenue, 
 that has not been mortgaged again and again. 
 At this present instant the external debt of Turkey 
 exceeds two hundred millions, with an annual 
 charge upon it of fourteen or fifteen millions. 
 Beyond this Turkey has contracted an internal 
 debt, which amounts to ten millions, at least, and 
 is believed to be a great deal larger. The whole 
 of this immense burden, mainl}' contracted at the 
 suggestion of England, has been spent almost 
 entirelv on Imperial luxuries — palaces, mosques, 
 harems, Krupp cannon and ironclads, and it is 
 a fact that these things have been paid for while 
 the ser\-ants of the State in the army, the navy, 
 and the civil service were vainly clamouring for 
 their arrears of wages. But it is the same old 
 stor\'. There are races which it is impossible to 
 civilist\ and it remains yet to be proved that the 
 Turk is not as incapable of receiving Western 
 ideas as the Red Indian, against whom moral 
 force has long since given place to extermination, 
 and whetlier tlie t'lements of his debasement arc 
 not as much a part of himself as his bones and 
 blood!" 
 
 " Talking of Turkish extravagance," says Sir 
 Verdant Hanlcoat, "you remind me of a song I 
 heard whistled by all the little boys of Constanti- 
 nople during my recent visit there, entitled, " Pop 
 goes the Weazel," wliich (as you liave probably 
 never heard of it before) I will proceed to repent — 
 
 pop 00 cs tbc (Lcllciucll 
 
 After dinner the hareem, 
 
 Stimulating dances, 
 IJusky feet that glint and gleam, 
 
 Luscious smiles and glances ! 
 Coffee, cigarettes, repose, 
 
 ICntertainments regal, 
 Jliat's the way the money goes, 
 
 Pop goes the weazel ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Jewels for a lunuirtd v>i\es, 
 
 Silks from S.imarc.inda, 
 Luxury that still survives 
 
 Western propaganda ! 
 Music, sherbet, and repose, 
 
 Court" intrigues and legal, 
 That's the way the money goes. 
 
 Pop g'ocs the weazel ! 
 
40 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 III. 
 
 Rotting ships on ever)' sea, 
 
 Cannon made to order, 
 Snider for the Osnjanlee 
 
 Army of disorder ! 
 Fleets to spoil the sweet reiDose 
 
 Of the Russian eagle, 
 That's the way the monej* goes. 
 
 Pop goes the weazel ! 
 
 JV. 
 
 Europe you will ne\ er drag 
 
 Up the Orient higher, 
 Never while the Turkish flag 
 
 Waves from St. Sophia ! 
 Music, women, and repose. 
 
 Entertainments regal, 
 That's the way the money goes. 
 
 Pop goes the weazel ! 
 
 The finish of this poem is the signal for a 
 general rising. 
 
 Lob Rowe insists upon saying grace, and in 
 spite of the frantic efforts of us all to pull his coat 
 tails, delivers himself as follows : — 
 
 We beg to offer thanks for what we've had, 
 
 And make a special mention of the liquor ; 
 We hope the ports and sherries were not bad 
 
 Because they play such hangment with your 
 ichor ' 
 We also pray that gout, which most men flum- 
 mocks, 
 
 May never rack our marrow with its stings ; 
 That all our lives be henceforth like our stomachs — 
 
 A very pleasant storehouse of good things ! 
 
 Thus falls the curtain on the political half of 
 Benjamin's dinner. 
 We pass on to the convivial. 
 
HIS LITTLE DIXXER. 
 
 41 
 
 INNER. 
 
 An hour later wc are in the midst of dessert. 
 
 It is an invariable rule with Benjamin that guests 
 at Parliamentar}' dinners at Hughenden shall send 
 their party politics away with their cheese-plates. 
 
 Of this rule, Benjamin, in his olive-oiliest tones, 
 most politely reminds us. 
 
 We may smoke — wc are doing that ; we ma)' 
 sing — Lob Rowe threatens to do that ; we may 
 crack jokes ; we may talk scandal — as if we could 
 help talking scandal ; we may get drunk ; we may 
 do aaything, in short, except talk party politics. 
 ] have said wc are in the midst of dessert. 
 
 By this time the atmosphere has been converted 
 into a dense fog of smoke from our Havanas. 
 
 Benjamin himself has become so exceedingly 
 frisky and volatile that I begin to fear the '34 is 
 getting into his head. 
 
 Benjamin is irresistible and ubiquitous in his 
 attentions. 
 
 "A little more wine, Thunder and Lightning?" 
 
 I subtend at the usual angle. 
 
 " A little more wine, Hunt ?" 
 
 " Thanks, Benjamin. One of the privileges of 
 the head of her Majesty's Navy is to be always in 
 port." 
 
 Wc pretend \.o hnigh. 
 
 ♦' Lerby, old man, are you drinking up ? " 
 
 " Drinking (fozv/i,'' says Lerby (Lerby is always 
 so cautious, you know), helping himself in the 
 same breath to some Turkish delight. " I'm 
 getting on vcr>' nicely — I mean very cautiously — 
 thank yoH." 
 
42 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 " And you, Dr. Gonenearly ?" 
 
 " He don't g-et on at all," says the O'Uorman ; 
 " don't cat northen'." 
 
 Dr. Gonenearly begs to be allowed to speak for 
 himself. He is getting on quite as well as can be 
 expected. As for eating "northen'," he doesn't 
 profess to be such an O'Gorman-dizer .-as the 
 member for Waterford. 
 
 " Between ourselves, Lerby," cries Benjamin, 
 holding up his glass, while his whole face beams 
 with joviality, " here's a toast— May you never be 
 like the coupons of your Canal shares— cut off ! " 
 
 We laugh. 
 
 "Benjamin!" cries Lerby, "here's one in 
 return — May you never be like those shares them- 
 selves — without interest ! " 
 
 We laugh again. 
 
 " Any nev>s from the clubs, any of you fellows ? " 
 asks Sir Verdant, puffing at his cigar. 
 
 " Not heard any," says Hard Hunt, watching 
 the smoke curl over his head. " Been a terrific 
 row down there in the Isle of Wight. Noble lord 
 threatened to do something considcraljle to the 
 Heir Apparent. Heir Apparent threatened to do 
 something considerable to noble lord. A lot of 
 extraordinary language used. Everybody sent 
 into a tremendous sensation. Author of ' Men 
 of the Time ' hanged himself on the spot ; poor 
 Theodore Martin picked up in the street in an 
 insensible condition ; Debrett taken to a lunatic 
 asylum. That's the list of casualties, I under- 
 stand, up to the present." 
 
 "Never heard a word about it," says Sir 
 Verdant. 
 
 " Not a sound," says William. 
 
 " Not a whisper," says Benjamin. 
 
 " The deuce you've not ! " laughs Hard Hunt, 
 taking his cigar out of his mouth. " They are 
 talking about nothing else at the clubs. Not 
 heard of it ! They're talking about it everywhere. 
 The Poet Laureate, indeed, who was in Cowes at 
 the time, has thought it of sufficient importance 
 to write a poem about, which a lot of dirty little 
 boys are selling in the streets at a penny a copy ! 
 I bought a copy coming up. Let mc read it to 
 you, eh .'' " 
 
 "Oh, yes, do. Hard Hunty, dear," coaxes 
 Benjamin. " We hate scandal." 
 
 "Oh, do— pray do!" say all of us. "We 
 abominate scandal." 
 
 oTbc ilolu in tbc (TIuIj. 
 
 In the scrumptious little cabin 
 
 Of a vessel off by Cowes, 
 Smoking "Turkish," whose aroma 
 
 Is so fragrant to the nose. 
 Sat a dapper little captain 
 
 Oh ! so nautical and trim, 
 With a corenetted letter 
 
 Lying opposite to him ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh ! he was a right good captain. 
 
 And a yatchsman bold and true, 
 And the rig out of his garments 
 
 Was quite nautical to \-iew. 
 And no stain his proud escutcheon 
 
 Had contaminated yet ; 
 As you'll find by simply looking 
 
 In the pages of Debrett ! 
 
 III. 
 
 And that dapper little captain 
 With a grim determined air. 
 
 Pondered long and pondered slowly 
 On the letter lying there. 
 
JUS IJTTLK DINNER. 
 
 43 
 
 " So he sends his royal challenge ; 
 
 " Well, I know my craft and crew ; 
 And he seized the royal letter 
 
 And he tore it into two. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A E was its signing, 
 
 And his Royal Highness swore 
 He would race his lordship's vessel 
 
 For a wager to the Nore ; 
 Or if that was not sufficient 
 
 (This was merely said to rile) 
 He would stake his little kingdom 
 
 On a contest round the isle ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 In the hot and level sunshine 
 
 Of a glorious summer's day, 
 Albert Edward hoist his canvas 
 
 (Though 'twas not the rating day), 
 For he saw his little rivals 
 
 Under practice on the sea, 
 And he slily sailed unto them 
 
 And he said to them, said he : 
 
 V. 
 
 So the challenge went its errand, 
 
 And the meeting day was set, 
 And the noblest of the squadron 
 
 Laid some hundreds in a bet. 
 There was all that vast impatience 
 
 That a yachtsman only knows ; 
 Fear and flutter and excitement 
 
 'Monij- the nautical of Cowcs. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Oh, my iiomcn it is Edward, 
 
 •' Duke of Cornwall, and some more, 
 " And I've matched your master's vessel 
 
 " For a wao^er round the Nore. 
 " Since your dapper little captain 
 
 " Is in London for the day, 
 " Up with every stitch of canvas, lads, 
 
 " And race me round the bay ! " 
 
 Vlll. 
 
 In the rich, delightful smoke-room 
 Of the yachting Club of Cowes, 
 
 There were words of strong indictment 
 And still fiercer talk of blows ! 
 
44 
 
 BENJAMIN £>- 
 
 " I decline to beg your pardon ! " 
 Quoth the Prince with flashing eye, 
 
 " I have never raced your vessel 
 " And who said so told a lie ! " 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then that dapper little captain, 
 
 With a sneer upon his lip, 
 Said he knew for certain Bertie 
 
 Had competed with his ship. 
 And he added "Oh, you story — 
 
 " You atrocious little cram ! " 
 And he used a bad expression 
 
 With a terminal in " damn ! " 
 
 
 XI. 
 
 In tlie scrumptious little cabin 
 
 Of a vessel leaving Cowes, 
 Smoking Turkish, whose aroma 
 
 Is so grateful to the nose, 
 Sat a dapper little captain 
 
 Oh ! so nautical and trim, 
 With a coronetted letter 
 
 Lying opposite to him ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 And that dapper little captain 
 
 With a grim and thoughtful air, 
 Pondered long and pondered slowly 
 
 On the letter lying there. 
 " So His Highness begs my pardon, 
 
 " It was all in heat of blood; " 
 And he kissed that manly letter — 
 
 " Bertie, dear, I knew yon would ! " 
 
 X. 
 
 Oh ! the awful shocking things said 
 
 By those two excited men : 
 " You're a crammer! " and " I'll hit you, 
 
 " If you call me that again ! " 
 Oh, the terror and excitement 
 
 When his Royal Highness swore 
 That Cowes, and Ryde, and Isle of Wight 
 
 Should know his face no more ! 
 
 " A very charming kettle offish ! " sighs Mar- 
 malade Yenkins. 
 
 "A very charming kettle of fish, indeed!" 
 sighs Anderson. " Pass me the decanter. To-day 
 it's a yacht. Yesterday it was a ballet-girl. Oh, 
 Romans and fellow-countrymen ! Oh, Yenkins, 
 Yenkins ! It was a far-seeing Providence that 
 made stage wings without ears and green-rooms 
 without tongues ! ' ' 
 
 "Come, come, Anderson," says Sir Verdant, 
 coaxingly, "you knock a trifle too hard on the 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 45 
 
 Royal Family, you know. Excuse my mentioning 
 it, but I am myself an integral portion of the 
 Royal Family of England. I am, as you know, 
 distantly related to the Marquis of Lome, and 
 therefore, perhaps, qualified to speak with rather 
 
 more authority on the habits of princes than you 
 are. I tell you, Anderson, that you paint my 
 illustrious relatives a great deal too black ! " 
 
 " Oh no," says Anderson, "I don't, I don't 
 paint 'em black enough. I wish I could. I'm 
 a Republican. I don't deny it. Republicanism 
 is my predominant political sentiment. It is 
 yours, too, Verdy, only your amazing vanity and 
 the paltry little thread that attaches you k) your 
 illustrious relatives keep you from avowing it. I 
 stick to my principles." 
 
 " Human rights ! " suggests Dr. Gonenearly. 
 
 " Leicester Square ! " suggests Hard Hunt. 
 
 " Islay Malt ! " roars the O'Gorman. 
 
 Sir Verdant begs to cast back with indignation 
 and contempt the wicked aspersion that he is a 
 Republican. His distant relationship to the 
 
 Marquis of Lome — leaving out of consideration 
 the rest of the Royal Family — ought to be a 
 sufficient answer to an insult like that. However, 
 if that answer is not enough for the honourable 
 member for Glasgow, he wishes to state publicly 
 that if ever Anderson attempts to lead an armed 
 force against the person or property of his illustri- 
 ous relatives — including, of course, the Marquis 
 of Lome — he will find the blade of Sir Verdant 
 Hardcoat rammed up to the hilt in a fleshy part 
 of his rebellious stomach. 
 We applaud deliriously. 
 
 Mr. Anderson, in an amazement of good 
 humour, begs to apologise if he has in any way 
 injured the subtle delicacy of Sir Verdant's 
 egotism. His objection to offspring of the blood 
 royal must not be taken as applying to royalty in 
 the abstract. Kings, as a whole, may be taken 
 to be a fairly respectable body of men, with mortal 
 vices and weaknesses like the rest of mankind, 
 and the same may apply, with greater force, to 
 queens, but he (Anderson) will be hanged if we 
 can honestly say the same of princes. 
 
 " Order! " cries a voice in our rear, " and no 
 politics ! " 
 
 Dear Benjamin, with the influence of Moet 
 lighting up the weird brightness of his Moorish 
 countenance, springs straight to his feet. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I beg to give you a toast. I beg 
 to ask you to drink to the health of the Queen, 
 and with that toast I couple the name of Mr. 
 Anderson." 
 
 The satire tells, and we laugh and applaud 
 wildly. 
 
 Anderson, raising his glass for a moment to his 
 lip, drinks off its contents to the toast amidst our 
 unanimous applause. 
 
 "Gentlemen," says Anderson, "I am not a 
 bigot, nor am I disloyal. If I cannot drink to 
 the form of government I want, I will drink to the 
 form of government I've got. As the French poet 
 says, * Cest le caracf^re du sage.' I want a 
 Republic — I don't deny it— but as I am not able 
 at present to drink to that Republic, I will drink 
 to what I admire ne.\t— the Queen. My senti- 
 ments are those of the poet, and those of the poet 
 are as follows : — 
 
46 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 " I am loyal, even tender, I don't envy kings their 
 
 splendour. 
 But I'm dashed if I can render them a homage I 
 
 don't feel ; 
 If the venom from my vial pierce the epidermis 
 
 royal 
 You must still believe me loyal to my country and 
 
 her weal. 
 Where were England's kings and glory and our 
 
 nation's splendid story, 
 Writ on many a field and gory in the blood of 
 
 England's poor, 
 Had the sickly sentimental souls of ermined folk 
 
 and gentle 
 Fought our foemen continental with no daring but 
 
 their own ? 
 Ah ! 'tis past, the old-world notion, God has made 
 
 the poor man's portion 
 Burdened with a life's devotion to the crowned 
 
 and kingly caste ! 
 And methinks the crowning glory of our England's 
 
 age and story 
 Is — excuse me, Whig and Tory — dawning on this 
 
 isle at last ! 
 
 "Those, gentlemen," says Anderson, "are my 
 sentiments, and before sitting down I beg to pro- 
 pose a toast of my own — May we always be loyal, 
 and never have need to change a bad sovereign ! " 
 
 We drink to the toast with the greatest enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 I ought to record that it is whispered through 
 the smoke of our cigars and across the fumes of 
 our wine that Anderson, cool and collected as he 
 usually seems, is subject to occasional fits of in- 
 controllable mental excitement, and that on such 
 occasions his utterances are not the cool convic- 
 tions of his calmer moments. 
 
 We believe it. 
 
 We relapse more and more into the convivial. 
 
 " Heard a most extraordinary story," says Hard 
 Hunt, " told up at the Carlton last night. Heard 
 there had been a kind of Anglo-Russian quarrel 
 among the royal princesses about precedence ; 
 that the Court was in a state of great excitement, 
 and that the shindy with the prince in the club 
 was scarcely less edifying than the row with the 
 princesses in the palace." 
 
 "Never heard a word about it!" says Sweet 
 William. 
 
 " Never caught a whisper," says Cross. 
 
 " Hang it ! " laughs Hard Hunt, "what a subtle 
 faculty you fellows seem to have for not hearing 
 things. Not heard a. whisper?" he continues, 
 putting his legs on a chair and puffing languidly 
 at his Havana, "why, really, you must make 
 periodical visitations to some distant planet, or 
 take a sub-aqueous holiday with Neptune in our 
 submarine navy, or else be continually up in 
 balloons trying to skim a little of the cream off 
 the Milky Way, or something of that sort. You 
 appear never to be at home." 
 
 Sir Wellfried (always ready with his little joke) 
 observes that such a remark as that certainly fails 
 of application to William. William, he ventures 
 to assert, is the most domesticated man in the 
 House. Other hon. members may be at home for 
 ever, but William is always at Homer ! 
 
 We smile sicklily. 
 
 "Well, if you havn't really heard the story of 
 the three royal princesses and the golden apple," 
 says Hard Hunt, "I'll tell you the tale exactly as 
 I heard it at the Carlton." 
 
 ^Ijjj #iilg ^ru^ Stor^ 0f tlje fyhzxx 
 
 They were having a hot time of it in those 
 mysterious altitudes of mythology — the abode of 
 the gods. The past month or so had been so 
 very prolific of tropical heat (in this world called 
 love), that a strong feeling of indignation was 
 generally prevalent against young Phoebus for the 
 exceedingly disgraceful way in which he was 
 managing the sun. 
 
 The gods, for the most part, were dispersed 
 about different parts of the heavens, the intense 
 tropical heit (which, as we have said, mortals 
 call love) of their usual abodes in the deitical 
 dominions having become a little nauseating and 
 tiresome. Gods, like men, are fond of change 
 and the pleasures and excitements of other climes. 
 
 Jupiter was away sticking pigs in India, or 
 watching the dancing of beautiful Nautch girls. 
 Neptune had left with his ship for a voyage on the 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 47 
 
 sea, and was occasionally heard of fiddling pretty 
 tunes to the mermaids, or teaching the great 
 accomplishment of his life — household economy — 
 to the Oceanidcs and Syrens. Apollo was away 
 hunting with Diana in the braes of Bonny Doon 
 and on his titular moors. 
 
 Thus stood matters when one day, under the 
 cool shade of a far-spreading chestnut tree, 
 languidly discoursing of the tropical character of 
 the weather which had scattered so many of the 
 gods, referring also, in undertones, to the fast- 
 goings-on of the excitable Jupiter, sat the three 
 most beautiful of heaven's fair goddesses — Aphro- 
 dite of Wales, Hera of Lome, and Athene of 
 Russia. 
 
 The goddesses sat, as we have said, under the 
 cool shade of a huge chestnut tree, talking over 
 the scandal of the heavens, wondering whether 
 ' ' Nauty ' ' ever intends to marry, and taking sweet 
 counsel together over the meaning of his frequent 
 mysterious visits to Germania, when, suddenly, a 
 golden apple, thrown by Eris, the goddess of strife, 
 at the suggestion of Vulcan of Russia, was 
 dropped in their midst, inscribed "To the most 
 illustrious ! " 
 
 Aphrodite of Wales, who was incomparably the 
 most noble, as she was also the most lovely of the 
 three beautiful goddesses, claimed to be entitled 
 to the golden apple, on the ground that being the 
 future queen of the greatest of all empires, and 
 the chosen wife of Jupiter, she was of necessity 
 the most illustrious of the goddesses. 
 
 Hera of Lome, while admitting on her part the 
 title of Aphrodite of Wales, as the wife of Jupiter 
 and the future queen of his empire, to the term 
 " the most illustrious," and therefore her right to 
 the golden apple, yet claimed to share it with her, 
 and to take at all times and in all places absolute 
 precedence in relation to it of Athene of Russia, 
 on the ground of being the sister of Jupiter, the 
 favourite daughter of the Queen of Heaven, and 
 the sister by marriage of the most illustrious of 
 the goddesses. 
 
 Athene of Russia, as the daughter of the god 
 Vulcan of the North, the most autocratic and 
 personally powerful of all the gods, and, in his 
 own opinion, the most personally illustrious and 
 noble — a kind of god of a very select and superior 
 sort — claimed the golden apple for herself exclu- 
 
 sively, in preference even of Aphrodite of Wales. 
 However, if the decision of the gods on this point 
 was against her, Athene of Russia claimed to take 
 her fair share of the golden apple with Aphrodite 
 of Wales, and in all times and all places to hold 
 preference of Hera of Lome. 
 
 Neither of the goddesses would give way, and 
 the dispute so waxed in fervour that Phoebus was 
 often heard to express a wish that he could 
 extinguish the sun altogether. 
 
 The gods were consulted in every part of the 
 heavens. Vulcan of the North strongly asserted 
 the claims to the golden apple of his daughte 
 Athene, and even at one time threatened to with- 
 draw her altogether from the companionship of 
 Aphrodite of Wales, and Hera of Lome, and the 
 Court of the Queen of Heaven. 
 
 The rest of the gods were far from agreeing. 
 Saturn, who kept his Court in Germania, supported 
 the title of Aphrodite, but declined to adjudicate, 
 or even to express an opinion, on the claims of 
 Hera and Athene. 
 
 So the dispute waxed hot and furious, and 
 abated not, and a long and wordy war was 
 threatened in the courts of the gods. 
 
 Jupiter received an urgent summons to return 
 from his pig-sticking, Neptune was bidden to 
 leave his ship for home, and to cease playing 
 pretty tunes to the Naiades, and Apollo was called 
 back from his titular moors. 
 
 But in the meantime the strife among the three 
 beautiful goddesses waxed more fervently every 
 day. To the Queen of Heaven the noise of this 
 continual discord was a source of great uneasiness 
 and distress, and threatened to turn the abode of 
 the gods into a perfect pandemonium, till at last, 
 fearing the result, the queen suggested, and it 
 was decided to submit the entire cause of dispute 
 to the decision of an umpire. And at the unani- 
 mous request of the three goddesses, Paris (on 
 earth called Benjamin) was called in by the queen 
 to adjudicate upon their several claims to the 
 golden apple. 
 
 And when Benjamin (Paris) had come forward 
 at the request of the Queen of Heaven to settle the 
 strife of the fair deities, the goddesses attempted 
 in turn to win for themselves his favourable decision 
 by smiles, by tears, and by lively promises of 
 favours to come. Aphrodite, in her sweetly win- 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 some way, promised to prevail on the Queen of 
 Heaven to raise Benjamin to a great dignit}' 
 among the illustrious of her Empire. Hera, with 
 her large tearful eyes, promised that if Benjamin 
 would decide that she held preference of Athene 
 she would not only join Aphrodite in her prayers 
 to the Queen of Heaven, but unite with her own 
 supplications those of the economical Neptune. 
 Athene, on her part, though confessing herself 
 unable to lure Benjamin with the dazzling attrac- 
 tions of her rival sisters, promised that, if Benjamin 
 would decide that she held precedence of Aphro- 
 dite, or, at the very least, of Hera of Lome, her 
 father, Vulcan of Russia, should never offer 
 violence to, or stir up war and strife in, that 
 portion of the dominions of the Queen of Heaven 
 in which her son Jupiter was away pig-sticking, 
 and over which Benjamin was the recognised 
 custodian. 
 
 Benjamin took three clear da3's to consider the 
 smiles, the offers, and the blandishments of the 
 three beautiful goddesses, seeking to devise some 
 plan by which he might succeed, not only in ac- 
 quiring the dignity among the illustrious of the 
 Empire promised by Aphrodite and Hera, and 
 which he so much coveted, but also the security of 
 that portion of the heavens for which he was 
 responsible. For Benjamin was a cunning man. 
 
 And on the third day Benjamin, having devised 
 the required plan, sought an interview with the 
 Queen of Heaven, and laid before her a scheme 
 that he had devised for the settlement of the rival 
 claims of the three goddesses. Benjamin pointed 
 out, with all the fervency and lucidity of which he 
 was capable, that the assumption by the Queen of 
 Heaven of the title Iinperatrix would, by placing 
 her daughters on a perfect footing of equality 
 with the sons and daughters of Vulcan of the 
 North, and with all those who, by a similar auto- 
 cratic assumption, claimed precedence of those 
 who merely bore the title of rex or reg/tia, be a 
 happy solution of the prevailing difficulty. Ben- 
 jamin then pointed out to the queen that when 
 once these three goddesses occupied absolutely 
 the same regal status, it was easy enough for her, 
 as Queen of Heaven, to claim that the golden 
 apple of the most illustrious belonged to Aphro- 
 dite, not only as the wife of Jupiter, the greatest 
 of all the gods, but as being in her own person 
 
 the future queen of heaven. That much having 
 been accomplished, it was quite easy and natural 
 for the queen to claim precedence for Hera, as 
 her own daughter at her own court, over Athene, 
 the daughter of Vulcan, and at the court of her 
 mother-in-law, and quite as easy for Athene to 
 yield that precedence without the shadow of a 
 stain upon her imperial dignity. 
 
 And so, Benjamin, after due communication with 
 the Queen of Heaven, announced his decision to 
 the three goddesses, which, after a few murmurings 
 and heai-tburnings (having become accepted at 
 the courts of the gods) has since restored to 
 heaven and the courts of Vulcan and the queen 
 the blessing of comparative peace. 
 
 And this is the only true story of the three 
 princesses and the golden apple. 
 
 "Heard at the club last night," says Sir 
 Verdant, as soon as Hard Hunt has finished his 
 story, " that our mutual friend the confidential 
 adviser of deceived husbands and neglected and 
 abandoned wives, the great genius of intrigue. 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 49 
 
 and the pet confidante and acknowledged de- 
 tective-general of the aristocracy, has got his 
 hands fearfully full just now." 
 
 "I'm awfully sorr}' to hear it," says Cross. 
 " If the aristocracy of this world isn't speeding to 
 perdition with the haste of an express, then I'm 
 not the Home Secretary and Benjamin isn't Prime 
 Minister. Now it's a ballet-girl, now it's a row 
 about a yacht race, now a dispute about the pre- 
 cedence of three princesses, now a titled lady left 
 to die in an obscure lodging-house — it's fearful, it 
 really is." 
 
 "Talking about the great detective-general of 
 the aristocracy," says Icano'cr Power, " I've got 
 an MS. poem of Swinburne's about me in my 
 pocket, called 'The Lord of Intrigue.' I haven't 
 read it yet. Shall I read it to j'-ou ? " 
 
 Having nothing else to do, and feeling- ourselves 
 at the same time growing ver}'' languid under the 
 influence of the smoky clouds which fill the room 
 from our Plavanas, and the fumes which ascend 
 into our brains from rather free libations of '34, 
 we acquiesce with a general feeling of great help- 
 lessness. 
 
 Cbe f orb cf 3fntrrq;uc. 
 
 Pollaky sat in his oaken chair, 
 
 Carte de visite and letter lay there, 
 
 Princely coronet, lordly crest, 
 Many a mystery, many a quest, 
 
 With missive and billet of lesser degree, 
 
 In sooth an extraordinary company ; 
 
 And they seemed to ask, oh, unravel me ; 
 Never, I ween. 
 Was a subtler seen. 
 
 Concerned in divorce, or elopement, or league. 
 
 Than love's autocrat, Pollaky, lord of intrigue. 
 In and out 
 ThrotTgh the motley rout, 
 
 The Lord of Intrigue goes hunting about, 
 Here and there. 
 Like a dog in a fair, 
 Through flights and divorces, 
 ]*'lopcments and curses, 
 
 Through a lady's love and a husband's grudge, 
 
 Proud as a Cardinal, sharp as a Judge ; 
 
 And he smiles in the face 
 
 Of the scrawl of his Grace, 
 ^^'ith a satisfied look, as if he would say, 
 " Oh, the duchess must fall in our trap to-day." 
 
 While his clients with awe 
 
 As such schemes they saw. 
 Said, " Pollaky's sharper than Hades, you know." 
 Never, I ween, 
 Was a subtler seen. 
 Concerned in divorce, or elopement, or league. 
 Than love's autocrat, Pollak}', lord of intrigue. 
 
 " I hear it rumoured," says Sir Verdant, "that 
 Sir James Hanncn's Court promises to be the 
 scene this season of an unusually plentiful crop of 
 causes Celebris . A lot of exceedingly ugly rumours, 
 I hear, are going the round of the clubs with, of 
 course, the usual club exaggerations. The army, I 
 understand, true to its ancient traditions, figures 
 very prominently, and I also hear something far 
 from savoury about a remarkably clever man in 
 Her Majesty's navy. But, noiis verrofis, eh, 
 Benjamin ? " 
 
 " No/is 7'crro72s," repeats Benjamin, with a 
 knowing nod of his head. 
 
 "I hate," says Bright, "and always have hated, 
 Cassandras, whether ancient or modern. Indeed, 
 I detest oracles of everj' clime and kind. Wieland, 
 do you know, in his ' Golden Mirror,' lays down 
 two principles as eternally operating upon all con- 
 stituted communities — one to hold them together, 
 the other to disintegrate and dissolve them. 
 The cohesive principle includes morals, frugality, 
 religion, and law, the dissolving principle, liber- 
 tinism, profusion, and infidelity. Well, taking 
 this doctrine as a priori true, how do we stand in 
 England ? I make bold to assert that morals in 
 this countr}' now stand infinitely higher than at 
 any previous period of histor}', that along with a 
 greater annual expenditure there has grown a 
 greater annual saving — vide the returns of the 
 people's banks and friendly societies — that, also, 
 the religious sentiment is profoundcr than ever ; 
 and, lastly, that as regards obedience to the law, 
 we have reached in England the juridical ideal. 
 What's your opinion, eh, Anderson ? " 
 
 "Well," says Anderson, " I admit, of course, 
 that morals, frugality, religion, and lav.- are the 
 
50 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 bases of national stability. No man can deny it. 
 But whose morals, whose frugality, whose religion 
 is it that are saving the country at the present 
 time ? John, it is the morals of the poor and the 
 lower middle classes, and not the morals of the 
 rich that are higher now than before ; it is among 
 them, and not among the aristocnucy, that the 
 annual saving is greater, and it is among thetn, 
 and not among the rich, that the religious senti- 
 ment has become more profound. Notwithstand- 
 ing Gleg or Greg, or somebody, I maintain that 
 the working classes^the classes who are being 
 eternally told they are ruining the country, 
 are, if Wieland's principles are true, at once its 
 real saviour and the recipients of its salvation. 
 The dissolving agents, let me tell you, are quite 
 as clearly to me — " 
 
 " Quite," puts in Hard Hunt, sarcastically. 
 
 " Are quite as clearly to me," repeats Anderson, 
 with additional emphasis, " the aristocracy." 
 
 Cries of "No, no," "nonsense," and noises 
 with dessert knives and spoons on plates and 
 glasses. 
 
 "I repeat it," cries Anderson, becoming very 
 excited. " I say the dissolving- agents at work 
 upon the fabric of constituted order in this country 
 are the vices of the aristocracy, and the new- 
 fangled notions of materialistic scholasticism — the 
 libertinism and profusion of the wealthy on the 
 one hand, and the gilded infidelity of the learned 
 on the other. And in face of this, what are we 
 continually seeing and having preached to us ? 
 The man who seeks to alter the scale of his trade's 
 wages by a strike is put down as an enemy to his 
 nation, but the man who endeavours to destroy the 
 basis of his country's morality by insidious de- 
 velopments of scientific thought is promptly 
 exalted to eveiy dignity of patronage and respect. 
 Bah ! It makes one's blood boil." 
 
 " Your blood you mean, old man," says the 
 O'Gorman. "It don't mine — not a boil. Speak 
 for yourself." 
 
 "My blood, then," repeats Anderson, "and 
 along with mine the blood of every honest man. 
 But never mind. Go on, my country! Down 
 with the flag of the ingenuousness, the frugality, 
 and the simple faith of the working classes, and 
 up with the standard of the dissolving principles 
 of Huxleyism, Tyndallism, and Dan\'inism. ! " 
 
 " Come, come, Anderson," says Hard Hunt, 
 " you fire at random, and don't hit. People who 
 blaze away at random seldom do. The standard 
 of morals is not only as high, but higher among 
 the rich than ever. I say it boldly. If cases are 
 
 more plentiful in the courts now than formerly, it 
 is, first, the direct result ©f a constantly-increasing 
 population, but more particularly of the growth 
 among the aristocracy of a chaster moral senti- 
 ment. Cases are now dragged into the criminal 
 and diverce courts that would l^ave been hushed 
 up twenty or thirty years ago as mere and simple 
 venalities — isn't it so ? " 
 
 " No, it is not," cries Anderson. "I deny it, 
 //;- toto. I maintain that the increase of criminal 
 and divorce cases — Lady Mordaunt and the 
 Grant cases — is due not to any severer conceptions 
 of morality among the rich — nothing so absurd — 
 but to the introduction, rooting, and growth among 
 the aristocracy of French and American senti- 
 ments." 
 
 "'French and American sentiments!'" asks 
 Cross, in a state of great amazement, "whatever 
 in the Avorld, Anderson, are they ? " 
 
 " Understand me," says Anderson. " The 
 French, as you know, have the most delicate — I 
 might almost say the most exquisite — perception of 
 vice of any people in the world, and they invari- 
 ably meet its discovery with the most uncompro- 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 51 
 
 mising resentment. The consequence is that vice 
 in France is all hidden up. It is the vice of the 
 closet. It stalks through the land under all sorts 
 of disguises, stowed out of sight under the cloak 
 of friendship, escort, and the commonest acts of 
 courtesy. It avails itself of every possible decep- 
 tion, imposture, and cheat, and being thus hidden 
 from mortal eyes is admitted by the universal 
 conscience and consent of the nation not to e.xist. 
 That is what I mean, Cross, by ' French senti- 
 ment.' Under the solemn subterfuge of this 
 sentiment the vice of France is enormous ; yet, 
 hidden from the world, as I have stated, by deceit, 
 it walks abroad without suspicion in the gilt and 
 imposture of its respectability. I say that there 
 are clear indications that this same French senti- 
 ment is beginning to prevail among the aristocracy 
 of England — this sentiment which is perfectly 
 willing to tolerate vice so long as it is kept 
 absolutely concealed from the public eye, and to 
 tacitly declare, in fact, that vice does not and 
 cannot exist so long as it takes the form of a 
 profoundly secret system — a sentiment which 
 permits a husband to overlook the errors of his 
 wife so long as he is absolutely sure her faux ;pas 
 are known only to himself and her paramour." 
 
 "Go on," says Cross, "we perfectly under- 
 stand. This country 's coming to a pretty pass 
 according to you. Now tell us what you mean by 
 'American sentiment.' " 
 
 "By the 'American sentiment,'" continues 
 Anderson, " which is threatening to fill our gaols 
 with gentlemen criminals, I refer to the naturali- 
 sation among us of that unprincipled speculation 
 which distinguishes the cadaverous scoundrels of 
 Wall Street. I refer to the idleness, the extrava- 
 gance of living, the discontent with moderate 
 gains, the haste to become rich, and the spirit of 
 trading as distinct from the spirit of production, 
 which characterise the people of the United 
 States and threaten to characterise us. That — 
 the growing prevalence of the American sentiment 
 — is the secret of the increase in the number of 
 gentlemen criminals, and the other — the French 
 sentiment — is the secret of the increase of the 
 work of the English Divorce Court." 
 
 " Perhaps," says Sir Stafford, in tones of great 
 sarcasm, "having given us such a beautiful delinea- 
 tion of le sentiment Fran^ais, Anderson, you will 
 
 complete the picture by showing us the mode of 
 operation of the sentiment, and by just giving us 
 an instance of its practical operation — if you can." 
 " I can/" exclaims Anderson, excitedly, with a 
 very fierce accent (fh the word "can" ; "hundreds. 
 This French sentiment is not confined to London. 
 It is quite as common in the country. As to the 
 mode of its operation, le sentiment Fra7t^ais is 
 almost invariably the primary cause of conjugal 
 neglect, which is often the primary cause of elope- 
 ment, which is often the primary cause of divorce- 
 ment. As an instance, I will read you a poem, 
 written only yesterday, founded on facts for which 
 hundreds can vouch, in which the action of the 
 French sentiment is distinctly traceable, and 
 which was followed by all the events in the 
 sequence I have laid down, with the exception 
 that instead of ending in divorcement it terminated 
 in death. However, I will read it." 
 
 f 0st for tijc f 0ijt of itVmt. 
 
 One more unfortunate 
 Woman is fled. 
 Rashly importunate. 
 Low with the dead ! 
 
 Speak of her tenderly, 
 Shroud her with care, 
 Fashioned so slenderly, 
 Proud and so fair ! 
 
 Where is her husband 
 Vowing he took but iicr ? 
 Where is her husband ? 
 Take a last look at her ! 
 Lay her out tenderly. 
 Rash and undutiful. 
 Fashioned so slenderly, 
 Dead and so beautiful ! 
 
 Shroud her not scornfully, 
 Think of her mournfully, 
 
 Sisterly, humanly ; 
 Not of the stains of her, 
 All that remains of her 
 
 Now is pure womanly ! 
 
52 
 
 BENJAMIN D 
 
 
 What is suspected, 
 
 Oh ! the hard heart that then 
 
 
 Breathe not a breath, 
 
 Cursed her return ! 
 
 
 Coldly neglected 
 
 
 
 Even in death ! 
 
 Cursed in her agony. 
 
 
 • 
 
 Spurned from his feet. 
 
 
 Still for all sins of hers 
 
 Cast like a dog to die 
 
 i 
 
 One of Eve's family ; 
 
 Out in the street ! j 
 
 
 Kiss those cold lips of hers 
 
 
 
 Marbling so clammily ! 
 
 Speak of her tenderly, 
 Shroud her with care, 
 
 
 Lost in her blundering. 
 
 Fashioned so slenderly, 
 
 
 All for the love of him, 
 
 Rich and so fair ! 
 
 
 What are they wondering 
 
 
 
 Angels above of him ! 
 
 Oh ! it was pitiful, 
 'Mid a whole city full, 
 
 
 WHiere is her father ? 
 
 Dying from home ! 
 
 
 WHiere is her mother? 
 
 
 
 Where is her sister ? 
 
 Lost in her blundering. 
 
 
 Where is her brother ? 
 
 All for the love of him ; 
 
 
 Where is a nearer one 
 
 What are they wondering 
 
 
 Still, and a dearer one 
 
 Angels above of him ! 
 
 
 Yet, than all other ? 
 
 
 
 Oh ! it was pitiful 
 
 We receive the last words of this poem with 
 
 
 'Mid a whole city full 
 
 impatience, for we are rapidly approaching that 
 
 
 Dying from home ! 
 
 serenitv of mind in which our solicitude for the 
 national morals is lost in the feeling of our un- 
 
 
 Sisterly, brotherly, 
 
 utterable hilarity. 
 
 
 Husbandly, motherly, 
 
 "I rise," says Benjamin, his whole face beaming 
 
 
 Sentiments changed ; 
 
 as if he intends to evaporate in a smile at the 
 
 
 Love by harsh evidence 
 
 earliest possible moment, " to propose a toast. I 
 
 
 Thrown from its eminence, 
 
 ask you to drink with me to the Army, the Navy, 
 
 
 God and his providence 
 
 and the Reser\'e Forces, and I beg to couple with 
 
 
 Seeming estranged. 
 
 this toast the names of Mr. Gathorne Hardy, Mr. 
 Hard Hunt, and Sir Verdant Hardcoat." 
 
 
 Coldly neglected, 
 
 We cheer frantically. 
 
 
 Hoping to spite, 
 
 Benjamin reminds us that our army is the most 
 
 
 Gone unsuspected 
 
 indomitable and splendid of all armies. Six of 
 
 
 Into the night ! 
 
 our oldest and ablest generals are being wheeled 
 
 
 Oh ! it was wild of her 
 
 about in Bath chairs, and will no doubt be able to 
 
 
 Daring to roam. 
 
 give a good account of an}'- enemy that may 
 
 
 Wicked and wild of her 
 
 attempt to land upon our shores. He reminds us 
 
 
 Leaving her home ! 
 
 also of the growing preference of the present Pall 
 
 
 Still for all slips of hers 
 
 Mall regime, and the personal predilections of her 
 
 
 One of Eve's family ; 
 
 Kiss those dead lips of hers 
 
 Majesty the Queen, for third-rate German officers. 
 
 
 which was the cause of a great deal of enthusiasm 
 
 
 Sticking so clammily 1 
 
 among British officers. He intimates that it is 
 the intention of her Majesty's Government, at the 
 
 
 Soon coming back again 
 
 suggestion of all the senior officers, to signalise 
 
 
 Home to her bourne. 
 
 the retirement of his Serene Highness Prince 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 y:^ 
 
 Edward of Saxe-Wcimar b}' a day of great national 
 mourning, and to mark their sense of his irrepar- 
 able loss to the service by ordering arms through- 
 out to be reversed, war or no war, for six months. 
 With regard to the Navy, he regrets to confess 
 •that only three of our oldest and ablest admirals 
 arc at present being wheeled about in Bath 
 chairs. Still, he ventures to think that with even 
 this low percentage of invalided admirals our 
 Navy would be able to uphold the prestige and 
 glor}f of England in the event of an armed conflict. 
 For the information of Sir Wellfried Lawson, 
 whose active propaganda is slowly forcing its way 
 among the seamen of the fleet, he will say that 
 the Navy is, as usual, half seas over. All that 
 now remains for him to add is, that the splendid 
 behaviour and bearing of Prince Leiningen in 
 connection with the " Mistletoe" disaster have led 
 to the rapid promotion of one or two German 
 officers in the British Na\y. 
 
 We cheer more lustil}'' than ever. 
 
 Gathome Hardy and Hard Hunt then relieve 
 their patriotic bosoms of the usual military and 
 naval platitudes, and we cheer again. 
 
 ■m^^ 
 
 We are rapidly approaching a condition of 
 incontrollable joviality. 
 
 We are smoking our cigars and imbibing our 
 wine, with our chairs and ourselves distributed 
 around the table in all sorts of postures and 
 angles. 
 
 Benjamin lolls back in his chair, twirling his 
 cigar in his mouth and looking absolutely scrump- 
 tious. 
 
 " Will ariy one sing us a song?" asks Benjamin, 
 looking towards the O'Gorman, " or make us a 
 speech?" he adds, fixing his gaze upon Sir 
 Verdant Hardcoat. 
 
 Sir Verdant drinks off his wine with a classical 
 turn-up of nose, as if the public speaking of the 
 nineteenth century is a very contemptible form of 
 orator}' indeed, especially to one so distantly 
 related to the Marquis of Lome. 
 
 " Or a recitation api'o^os of the toast ? " asks 
 Benjamin, looking to Sir Wellfried. " Come, Sir 
 Wellfried, keep us alive, alive O." 
 
 " You must take me as I am, Benjamin," says 
 Sir Wellfried. " I will give you with pleasure the 
 only recitation apropos of the army I can call to 
 mind. I think it will do. It is entitled ' The 
 Blue-e3'ed Soldier Boy,' and the burden of it is 
 this :— 
 
 [after hood.] 
 
 I. 
 
 " Oh, Susey, will you live with me, 
 " Beneath a cottage thatch ? 
 
 " Oh, tell mc — I can bear the blow — 
 " If you will strike a match ! 
 
 II. 
 
 " I'm not a lord, but then, you know, 
 " My raiment's not unkempt ; 
 
 " I'm very tall, which proves, of course, 
 " I'm not beneath contempt ! 
 
 III. 
 
 " Then say you'll be my wedded bride, 
 " Whose passion is so strong, 
 
 " You must admit that six feet three 
 "Is bound to love you long ! " 
 
54 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 IV. 
 
 " I hate a man that's six feet three, 
 
 ' ' And I will tell you why ; 
 " It wouldn't suit my nostrils, John, 
 
 " To live with one so high /" 
 
 V. 
 
 " Oh, Susey, don't make game of me ; 
 
 ' ' My eyes are full like ewers — 
 " Or else — now, Sue, I swear I will — 
 
 " I'll leave you for the Moors ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Devotion I have owed so long 
 
 " That not to pay were rude." 
 " Sir, your devotion's not a debt 
 
 " For which you will be Siie'di ! " 
 
 VII. 
 
 " You'll break my heart, I'm sure you will, 
 
 " You wicked, cruel, Sue ; 
 " How can you be so short with me, 
 
 " Who've' been so long with you ! " 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " To tell you, John, the simple truth, 
 
 " I could not wed a catch ; 
 " I even doubt if Lucifer 
 
 " Would make a worser match ! " 
 
 IX. 
 Here Susan sweetly raised her shoe. 
 
 And took John in the fore. 
 For though so tall she thought she ought 
 
 To put on two feet more. 
 
 X. 
 
 " AVhen Cupid threw me at your feet, 
 
 " WTiere still I'd kneeling be, 
 ' ' I little thought how very soon 
 
 " You'd throw those feet at me ! 
 
 XL 
 " Know, Cruel, that you loved mc much 
 
 " I never dared to doubt ; 
 " It's hard of you to take me in 
 
 " And then to kick me out ! " 
 
 XII. 
 " I hate you, John, I hate you, John, 
 
 " And if my tears ooze through ; 
 " Its 'cause I loved a soldier boy, 
 
 " That's sold yer darling Sue ! 
 
 XIII. 
 " A farmer's son, with eyes of blue ; 
 
 " He dwelt by yonder Mill ; 
 " They said he was too proud to hoe, 
 
 " And so he went to»drill ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " And years have come, and years have gone, 
 
 " I've never seen his foot ! 
 " He toolv the pack, but's not turned up, 
 
 " Although I saw him cut ! 
 
 XV. 
 " But ne'er shall any other man 
 
 ' ' Be partner in my joy ; 
 " By him sustained, I'll sink or swim, 
 
 " My own dear soldier buoy /" 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Sue, hear me. Sue ! one single word ; 
 
 ' ' My eyes — what are they ? — blue ! ' ' 
 " Oh, tell me, can this be some hoax, 
 
 " Or is it really you ? " 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 55 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Oh, say you'll love your soldier lad, 
 
 " Be ever true to mc, 
 " Who, having- had a leg shot off, 
 
 " Is now a leg-atee. 
 
 XVIII. 
 " And we will live down by the Mill, 
 
 " Secure from all alarms, 
 " And though I'm not a soldier now, 
 
 " I'm still a man in arms ! " 
 
 We applaud. 
 
 Benjamin again springs to his feet, glass in 
 hand. 
 
 " I beg, gentlemen, to give you the toast of 
 ' Our Mercantile Marine,' coupled with the name 
 of Mr. Slimsoul." 
 
 We cheer determinedly. 
 
 Benjamin reminds us that the commerce of this 
 country is in a more prosperous and happier con- 
 dition than ever. It must be a source of immense 
 gratification to the merchants of England to know 
 that since the opening of the Suez Canal there 
 has been a marked and continuous diversion of 
 Eastern trade from Great Britain as a centre. 
 The exports from Egypt to England exhibit, it is 
 a pleasure to note, an almost continuous decline. 
 A large portion of British trade with the East has 
 been diverted in consequence of the Suez Canal to 
 the ports of France, and to countries having 
 
 direct access to the Mediterranean. When the 
 commerce of the East was carried round by the 
 Cape it w-as not only easier, but actually cheaper 
 and better, for foreign countries in Europe to 
 draw their supplies from London and Liverpool as 
 central depots of Asiatic produce than to import 
 direct for themselves. But the opening of the 
 Suez Canal has met this state of things with a 
 complete revolution. England is no longer al- 
 lowed to be the depot of Eastern commerce and 
 the centre of its distribution. The large ports of 
 the Mediterranean and Southern Europe have 
 been enabled to import direct for themselves. 
 Englishmen will be proud to learn that the ware- 
 houses of London and Liverpool have ceased to 
 store the immense quantity of produce they stored 
 before the opening of the Suez route, and that if 
 that canal were choked up with sand to-morrow- 
 there is not a shipowner in England who would 
 shed a tear or shoulder a spade. 
 
 Mr. Slimsoul responds. He has nothing to add 
 to what has already been said by Benjamin, except 
 to remark that, as an intimate friend of many 
 merchants trading through the Red Sea, he can 
 confirm his statements about the Suez Canal. 
 His views are well known to all of us, but if we do 
 not mind, he would like to recite to us a few verses 
 powerfully illustrative of the past condition of our 
 mercantile marine. 
 
 We applaud, and Slimsoul, with a considerable 
 display of pathos, recites the following poem : — 
 
 '^\n IJahiT-l^okn (Dl\3iur. 
 I. 
 
 Said a hoky-poky owner, as he walked along the 
 
 cliff, 
 " I could make a little fortune if I had a little 
 
 skiff;" 
 So he spied a green-eyed broker, and he said to 
 
 him, " My man, 
 " I must have a little vessel for to carry out a plan. 
 " Not an A i Blackwall liner, nor a frigate, so to 
 
 speak, 
 " Nora bran new ocean clipper that has never 
 
 sprung a leak ; 
 " But a pretty little vessel " — and he eyed him 
 
 with his eye. 
 And that broker knew exactly of the sort of ship 
 
 to buy ! 
 
56 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 ^2^0^ i^ 
 
 
 ® 
 
 II. 
 
 Said that hoky-poky owner, as he drew a deeper 
 
 whiff, 
 " I must have a little captain for to sail my little 
 
 skiff!" 
 And within that very moment in the region of his 
 
 scan, 
 Came a most profoundly simple and unweather- 
 
 beaten man ; 
 And that wily owner asked him, whilst he gave 
 
 his hands a rub. 
 If he'd take a glass of liquor in a close-adjoining 
 
 " pub ; " 
 And that simple man consented, for he'd yet to 
 
 learn the rule 
 That a stranger treats another when he's hunting 
 
 for a fool ! 
 
 III. 
 Said that hoky-poky owner, " What's your figure? 
 
 Pretty stiff ? 
 " For I want a little captain for to sail my little 
 
 skiff." 
 " But I'm not a little captain ! " said his unsus- 
 pecting tool, 
 "And the currents of the ocean are a j^et un- 
 
 fathomed rule. 
 " And I never touched a rudder, and I know not 
 
 west from east, 
 " And my knowledge of the compass is as Greek 
 
 unto a beast ! " 
 Said that hoky-poky owner, with a laugh upon 
 
 his lip, 
 " Then you're just the very fellow for to sail my 
 
 little ship ! " 
 
 IV. 
 Then that hoky-poky owner took his captain mild 
 
 and meek. 
 And he pointed out a vessel that was lying in the 
 
 creek, 
 And he said the picturesqueness of that vessel to 
 
 the sight 
 Would be very much diminished if her timbers 
 
 were but tight. 
 " You will take her very gently, and where ocean's 
 
 ceased to roll 
 ' ' You will load her with a cargo of the splinters 
 
 of the pole ! 
 " But should anj^hing befall her, though we're 
 
 sorry for the crew, 
 " There's a life-belt in the cabin, and a Boyton 
 
 dress for you ! " 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 57 
 
 
 
 
 o ^-- C>i' -"^ss 
 
 Then that simple-minded captain was instructed 
 
 what to do, 
 And he siyned the vessel's papers, and he settled 
 
 with a crew. 
 And he hove his bower anchor, and he set his 
 
 mizcn sail. 
 With a most tremendous horror of an equinoctial 
 
 g-alc. 
 And his heart grew sick in parting- from his weep- 
 ing Mary Ann, 
 As he steered directly northward with his back 
 
 unto the sun. 
 And that hoky-poky owner smiled a grim and 
 
 sordid smile 
 As he saw his vessel vanish round a corner of the 
 
 isle ! 
 
 VI . 
 Then that hoky-poky owner mused him ever on 
 
 the beach 
 On the sum of the insurance that was now within 
 
 his reach ; 
 And he spent his time in dreaming of the figures 
 
 of his cheque, 
 And in making close inspection into every bit of 
 
 wreck. 
 Till some long six months had vanished and the 
 
 autumn neared its close, 
 When that hoky-poky owner was awoke from his 
 
 repose 
 By his pretty little vessel, in the early morning 
 
 grey, 
 Coming ver}^ gently gliding through the shipping 
 
 in the bay ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then that hoky-poky owner spat upon his hands 
 and swore. 
 
 And he waited for that captain to appear upon 
 the shore, 
 
 And he seized him in his fury by the collar of liis 
 coat, 
 
 And he twined his fingers firmly round the wind- 
 pipe in his throat. 
 
 And lu: beat him on the optics in a fierce deter- 
 mined way 
 
 'Till he saw a most astounding pyrotechnical 
 display ; 
 
 And he threw him on the pavement, and he bat- 
 tered down his head, 
 
 And he jumped upon his stomach and he left him 
 there for dead ! 
 
58 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 VIII. 
 Then that hoky-poky owner, with a fierce derisive 
 
 • yell, 
 
 Fled the murder he'd committed with the speed 
 
 of a gazelle ; 
 And when nicely he'd levanted, and his victim 
 
 helpless lay. 
 Came some four-and-twenty policemen in a moat 
 
 determined way ; 
 And they swore they'd catch that owner, and they'd 
 
 try him for this deed, 
 And they'd hang him on the gallows — which you'll 
 
 see they hadn't need ; 
 And they marched unto his lodgings with a quite 
 
 heroic air. 
 Just in time to find their victim hung suspended 
 
 from the stair ! 
 
 We are becoming jovial more and more. 
 
 " I should like to hear one of you fellows make 
 a speech," says Benjamin, coaxingly, fixing his 
 eyes on Sir Verdant. " Come, Verdy, old man, a 
 speech." 
 
 "Speech, Ben," says Sir Verdant, with a 
 classical sneer. "Speech! I tell you, Benjamin, 
 the art of public speaking has entirely died out. 
 In fact — and you know what my facts are — I 
 can't mention more than three persons who ever 
 made a clever speech in their lives." 
 
 *' And," asks Hardy, irreverently parodying his 
 catechism, " which be they ?" 
 
 "The overwhelming sense of modesty," says 
 Sir Verdant, "for which I am so remarkable, alone 
 
 restrains me from saying that I'm one. The other 
 two are dead." 
 
 " Yes," says Lob, throwing his arms round the 
 decanter in a condition of hopeless capitulation to 
 
 the effect of the '34, "he says the other two is 
 dead — dead. Ah ! Creet Sweature, he says the 
 others is dead ! " 
 
 "Lob," expostulates William, "Come, come, 
 old man, don't be a disgraceful young ass ! " 
 
 " You go to Bath, William," retorts Lob, with 
 considerable more emphasis than politeness, at 
 the same time fixing his eyes vacantly on the 
 decanter, " I shall talk if I like, Creet Sweature — 
 tell me. Won't you be mine ? Won't you be 
 your Bobby, Lobby, Wobby's ? " 
 
 " Lob," laughs Benjamin, gently extracting the 
 decanter from his impassioned embraces, "don't 
 be a fool, there's a dear boy." 
 
 " Fo-ol," cries Lob, looking up in boosy amaze- 
 ment, " Fo-ol! Benj'min^/zz'c^ That ish too much. 
 Thish ish an inshult. Fo-ol! (hie) I shall shing if 
 I like. I shay I shall ; and will shing if I like. 
 0-o-o-oh ! 
 
 " Your robe is most awfully classic, 
 
 You dear little Tootle-tum-tay ; 
 Like the wine that the poets call Massic — 
 
 But really I'd better not say ; 
 For this is an age of excesses, 
 
 (Lord Chamberlain look to your rights), 
 Since ballets have taken to dresses. 
 
 The ladies have taken to tights! " 
 
JflS LITTLE DLXXER. 
 
 S9 
 
 ■' Restrain him, somebody ! " cries Sir W'ellfried, 
 but as Lob at this instant utterly collapses, with 
 his face in his dessert plate, the sugg-ested re- 
 straint is rendered unnecessary. 
 
 " I rise," says Benjamin, planting his foot upon 
 a chair, "for the purpose of proposing- another 
 loast. I ask you this time, g"entlemen, to drink a 
 Ivumper to the foreign nations of the world, and I 
 beg to couple with this toast the name of Dord 
 Lerby." 
 
 We clap our hands to as full an extent as we 
 a;ie permitted by the fumes of our '34, and stamp 
 (Hir little feet. 
 
 Dord Lerby, in response, begs to remind us of 
 the eminently pacific character of all the nations 
 uf the world, and the total absence of dangerous 
 diplomatic gunpowder, and of all elements of war- 
 like explosions and conflagrations. England, he 
 says, is, as we all know, irrevocably determined 
 that Russian batteries shall never command the 
 Hellespont. The politician must be cunning 
 r indeed who can construe this into the possibility of 
 1 war. Russia, on her part, faithful to the tradi- 
 i lions of Czar Nicholas and Catherine L, holds with 
 . qual stubbornness her determination to one day 
 
 possess Constantinople and the whole command 
 of the Golden Horn. This is one of the most 
 precious of all the promises of peace in the future, 
 if we look further abroad the same pacific inten- 
 tions are everywhere observable. France — proud, 
 cxquisitively sensitive, volatile France — lies in 
 wait for the advent of a suitable moment to carry 
 into effect the grim resolve which slumbers in her 
 heart's core of revenge upon Germany, and the 
 redemption once for all by French blood of her 
 lost provinces of Alsace and Lorraine. Germany, 
 the supreme idea of whose statesmen is still absolute 
 hegemony, is patiently watching the flow of events 
 for an opportunity to complete German unity by 
 the incorporation of the German provinces of 
 Cislcitha. Ihe Sclavic populations of Hungary 
 contemplate the disruption of the Austro-Hun- 
 garian Empire by the erection south of the Danube 
 of a new grand South Sclavonic ICmpire. The 
 Poles in Silesia and Galicia are only awaiting for 
 the Austro- Hungarian government to become 
 entangled in foreign complications to rise in 
 
6o 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 revolution, and strike a blow for a new and inde- 
 pendent Polish king-dom. Italy, whose unity, like 
 that of Germany, is far from being complete, is 
 anxiously on the look-out for opportunities and 
 alliances to effect a further extension of territor}' 
 by the annexation of the Italian-speaking provinces 
 of Austria. Spain is at present placidly reposing 
 on the summit of a slumbering volcano of In- 
 transigente Radicalism, which may at any instant 
 burst forth in awful irruption. Russia, our 
 hereditary foe in Asia, still continues her victorious 
 march over the corpses of slaughtered nomads to 
 the confines of Afghanistan, projecting gigantic 
 railways into the core of Central Asia, and slowly 
 but certainly bringing her Empire in the East into 
 conflict with ours. These relationships of the 
 nations of the world are, Dord Lerby thinks, 
 replete with promises of peace that cannot but be 
 satisfactory to Mr. Richard and his friends, and 
 give politicians of all shades the strongest grounds 
 for believing in the speedy advent of the inter- 
 national millenium. Dord Lerby would like, before 
 he sits down, to read us "The Eg}'ptian Alphabet," 
 composed and thrust into his hand by Mr. Stephen 
 Cave and Mr. Goschen. 
 
 Cb €ni]|jfnm §.Ipbabct. 
 
 A was an Agent who wanted a loan ; 
 
 B was the Brokers who made it all known ; 
 
 C was the Credit that none understood ; 
 
 D was the Duffers who thought it was good ; 
 
 E stands for Egypt which wanted the " tin :" 
 
 F for the Fools who subscribed it all in ; 
 
 G was the Goods upon which they might claim ; 
 
 H was the Humbug surrounding the same ; 
 
 I the Investors who hoped to grow fat ; 
 
 J was the Jews who knew better than that ; 
 
 K was the Khedive to whom it was lent ; 
 
 L was the Ladies on whom it was spent ; 
 
 M was the Mission that England sent out ; 
 
 N was the Nothing the mission found out ; 
 
 O was the Offer by which it was met ; 
 
 P was the Pockets affected by it ; 
 
 Q was the Queries the cunning csnceived ; 
 
 R the Replies that they never believed ; 
 
 S was the Scheme of a learned old gent ; 
 
 T was the Time that it took to invent ; 
 
 U was the Usurers who feared to be bled ; 
 
 V is the Views that they hold on that head : 
 W 's the Way they're enforcing their claim ; 
 X the Xpenses attending the same ; 
 
 Y is the Years that the holders must wait ; 
 Z is the Zanies who thinks it's all risrht '. 
 
 \\'e applaud boosil)-. 
 
 I have been entrusted with a very delicate duty, 
 and I here rise to perform it. "Gentlemen," I 
 say, " I beg to propose a toast. I call upon you 
 to drink a bumper to the trades and professions 
 represented at this festive board to-night. I ask 
 you to drink with me to our two eminent Cabinet- 
 makers, Benjamin and Sweet William ; to the 
 equally eminent marine store dealer, Mr. Hard 
 Hunt ; and to the still more eminent stock and 
 share broker, Dord Lerby. With this toast I beg 
 to be permitted to couple the name of Benjamin. 
 (Benjamin subtends.) Gentlemen, I have been 
 requested, on behalf of a large body of subscribers, 
 to offer Benjamin, as a slight proof of their 
 admiration of his invariable courtesy and truthful- 
 ness, a full-length portrait of the Earl of Beacons- 
 field. (.V curtain is adroitly drawn back by the 
 O'Gorman, and the following portrait stands 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 6i 
 
 revealed, amidst tremendous chceriny.) This 
 pirtrait, g-entlemen," I g'o on to say, throwing 
 myself into an approved oratorical attitude, " is a 
 iitting climax to a long and laborious life of 
 ambition in the national senate, and a fitting 
 reward of the author of all the glorious achieve- 
 ments of the last session of Parliament. (Cheers.) 
 Gentleraen, it was the good fortune of the last 
 session to bear to the country, under the paternity 
 of Benjamin, a crop — a beautiful crop, I may say 
 — of unrjpcned and unmaturable fruit that has no 
 parallel in the annals of l\-irHamentary harvests. 
 (Cheers.) The past session has boon .a session of 
 contemplated reforms. (Cries of " It has," &:c.) 
 Among other things, a great revolution in the 
 administration of the prisons of the country was 
 projected, neglected, and forgotten. Subsequently, 
 two magnificent measures of I'niversity reform 
 were adroitly elaborated, and then quite as 
 adroitly exposed to the frosts of neglect and the 
 certain influence of premature blight. Bankruptcy 
 reform, marched into the House with such a tre- 
 mendous blast from the Ministerial clarion, bade 
 fair to become an accomplished fact, but, like 
 many of its peers, found an insuperable obstacle 
 in a second reading. Conferment of tenant-right 
 on Scotch farmers, awaited with so much anxiety 
 on the other side of the Tweed, and Scotch poor- 
 law amendment, experienced the luxur}- of being 
 still-born. The disgraceful stain upon the fair 
 fame of the Government of the Slave Circular was 
 cunningly removed by the application of a sort of 
 Parliamentar)' benzoline called a Royal Commis- 
 sion. Then Benjamin, by dint of a totally un-\ 
 exampled sacrifice of private Bills, of the rights of 
 private members, and of the legislative conscience, 
 was mainly instrumental in carrying a Merchant 
 Shipping Bill which possesses the peculiar power of 
 repealing several of its own provisions. (Cheers.) 
 Then, again, Benjamin, gentlemen, was at the 
 bottom of a subtle stroke of foreign and financial 
 policy by which this country has bought the Suez 
 Canal Shares for twenty times their real value. 
 I'nder the a^gis of the same clever Benjamin, Mr. 
 Cave was sent to Egypt, and man)- favoured 
 recipients of Government secrets made fortunes 
 on the Stock Exchange. (Cheers and laughter.) 
 Above and beyond all this, the title of ker Majesty 
 the Queen has been 'writjarge.' The Queen is 
 
 now an Empress, and, as Benjamin predicted at I 
 
 the time, the Russians have precipitately retreated 
 to Moscow from the banks of the Amoo Dana. 
 Finally, this session of glorious achievements 
 had its moribund movements made lively by the 
 carrying by the exercise of pure force majeur of 
 an Education Bill which endows the country with 
 the beautiful anomaly of handing over Imperial 
 funds to voluntary schools unsupported by local 
 rates. This crop of unmatured and iramaturable 
 fruit, gentlemen, I say, and an additional penny 
 on the income-tax, are the nett results of the past 
 unparalleled session of Parliament. (Deafening 
 cheers.) Benjamin, in the name of my own per- 
 sonal admiration, in the name of the esteem of the 
 millions of subscribers whose names are appended 
 hereto, in the name of an amazed and grateful 
 country, I beg to offer thee a full-length portrait 
 of the Earl of Beaconsfield." (Loud and pro- 
 longed cheers, stamping of feet, and rending of 
 scalps.) 
 
 Benjamin, taking his cigar out of his mouth, 
 and piquantly flirting with his ;pi?tce-7tez, rises to 
 respond. He first smiles lusciously upon me, and 
 then gracefully subtends to all of us at an angle 
 of 4S, adding greatly to our intense admiration of 
 the whole proceeding. Benjamin then carefully 
 adjusts the beautiful white rose-bud in his button- 
 hole, and after delicately waving his hand into 
 space to restore silence, proceeds as under — 
 
 " Unexpected honour, &c., &c., 
 
 " Words fail, cS:c., (Jtc, 
 
 " Proudest moment, &c., &c., 
 
 " As long as I five I shall cherish, &c., Sec. 
 
 " It isn't the intrinsic value, &c., <S:c., 
 
 " Heir-loom in my family, &c., &:c., 
 
 " It will be an incentive, Szc, 
 
 " Children's children, &c., &c., tSrc. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he then proceeds, " I thank you 
 for your handsome gift. With respect to the very 
 flatterinf terms in which I have been spoken of 
 by my friend— may I say my dear and beloved 
 friend ? — ' ' 
 
 I say he may. 
 
 "My dear and beloved friend, Thunder and 
 Li"-htning, I am too much overwhelmed by 
 gratitude to do more than quote from the poet a 
 few lines which, you will easily perceive, are 
 singularly appropriate to myself. 
 
62 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 You've heard the name of Paris, and you've read 
 
 the siege of Troy, 
 And your cheeks have burned to crimson at the 
 
 doings of that boy ; 
 Though he stole a monarch's daughter and he 
 
 gloried in her shame, 
 Do you think he'd got the courage for to steal a 
 
 monarch's name ? 
 
 II. 
 
 You have heard of Torricelli and the wonders. that 
 
 he wrought 
 By exhaustion of a tubing with its ending in a 
 
 moat ; 
 Do you think that Torricelli with his vast abili/tr. 
 Could have made a pump whose suction would 
 
 have drawn the truth from me ? 
 
 III. 
 
 Then the philosophic Plato — such the wisdom 
 
 that he taught 
 That the world still stands astounded at the subtle 
 
 things he thought ; 
 Do you think the learned Plato, full of logic to 
 
 the brim, 
 Could have proved he said the opposite attributed 
 
 to him ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 You have heard of Doctor Johnson and his man- 
 ners rude and grim, 
 
 How he snubbed the simple people that addressed 
 themselves to him ; 
 
 Do you think that Doctor Johnson, rude and 
 brutal though he be. 
 
 Could come up to half the rudeness that's in- 
 herently in me ? 
 
 V. 
 
 But I really beg your pardon if I've said or done 
 
 amiss. 
 And I pray you drown its record in a bumper deep 
 
 as this ; 
 For I vow unto this party by my aged locks and 
 
 curl, 
 I will try and mend my manners now I've got to 
 
 be an Earl ! " 
 
 Benjamin resumes his seat amidst a perfect 
 furore of stamping and clappin^ 
 
 We drink a deep and strong umper to the 
 immediate reformation of Benjamin's manners, 
 and the return of his ancient politeness. 
 
 By this time the atmosphere has become of a 
 Cimmerian density from the smoke from our 
 Havanas. 
 
 Lob Rowc, with his elbows in his dessert plate, 
 sits blandly smiling into space. 
 
 Sweet William is observed at this juncture, after 
 several and sundry efforts, to do justice to his 
 literary reputation by lighting his cigar with his 
 "Vatican Decrees." 
 
 ■'v^ 
 
 l^W 
 
 
 Benjamin, brimful of the best of good humours, 
 and smiling his olive-oiliest upon everybod}^ sits 
 smoking his cigar only vaguely conscious of the 
 g^eneral situation. 
 
 He tries to galvanise us into a semblance of 
 hilarity by telling us the plot of his forthcoming 
 new novel, and by asking us for suggestions for a 
 title. 
 
 But we do not become hilarious. 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 6-, 
 
 Lob Ro%ve, apparently beginniKg- to appreciate 
 the situation through the dim indistinctness of 
 things generally, suggests, " Down in the Mouth," 
 by the author of " Up in the Tooth." 
 
 Sir Wellfried, more spontaneous than usual, 
 suggests, "Nothing for Him," b}' the author of 
 "All for Her." 
 
 Sweet William suggests, as more appropriate to 
 the times, " Cut off his Coupons," by the author 
 of " Sue his Canal Shares." 
 
 Dord Lerby scowls upon William with great 
 fury for suggesting a title so personal, and Ben- 
 jamin finds it necessar}'' to change the topic of 
 
 conversation. 
 
 " A song, someone," cries Benjamin. " Come, 
 Xcwdegate — you hilarious old investigator of nun- 
 neries — pipe up ! " 
 
 Mr. Newdegate replies that having recently 
 been on an expedition of inquiry into the conven- 
 tual and monastic institutions of America, he does 
 not mind singing a negro ministrel ballad which, 
 truth compels him to say, was softly warbled in 
 his ears one evening as he reposed in the tender 
 embraces of a coloured nun. 
 
 Sir Wellfried remarks that a man who would 
 allow himself to fall into the embraces of a nun 
 was a nun-entity, but this is poor. 
 
 On the restoration of a perfectly hushed silence, 
 INIr. Newdegate sings us, with much feeling, the 
 following pathetic ballad : — 
 
 ^bc t.aldib of MoariT §.iuia. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ah, yes, I 'members what you say. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 1 often tinks about dat day, 
 
 Hoary Anna, 
 Which robbed me of a lubbin' wife 
 An' changed de current ob my life, 
 
 Hoary Anna, 
 An' cut me up wuss den a knife, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 
 H. 
 You used to lub me 'ears ago, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Dat's when I 'gun to dig an' hoe, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Dem eyes wuz 'tractive speres to men 
 You zc'iiz a lubly nigger den, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 I wish dem times wuz here agen. 
 Hoar}' Anna. 
 
 HI. 
 We used to meet us in de dusk, 
 
 Hoarj' Anna, 
 When Alassa slep' upon his busk, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Dat mouf wuz roses ob de glen ; 
 Lord bless dose 'ours dis nigger spen' 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 I wish dem cheeks wuz dat agen, 
 Hoar}' Anna. 
 
 IV. 
 I stoled out by de star's pale light. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 De boss wuz fast asleep dat night. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 I clustered top de water tub. 
 An' whispered o'er de wall, my lub, 
 
 Hoar}' Anna, 
 With nuffin' but de stars above. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 
64 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 V. 
 Dis heart kep' tickin' loud and fast, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Dis nigger wuz in lub at last, 
 
 Hoary Anna, 
 Dis soul WTiz bustin' wid my bliss, 
 You must hev' seed dem sighs I guess. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Dat Cupid's darts warn't made to miss. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 
 VI . 
 I 'voked dem stars den 'vokcd de Lord, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 I ope'd dese lips to say de word. 
 
 Hoary Anna ; 
 When — glanced dat cussed lid aside, 
 An' dropped your lubbin' Sam inside, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Your Sam what woo'd 5'ou for his bride. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 
 VII. 
 You sclutched me by dis curly pate, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Dem curls wuz small, dat strengf wuz great, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Dis wool most nobly stood de strain, 
 I scrawled dat cussed tub agen. 
 
 Hoary Anna 
 Dat duckin' had not cured de pain, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Dat lid was fixed what warn't secupe. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Dat dampin' made me lub you more, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 It could not squench de fire wid'in, 
 It only bust it out agen, 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 I'd 'gun dat race an' meant to win ! 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 
 IX. 
 
 You blushed at what I goed to do, 
 
 Hoaiy Anna. 
 Perked on dat lid I knelt anew. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 De boss jest come a creepin sly. 
 Then dropped your Sam one in de eye. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 Dat cussed lid — an' den — good bye ! 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 
 X. 
 
 I tried to scramble up de top. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 De boss he said, " I guess you'll stop," 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 
HIS LirrLE DINNER. 
 
 65 
 
 He bobbed me down den bobbed agen, 
 Jes' let me out as life wuz spen'. 
 
 Hoary Anna. 
 You -iUitz a lubly nigger den ! 
 Hoary Anna. 
 
 More and more the minds of us are visibly set- 
 ting in the direction of a glorious and blessed 
 obscurity. 
 
 Benjamin, at spasmodic intervals, appears to 
 recover his volatility. 
 
 " More wine ! Thunder and Lightning ? " 
 
 I help myself to a substantial reminder of that 
 dearest of all dear widows. Veuve Clicquot. 
 
 "Another Havana ? " 
 
 I take another Havana. 
 
 " Gentlemen," cries a voice from the lower end 
 of the table, " I've got an idea ! " 
 
 "Nonsense!" cry several voices; "I don't 
 believe it." "Where is it.'" "Let's have a 
 look at it !" and much laughter. 
 
 "But I have," insists the Member for Peter- 
 borough. " I have," repeats^Whalley. " It's a 
 conundrum." 
 
 "A conundrum," says Sir Verdant, gruffly, 
 attempting to be sarcastic. " Of course it's a 
 conundrum. Who ever heard you say anything 
 that wasn't a conundrum ? ' * 
 
 We smile sicklily. 
 
 "Why— Hard Hunt, Forecit, William, and Sir 
 Verdant," proceeds this irrepressible Papistical 
 
 inconvcniencer, " why did her Majesty the Queen 
 confer a peerage upon Benjamin ? I^ Also, I want 
 to know under what treaty the same was con- 
 ferred? " 
 
 The legislative mind cogitates — at least that 
 portion of it which is in a condition tojcogitate. 
 
 The legislative mind cogitates again. 
 
 " Whalley," cries Sir Wellfried, "I have it! 
 Ihe Queen conferred a title upon Benjamin 
 because she thought Uenjam in Z>/'v-r^zc// deserve 
 it." 
 
 We put our hands on our stomachs, 
 
 "No, Lawson," says Whalley, exultingly. 
 " Very good ; but nothing like it. Try again." 
 
 We try again. 
 
 We give it up. 
 
 " It is obvious," says the joyous Whalley, 
 "that the Queen conferred a peerage upon Ben- 
 jamin because he was peerless ! " 
 
 We groan audibly. 
 
 " Now I want to know," persists this'miserable 
 hanger-on of Joe Miller, " under what treaty 
 the peerage upon Benjamin was conferred ?" 
 
 We decline to guess anything more about it, 
 and give it up at once. 
 
 " The answer," replies Whalley, " is as obvious 
 as the other (which it may easily be, and not be 
 obvious at all). The treaty under which the Queen 
 conferred the peerage upon Benjamin was the 
 Reciprocity Treaty. (Oh!) The Qtiid pro Quo 
 Treaty. (Oh !) The I'll-make-you-an-Empress- 
 if-you'11-make-me-an-Earl Treaty." (Oh!) 
 
 " And that, Whalley, says Sir Verdant, turning 
 very red in the face, "you have the audacity to 
 call a conundrum .- " 
 
 " I have," says Whalley. " What do you call 
 
 it?" 
 
 *^ Well, if you must know my opinion," says Sir 
 Verdant, " 1 call it a confounded piece of im- 
 pertinence ! " 
 
 " Tush, Verdy !" says Sweet William. 
 
 " Fie, fie ! " says Benjamin. 
 
 " I do, Ben," cries Sir Verdant, hotly. " I'm 
 distantly related to the Marquis of Lome, and 
 through him to the rest of the Royal Family, and 
 if Whalley thinks I'm going to sit tamely down 
 here while my illustrious relatives are being openly 
 pelted with the mud of his coarse ribaldry, he is 
 
C6 
 
 BENJAMIN D- 
 
 grossly mistaken. Benjamin, if I have not 
 already said so, I will say so now — ^I'm distantly 
 — very — related to the Marquis of Lome, and with 
 the authority which that distant relationshiiT 
 confers upon me, I tell you, Whallcy, that the 
 man who would propound such a conundrum as 
 yours is a cad and a coward ! " 
 
 " Verdy," retorts Whalley, "you goto Jericho! " 
 
 "I'll Jericho }'Ou in two minutes!" cries Sir 
 Verdant, in a towering passion, turning up his 
 sleeves. 
 
 " Tush, tush, Verd}%" says Sweet William. 
 
 " Fie, fie ! " says Benjamin. 
 
 "You'd better not," retorts Whalle}-, "or by 
 the Conventual and Monastic Institutions Bill 
 I'll " 
 
 " No, you won't, Whalley," says Sweet "\Mlliam. 
 " Be quiet ! " • 
 
 "No, no, Ycrd}-," says Benjamin. "Calm 
 yourself." 
 
 "Tell the wounded tiger to calm himself!" 
 
 says Sir Verdant, striking an attitude. " No, 
 Benjamin, no. My dander's up ! " 
 
 But at this instant the bell rings, and tlie 
 threatened'hostilities are happily averted by the 
 entrance of Plush. 
 
 At the first glimjise of Plush the belligerents sit 
 down. 
 
 It is a curious fact that a gentleman who does 
 not hesitate to forfeit the good opinion of his peers 
 will brave death itself rather than lower himself in 
 the good opinion of the waiter. 
 
 Plush departs, and Benjamin, fearing the re- 
 newal of the scene, calls upon Mr. Marmalade 
 Yenkins for a song. 
 
 Mr. Marmalade Yenkins, after roundly pro- 
 testing that he does not know a song, and that he 
 never sung one in his life, obliges us by singing 
 the following : — 
 
 Don J]ntr JnfaiiliiJCLr dMb Cbinq:. 
 I. 
 
 You'll take me and make me your pet 
 
 In a villa on bank of the Thames, 
 You'll doat on me, darling, and let 
 
 Me escort you to Baden and Ems ! 
 You will kiss me and love me b}- night, 
 
 In winter and summer and spring, 
 You'll make me so happy and bright, 
 
 You dear invalided old thing ! 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 67 
 
 II. 
 
 You'll tfive me a carria,<j;-e to ride, 
 
 With footmen so powdered and tall. 
 And you'll doatingly sit by my side — 
 
 Your dear little queen of it all ! 
 You'll love me and kiss me all day. 
 
 And hang on my lip when I sing. 
 It's naug-hty — 3-ou Dtiisii' f, I say. 
 
 You dear invalided old thing ! 
 
 III. 
 
 You'll take me to parties and balls, 
 
 And crushes and routs when you can ; 
 You'll deck me in laces and falls, 
 
 You scrumptiously gouty old man ! 
 You'll kiss me and love me anew. 
 
 In summer and winter and spring; 
 It is wicked — be quiet, now do. 
 
 You dear invalided old thing ! 
 
 The mental energy of all of us visibly wanes 
 more and more under the influence of -Mousseux 
 and the ever-to-be-praised-and-be-lauded Veuve 
 Clicquot. 
 
 "Come, Cross, you little Bacchus," cries the 
 still spasmodically volatile Benjamin, " recite us 
 that little poem you wrote about a cabbage." 
 
 "Poem!" says Cross, in mimic amazement. 
 " Poem Benjamin ! Cabbage ! " 
 
 " Yes," says Benjamin, with a sly wink ; "you 
 know what I mean, ch, Cross? You know what I 
 refer to, though you pretend you don't, you sly 
 little spectacled old dog ! " 
 
 Whereupon Cross, in his blandest tones, recites 
 
 us his little poem (which we are subsequently 
 informed is founded upon fact), as follows : — ■ 
 
 (Dt;: to n CabLiisc. 
 
 Links Writtkx ox the suggestive present 
 
 OF .\ CaHHAGE made to yours HUMIUA' HV 
 TWO YOUNG LADIES, AXXO DOMIXI, 1876. 
 
 O, some may love the lofty palm 
 
 That waves along a foreign strand, 
 And some prefer the soothing balm 
 
 Of " Ole V'irginny's" dusky land ; 
 The sweetest thing that blooms for me 
 
 In garden bower or arid dene, 
 Is — emblem of simplicity — 
 
 The ever-verdant cabbage green ! 
 
 O luscious cabbage, rich and rare. 
 
 Would gender mine were feminine 
 That I might wear thee in mine hair 
 
 And garlands round my forehead twine ! 
 O thou should'st be the nice bouquet 
 
 By honied lover pressed between 
 Mine hands upon my wedding day. 
 
 Thou ever-verdant cabbage green ! 
 
 But as I am denied this lot 
 
 By reasons which I can't control. 
 Surrounded by forget-me-not 
 
 I'll wear thee in my button-hole ! 
 And when admiring maids shall see 
 
 Thy beauty but with envious e'en, 
 Thou'lt mirror their simplicity, 
 
 Thou ever-verdant cabbage green ! 
 
 But this is too much. 
 
 One or two of Benjamin's guests are now no 
 longer aware of the existence of themselves or 
 each other. This poem of Cross's has done its 
 deadly and somnolent work. O, awe-stricken 
 constituencies, if ye could only see your legislators 
 now ! 
 
 " Icano'er Power," cries Benjamin, " the Grat- 
 tan of the present Parliament and Hibernia".-. 
 future king, sing us a song." 
 
 " The only one I know," replies Icano'er Power, 
 " is the one I've sung every night in the House oT 
 Commons since last Febniary, and I don't intend 
 to sing it here to-night for anybody. That's th*' 
 true Irish tip. The ' Wrongs of Ould Oireland ' 
 was the name of the song last session, but this 
 ne.xt session I mean to re-christen the song, and 
 to call it the ' Rights of Ould Oireland.'" 
 
 "Wrongs of old Ireland," says Benjamin, 
 rather tartly, " or rights of old Ireland, it is a song 
 we can very well dispense with both here and iu 
 the House of Commons." 
 
 We applaud. 
 
 "Thunder and Lightning," he says, turning 
 round upon me with a smile of e.xquisitive sweet- 
 ness, " willow/ oblige us with a song ? " 
 
 " Benjamin," I reply, " I will oblige you with 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 anything. I am, as you, perhaps, don't know, 
 distantly related to the Marquis of — no, — I beg 
 pardon — distantly related to a prima donna. Her 
 illegitimate child married a cousin of my aunt's 
 niece's great-grandmother. You will accordingly 
 see, Benjamin, that I am musical by descent, and 
 
 that my distant relationship to the prima donna 
 aforesaid constitutes me, as Sir Verdant would say, 
 the champion of the French and Italian stage. 
 Benjamin, I know but one song, but that song I 
 will oblige you with with pleasure. 
 I warble as follows : — 
 
 gcnutiful |l0. 
 
 I. 
 
 Flo, beautiful Flo, 
 
 Filling men's hearts with a passionate glow 
 
 Pride of the river arid pride of the lawn, 
 Queen of the dance till the break of the dawn. 
 
 Dancing— fiirting^ — laughing at me ; 
 Beautiful Flo, I could die for thee ! 
 Glancing, dancing, trilling a song. 
 Beautiful Flo, thou cans't do no wrong ! 
 Brighter than stars are in Heaven above. 
 Pure as an angel, gentle as love ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Flo, Flo, beautiful Flo, 
 
 Dragging my heart out wherever you go ! 
 
 Scorning my love for a maddening fun. 
 
 Hotter than sunshine yet colder than moon ! 
 Racing — chasing — hurraing by, 
 
 A smile on thy lip and disdain in thy eye. 
 Sweet little archer, oh, heed not the smart. 
 Send that swift arrow, love, straight to my heart. 
 Quenching for ever its passionate glow, 
 Cruel, disdainful, but beautiful Flo ! 
 
 I observe, in resuming my seat, that the atti- 
 tude of most of us has become by this time more 
 striking than classic. 
 
 The grand old dining hall wears the aspect of 
 a finished banquet, and Benjamin's guests that ot 
 finished gentlemen. 
 
 Some of us are talking in our sleep. Whalky 
 is heard to say that if ever his legs get right again 
 he'll go over to Rome and beg the Pope's pardon, 
 and wash his hands in the Pope's golden ewer, 
 and receive absolution, and count his beads in 
 some contiguous priory to the end of his natural 
 ife. 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 69 
 
 Swoct William is heard to ask, in the name of 
 the public, if the rod of satire is worth the pickling, 
 but the answer to this conundrum dies away on 
 his lips. 
 
 Gathorne Hardy is heard to move for supple- 
 mentary estimates for the army — now the Hardy 
 anunal of the House of Commons. 
 
 "Gentlemen," says Benjamin, rising with 
 difficulty to his feet, and smiling benignantly into 
 space at nothing, "gentlemen, I rise (hie) to 
 pi-opose another toast. I — I ask you to drink to 
 the health — health of the ladies (hie). I couple 
 with this toast the name of Mr. Bruce." 
 
 There are some faint attempts at applause, but 
 they are scarcely audible. 
 
 Bruce is lying with his face in his dessert plate. 
 
 " Brucey, old man," says Sir Verdant, digging 
 his fist into the small of his back, " wake up ! 
 The toast of the ladies proposed. You've got to 
 respond, old man." 
 
 " Shan't ! " says Bruce, from the top of his des- 
 sert plate. " Smother the ladies ; let 'em respond 
 for themselves. I'm asleep." 
 
 " Four o'clock in the morning ! " says Sir 
 Verdant, repeating his dig in the small of Bruce's 
 back. "Wake up! d'ye hear, Bruce? Where 
 should /be if the royal family were to come in ? " 
 Another dig. 
 
 "Smother the roj'al family!" says Bruce, 
 waking up and staring around the room in the 
 greatest astonishment. "Where am I? What 
 do 3'ou want me to do ? " 
 
 " Come, Brucey, dear," says Benjamin, " you 
 inebriated old toper, wake up ! You've got to 
 respond to the toast of the ladies. Sing us a 
 song, or give us a recitation." 
 
 ' ' I only know one song," stammers Bruce, ' ' and 
 that's a recitation." 
 
 "Very well, then," cries Sir Verdant, becoming 
 impatient at Bruce's impenetrable obstinacy, 
 " give us that. Goon." 
 
 " It is called :" 
 
 " Never mind what it's called," breaks in Sir 
 Verdant — " recite it." 
 
 Bruce hereupon hoists himself upon his legs, 
 and recites — we say "recites" charitably — the 
 following : — 
 
 t 11 dies. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh, the dancing of the belles, 
 Silver belles ! 
 What a world of merriment that glancing group 
 foretells. 
 
 How they dance, dance, dance. 
 In the white and heated light. 
 Till the berries that o'ersprinklc 
 Every picture seem to twinkle 
 With a crystalline delight. 
 Keeping time, time, time, 
 To the valse-exciting rhyme 
 Of Der Schonen Blauen Donau that so musically 
 
 wells ; 
 Oh, the belles, belles, belles, belles, 
 
 Belles, belles, belles. 
 Oh, the dancing and the glancing of the belles ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, the Court-invited belles, 
 
 Golden belles ! 
 What a worid of plush and paint their dazzling 
 grandeur tells. 
 
 Through the balmy air of night, 
 Through a vision of delight. 
 From the jarring city notes 
 
 Out of tune, 
 What a splendid vision floats 
 To the eyes of Miss Belinda Fit;^-Neotes 
 Of Aroon ! 
 
BEXJAMIN D- 
 
 Oh, the crushing and the rout, 
 And the gathers that come out ! 
 How the agony voluminously wells. 
 How it swells ! 
 How it dwells ! 
 On the temper how it tells ! 
 To what anger it impels. 
 Oh, the rushing and the crushing of the belles ! 
 Of the belles, belles, belles, belles, 
 Belles, belles, belles. 
 Oh, the tearing and despairing of the belles ! 
 
 in. 
 
 Oh, the belles of the Mabille, 
 
 Brazen belles ! 
 What a world of lying love their honied accent 
 tells. 
 
 In the glare and in the light 
 How they dance out their delight. 
 Thinking of the future never, 
 Dancing on and dancing ever. 
 With a weary simulation of a love they cannot 
 
 feel. 
 In the glare and in the glitter and the hell of the 
 Mabille. 
 
 Leaping higher, higher, higher, 
 With a desperate desire, 
 And a resolute endeavour 
 t Now — now to win or never. 
 Golden youth ! 
 Oh, the belles, belles, belles, 
 What a tale their laughing tells 
 
 Of despair. 
 How they dance, dance, dance. 
 With a wear)^ smile and glance, 
 In the glare and in the glitter that are there ! 
 Yet the eye it full}' knows 
 By the sighing 
 Lips and dying 
 How the hoping ebbs and flows. 
 Yet the eye distinctly tells 
 How the hoping sinks and swells. 
 By the dancing, and the glancing, and the 
 prancing of the belles, 
 
 Of the belles— 
 Of the belles, belles, belles, belles. 
 Belles, belles, belles. 
 By the sighing lips and dying of the belles. . 
 
HIS LITTLE DLXXKR. 
 
 But the way in which Bruce drones out this 
 song- is too much. It is the coup de grace, the 
 finishing- touch, the last straw that breaks the 
 convivial camel's back. 
 
 licnjamin has lapsed at last into a condition in 
 \vhi(-h he is no longer cognisant of the existence 
 of his guests. 
 
 Dord Lerby, with his head gracefully reclining- 
 upon his breast, has already followed his leader to 
 that land where all things are forgotten- -yea , 
 even Bulgarian atrocities and Berlin Memoranda. 
 
 Hard Hunt, after colliding with the chandelier, 
 the decanter, and everybody and eveiything, has 
 sunk at last like another " Captain," and dreams 
 of mermaids and our submarine nav}'. 
 
 Sir Stafford stares into space with his pockets 
 turned inside-out. 
 
 Dr. Gonenearly — poor, dear man ! — clasps his 
 umbrella in the convulsions of some horrid night- 
 niare. 
 
 I'^ven Sir Wellfried— our well-beloved and trusty 
 Momus — has fallen a prey to the prevailing- liquor 
 quauadinodum profcDiicin vulgum. 
 
 'J' wo of us only— myself and Sir Verdant — now 
 remain unconquered by the seductions of Bacchus. 
 
 We two eye each other sympathetically, with 
 the consciousness of superior moral strength. 
 
 " iliunder — you will excuse me if I omit the 
 Lightning — Thunder," he asks winningly, "are 
 \o\x an admirer of poetry ? " 
 
 1 remark that \ am — that I adore poetPi'. 
 
 " Tlicn, Thunder and Lightning," he says, 
 " while those other fellows are snoring away allow 
 nie to send you to sleep by reciting a verse or two 
 1 composed iiiysdf. Would you like to hear 
 them ? " 
 
 1 reply that 1 .should, merely adding that if I 
 have any preference at all it is for verses composed 
 not by himself. 
 
 " T composed these verses, Thunder and Light- 
 ning, myself, in the short space of five minutes, 
 while waiting for the salad at my club." 
 
 r nod my head very profoundly in admiration 
 of his most extraordinar}' genius. 
 
 " 1 think they are true. Thunder and Light- 
 ning," he adds, " evfn now." 
 
 1 express a hope they may be. 
 
 " I haven't got a title for them," says Sir 
 Verdant ; " perhaps they are too good to require 
 one, but they go like this : — 
 
72 BENJAMIN Z»' 
 
 I. 
 
 Speed thy proud mission, ark of the distressed. 
 
 The clouds of war and thunder darkly lour, 
 
 " Down with the Turk !" It echoes through the 
 
 The Flag- of Freedom to the breeze is flying, 
 
 world ; 
 
 The Prophet's sword is drawn ; the hated Giaour 
 
 0, curst the lies that keep our ensigns furled! 
 
 On n^any a field lies panting, gasping, dying. 
 
 
 The cannons roar ; wave yataghan and dirk ; 
 
 
 curst the hand that's raised to save the Turk ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 
 Thou " 
 
 II. 
 
 * 
 
 Oh, what a plague-spot to be wept with tears— 
 This curse of Islam on earth's fairest bowers ! 
 
 But the rest is blank. 
 
 A fest'ring curse beyond the cure of years, 
 
 Memory fails me. 
 
 And leagues of kings, and statesmen's arts and 
 
 Darkness is beyond. 
 
 powers, 
 That blasts and kills with pestilential breath. 
 
 I recollect no more. 
 
 Whose rule is ruin and whose presence death. 
 
 Vimini ! Qiianta magna — }ou know the rest. 
 
 
 Man is only human. 
 
 III. 
 
 I can only say, in conclusion, that I owe my 
 
 Thou, Russian Eagle, hail ! brave hearts are near 
 
 sincerest thanks to the waiters, butlers, footmen. 
 
 thee, 
 
 cooks, chambermaids, housemaids, kitchenmaids, 
 
 Guard of the wronged and rock of the oppressed ; 
 
 boots, and bottlewashers for the liberal supply of 
 
 The voice of England's people's raised to cheer 
 
 soda-water forthcoming in those small hours of 
 
 thee. 
 
 the morning. 
 
 End of Bf.xja.mix D- 
 
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 unless it bears DUNN & HEWETTS well-known 
 Trade Mark of ''The CHOCOLATE GIRL." 
 
 BEY/ARS OF SPURIOUS IMITATIONS. 
 
 ■E^ii^aii 
 
 WORLD RENOWNED 
 
 DOG MIXTURE, 
 
 "^iV BOTTLES, 2/-, 5/-, and 10/- each; and I Gallon Cans 
 
 for the vsc of Kennels, 4,51- each. 
 
 Sold by all Chemists. 
 
 Manufactory, 13. LITTLE BRITAIN, LOKDON. E.G. 
 
 E'mmmmm 
 
 Medicated BOS SOAP, 
 
 IN TABLETS, 6d. EACH. 
 Sold by BENBOW & SONS, 12, Little Brit.-mn, London, E.G., 
 
 And all Chemists in the. Unifed Kinf^dom. 
 As-ent for Dublin:— W. WHYTE, 4, Marlborough Street. 
 
 TAM' 
 
 EELIANCE SAFES. 
 
 11, NEWGATE STREET, E.G. 
 
 XjISts :fde2,ee. 
 
 WILLIAMS'S (PONTARDAWE) WORM LOZENGES 
 
 Have been recoc^nised for nearly twenty years by the :Medical Profession and the Public as the most effectual and safest 
 Remedy for expelling Worms from the human system. They contain nothing detrimental to the constitution, and therefore 
 can be taken by the most delicate child. ,r • , , .-. r .-j ^ .r. ' -j 
 
 SYAIPTOMS. Any of the following symptoms mdicate Wonns : — Variable appetite, foetid breath, acid eructations, 
 
 pahis in the stomach and head, sickness, grinding of teeth during sleep, dreams and restlessness, picking of the nose, 
 paleness of the countenance, hardness and fulness of the belly, shmy stool, with occasional griping pains, more particularly 
 about the navel, stitches in the side, short dry cough, and emaciation of the body, often mistaken for decline, nervousness, 
 slow fever, and irregular pulse, faintness, sometimes convulsive fits— often causing sudden death; heat and itching about 
 the anus which often causes them to be mistaken for piles ; dizziness, sore throat, and inflammation of the bowels. The 
 above symptoms vary according to the kind of Worms. Sold by most Chemists, at gkl., I3^d., and 2s. gd. per Box, or 
 by Post, on receipt of 14 or 34 Stamps, from J. DAVIES, CHEMIST, SWANSEA. 
 
 14 Senior Street, Paddington, Feb. 25, 1874.— Dear Sir,— I wi-ite to say that I have taken one box of the Pontardawe 
 Worm Lozenges, and I am thankful to say with most miraculous effect. They are most inestimable, for they have done 
 M'hat three months' physicing at St. Mary's Hospital, Paddington, did not do. I have taken as much as four ounces of 
 , aster oil in one day, with other medicine, and a quantity of strychnine in prescribed doses, authorised by eminent physicians, 
 vet a day or two after I suffered from seat worms as bad as ever. I beg you will send me another box, for which I enclose 
 itamps, as I shall not feel safe without them in case of a relapse.— Yours respectfully, J. W. FRANKLIN. 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 (Our ^qonir GTolumn, 
 
 We own that in ailments there's nothing to jest at, 
 And Leg; to remark we've a horror of scoffing, 
 
 Yet men of all climes have agreed and confessed that 
 There's little to choose 'twixt a cough and a coffin ! 
 
 Then here's health to thee, Keating ; thy lozenge can 
 save us 
 
 From coughs and bronchitis that else would en-grave us ! 
 
 II. 
 
 To write about worms you'll admit is not easy, 
 
 Though Baudelaire wrote a great deal on that head too, 
 
 But then all his verse is so awfully wheezy 
 That it's only by worms — that is bookworms — he's 
 read through ! 
 
 Well, Williams's lozenge, so pungent and sappy, 
 
 Will malce a poor M-orm feel most awful unhappy ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Then for ills in the bowels, and wind on the chest. 
 Which will, unrelieved, e'en the strongest man 
 fiummock. 
 
 The pills of Pack Woodcock's undoubtedly best, 
 (And few of us care for cyclones in the stomach) ; 
 
 AVhile a gieat many windbags inflated with cant 
 
 iMight take a Page Woodcock and get what they v^ant. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Whence gout was imported has puzzled for ages 
 The wise and the learned again and again, 
 
 'Tis strangely reserved for the lore of these pages 
 To state that it came from Oporto in Spain. 
 
 Blair's pills are the best you can take, if you care to. 
 
 For gout and the twinges that gout is the lieir to ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Whence issued rheumatics we give no opinion. 
 And fervently hope we may not fall a victim. 
 Yet even the fear of its curse and dominion 
 
 Shall never restrain us from printing this dictum : 
 For twinges rheumatic the sterling transfixer 
 Is doubtless a dose of the AVoopnoi'SE Flixir ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Of the cure for all ills we shall never find traces, 
 
 However persistently wisdom may hunt her, 
 Yet for cure of all ills of our ner\'es and our faces 
 
 We owe a vast deal to the science of Bi:nter. 
 For tic and for toothache the cure most deserving 
 
 Of praise at the hands of the public 's his Xci vine ! 
 
 VII, 
 
 A row of white teeth are accounted more precious 
 Than the light of an eye or the bloom of a cheek. 
 
 And the fragrant perfume of the breath more delicious 
 Than those roses of Gul that forced Byron to speak. 
 
 Here's a drain to thee, Gosnell ; it's been to me very 
 Remarlcably uscfa! tlie paste tliov. call'st cherry I 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The teeth of mankind seem half blessing and curse ; 
 
 When needed most out most refusing to come, 
 And v.'hen needed most in — which is just the reverse — 
 
 Declining to stick there in spite of the gum. 
 But JoNKS, bless his name, and hang rival pretensions. 
 Is a match for our teeth v.-ith his dental inventions! 
 
 IX. 
 
 It passes our wonder that man should inherit 
 A temple a cold in the head will make gloomy. 
 
 Yet even this plan has one obvious merit — 
 
 The smallest of temples is thereby made rheumy ! 
 
 But one thing is clear — it was part of the plan 
 
 That colds should be cured by the medicine of Mann. 
 
 X. 
 
 Botanical research has been the salvation 
 Of men in all climates, the toiTid and frigid, 
 
 And Whelpton has wrung from us this asservation— 
 His pills in their course are resistless and rigid, 
 
 And heads philosophic pronounce them the best 
 
 For ills in the bowels rnd kidneys and chest ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 We suffer enough v.ho inhabit this isle 
 
 From head-ache and sickness, eruptions and nausea. 
 Can anyone sum up the evils of bile 
 
 Or picture the jiains that these horrors can cause ycu 
 For rescue from sickness these thanks be of mine 
 
 Dear Fami'LOVGH to thee and thy Pyretic Saline ! 
 
 XIT. 
 
 That man is a compound of earth and of gases 
 Is older by far than the records of fiction. 
 
 To sufficiently praise Bragu's charcoal surpasses 
 The strength of our pep and the flight of our diction. 
 
 For .abseiling bad gas when the stomach most queer is 
 
 There nothing like charcoal of Bragg on this sphere is ! 
 
^4 
 
 BENJAMIN D 
 
 XIII. 
 
 That blood is the life is a truth from the Bible 
 
 XIX. 
 
 That flourishes still 'neath the regis of wisdom, 
 Bad blood has been christened the fountain of libel, 
 
 As well as of aihnents that speed man to liis doom ! 
 Here's a health to tliee, Clarkk, for thy Mixture's 
 
 done good 
 To the world and tiij'self by improving our blood ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Great Gcodall, to thee, be our bumper drained this 
 time, 
 
 For next to the man who keeps healthy our blood 
 Is the man — Abernethy asserted in his time — 
 
 Who gives us enjoyment in taking our food. 
 The Relish of Goodall, like coquettes in poesy, 
 Is piquant, delicious, and awfully saucy ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 To fatten your babes, mamas, out of a window 
 
 A heartless young cynic once told you to throw them ; 
 
 He gave as a reason, as p'raps, you remember. 
 
 The fact they'd drop plump on the pavement below 
 them. 
 
 A far better way's Dr. Ridge's than that— 
 
 If you give them his food why they're bound to get fat ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The world has admitted and medical sceptics 
 
 Have said Brown & Poison's Corn Flour is delicious, 
 
 And invalids, infants, and even dyspeptics 
 Will find in it aliment richly nutritious. 
 
 And anyone's doubts of its nutritive power 
 
 Will be nipped in the bud if they get in the flour 
 
 XVII. 
 
 To adulterate Cocoa's become such a practice 
 That reaUy the State must step in to protect us. 
 
 The Faculty tell us to drink, but the fact is 
 
 The stufi" is fo starched they can hardly expect us. 
 
 Who wish for pure cocoa in all its quintessence 
 
 AVill certainly find it in Cadbury's Essence. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " I want a good cheese and don't know where to get it," 
 Is a ciy that goes constantly up from the pater ; 
 
 If he bought one at Webber's he'd never forget it, 
 There breathes not a man who is trimmer or straighter. 
 
 Pork, poultry or butter — he equally pleases ; 
 
 Long Lane, seventeen's, the depot of his cheeses. 
 
 The Half-Guinea Ale is so pleasantly v;hclesome, 
 So brisk and so sparkling, so warm to the blood, 
 
 There exists not a cynic v.'ho doubts we ought all some 
 To get in of liquor so bright and so good. 
 
 Who is fond of a brew that is good and not dear 
 Let him stick to this ale till he takes to his bier !' 
 
 XX. 
 
 The friends of cold water, obtrusive in manner, 
 Our ancient old vices are taking a dig at, 
 
 Dogmatic Good Templars are flaunting their banner, 
 Proscribing our drink with the zeal of a bigot. 
 
 The best British liquor for warming a fellah 
 
 Is Grant's Cherry Brandy, the sterling ^Nlorella ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Strong clothes to resist the coarse treatment of boyhood, 
 Their romping and racing, and frolicsome glee, 
 
 The hearts of fond parents brim over with joy would ; 
 Then Samuel Brothers, a bumper to ye ! 
 
 Whatever the fashions the beaux bring about 
 
 Resartors of tailors, ye cut them all out ! 
 
 XXIL 
 
 Then Sampson and Co. have achieved themselves 
 famous; 
 
 The shirt they call "Surplice" is startling, surprising. 
 For dress where it's torrid, for flannels no name has 
 
 In London than iheir's been more steadily rising. 
 The luck that withdraws us to India should thank its 
 Stars that this firm sells rugs, drawers and blankets. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 First for serge of all mixtures, wools, staple, elastic. 
 Stand the Devonshire factors, great Spearman and 
 Spearman ; 
 
 For boots — riding, walking or hunting, the plastic 
 Of leathers is Bird's : may they always be near man. 
 
 While as for kid gloves the most notable dealer 
 And vendor's sans pareil undoubtedly Wheeler. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 For silks and for satins we much recommend 
 A purchase at Vknables, Whitechapel -^lart ; 
 
 And ]\Iadame Schild's dress patterns highly commend 
 As the true ne plus ultra of cheapness and art. 
 
 And then there is Chadwick — we'd nearly forgotten 
 
 To mention the claims of his «ix-corded cotton. 
 
HIS LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The finest of cambric our noses are heir to 
 Is sold ready hemmed at half-guinea a dozen 
 
 By Robinson, Cleaver, of Belfast ; and there, too, 
 Are the sweetest of gifts for a lady — hem I — cousin. 
 
 If stitches be needed your duty is clear, 
 
 Despatch along with it the " Zephyr " by Weir. 
 
 - XXVI. 
 
 Ah ! could we look back through dead ages and answer 
 How mothers g^t on when they stitched with their 
 fmgers. 
 
 When time had not heard of our dear little Wanzer — 
 That awful slow ti^:ie that so painfull}- lingers. 
 
 If a stitch Can save nine, sure a AVaxzer, in fine, 
 
 lb at least the salvation of ninety times nine. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 By the turn of a wheel, by the throw of a dice. 
 
 Some thousands of fortunes have quilted the perch; 
 
 Can anyone tell us particularly nice 
 
 How many 've been lost for a pen'orth of starch .' 
 
 While we pause be our cry as we live and the pen wield, 
 
 No starch in the world can come up to the Glenfield ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Of all the adornments dear Nature provides us 
 
 (And really we trust what we say there's no harm in), 
 
 A wealth of rich tresses whatever betides us 
 
 Is the one the most rooted and precious and charming. 
 
 Though we cannot lay claim to the mantle of Coleridge, 
 
 We pen th-'s odd verse to Ws balm and to Oldridge. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Messrs. Wilkixsox, ShefTieUl, so vast their abilitj-. 
 Make I^Iagical Drops, which of medical modes 
 
 Are reputed the best in lumbago, debility. 
 
 And scur\7 and cancer, boils, blotches and nodes. 
 
 It answers to reason that if you would stop 'em. 
 
 The briefest of methods is simply to Drop 'em ! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 As the flieiuls of the Act most prcsislelUly premised, 
 Education has given a spurt unto science, 
 
 The smrdlest of urchins expands to a Chemist, 
 And calls for the aid of the latest api^liance. 
 
 If pestered with calls and a wish to allay them, 
 
 Of course wc can best recommend you to Statham ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Oh, the GoVENTRV BicvcLE — that's the machine 
 For racing, for travelling, for all evolutions, 
 
 No hghter, or stronger, or better has been 
 
 Since bicycles wrouglit in the land revolutions I 
 
 If you want the machine o'er its kind holding sov'reignty 
 
 With the greatest of pleasure we send you to Coventry ! 
 
 XXXII. 
 Oh, HoDKixsox, Clarke, we muat vow and protest; 
 
 Its shocking the horrible way you remind us. 
 Your mode of protecting our windows is best. 
 
 And if we approve you'll be happy to blind us ! 
 Then, come, don't you think we have horrors to sup, 
 When you add your revolvers can shut us all up I 
 
 XXXIII. 
 A bundle of rose-trees — a guinea — from Bath 
 
 vSeeras a kind of announcement that savours of fooling ; 
 Not often such bargains come crossing our path. 
 
 Yet you'll fmd it is true if you write unto CoOLtNG. 
 But talking of cooling— the Japanese Curtain 
 Admits not a rival — that's perfectly certain. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 For the ailments of dogs try BEXliow and his science ; 
 
 Hi5 soap mcdicated's a wonder to wash 'em. 
 For salvation from thieves tiy Tann's safe — tha 
 Reliance — 
 The subtlest of prigs is unable to smash 'em. 
 For coughs that distress you — we use no compulsion- 
 Just try, if you like, Turner's famous Emulsion. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 For restoring grey hair, and for baldness and dandritT, 
 A host of good people give Sanuell the preference ; 
 
 We know well, of course, no restorer can stand if 
 It fmds not a rock in the popular reference ; 
 
 We only can say— Let them dilVer who've tried 'em ; 
 
 That if there are better we've never applied 'cm. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Lichen Islandicus"— that's the strange name of 
 The Iceland Moss Cocoa that sell Dunn and 
 Hewctt; 
 It's good, but it's sad that we can't say the same of 
 
 A host of strange cocoas that claim to outdo it I 
 Here's a word — though p'mps strange, and incongruous 
 
 veiy — 
 To Millard and also his dcnlifiicc Cherry. 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Of all the home sounds the decidedly best is 
 The click of the Singer machine at its sewing ; 
 
 The Singer adapted to stand every test is, 
 As thousands of feminine lips are avowing, 
 
 Declaring, proclaiming — ^who ventures to doubt it .-■ — 
 
 No home in the land can be happy without it ? 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 For knives and for forlis we can much recommend 
 Slack's at three hundred and thirty-six Strand ; 
 
 But where all is so good where's the need to commend } 
 And the firm are the BLAND-est of men in the land. 
 
 E'en their blades are good-tempered and never prove 
 fickle, , 
 
 And their forks are superbly electro'd on nickel. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 The pianos of Brinsmead are much in repute 
 For beauty of finish and brightness of tone — 
 The medals they've won have removed from dispute 
 
 The practical truth that their rivals are none ; 
 Wherever contending — in each exhibition — 
 They have carried the palm against all competition. 
 
 XL, 
 
 A musical box for two shillings at BAuJi's 
 
 Is the greatest of wonders this age has produced us, 
 
 Except Dver's watch — sing its praises with shawms — 
 Or Brown and Green's stove that's so often seduced 
 us; 
 
 Yet p'raps if it came to a bet Ave'd bet on a 
 
 Lock-stitch hand -sewing machine — Prima Do:;na! 
 
 XLI. 
 
 The collecting of stamps has become a fine art, 
 And Whitfield and King can aver it's no blunder. 
 
 This firm are importers — at Ipswich their mart — 
 Their " Imperial " Album is truly a wonder; 
 
 Messrs. Whitfield and King — for their pluck nought can 
 coop in — 
 
 Sell the best of all works on collecting and grouping. 
 
 XLII. 
 That Messrs. Tcgg and Co.'s books— have you seen the 
 A'ariety 'i — 
 Are the cheapest for gifts is a common confession ; 
 Xot a volume without a world-wide notoriety 
 
 Where English is spoken — but here's a digression ; 
 For gifts for the young, for all ages and classes. 
 No emporium af books Tegg and Co.'s stock surpasses. 
 
 XLIII. 
 'Mong the greatest of triumphs in dreamland of fiction 
 
 We put " Consuelo," the work of George Sand. 
 Ah ! the depth of its plot ; ah ! the wealth of its 
 diction 
 Remain to this day unsurpassed in the land. 
 Of this wonderful book, with well-founded prevision, 
 Messrs. Wcldon have pubHshed a people's edition. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Our task is completed. In bidding adieu 
 To the friends whose announcements embellish our 
 pages, 
 We hope we've cemented old friendships anew, 
 Till they're firm as the rocks and as sure as the ages ; 
 We wish all our friends — for the season is here — 
 
 A MERRY OLD CHRISTMAS, 
 
 and 
 
 HAPPY NEW Y'EAR, 
 
BENJAMIN D ADVERTISEMENTS. 
 
 JUST READY. 
 De7ny Svo., Cloth Gill, Ilhafimated Side, Price yr. bd. 
 
 THE OTTOMANS IN EUROPE; 
 
 OK, 
 
 TURKEY AND THE PRESENT CRISIS. 
 
 With the Secret Societies' I\Ia})S of the proposed Pansclavonic Empire and Republic. 
 
 By Dr. JOHN MILL; ' 
 London: WELDON & CO., Wine Office Court, Fleet St.eet, E.C. 
 
 CHEAP EDITION. NOW READY. 
 
 Clotli Gilt, Price 30. bd. (poi,tage ^d.) , ivith 40 Illustrations on Wood, and 28 Full Page Copper Plate Engravings, 
 
 THE SKETCHER'S MANUAL; 
 
 o;(, 
 
 THE ART OF PICTURE-MAKING ON THE SIMPLEST PRINCIPLES FOR 
 
 AMATEURS. 
 BY FRANK HOWARD. 
 
 LOtWON: WELDON d CO., WINE OFFICE COURT, FLEET SiREET, E.C. 
 
 NOW READY. 
 
 Croz^'n Svo., Price 2s. each (Postage i\d.J, Bound in Fancy Boards, 
 
 E PARLOUR LIBRARY, 
 
 THE BEST WORKS OF THE BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 1. ClIEVELEY. By Ladv Bulaver Lvtton. b. THE COURTIER. Bv Mrs. Goi;!.. 
 
 2. LOTTERY OF MARRIAGE. By Mr.s. Trollope. 7. HEIR OF WASTAVAYLAND. BvM.VRV HownT. 
 
 3. THE OUTLA^V. Bv Mrs. S. C. Hall. 8. COXSITELO. Bv Gkorgk Sand. 
 
 4. MARGARET ]MAlfLAND. Bv ]\lRS. Oliphant. 9. GODFREY MALA'ERN. B)- Thomas JIiller. 
 
 5. THE RECTORY' GUEST. By 'xMr.s. Grev. 10. CHEVALIER. By Mrs. Tho-MSON. 
 
 SEVERAL NEW WORKS IN PREPARATION. 
 " The ' Parlotr Library' comprises the best specimens of imaginative literature." — Times. 
 
 LONDON: WELDON & CO., WINE OFFICE COURT, FLEET STREET, E.C. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. NOW READY. i JUST READY. 
 
 In Fancy Coloured Y^yPP;''. C>: %vo Price ONE \ j^^ j-, 0./'^//;^-/ Wrapper, Cr. hvo.. Price ONE 
 
 SHILLIMr {Postage Id.). SHILLING\Posiat:e id.). 
 
 JOHN BULU8 MUGHims. xjjj, ^^.W^kW^ CAA^E 
 
 HIE STR0XG-:\IIXDED DAUGHTER. ^__ ^, . _ . , ^t -. 
 
 THE WEAK-:MINDED DAUGHTER. OM oALAMJ.^!). 
 
 THE INTEMPERATE DAUGHTER. 
 
 THE EXTRAVAGANT DAUGHTER. . 3 FRANCIS LLOYD. 
 
 By JOHN BENNETT. \ ^ 
 
 London : Lonijon : 
 
 WELDON & Co., Wine Office Court, Fleet Street, E.G. , WELDON & Co., Wiue Office Coiu't, Fleet Street, E.G. 
 
BENfAAIIN D- 
 
 AD VERTISEMENTS. 
 
 ?s[ 
 
 <^ 
 
 should -afl'er jo lamh fniin nuv uise:i-i^ 
 i<edl.Y!7iipnrebloiKl, viiieiithe UNIVER- 
 SAL MAGIC PURIFYING DROPS are 
 justly iioknowledg-ed by nil ranks of society 
 stand tmrivallcd for cli'eetiially purifyin;!;- 
 the stream of life from all latent disease,"and 
 curing- Palpitation, Indig-estion, Gravel, Lum- 
 haijo, L'loers, Tumoui-s, Cancers, Scurvy, 
 Boils, Blotches. Nodes on the Shin Bones, 
 Scorbutic Eruptions, Ulcerated Throat, "White 
 ' Swollinss, Diseased Joints, Ehenmatics, Gout, 
 Nervous Debility, Old Sores, Piles, ifcc. They give brilliaacy to the 
 eye, a rosy, healthy Ime to the face, a delig-htful fragrance to ;the 
 breath, an edge to the appetite, pure blood, refreshing and exhOara- 
 ting sleep, health, strength, and vigour,'-whilst the mental and physical 
 powers under their influence arc so strengthened and fortii-ied that all 
 difficulties and obstacles are triumphantly met and conquered. Pr-ices, 
 4s. 6d., lis., and 33s. per case. Prepared only by Messrs. Wilkiksox 
 & Co., Medical Hall, 4, Baker's Hill, Sheffield, forwarded (carriage 
 free) on receipt of stamps or post order. Established 1830. 
 
 Month's Free Trial. Easy Terms of Payment d Carriage Paid. 
 
 WEIR'S 55s. Sewing Machine 
 
 for FniliiliCS. Improved and Patented 
 Prize Medals). Wcir'S 42s. Scwlllff 
 iVInchillC, " TllC Globe," tor Dress- 
 makers. Wcir'sXew I'atcntZcpIijr, 
 84s. Sltiittle IiOCli.»ititcli 9I:i- 
 CllillC, Hand or Foot. Machines by any 
 other maker taken in excliang-e. Prospectus 
 and Samples Free —.J. ti, W EIR, 2, Car- 
 lisle Street, Soho Square, "W. 
 
 CHOICIE I2,OSE TiaiEES. 
 
 THE GUINEA BUNDLE contains 25 of the choicest- 
 named kinds of Roses in cultivation, all extra large plants, 
 especially selected for villa g^ardens. Carriage and packing free 
 on receipt of P.O.O. for ;^i is. ; or twelve choice kinds as sample 
 for los. 6d. Full particulars of other cheap collections post free. 
 
 GEORGE COOLING, The Nurseries, Bath. 
 
 The above make very suitable Christmas Gifts. 
 
 TO STA_^^ COLLEOTOIE^S. 
 
 KOW H EADr—WiuTFiEhr), Kino & Co.'s Hlustrated Descriptive Price List of a large variety of Packets, Sets, &c., 
 gratis and post free on application. Prices of Packets from 6d. to 21s. The best Sliilling Packets .in the market. 
 Thousands of Testimonial,^. Sliccts of Stamps sent on approval. Agents Wanted, especially m the Colonies. 
 
 Dr. Orav's Hlustraied Catalogue of Posta.g'e Stamps, (sixth edition, 520 pages, 1,200 engravings,) 5s. 7d. post free. 
 The " IMPROVED " and " IMPERIAL" Stamp Albums in various styles of binding; prices from Is. 8d. to 31s. ; 
 Illustrated Price List Free. All orders executed per retur^u of post, vlthovt faU. 
 
 All Stamps sold by AV., K. & Co., are warranted genuine and in good condition. 
 
 Rare Stamps Bought and E.xchanged. A beautifully engraved facsimile of tlie original Declaration of American 
 Independence, size, 24 by 32 inches, price 3s. 6d. post-free, (abroad 4s.) 
 
 "WHITFIELD, KING & CO., Foreign Stamp Importers, Ipswich. (Established 1869.) 
 
 Sufferers from Indigestion, all Stomach Complaints, Sluggish 
 Liver, Constipation, Headache, Giddiness, Loss of Appetite, 
 Fulness after Eating, and Depressed Spirits. 
 
 A SIMPLE hut an EFFECTUAL IlEMEDY icill he found in 
 
 3srE"W"T0 2sr'S 
 
 Quinine, Bliiibarb and Dandelion Pills. 
 
 In Boxes, Is. l-H. and 2s. 9d. Sent post free for 15 Stamps. 
 
 The following Testimonials from Hundreds received will prove their Efficacy :— 
 
 "23, Somerville Road, Penge, Surrey, Dec. g//i, 1875. 
 
 " Sir, — Please send a Box of your Quinine and Dandelion Pills: they are the Best Remedy 
 I ever found for Indigestion, and I have tried a great many. — Yours truly, J. Hayter." 
 
 "Amesbury, 2^rd/an., 1876. 
 
 "Sir, — Send by Bearer a 2s. qc^- Box of your valuable Dandelion and Quinine Pills, for my 
 Wife cannot live vithout them. — Yours respectfully, Jaaies Gane." 
 
 BARCLAY & SONS are the London Agents, and all Chemists. 
 
 PREPARED SOLKLV T.Y 
 
 J. W, NEWTON, Family Chemist, SALISBURY. 
 
 *.^* Ask your Clicmiat to obtain the above if not in stoels. 
 
BENJAMIN D- 
 
 A D VERTISEMENTS. 
 
 JAPANESE 
 
 CURTAIN ^ 
 
 DEPOT. XC^ ^ 
 
 DEPOT, 
 
 51, OXFORD STREET 
 
 LONDON, ^^ 
 
 w. ^cX^^ 
 
 w 
 
 v 
 
 «^ Patterns 
 
 nd 
 
 Price Lists 
 on application 
 pest free. 
 
 rpURNER'S T, 
 
 ■»■ EMULSION. 
 
 WHOLESALE AND RETAIL 
 
 w ^ rrTTRNER'S TAMARIND COUGH 
 
 f '^ ■>■ EMULSION.— "X.-thin;; eqii;il to it for 
 
 TURNER'S TAMARIND COUGH 
 EMULSION.—" I bflieve the best medi- 
 
 tlie tluoat and lungs." 
 
 TAMARIND COUGH 
 
 Tlie T.imarind has Iten 
 
 (juitc- a boon to ino.'' 
 
 TURNER'S TAMARIND COUGH 
 EMULSION. -Inv.duable to Speakers 
 .■:iid binsfrs. Tl.iitv drops on luniu sugar. 
 
 fpURNER'S TAItlARIND COUGH 
 
 ■^ EMULSION.— All Testinjonialsareguar- 
 
 autecd truthtul. 
 
 Ar,i:NTs:-BARCLAY & SONS; BUTLER & 
 CRISl'E, 4, Chcapside: SANGER & SONS, 
 
 i"-,o and 2«, Oxford Street. London. GARDNER & AI.N'.SLIE, 
 
 lidinburg-h^ All the AVholesale Houses, and any respectable Chemist 
 in the Kinydoin. 
 
 A'A-/or-[\]MlWS TAMARIND COUGH EMULSION. 
 
 SKILIiING 
 
 HR-SIS. 
 
 MADAME SCH I LD 
 
 Has now ready an Illustrated Catalogue of 
 
 ALL THE LEADING NOVELTIES FOR AUTUMN AND WINTER SHAPES, 
 
 F:RXCJS1 OITE SHIXjIjI^STG-. 
 
 The.se (leslt/ns illustrate Ladies' and CiiildrciLs Ctolliiiui of rrer>j descrijjtio)t. 
 
 Polonaises, Princess Costumes, Waterproofs, Ulsters, Jackets, Mantles, Underclothing, &c. 
 
 SIXTY-SIX ILLUSTEATIOXS IN ALL. 
 
 The Cut Paper Pattern of any of these .\i-ticles, together with au Illustration and Instructions for Quantity of Material and 
 
 Making up, can be obtained for ONE SHILLINO. 
 
 MADAME MARIE SC HILD, 37, Tavisto ck Street, Covent Garden. 
 
 There is a large and profitable field for the Sale of these Patterns, which are guaranteed con-cct. — AGENTS WANTED. 
 
 THE COMING GREAT TRIAL 
 
 By the Public in 1877. 
 
 YOU shall well and trulv trv— 
 MANN'S AITROVKD MED'CINE buy, 
 
 That your ills may quickly g-o ! 
 
 Take, and health will shortly How ; 
 
 Coh/s and J/onf>iiii/-cciifjhs will flee. 
 
 Eead the bills and you will see 
 
 Notliinj? with it tan cooipare. 
 
 "Nice '. " the childien all declare. 
 
 YouDR' and old its ^'loiies tell ; 
 
 Hoth did take, and now are well. 
 
 True the evidence that stands 
 
 On the bills tliroujjliout all lands, 
 
 TliLs, the public verdict, give — 
 
 " Take, oh sickly one, and live : '' 
 Sixteen affidavits bffore the Sussex MaK'^'trales prove 3IANN'R 
 APPROVED MEDICINE to be the (iltKAT ItESTUHATIVE TO 
 HEALTn for Couphs, Colds, Astlmia, Inliuenza, Convrilsive Fits, and 
 Consumptions. Sold by all Chemists, who will obtain it for you if not 
 in stock, at l.<. l\il., 2.v. Gd., and is. Gd. per bottle. Be not persuaded 
 to take any other remedy. 
 
 Proprietor, THOMAS MANN, Horsham, Sussex. 
 
 PIANOFORTE MUSIC. 
 
 EIGHTH ANNUAL CLEARANCE SALE OF 
 
 HEW, POPULAR. AND STANDARD 
 
 The Entire Stock is offered at one-fourth tlie Published Price, 
 
 or one dozen pieces, irrespective of Published Price, 
 
 Post Free for 10s. Cd. 
 
 Purchasers will be supplied v/ith the same number of pieces of 
 
 the Nev/est Music Published at one-third the Published 
 
 Price if ordered at the same time. 
 
 CLEARANCE CATALOGUES IB.) POST FREE ON APPLICATION. 
 
 P. O. Orders or Chei^ui: Bf.nli C/itoifS /',iyai.\ lo 
 
 THOMAS EOBINSON, Music Seller, 
 
 ROMFORD, ESSEX. 
 
 Established 1835. 
 
 JIY THE ISK (li- WUKII, 
 
 DURINGMORETHAN 
 FORTY YEARS, 
 
 Have been effected which had been pronounced INCUKABLi:, . 
 
 The numerous v.-ell-authcnlicaled Testimonials in (lis()rderst>fiiic HEAD, t:Hl-:ST.liU\VKLS,LlVI-:R,aii.l KIDNEYS; 
 al'^o in RHEUMATISM, ULCERS, SORKS, and all SKIN DISEASES, arc sullicicnt to prove the t,Tcal v.ilue of this 
 most useful F.amily iNIcdicinc, it hein- A DIRECT PLIRIEIblR <.)V THE BLOOD and other (Itjids of the human body. 
 
 Many persons have found them of <,'reat service both in preventing and relievinj,' SEA- SICKNESS ; and ni warm 
 climates tiiey are very beneficial in all Bilious Comjilaints. 
 
 Sold in Boxes, price J.'.d.. is. i.',d., and 2s. cjd., by Cr. WIIELPTON &i SON, 3, Cr.anc Court, Fleet St., Londoij^ and by 
 .all Chemists and Medicine Vendors at home .and abroad. Sent free by j)Ost in the United Kin},'dom lor 8, 14, or 33 stamps. 
 
BENJAMIN D ADVERTISEMENTS. 
 
 USEFUL PRESENTS. 
 
 Best & Cheapest in the World. 
 
 Vide Daily Press. 
 
 Every ^Vateh Fully Warranted for periods of from 2 to 5 years 
 each. Illustrations and Price Lists Free. 
 
 Thre£ Prize JlcdaU Awarded. 
 
 ESTABLISHED 1852. 
 
 Tl- eeP P V I s < n ? 7 
 
 GOLD. 
 
 SILVER. 
 
 GOLD WATCHES, 
 
 Jewelled Movements, 
 Stamped Cases, 
 
 From £2 4s. to £20. 
 GOLD WATCHES, 
 
 J'hU .Jewelltd Movemthts, 
 Slainptd Cases, 
 
 From £3 15s. to £50. 
 
 2,000 TO SELECT FROM. 
 
 SILVER WATCHES, 
 
 Jewelled Movements, 
 Sterlinrj Silver Cases, 
 
 From £1 6s. to £4. 
 
 m!!>. 3sr X3 s o 3yn E 
 
 SUPERIOR STRONG 
 
 SILVER LEVEHS 
 
 Jewelled in 10 Holes, 
 
 Compensation Balance, 
 
 From £2 15s. to £10. 
 
 DYER & SONS,WholesaleWatcli Manufacturers & aoldsmit]is,90,EEaENT ST.,LONDON,W. 
 
 Manufactories :-3, GREAT VINE STREET, LONDON, and LOCLE, SWITZERLAND. 
 
 BEST zpi^ESEisTTS FOR -YrourrTH. 
 
 st at hams 
 
 sgie;ntifiq,ais^ws^^ 
 
 f riNSTRUCTION IN SCIENCE BY MEANS OF AMUhlKG EyfTHlf-lENTS 
 
 ETATHAIvfs 
 
 
 Statham's Chemical Amusement Chests condiin Chemicals and 
 Apparatus for studying: Chemistry, pif/hrhiiiii/ hrilliunt fxperimeids. 
 
 Statham's Youths' Chemical 'Cabinets vitli Book, G/-, S/-, 11/-. 
 
 Statham's Boys' Ov/n Laboratory, with I'ook, IT) 0. 
 
 Statham's Students' Chemical Cabinets, for studying-Cliemistry, 
 Analysinff, Kxperimentin^i'. kc, •Jl'-, 31 6, 4'2/-, 03/-, S4/-, 210/-. 
 
 Statham's Economic Laboratory, 105/- and 110/-. 
 
 Statham's " First Steps in Chemistry," (145 E.xperimcnts\ Cd. 
 
 " Elementary Chemistry," 2 '-; bypost, 2/3; foruse with theabove. 
 
 Statham's Box of Chemical Magic materials and directions for 
 50 and KX) instructive experiments. 1/-., 2 C. 13y prist, 1/2, 2,0. 
 
 Statham's Electrical Amusements, consisting of machine and 
 apparatus for perfoiniinp: IriUiarit ehxlrieal i xperimeuts, A'2I-, (io,-, 
 105 '-, iic. Book, "Electricity for 13eginnci-s," iid. 
 
 Statham's Electrotype Amusements, apparatus and materials 
 for producinff in copper perfect fac-similes of seals, medals, plai-ter 
 casts, metallio oniameiits, i:c., by galvanic action, 5/0. 7/6, lO/ti, 21/-; 
 and for Electro-plating and Electro-eilding' also, 42/-, H3/-.,&c. 
 
 Statham's " Panopticon " for Ilome, Seaside, and the Countrj', 
 a powerful Telescope or Microscope, shows ob.iects at ten miles ; also 
 animalcuK'e, structure of plants, insects, <!cc. No. 1, 25/-; No. 2, .35/-. 
 Model Steam Engines, ic,6, 21 .1 Microsropes, 10 6, 21/, 42/, 63/ 
 Geological Cabinets, 7/6, 25/, 42/. J Magic Lanterns, 7/6,10 6, 21/, 45/ 
 Conjuror's Cabinets, 7 6, 15/, 21/. | Model Steamboats, 1/1050/ 
 Printing Press (with type, ink, &c.), 6/6, 8/-, 12/-, 14,6, it,'-, 24/-. 
 
 Sf/iii 1 hree Sl.i»:/>s/cr ll/ustrnted Calcilvgvc o/nlc.e and ir.onl oka ctlur 
 
 Educational Toys, Scientific Models, Games, &c. 
 
 W. E. STATHAM, 111, 1, STRAND, LONDON. 
 
 T!if/oll<nuin£ arc Just tohanii/rom our Br.xiich Manufactory at Palmer , Mass. 
 "46, Green btreet, Boston, ilarch i8. 
 " Gentlemen, — I have had many opportunities of testing the merits 
 of Dr. Ridgh's (Cooked) Food forlnfants and Invalids, and I ctn -with 
 confidence give it the preference to all similar preparations, inasmuch 
 that it is so simple in its composition, and so readily adapted to the 
 most delicate and irritable stomach. Georch E. St-'VCKPcle, M.D." 
 '' Mass. Infants' Asylum, March 6, 
 " Your Infants' Food has been used here long enough to give it a 
 fair trial, and it gives me pleasure to say that we have found nothing 
 so well suited as it is for those children who are old enough for any oi 
 the artificial foods. In such cases we are now using it exclusively. 
 " Very truly yours, Cn.\s. E. Folsom." 
 
 " Boston, !Mass., !March i6. 
 "Gentlemen, — I have used Dr. Ridge's Food in my family, and 
 have extensively prescribed it for others, and I have no hesitation in 
 .saying that it deserves a wide-spread reputation, believing, as I do, 
 that it is the most valuable preparation now in use, especially in 
 those cases where the mother is too delicate, or incapable of nursing 
 her offspring. Geo. .Stevens Jo.ne.s, :M.D., 164, Charles .Street." 
 
 " Portsmouth, N.H., Feb. 26. 
 " I heartily recommend Ridge's Food to mothers who are not able 
 to nurse their children, as tlie best substitute for the natural milk, 
 easily assimilated, free from acidity, and in my practice it has done 
 m.ore for the preservation of the inlant than .anything I have tried in 
 thirty years' experience. J. H. Bo.ardm.4n, M.D." 
 
 Dr. Ridge's Food can be obtained of all Chemists d Grocers. 
 Special Caution.— See that you get Dr. Ridge's Patent Food. 
 
VENTILATING 
 STOVES. 
 
 Price £3:0:0 EACH, 
 
 AND UPWARDS. 
 
 These Stoves preserve the purity of 
 
 the air, and are very economical. 
 
 They are Lined with Fire-brick. 
 
 GEM COOKING STOVES 
 
 A Lady writes : — "It is the most wonderful little Stove ever invented. One 
 Scuttle of Coal lasts Three days." Price of this size, 32s. A Gentleman testifies 
 he Cooks for a Family of Ten Persons with Eight Pounds of Coal per Day ! 
 Price ^4. 
 
 Prize Medal Kitchen Range and Stove Manufacturers, 
 
 72. BISHOPSOATE STREET, LONDON. 
 
 ACCEPTABLE PRESENTS. 
 
 EASY TERMS OF HIRE WITH OPTION OF PURCHASE. 
 
 ALL SIZES IN STOCK BEADY FOR DELIVERY. 
 
 The "GENTLEMAN'S" and "COVENTRY 
 
 THE BEST MACHINES MADE FOR TOURIST AND RACING PURPOSES. 
 
 From the Hon. John Plunkitt, Vire-Htesident Cambridge 
 University Bicycle Club, October 16, 1876. 
 
 " The repairs on my Bicycle have piven me the highest satisfaction, 
 both as regards the promptitude of their execution and the excellence 
 of the workmanship. . 
 
 " You might well quote the case of my machine as an instance of 
 how much may be thoroughly well done in five days to a Bicycle 
 which has been so smashed out of all shape that none but an implicit 
 believer in your repairing powers would ever think it worth while col- 
 lecting the pieces. 
 
 " This is the second time that my Bicycle has been grante.l a new 
 lease of life, yet it looks quite new, and none the worse for nearly four 
 years of perpetual wear and tear, some of it, too, over Irish roads, 
 which in my neighbourhood are execrable. My experience justifies in 
 every particular the good opinion I have held of your machines since 
 I first tried them, though since then I have tried many others by way 
 of comparison." 
 
 Thatcham, Berks. 
 
 " Captain AVinthrop is perfectly satisfied with the 52-inch Bicycle 
 made lor him by the Coventry Machinists' Company. It is very 
 
 TESTIMOXIAL.S. 
 
 strong, light, runs very easily, and has never been out of order since 
 he has had it — ij years — although it has had plenty of use. 
 
 " Captain W. has neverin his experience o{si.x years^ Bicycle riding 
 found any machine so suitable for road work as the ' Gentleman's 
 Bicycle.' " 
 
 From Kkmrick Hughps, Esq., Liverpool. 
 
 " I still have the Bicycle you made for me last .Spring, on which 1 
 have ridden many thoi'SANUS of miles on all sorts of roads ; I also 
 raced on it several times in public, tvinnitig ieven first frizes. Ex- 
 cepting that the rubbers are a bit the worse for wear, the machine is 
 now as sound as the day I got it, and every spoke is firm." 
 
 From E. B. Bartlby, Esq., Weston-super-Mare. 
 
 " I have ridden Bicyclei of all the best makers, but the 52-incli with 
 which you supplied me last October is superior to th' 'n all ; the 
 spokes, after six months' constant use in the worst weal, cr and over 
 very bad stone roads, are as firm and sound (having never been 
 tightened once the whole time) as when I received it." 
 
 ILLUSTRATED PROSPECTUS FREE ON APPLICATION. 
 
 SOLE MANUFACTURER8-THE COVENTRY MACHINIST COMPANY, LIMITED. COVENTRY. 
 
No. 13, 
 
 PADDINGTON GREEN. 
 LONDON. W. 
 
 'Lhc reason why so many are unable to take Cocoa is, 
 that the varieties commonly sold are mixed with Starch, 
 under the plea of rendering them soluble ; while really 
 making them thick, Jieaiy, and indigeslible. This may 
 be easily detected, for u Cocoa thickens in the Cup it 
 proves the addition of Starch. Cadbury's Cocoa Essence 
 is genuine ; it is therefor ■. three times the strength of 
 these Cocoas, and a refreshing Beverage like Tea or 
 Coffee. 
 
 CADBURYs 
 COCOA ESSENCE 
 
 One teaspoonful 
 makes a breakfast 
 cup of stronger and 
 better Cocoa then 
 two teaspoonfuls of 
 any Homoeopathic 
 or "prepared" Co- 
 coas, which thicken 
 in the cup. 
 
 S^EFR.1E53KB:i:1M^G8-, FXTJaE, SOLXJBIjB, 
 
 11 
 
 El 
 
 
 I) 
 
 FOEt BOYS' A]NI> ^YOUTHS' CLOTHING. 
 
 Every style of Youths' and Boys' Clothing, suitable for every occasion, for immediate use or made to measure. The " C " and " D " classes are 
 recommended. SPECIAL ROOMS are devoted to the JUVENILE DEPARTMENT. Suit for a Bov. 3 feet 8 inches in height;— "C" 
 CLASS, 278. "D" CLASS, 31s. Prices varying according to size. ILLUSTRATED PRICE LlhT OF THE I»F.WEST SXYLES, 
 GUIDE TO SELF- MEASURE WENT. an.i PATTERNS, POKT FREE. 
 
 Alpine, IGs. to 40s. Sc;iibr.vo'. l.N to I:!h. Ilifrhland, 30s. to 708. I28.^6d"to^403 Ulster, 15s. Gd. to 45s. Eton, 21s. to 503. Keefer, 24s. to 53s. 
 
 QAMiiri DDnTUrDC MERCHANT TAILOES & BOYS' OUTFITTERS, 
 OHITIIILL DnUin LnQi Syd enham Hottse ,65&67,Lttdgate HiU, London. E.C., 
 
 TTtr 
 
lllim..S,^n^t^.f LEY LIBRARIES 
 
 r • I iMiiiiini 
 
 lOAN DEPT. 
 
 LD62A-50m-2,'64 
 (E34948l0)9<n'<>A 
 
 8lO)9412A 
 
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 UoiveKKy of California 
 Berkeley