CHRISTMAS GRLLTING IM MARIE CORELLI Book_ C S Copyright}^'' COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. CHRISTMAS GREETING By MARIE CORELLI NEW YORK DODD.MEAD 8c CO 1902 THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Cowtfc Reosiveo SEP. 2$ 1902 CLASS Ct XXo No. COPY B. ^ ^ Copyrighty igoi By Dodd, Mead and Company All rights reur-ved First edition published September, 1902 THE CAXTON PRESS NEW YORK. CONTENTS Page "A Merry Christmas !" 3 ,NGLAND 15 'he King's Crown 19 »Hymn for the Coronation 33 HE Soul of Queen Alexandra .... 39 i\ Christmas Carol at Sandringham ... 49 A Question of Faith 55 HE Voice in the Cathedral loi he Ghost in the Sedan-Chair .... 105 JNG Henry's Love-Song 125 yThe Fire of Life 135 'he Devil's Motor 141 ^GoD AND Satan 157 P' Imaginary" Love 161 Forgiveness 173 URMURINGS of THE AvON 179 snowdrops 203 V CONTENTS Page Savage London 207 JoE*s Orchid 219 The Laurels of the Brave 223 One Rose! 265 The Prayer of the Small Country M. P. . 271 To "The Quarterly" 279 The Queen's Wish 2831 " A Happy New Year ! " ....... 289 The Children's Pages King Buttercup's Wedding 299 How Jack Built his House 318 The Swimming Shoes 323 Children's Evening Hymn 339 ^ VI A Christmas Greeting "A MERRY CHRISTMAS!" iT is an old, very old, time-worn greeting, this of the friendly "Merry Christmas to you!" and there are some folks among us in these days who profess to hate the very sound of it. It came into use when England was known as " Merrie England," an appellation which seems more than singular to us who have to endure the inane dulness and melancholy stupidity of " society " as it exists in this present gloriously- progressive Motor-Era. Looking round on the tired, worn, nervous, querulous faces in the crowds that fill the streets and shops at Christmas-time, — hearing the endless complaints, the new dis- eases, the troubles, real and fancied, of each per- son who can manage to detain a friend for five minutes* hurried and morbid conversation, — reading the delectable details of suicide, murder, mania and misadventure preciously garnered up as gems of literature for the million by the halfpenny press — one may reasonably wonder 3 A CHRISTMAS GREETINGi whether England was ever in truth really " mer- rie," as recorded. Her ancient sweet songs and' ballads, her old-fashioned " Yule games " andr ^ picturesque " country dances '* would appear toj > prove her so, — reports of the " open doors " and generous hospitality of her jolly yeomen,< and hunting squires in bygone days are still^ extant, — and it may be reasonably asked why, if she was so " merrie " once, she cannot be' equally " merrie " again. ^ " It is a farce to wish me 'A Merry Christ- ^ mas,* " says the pessimist — " / have no cause/ ^ to be merry ! " Quite so ! But then, my excellent friend, you must remember that all the world does not wag f! in your particular way ! Strange, is n*t it ? You'd may possibly have thought now and then, as a| self-concentrated unit, that because you are not merry (and you never will be, I fear) — there- - fore no one else has any right to be so. Thisfc is your little mistake. However, as it is Christ-i^ mas time we will not be hard on you. Youf ^ shall enjoy yourself in your own approved fash- ion of being miserable. No one shall interfere with you, provided you do not interfere with anyone else. Grumble away all by yourself! 4 ["A MERRY CHRISTMAS!" Sneer at "A Merry Christmas*' — only do it alone ! Curse the frost, the wind, the rain, the | robins, the Christmas cards, the puddings, the mince-pies, the holly, the mistletoe (and the kisses under it !), and announce to blank space your detestation of the whole Festival ! No one shall come near you, believe me, so long as you keep on your own ground and do not at- 1 tempt to trespass on your neighbour's little plot of harmless enjoyment. For there are still a few of us remaining on the planet who are not absolutely and incurably selfish, — who can find their pleasure in making others happy, — who can put aside their own private griefs for the sake of cheering those who are still more j grieved, — who can take delight in the laughter and merriment of children, and for whom the an- ' niversary of Christ's birth is still a sacred day, consecrated to joy and thanksgiving. True it is that every such recurring anniversary must have its sorrowful thought or memory asso- ciated with those who are no longer here with us ; true it is in very saddest earnest that the >cruel grip of War has robbed many a home of its nearest and dearest, who will be missed and mourned when families gather round the Christ- 5 A CHRISTMAS GREETING' mas fire and talk of the past in low voices, with tears in their eyes — • nevertheless, it is also true, thank God, that those who are gone are neither^ "lost'* nor really "parted" from us. Possibly they are nearer to us in our lonely evenings than we know, — possibly they hear our voices,^ and see us as they saw us in life. We cannot tell ; and as our ignorance of the Divine mys- teries leaves us in doubt, let us be even as we would if our beloved ones were here, — cheerful among ourselves, and kind to all those with whom we are brought in contact. ♦♦ ^e iDtio liatje ^comru eactj ot^er a^t infureD frtmu or brother, 31n tW fa0t-faUing ^ear ; ge tolio b^ tDori5 or ueeo J^atie tttaue a }^inti \)tRn bleeD, Comet gatljer liere ! iltt 0mn'U against anU winning iforget tljeir sftrife's; beginning anu foin in frienDsfbip noto ; Wt linfefi? no longer brofeen, 115e 0tDeet forgitjenes?^ s^pofeen mnuer tbe l^oll^ Bougb ! " ge tDbo tiabe nouri^beD 6aune00, (Estrange!) from bope anD glaone00 31n tbis fa0t-faDing ^ear ; 6 ."A MERRY CHRISTMAS!" ^e tDitti o'er-burueneu mini} ^aUe aliens from ^our }^ixxtii Come, gather Ijere ! ilet not ^our usfele^sf 0orrotD pursue ^ou nigtjt anti morrotp, 31f e'er ^ou IjopeD, tiope noto ! 2:afee lieart ! — vianclouD ^our face0 anti join in our embrace0 mnoer t\)t J^oll^ Bougti ! " There is no use in grieving; — there is no sense in quarrelling ; — there is no advantage in ^grumbling. People sacrifice both good health and good looks to constant querulousness. Suppose it is a "cold-' Christmas, or a "damp" Christmas, or a " green " Christmas, or an " east- 'windy " Christmas, or an altogether meteorologi- cally disagreeable Christmas. Well, what then ? All the peevishness in the world will not alter it. Some of you who don't like it will make for Egypt or the Riviera. Much good may it do you ! An Arab smell, and the " fleecing " of Cairene hotel proprietors are doubtful additions to Christmas pleasure — and the raucous cry of ( the croupier at Monte Carlo, " Faites vos jeux. Messieurs et Mesdames ! " is scarcely worth crossing the Channel to hear. Perhaps, however, 7 A CHRISTMAS GREETING it may be a satisfaction to some folks to spend their surplus cash in " furrin parts " rather than at home ? If this should be the case, it will be ^ an equal satisfaction to me to politely intimate that I consider such persons unworthy of their own matchless country. The much abused " English climate " is good enough for any- body. Every sort of " temperature " can be obtained in these favoured British Isles. If warmth, and freedom from east winds be re- quired, it can be obtained at Penzance, New- quay, or Tenby — or better still on the lovely Irish coast at Parknasilla, where palms and tropical trees grow to perfection all winter in the open. Certainly there is no " gambling-hell " ^ there ; — there are only warm Irish hearts wait- ing for sympathy and comprehension, and I venture to think they merit as much good cash spent among them for their benefit as is wasted on the French, who, given the opportunity, abuse their English patrons more outrageously than any wild-headed, big-hearted Irish " agi- tator " that ever lived. I must confess I have " no sympathy with the restless, nervous swarms of semi-lunatics ever " on the go " in search of "change**; — who turn their backs on Imperial 8 "A MERRY CHRISTMAS!" Britain at the first breath of its winter, which, taken on the whole, is a much more healthy- winter than many other countries are blessed with. And an " old English Yule " kept in the old English manner is not to be despised. Try- it, all you who are not going abroad — you who Lare not only content, but glad and proud to Temain in this " (I];art^ of ^afesft^, tjjis; 0eat of £pars?, %^i^ ottjer (Bum, Uemi-paratii0e, %\)iii fortre00 built b^ jjiature for Iftertfelf ; — 2Dt)is? little tDorlt), SCiiisf precious? s^tone &tt in tifte s?ilber s?ea ! " Try to keep a happy and "merrie" Christ- mas in England — try to make it a blessed and unforgettable festival of pleasure for more than [yourselves. Do some little special kindness, each 'one of you, unobtrusively in your own immediate /, neighbourhood, and never bother about the "in- ^^convenience," or the " trouble," or the " cold." '' ColD Cl)ri0tmafif ? #0 ! d^nx Ctjrisftntas; is not cold ; aitbougb t^^ nortb toinUs blofco anti pile tbe drifting 0notD, ^uD ttie beecb-trees; on ttje freezing tDolD H^ocfe siaul^ to and fro* 9 fA CHRISTMAS GREETING (Dur Cl)rt0tma0 bears? a toarm, true Ijeart, J^t0 face 10 ren toit^ glee, anil tie fes?t0 anu laughs? anu 0mgsf anu quaffs? — ^t tDa0 neber unkinu to me, nt^ lobe, ^a^ Ije neber be colu to tljee ! '' (^ID Cl^ris^tmas ? Jio ! a:t)ougb s?tate0 anU kingtiomsf toeaic, anU cliange anti ruin groto iFrom ages? as? ttje^ floto, J^e's? asf Ugljt of treatj, as? ^oung anu fair 30 a t^ousfanu ^ears? ago* aCbe morning beams? are altoa^s; neto 3inD scatter bles?0ing0 free, ainU tbe Ct)ris?tmas? SDa^ 3|0 as? netD as? tlje^, J^e toa0 netjer olD to me, m^ lobe ; ^a^ ^t neber groto olb to tbee ! " So runs a sweet old song, sung by a true English poet in days long ago gone by; and the clear, clean, glad and wholesome spirit of it is surely worth cherishing. Let none of us say we " hate " Christmas. Whatever our mem- ^ories, bitter or sweet, they do not belong to the festival, but only to ourselves. Suppose there- fore we lose sight of ourselves — our precious selves — just for once in our lives, and consider lO MERRY CHRISTMAS!" others i little ? If we do this, we shall find it easy to be " merry," easy to smile, easy to say a kind word, easy to do a kind action, easy to »" bring home the holly," and very easy to hang up the mistletoe and waft a kiss from under it to any cross old boy who declines to be as happy as we would like to make him ! II 13 ENGLAND I9OI-I902 )3flf C up tJjine epe^, tl)rone tiotl) ^l)are; oSoti of our fatl)er^ ! oBuarti anti 6le^^ t^t ®ueen! Storb of tl)e ^m ann future, let €l)p ligl^t J>l)ine on tlyi^ Double crotoning of our Hanti ! 31n ^eace or l©ar, €oD, tiefenti tl)e iHigftt Stnti let our ^ftielti fie ^till C^p ^l)eltering i^anti ! ear anti accept €l)p grateful people*^ praise for all €l)p mercies in tl)e former tiap^, — for present )op^, for ble^ging^sf pet to fie, Wt l^umfilp gibe tl)e glorp unto €f^tty ^2CnD to €bp ^erbice toe bo consecrate €te ^obereign^ of our Empire of tlje ^ ^ea! oBob of our fatljer^ ! OBuarb anb hW^ tbe cS^tate ! 34 HYMN FOR THE CORONATION [%ms libe our ^mperor^JHing anti €mpre^^^ OSucen ! oBoti ^abe tl)em from all etjil^ near or far ! let^ap goltien pear^ of Ijappie^t peace Serene !2l9afte 6rigl)t tlje ^toap of tljeir imperial J)tar! 25efore f^igfy i^eaben toe ^toear to tl)em our faitl^^ ji^onour anti trutf) anti lopaltp till Deatl) ! Courage anD c^i^jalrp are toitl) u^ pet, — oBoti ^ftall forget u^ all ere Wt forget ! Houti let our ijoice^ toitl) tl)e jop^^fiell^ ring, €o all tl)e nation^ l)ere togetl^er met ; — oBoti fie toitl) England, anti toitl) ^nglanti'^ l^ing ! 35 37 ^THE SOUL OF Q^UEEN ALEXANDRA A SPIRIT-PICTURE 'AVE you seen the ^een? " Thousands of eager lips voiced this question, — thou- sands of eager eyes were turned towards the stately towers of Westminster, rising darkly out- lined like fine bronze against the cold grey sky, on that bleak and bitter feast-day of St. Valen- tine, 1901, when Edward VII., King of Great ^Britain and Emperor of India, went in state to .open his first Parliament. Thousands of loving and loyal hearts, still heavy with grief for the |loss of Victoria the Good, so long the Mother ^of her people, grew warm with tenderness and devotion as the whispered name " Alex- fandra ! " ran from mouth to mouth, and the >ld fiery chant, so gloriously sung by the last 'great Poet- Laureate of England, came back |like a wave breaking on the shore of many memories : — 39 A CHRISTMAS GREETING^ ** &tnMn%'s rjau^ljtfr from ober t\)t sea, ^IcjcanDra ! ^ajcon, anD jporman, ano SOane are ijdc, ^ut all of us; E>anc0 in our turlcome of tljee, aif ]canDra ! Welcome tjer tljuntiers of fort auD of fleet, OT^elcome ^er t^unoering cljeer of tlje street ! ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 0\), ]0\f to ttie people, anu fo^ to tt)e K\)tom, Come to u0, lotje u0, ano mafee us rour oUin ! " For had she not obeyed and fulfilled the Poet's invocation ? Had she not, indeed, come to us, and loved us, and made us her own ? And had we not taken her in all her youth and hope and beauty, and made her our own in turn ? — our own Princess of Loving-Kindness, dear to all, honoured by all as one of the purest and noblest figures in all the history of English Royal annals ? And so on this St. Valentine's Day of never-to-be-forgotten memory, the peo- ple gathered in multitudes to see her pass, — transformed from Princess into Queen — a change which, though always predestined, seemed at the time singular, and as much at- tended by grief as by gladness. For she — like all the people who were one with her in truth 40 THE SOUL OF QUEEN ALEXANDRA and loyalty to the Throne — mourned the loss of the greatest, best, and wisest Sovereign that ' had ever reigned in England since the days of Elizabeth, — one, who to the diplomacy, tact, and foresight of Elizabeth, had added the sweet- ness, gentleness, and love of a pure womanly heart, ever in sympathy with the joys and griefs of her people. Affection, curiosity, and compas- sion struggled for the mastery in the minds of the vast crowds that watched the progress of the gorgeous State Coach, drawn by the dainty cream ponies which had but lately, alas ! drawn the dead Queen through the great city to her last rest ; and people standing a-tiptoe strove to peer through the glass on all sides, not so much to catch a glimpse of the King's familiar face as to note the expression on the delicate fair features of his Consort. It was difficult to see her within the cumbrous, painted and gilded equipage, — the King's brilliant uniform and glittering orders made his figure more conspic- uous than hers ; moreover, his features were so well known to the crowds who had long loved him as their " popular " prince, that no one was put to any great strain to recognize him. But the shrinking, graceful form at his side was less 41 A CHRISTMAS GREETINGI distinct in outline — one saw a blur of sable robes' and long-flowing veil, the gleam of jewels, a wist-, ful face with soft grieved eyes, and that was all. Inside the House of Lords, however, the im- pression was different. There, amid the rustle of black silken robes, and the sweep of mourn- ing veils and funereal plumes, the glisten of dia- monds, the milky sheen of pearls, and the almost startling relief of colour afforded by the scarlet robes of the Peers, came the very incar- nation of majesty ; — of grief and beauty in one, when the " Sea-king's daughter " stood pale and' proud beside her Husband and King, — when the Royal robes of ruby velvet and snowy ermine fell around that slight regal figure clad in solemn black, almost crushing it with a weight' ,] of splendour, and when the sweet eyes gazed out on the crowded gathering of the world's most brilliant personages of rank and influence with a' gravity not unmingled with pain. A fitting partner for the Throne of the greatest Emperor on earth, '' g)t)e s?toot> bee^iue tjim lifee a rainboto braitjeD, OTitljin sfome 0torm, iotjen nearer it^ sbaDotos; basft ifrom tt)e blue patl)0 of ttje stjoift sfun tjate faueu^ " . 42 THE SOUL OF QUEEN ALEXANDRA^ There was present one who looked upon her at that moment, and looking, saw her with other eyes than those of mere humanity, — saw her as earthly sight alone can never see her, — in the clear undarkened air of psychic vision which brings all things, all circumstances, all seeming shapes into the true prospective of the Soul's distinct and unerring observation. And in that Light she stood uplifted; — the symbols of earth's passing power and splendour were no longer visible — the crowding forms around her were as drifting shadows, dimly outlined or van- ishing altogether into darker space. High above them all her Spirit rose transfigured; — revealed in its true beauty, — transformed by a Thought, — and hallowed by a Prayer ! No longer robed in sombre mourning garb, she shone resplen- dent, clad in the dazzling whiteness of an Angel's wearing; — Royal robes of Heaven's imperishable gold enfolded her as with wings, and on her brow sparkled the deathless Crown ^ of many bravely-endured mortal sorrows turned into jewels of immortal joy ! Unconscious of the living, radiating light surrounding her, she stood serene and prayerful, — watchful and patient, — fearless and resigned, — loving and 43 A CHRISTMAS GREETING true; and like the breaking of great waves upon the shifting sand, came the murmur of a mighty- People's praise, — the grateful blessings of brave soldiers far away, fighting for England's honour, — the tenderness of children's love, — the thank- fulness of struggling souls rescued from sin and death ! Pure thoughts, pure words, pure deeds formed a glittering triumphal Arch of rainbow hues above her, attracting with an irresistible force the unseen powers of good, which, through all clouds of dcubt and chance, do yet flash their star-like rays of hope upon the world, inspiring the mind of humanity to fresh work, ambition, and endeavour. To her — a Queen of Fair Virtues — ascended the earnest, though unworded petitions of all good women for guid- ance and example, — to her their looks were turned for leadership through the devious and difficult ways of life, — for to them she seemed ** i?ipt liht a bracontolDcr abotie tlje toabefi; Christmas-time ! " It was such a charming ghost ! so unlike the usual sort of creeping- shivery thing which is supposed to haunt old; houses and frighten harmless children ! It had such beautiful clear eyes, — such a radiant smile! — and such a pretty pout came on the rosy lips when, receiving no answer, it suddenly said with >an air of graceful petulance, — " Dear me ! Now I have told you who I am, you don't seem a bit glad to see me ! You ought to be, you know ! — for I am quite a harmless Ghost — really I am! I would n't(J frighten you for the world ! But you would buy J my Chair ! — and of course I like to come and sit ' in it now and then, and think about old times ! I began to recover myself from the shock oft surprise the fascinating appearance had given c me, and I said in a faint voice, — " Oh, is that it ? The Sedan-Chair — " " Is mine ! " said the Ghost of the Old- Fashioned Girl ; " or rather it used to be mine when I lived in the world and went about in it 109 A CHRISTMAS GREETING to balls and parties, you know ! I can't help having a little tenderness for it, because it is so very closely associated with my happy life on earth. Now please don't stand looking at me so strangely ! Sit down, and let us have a little chat in the firelight, won't you? " What a sweet voice this Ghost had to be sure ! What a delightfully coaxing way of looking and speaking ! I could not resist the appealing, half playful glances of her eyes, so I obeyed her suggestion and went back to my seat by the fire, whereupon the Ghost of the Old- Fashioned Girl straightway opened the door of the Sedan-Chair and showed me her entire self, dressed apparently for a Christmas-party. Her white muslin frock was simply hemmed at the bottom, and had three little tucks in it — she wore small low shoes with elastics crossed oyer fine openwork white stockings — her pretty rounded arms were veiled, but not disguised, by black lace mittens, and her waist was quite carelessly tied in with a narrow strip of blue ribbon. But all this extreme simplicity only ► served to show the exquisite beauty of her lovely neck and shoulders, which rose out of the little muslin bodice like sculptured snow, no THE GHOST IN THE SEDAN-CHAIR and one little wicked knot of violets fastened with a quaint pearl brooch against the beautiful bosom, was enough to make the coldest anchor- ite forget his prayers and compose a love-sonnet immediately. " Well ! " said the Ghost after a pause, " how do you like me ? " " Very much ! " I answered promptly ; " I have never seen anyone so pretty as you are in my life ! " The Ghost of the Old-Fashioned Girl smiled, and drawing out a small fan with delicate mother- of-pearl sticks, unfurled it and put it coquettishly before her face. " That is what all the gentlemen used to say to me when I went about in this Chair," she observed, "and then they would put theirr] declarations in the lining." " In the lining ? " I echoed. " You mean — " "The lining of the Chair," she explained. " There are some little secret pockets in it — haven't you found them yet.? Oh, you must look for them when I am gone — there is one very deep pocket just behind my head under a ^ big golden fleur-de-lys. My iirst real proposal was put in that ! " III J A CHRISTMAS GREETING " And did you accept it ? " " Yes/* said the Ghost of the Old-Fashioned ,Girl, smiHng, "and he and I were married, and Jived fifty years together ! '* " Dear me ! '* I ejaculated. " And he — " " He is very well, thank you ! " said the Ghost of the Old-Fashioned Girl. " Quite as young as when I first met him, — and so am I ! " I had no words ready with which to reply to this astonishing statement. The Ghost of the Old-Fashioned Girl folded up her little fan and ^^ pressed its tip meditatively against her hps. " You see we really loved each other," she said with emphasis, " and so of course we have always loved each other! And as a naturali^ result we shall always love each other ! " " Yes, — I understand — " I murmured vaguely. " No, you don't ! " said the Ghost of the Old-Fashioned Girl quickly ; " though perhaps I should n*t say that, because it sounds rude, — ^but I am afraid, you know, that you c^on^ quite see the point! The world has lost a number of good things since I was a girl in it, — and one of these good things is real, true love ! " JI2 THE GHOST IN THE SEDAN-CHAI " I don*t think you should say that ! " I replied warmly ; " I am sure people love each^ other quite as much as they ever did." The Ghost of the Old-Fashioned Girl shook her fan at me. " Not a bit of it ! " she declared. " You know they don't, — so don't pretend they do ! " I was silent. I felt that it was perhaps not advisable to enter into argument with a visitor who knew the secrets of the next world. " They cant love each other as they used to/*i went on the Ghost of the Old-Fashioned Girl ; " the modern ways of the world won't give them either the time or the opportunity. It is all rush, rush, hurry, and scramble; — and I *m sorry to see that the men love themselves better than their sweethearts. In my day it was quite different; men loved their sweethearts better than themselves ! " " But you had not much liberty in your day, had you ? " I asked timidly. " Quite as much as was good for me, or for, any of us," replied the Ghost of the Old-Fash- I ioned Girl. " We stayed in the dear old homes of our childhood content to make them happy by our presence, — till our destined lovers came 8 113 [lA CHRISTMAS GREETING and found us and took us away to other homes, which they had worked for, and which we tried to make as pleasant and sweet as those we had left. Home was always our happiest and dear- est place. But the girls of to-day don't care for simple home lives. What do they know about making the best jams in the country, the finest elder wine or cider ? What do they know about the value of lavendered linen ? What do they care about tidiness, economy, or cleanliness? Pooh ! They want change and excitement all the time ! '* "That^s true!'' I said. "But then, you see, woman's education is much enlarged and improved — " " Education that makes a woman prefer hotels and restaurants to her own home is not education at all," said the Ghost of the Old- Fashioned Girl, with a decided nod of her pretty head. " Oh dear! What a pity it is ! — what a pity ! It makes me quite sad to think of all the happiness women are losing ! " She gave her little muslin skirts a soft shake, and settled herself more cosily in the Sedan-Chair. " I remember," she said, and her voice was as sweet as that of a bird in Spring-time — "I 114 THE GHOST IN THE SEDAN-CHAIR remember going in this very Chair to a grand Court ball in London. I danced with the Royal party in ' Sir Roger/ and I was one of the belles of the evening. I was dressed very much as I am now, and none of the girls there had anything better or more showy, — but their • admirers were legion, and any of them could have married well the very next day, not because they were rich, for most of them were poor, but just because they were sweet, and innocent, and good. None of them would have thought of spoiling their fresh faces with paint and powder — that was left to what were called ' women of the town ! ' None of them ever thought of drinking wines or spirits. None of them ever spoke or laughed loudly, but comported themselves with gentleness, unselfish kindness, and grace of manner. And will you ,tell me that things are just the same now ? " Her eyes met mine with a penetrating flash. " No, they are not the same," I said ; " you Iwould not wish the world to stand still, would you ? Girls have progressed since your day ! " She nodded gravely. "Yes? Tell me how!" "Well, for instance — " and I sought about "5 A CHRISTMAS GREETING. desperately in my mind for examples of woman's progress — " for instance, they enjoy greater freedom. They get more open-air exercise. They play tennis and golf and hockey with the men — " The Ghost of the Old- Fashioned Girl gave a slight, a very slight and not unmusical giggle. " Yes ! I have seen them at it, and very| ugly they look. But their sports do develop muscle — very unbecomingly in the neck! — and they do induce the growth — of horribly' large hands and feet! Oh, yes some more Progress ! " A trifle disconcerted, I went on. " Then they cycle — " Here the Ghost of the Old-Fashioned put up her fan again. " Pray ! — pray ! " she remonstrated - really must ask you to consider me a little, and avoid any conversation that borders on impropriety ! " "Impropriety!" I echoed aghast. "But all the girls cycle — " " That is to say," said the Ghost with asperity^ ^^ that all the girls have become shameless enough to sit astride on a couple of wheels an ii6 Let 's have Girl THE GHOST IN THE SEDAN-CHAIR thus expose themselves to the gaze of the public- A hopeful state of things, truly ! Well ! Give me some more Progress ! " " Then/' I said, " there are plenty of girls who smoke and drive motor-cars, and bet on] horse-races and gamble at ' Bridge/ Tou may object to this sort of thing, being so much behind the age, — but after all you must own that it brings them into free and constant com- panionship with the other sex." " It does ! " said the Ghost of the Old- Fashioned Girl decidedly ; " and such free and constant companionship breeds contempt on both sides ! Now let me tell you something ! Do you know what all the best men like most ? '' I laughed and shook my head in the negative. " They like what they cannot get ! " said the,^ Ghost of the Old-Fashioned Girl emphatically, "They like what is as unlike themselves as possible, and what will never be like themselves ! The woman who is half a man will never be^ truly loved by a whole man — remember that ! "^ Again she settled her pretty muslin skirts,) and nodded her fair head, " sunning over with curls," well out of the interior of the Sedan- Chair. 117 A CHRISTMAS GREETING "In the old unprogressive days," she said, " we [ certainly did not have much liberty. We were held as too precious and too dear to be allowed ^to straggle about by ourselves like unvalued, ^tramps in the highways and byways. We stayed very much in our own homes, and were proud and pleased to be there. We helped to make them beautiful. We loved our old-fashioned gardens. We played ' battledore and shuttle- cock,' which is exactly the same as your ' Ping- / Pong* — save that you have a net in the middle of the table and play with balls — and we tossed, oiir shuttlecocks up to the blue sky. We walked and rode, and found in these two exercises quite sufficient relaxation as well as development for our bodies, which, if you will please to,^ remember, are not intended to be in the least like the bodies of men, and are by no means fitted for masculine gymnastics. We had neitherj cycles nor motors, we did not smoke, drink, bet, < or gamble, — but — we were the models of womanliness, goodness, and purity for all the ► world! — and — we were loved!'* " And love was quite sufficient for you ? " I asked hesitatingly. " Of course ! Love was sufficient, and is ii8 THE GHOST IN THE SEDAN-CHAIRh sufficient always for every woman when it is love ; — but you have to be quite sure about^ it!" " Ah, yes ! " I said, '' very sure ! " The Ghost of the Old-Fashioned Girl peered at me with a saucy air. " Do you know how to make sure?'* she asked. " No ! " Her Hps parted in a gay little chuckle of laughter. " Then you must find out ! " Provoking Old-Fashioned Girl ! I sprang up and made a step towards her, but her fair face seemed to be growing indistinct, as if about to disappear. " Oh, don't go ! I cried, " don't go away, dear Old-Fashioned Girl ! Do stay a little ! " The pretty eyes sparkled out again, and the winsome features shone forth once more from the interior of the Sedan-Chair. " What is the use of my staying ? " she de manded. "You live in the age of progress I 'm not wanted ! " " But you are wanted ! " I declared. " The world wants you ! Anyhow, /want you. Come and spend Christmas with me 1 " 119 A CHRISTMAS GREETING Did ever any Ghost in any legend wear such an enchanting smile as lighted up the dream- face of the Old-Fashioned Girl as she heard this impulsive invitation ? Stretching out a little hand as white as milk — and I noticed therei was a tiny blue forget-me-not ring on it — she said, — "Yes, I will spend Christmas with you ! If you will fasten a bunch of mistletoe on the door of my dear old Sedan-Chair on Christmas Eve, I will come and bring you a bundle of pleasant | thoughts and merry fancies in exchange ! And the best advice I can give you is to be ' Old- Fashioned ' — that is, to love home more than 'gadding,' — peace more than strife, — friend- ship more than ' society,' — simpHcity more than^< show, — cheerfulness more than pride, — truthj] more than distinction, — and God more than all ! Good-night, my dear ! Good-bye ! " " Wait, wait ! " I exclaimed, loth to lose sight of the pretty face, the sweet eyes, the happy, smile — " Just one thing I want to ask you — ' only one thing ! " The Ghost paused, and turned its fair head' round in a glamour of soft radiance like melted) moonbeams. I20 HE GHOST IN THE SEDAN-CHAIR "Well, what is it ? " " Just one thing I want, only one thing ! — iOh, dear Old- Fashioned Girl, tell me ! — when lyou lived in this world, so changed and so much sadder and colder since your time — who were you r The Ghost of the Old-Fashioned Girl laughed musically. " Why a simple nobody, my dear ! Only your great-great-grandmamma ! " The door of the Sedan-Chair shut with a 'slight bang, — and almost I expected to see a couple of spectral " bearers" take it up with its lovely ghostly occupant, and carry it away alto- gether out of my drawing-room to some un- known region of faery. But no ! The fire burned up bright and clear, and the flames of the pine-logs danced merrily on the Chair as be- fore, catching at the tarnished gold and gleaming on the faded crimson lining, but the Old-Fash- ioned Girl had gone, as completely as she has vanished from the social world of to-day. Re- membering what she had said about the myste- rious secret pocket behind one of the patterned fleur-de-lys, I advanced cautiously, put my hand through one of the window-holes, and felt about 121 A CHRISTMAS GREETING to see if I could find it. Yes ! — there it was ! — and while groping doubtfully in it, my fingers came in contact with a bit of crumpled paper. ^Tremblingly I drew it out, — it brought with it 1 a scent of old rose-leaves and lavender, — and hurrying back to the hearth I knelt down and examined it by the glow of the fire. Something was written on it in faded ink, and after poring \ over it for a minute or two, I was able to make ^ out the words : " My own little Sweetheart, I love you for yourself alone, believe me, and I will always love you till — " I looked up. I thought I heard the old Chair creak ! Had my great-great-grandmamma come back to catch me reading what was per- haps one of her love-letters ? No — she was^ not there. But I fancy I know now why shejj haunts the Sedan-Chair, and as she is a relative of mine, I shall certainly expect her to stay with me at Christmas and help me to begin the New] Year in a real " Old-Fashioned *' way, — with home-contentment, love, and peace ! 132 "3 00OOO00O0OOOOG0G0O0G00000 ^ O000000G0GG0000OO0O0OO0O0 KING HENRY'S LOVE-SONG' ("AH, MY SWEET SWEETING.") Words by King Henry VIII. Music by Marie Corelli. Allegretto con tenerezza. Ah, my sweet sweet-ing, My pret-ty lit - tie sweet-ing, My ^^ % ^ \ U ib sweet-ing I will love wher-ev - er I may go ! She -^.- ^ ffi V -»-. -9- si- *—Sr ■* -1^ m ^ :^=^: ^3 h^ r 5 *~ r I s By permission of Messrs. Laudy & Co., Publishers, 139 Oxford Street, London, who own the musical copyright. GOO00O0O00OOOO0O0G00QOG00 ^ OG0O0G0O00000O00OGO0O0000 A CHRISTMAS GREETING i ;i± ■^ — •^. -* — rj s is so prop - er and so pure, Full stead - fast, sta - ble, I ^=i ES^ • . * 4 r ^ ^ i s ?=«^ 1^ r3= ^^^ «rr7;^ ^ ^^ti^ and de-mure, There is none such, you may be surej There # ^ z * ^ ^2Z- ^?^*EE^E^^=g is none such, you may be sure. As my sweet sweet - ing! t::^ i P P P m wm fcfc* ^ -^a 3 126 ©000000O00OOOOO00OOOOOO00 ^ ©©000000000OO0O000OOO0000 KING HENRY'S LOVE-SONG T^: ^ Oh! my lit-tle sweet-ing; My /> /r> ^ 1^ -#-^ m ^±^ F - :« ^-V A A ^ S ^^: f sweet-ing I will love wher - ev - er I may go! Fi^^ Lfc A r ^ S S ^ ^ ©©©OO0000©0G©©OOG)00©0O©GO ^ O00000GOO0O00O0OO0000OGX?© A CHRISTMAS GREETING i piu lento. m=^: t^=JE fci In ^ m itOZjZ^ ^=^ w ^ J J J ^ J J J JCE i ^ M /^» ^ ^^^^m ta^ all this world, so think-eth me, Is none so pleas-ant ^^ :^33 ^F=^ ^: P te -#^ ^ i^=^=§f= -Hr-tr^ s^t ^ ^ to my ee. That I am glad so oft to see As i i i j^ ¥ lr^-4^ -« — « ^ — ^ ^^ 128 ©OGGOGOOGOOGXDOOOGOGGGGGGG ^ ©OGGO0OOOOOGGGGG0GG0OOGG0 KING HENRY* S LOVE-SONG a tempo. t ? ttErt±±iti* my sweet sweet-ing ! When I be - hold my sweeting sweet, Her d: 4=i I B^ -€l^en toearp greto tl^e J^pirit of fire, anti rising on ratiiant toings, J^e fleti atoap from tl^e to&irling tiance of l)i0 brief createti t^ins$ — 136 THE FIRE OF LIFE 3Eartf)'^ filacft anti sterile gloBe ^toung tounti on an etige of circling colD, 5tnli ti^t ^un toa^ drotoneti in a ^pftetical $ta of mobele^^ fro5en golD — ^€J)e (&t}h$ tieparteti anti btoto^eti again Bp Stife*^ fuIl:^flotDing riber, 2&ut t^e toorto tf^ep Ijati malie toitl) a 25reatf^ of flame l^ati pa^^tlx from tfjeir tf^msW for eber! ? 137 139 THE DEVIL'S MOTOR A FANTASY N the dead midnight, at that supreme moment when the Hours that are past slip away from the grasp of the Hours yet to be, there came rushing between Earth and Heaven the sound of giant wheels, — the glare of great lights, — the stench and the muffled roar of a huge Car, tearing at full speed along the pale line dividing the Darkness from the Dawn. And he who stood within the Car, steering it straight onward, was clothed in black and crowned with fire;^ large bat-like wings flared out on either side of him in woven webs of smoke and flame, and his face was white as bleached bone. Like glow- ing embers his eyes burned in their cavernous sockets, shedding terrific glances through the star-strewn space,— and on his thin lips there was a frozen shadow of a smile more cruel than hate, — more deadly than despair. " On ! - he cried — " Still on ! On with an endless rush and roar ! Over the plains of the 141 CHRISTMAS GREETING world that is gone, — over the heights of the world to come — on, still on! Without pause, without pity, without love, without regret ! Follow me, all ye Forces which are destined to work the ruin of Mankind, — follow ! On, on, .over all beauty, all tenderness, all truth I ride, I, the Avenger, the Destroyer, the Torturer of Souls, the Arch-Enemy of God ! The King- om of Hell grows wide and deep, — praise be to Man who makes it ! I count up my growing possessions in the ever-breeding spawn f human lust and avarice, — I breathe and live nd rejoice in the fat poison-vapours of human Selfishness ! The men of these latter days are my food and sustenance, — the women my choice mor- els, my dainty delicates ! Brute beasts and blind, hey snatch at every lie I offer them ; — rejecting ternal Life, they choose Eternal Death, — verily hey shall have their reward! Like a blight my pirit shall encompass them! — and whosoever jwould scour the air and scorch the earth must un on the straight road of his desire with Me ! " ) The great Car flashed along with grinding, :hunderous wheels, and as it flew, vast Phantom- brms followed it, like rolling clouds jagged with the lightning, — the fairness of the world grew 142 THE DEVIL'S MOTOR black, and sulphureous fumes quenched all sweet- ness from the air. The forests dropped like roken reeds, — the mountains crumbled into its and quarries, the seas and rivers, the lakes nd waterfalls dried up into black and muddy waters, and all the land was bereft of beauty. In the place of wholesome green fields and eafy woods, there rose up gigantic cities, built in on every side, and bristling with thousands [upon thousands of chimneys belching forth sickening smoke into the overhanging gloom which hid the skies; and the cities were full of a deafening noise and crashing confusion as of ten million million hammers beating incessantly — ibeating away all peace, all solitude, all health, all rest. On, — on, and into these countless prisons of stone and mortar the Demon of the Car swept ' ast and ever-hurrying crowds of human beings, with the furious force of a mighty whirlwind pweeping dead leaves into the sea. " No room to breathe — no time to think — no good to serve!" he cried — "Now shall ou forget that God exists ! Now shall you all have your own wild way, for Your way is My way ! Now shall you resolve yourselves |back to an embryo of worms and apes, and none 143 J A CHRISTMAS GREETING shall rescue you, no, not one ! For the Seven Angels of the Judgment Day are sounding their trumpets of terror, and who shall silence the voices, or stay the thunderings and lightnings, or the great earthquake ? Hail and fire ! — and the trees, and the green grass burnt up and destroyed! — the sun and the moon, the day and the night smitten into one blackness ! We will have no more virtues ! — no more hopes of Heaven ! Honour shall be as a rag on a fool's back, and Gold shall be the pulse of Life ! Gold, gold, gold ! Fight for it, steal it, pile it up, hoard it, count it, hug it, eat it, sleep with it, die with it ! Lo, I give it to you in millions, packed down and pressed together in full and overflowing measure — I scatter it on you even as a destroying rain ! Build with it, buy with it, gamble with it, sell your souls and bodies for it, — there are devils enough in hell to drive all your bargains ! Sneer at truth, defeat justice, snatch virtue's mask to cover vice, drug con- science, feed and fatten yourselves with the lusts of animalism till the cancer of sin makes of you a putrefaction and an open sore in the sight of the sun! Come, learn from me such wisdom as shall compass your own destruction 1 Unto 144 THE DEVIL'S MOTOR you shall be unlocked the under-mysteries of Nature, and the secrets of the upper air, — you shall bend the lightning to your service, and the lightning shall slay ! — you shall hollow out the ground, and delve a swift road through it for yourselves in fancied proud security, and the earth shall crumble in upon you as a grave, and the cities you have built shall crush you in their falling! — you shall seek to bind the winds and sail the skies, and Death shall wait for you in the clouds, and exult in your downfall. Come, tie your pigmy chariots to the sun, and so be drawn into its flaming vortex of perdition ! All Creation shall rejoice to be cleansed from the pollution of your presence, for God hath sworn to give unto Me all who reject Him, and the Hour of the Gift has come ! '' Still faster and more furiously flew the Car, — red meteors flashed in its course — andi the Phantom shapes which followed its flight crowded together in an ever-thickening, ever- darkening multitude, while bright stars were 'shaken down from heaven like snowflakes whirl- ing in a winter blast. And mingling with the grinding roar of its wheels came other sounds, — sounds of fierce laughter and loud cursing, — lO 145 A CHRISTMAS GREETIN yells and shrieks and groans of torture, — the screams of the suffering, the sobs of the dying,! — and as the Fiend drove on with swiftl quickening speed, men and women and little children were trampled down one upon another and killed in their thousands, and the Car was splashed thick with human blood. And He who was clothed in black and crowned with fire, shouted exultingly as He dashed along over massacred heaps of dead nations and the broken remnants of thrones. " Progress and Speed!" he yelled — " Rush on, world, with me ! — rush on ! There is but one end — hasten we to reach it ! No halt by the way to gather the flowers of thought, — the fruits of feeling ; — no pause for a lifting of the eyes to the wide firmament, where millions of i spheres, more beautiful than this which men make wretched, sail on their courses like fair ships bound for God's golden harbours ! No time to listen to the singing of the birds of hope, the ripple of the sweet waters of refresh- ment, the murmur of cool grasses waving in the I fields of peace; — no time, no stop, — no lull for quiet breathing, — on ! — for-ever on ! Up and ride with me all ye who would reach the 146 THE DEVIL'S MOTOR goal ! Come, ye fools of avarice ! Come, ye blown and bursting windbags of world's conceit and vain pretension! Come, ye greedy maws of gluttony — -ye human pottles of drink — ye^ wolves of vice ! Come, ye shameless women of lusts and lies and vanities ! Come, false hearts and treacherous tongues and painted faces ! — come, dear demons all, and ride with me! Come, ye pretenders to holiness — ye thieves of virtue, who give ' charity ' to the poor with the right hand, and cheat your neighbour with the left! Come, ye gamblers with a Nation's honour, stake your last throw ! Come, all ye morphia-fed vampires and slaves to poison ! — grasp at my wheels and cling 1 On — on — over the fragments of mighty Empires, — over the hearts of kings and queens, — over the lives of the brave, the good, and the wise ! — trample them all down and crush them into dust and ashes ! What shall we do with wis- dom, we who have done with God ? What with purity ? — what with courage ? Naught are these but reproach and bitterness — mere obstacles in the broad way which leadeth to destruction ; — ride them down ! On — on ! to the destined end ! — on with rush and hurry 147 fA CHRISTMAS GREETI N G and panting eagerness to reach the only goal — the last of winning-posts — the close of Cer- tainties, — the Grave ! " Like a flashing blur of fiery wheels the Car now spun along in the blackness of the night, and the drifting Phantoms round about it were as great grey sails swelling with the angry blast, and sweeping it onward through the dark. " Pray no more — hope no more — love no more!" cried the Fiend. "Be as the shifting sands, or as the trembling quicksilver — incon- stant, capricious — ever in motion, never at rest! Change — change and revolt! All ye who weary of old things, behold I give you new ! Bodies shall be pampered and souls killed for your pleasure ; — foulest vices shall be called merely ' sensations,' — each to be tried, excused, and condemned in turn, — and virtues shall have no more place at all in the scale of feeling ! The music of life shall clash into wild discord — the love of home shall be a lost glory, — tenderness for the young, and reverence for the old, shall be the faded sentiments of the past, only fit for a mummer's jest ! Change - Change and Sensation ! Roll out your columns of vaporous notoriety, ye printing-presses of the 148 THE DEVIL'S MOTOR world ! — spread wide the fame of the Anarchist and the Courtesan, — mock and revile the spirits | of the wise and true, — noise abroad the name of the Murderer, and treat the Poet with derision — give flattery to the rich, and scorn to the humble, — teach nothing but the art of lying, — add venom to the tongue of scandal, — dig up the graves of the great, and kill the 1 reputations of the brave and pure ! Help nothing on that is noble — nothing that is honest, — nothing that is of God, or for God, — print every lie, grudge every truth, and let your trumpet-note be that of blatant Atheism and Devilry to the end ! Set trade against trade, — ii community against community, — nation against | nation — till with your windy bombast and senseless twaddle you fill your witches* caul-^ dron of mischief and contention to the full ! Up and ride with me, ye Plotters against Peace! — ye whose hands are against every man! — there is no time to be lost — up and away with a rush and a roar ! — for the Great Star has fallen from heaven to earth, and to ^ Him is given the key of the bottomless pit li The pit is open — the gate stands wide — up, and speed on with Me ! " 149 A CHRISTMAS GREETING. Like lightning now the great Car tore through - space — its flaring lamps flashing, its wheels grinding with the sullen noise of a bursting volcano, — and amidst cries and shrieks in-' describable, it leaped, as it were, from peak toi peak of toppling clouds that towered above and around it like mighty mountains. And presently it seemed as if a thin, pale line of purple fire glimmered afar oflT, and by this light was seen a monstrous ridge of dense blackness jutting sharply over some vast incalculable depth of horror. On — still on — the Car rushed ; and He of the sable robes and flaming crown urged apace its reckless speed with wild shouts of wilder laughter. " All the world in such haste to die ! " he, cried. " All the world gone mad with the craze of movement ! Up in the air, down on the< earth — all turned to whirling, flying, tossing atoms of dust in a storm, and lo, the End ! Be patient now, for ye shall never wander again ! — ^ be silent now, for prayer and cursing, laughter and tears are done ! — let the hoarded gold drop, from your grasp — it can purchase nothing yonder ! Was it worth while, think you, - this rush headlong, to be cast into silence ^ 'SO THE DEVIL^S MOTOR Was it worth while to leave the sunshine for, this dark ? — beauty for this decay ? — sweet sounds of love and tenderness for this still glow, of the eternal flame which is not quenched — this gnawing of the eternal worm whose appetite is never satisfied ? Lo, ye have burnt up a world to light Hell with its flame! — but the' world shall blossom again like a flower springing from the dust, and ye whose soulless lives have been a curse and an outrage on its fairness, shall pace its pleasant paths no more ! Rejoice, O earth! — rejoice, O sea! — to be freed of the^ burdenof Mankind 1 Rejoice, O birds, that the hand of the spoiler shall no longer wound or slay! — rejoice, O trees, that the axe of the destroyer shall no more cast ye down ! — rejoice, O all ye living creatures of the field and forest, that Treachery no longer stalks the world in man's .disguise ! Take back thy planet, O great( God, cleansed of a pigmy race ! Create a new Humanity ! — for This is past ! " On — on, — along the black ridge jutting darkly over silent Immensity, with a whirl of fire and roar of thunder the Car flew, — and then — as if for one brief breathing part of a second it paused ! Like a vast Shadow between 151 A CHRISTMAS GREETING Earth and Heaven the Demon stood — his bony hand on the steering-wheel — and every point I in his flaming crown scintillating with the sparkle of a million stars. Round about him soared and stooped countless terrific Phantom-shapes — some like wrecked ships — some like torn flags of honour — some like mounted warriors — some like throned kings — some like fair women ^ veiled in a mist of tears, — and beneath his bat- like pinions, outstretched to north and south, there glimmered a pale crowd of white faces, upturned wild eyes and imploring hands — all crushed together in a writhing mass of agony ! But no sound came from those dumb mouths agape with terror, — all were silent as Deathi itself, and only the thunderous roar of the Car echoed through space, as, after that infinitely brief pause, it dashed furiously onward and) down ! — down, — down sheer over the edge of that mystic precipice into the fathomless abyss of the Unseen and Unknown ! A thousand lightnings leaped after it — a thousand crashing echoes vibrated through thd Universe with its fall, — one frightful human cry shuddered up to Heaven — and then — silence ! Gradually, gently, and by faint de- 152 THE DEVIL'S MOTOR grees, a purpling fire crimsoned the wavering rise of dawn — a cool wind parted the air into' sweet breadths of fragrance — and in the centre of the awful stillness a scarlet sun rose slowly in a clear sky, fixing the red seal of God on the< closed history of a World 1 ^53 155 GOD AND SATAN #2D ^aiti — '' 31 toill create rnkDotlHintljeait!" ^atan Ijearti anti an^toereti ^^atootoillBetftere!" 4Boti ^aiti — ''31 tDill mafte of a^an % creature Supreme ! '' — c&atan an^toereti — '* 31 toill De^trop €l)p ^plentiiti 2Dream ! '' <(50ti ^aiti — '' 31 toill ortiain €f)at €f)DU ^l)alt no longer Be ! '* ^atan an^toereb — ** €f)ou can^t not, KorD, for 31 am a part of €l)ee ! '* 157 159 "IMAGINARY" LOVE " My love Is as the very centre of the earth Drawing all things to it." ""Troilus and Cressida. HERE is perhaps no emotion more elevating or more decep- tive than that sudden uplifting of the heart and yearning of the senses which may be called " imaginary " Love. It re- sembles the stirring of the sap in the roots ofi flowers, thrilling the very ground with hints and promises of spring, — it is the unspeakable out- coming of human emotion and sympathy too) great to be contained within itself, — the tremulous desire, — half vague and wholly innocent, — of the human soul for its mate. The lower grades of passion have not as yet ruffled the quivering white wings of this divinely ^ sweet emotion, and the being who is happy enough to experience it in all its intensity, is, for the time, the most enviable on earth. Youth or II i6i A CHRISTMAS GREETIN maiden, whichever it be, the world is a fairylan( for this chosen dreamer. Nothing appears base or mean, — God's smile is reflected in every ray^ of sunshine, and Nature ofi:'ers no prospect that is not pleasing. It is the season of glamour an( grammarye, — a look over the distant hills i; sufficient to engage the mind of the dreamingi girl with brilliant fancies of gallant knights riding from far-off countries, with their lady's coloun pinned to their breasts " to do or die" for th( sake of love and glory, — and the young boyj^ half in love with a pretty face he has seen on his way home from school or college, begins to think with all the poets, of eyes blue as skies, of loves and doves, and hearts and darts, in happy^ unconsciousness that his thoughts are not in thi least original. Yet with all its ethereal beauti and gossamer-senseof pleasure, this "imaginary love is often the most pathetic experience w( have or ever shall have in life. It is answerabh for numberless griefs, — for bitter disillusions,- occasionally, too, for broken hearts. It glittei before us, a brilliant chimera, during our ven young days, — and on our entrance into society ii vanishes, leaving us to pursue it through manj phases of existence, and always in vain. Th( 162 ^'IMAGINARY" LOVE poet is perhaps the happiest of all who join in this persistent chase after the impossible, — foi he frequently continues to imagine " imaginary ' love with ecstasy and fervour to the very end 0|^ his days. Next in order comes the musician, who in the composition of a melancholy nocturn^ or tender ballad, or in the still greater work of romantic opera, imagines " imaginary " love m> strains of perfect sound, which waken in the heart; of his hearers all the old feverish longings, all the dear youthful dreams, all the deliciou: romances which accompanied the lovely white- winged Sentiment in days past and dead for ever. Strange to say, it . often happens that the musi- cian, while thus appeasing his own insatiable] thirst for " imaginary " love, is frequently awan that he is arousing it in others ; and, could h^ probe to the very fibres of his thinking soul, h( would confess to a certain keen satisfaction i: the fact of his being able to revivify the old rest- less yearning of a pain which is sweeter to th( lonely soul than pleasure. Now this expression of the " lonely soul used advisedly, because, in sad truth, ever; human soul is lonely. Lonely at birth, — still more lonely at death. During its progress 163 A CHRISTMAS GREETINGJ through life it gathers around it what it can in the way of crumbs of love, grains of afFection,| taking them tenderly and with tears of grateful- ness. But it is always conscious of solitude, — an awful yet Divine solitude, over which the Infinite broods, watchful yet silent. Why it is brought into conscious being, to live within a material frame and there perform certain duties 1 and labours, and from thence depart again, it cannot tell. All is a mystery, — a strange Ne- cessity, in which it cannot truly recognize its part or place. Yet it is, — and one of the strongest proofs of its separate identity from the body is this " imaginary " love for which it 1^ yearns, and which it never obtains. " Imagi- nary " love is not earthly, — neither is it heav- enly, — it is something between both, a vague and ^ inchoate feeling, which, though incapable of being ■ reduced to any sort of reason or logic, is the foundation of perhaps all the greatest art, music, and poetry in the world. If we had to do merely with men as they are and women as they are. Art would perish utterly from the face of ^ ^ the earth. It is because we make for ourselves " ideal " men, " ideal " women, and endow these fair creations with the sentiment of "imaginary " 164 "IMAGINARY" LOVE love, that we still are able to communicate with the gods. Not yet have we lowered ourselves to the level of the beasts, — nor shall we do so, though things sometimes seem tending that way. Realism and Atheism have darkened the world, as they darken it now, long before the present time, and as defacements on the grandeur of the Universe they have not been permitted to remain. Nor will they be permitted now, — the reac- tion will, and must inevitably set in. The repulsive materialism of Zola, and others of his school, — the loose theories of the " smart '* set, and the moral degradation of those who have no greater God than self, — these things are the merest ephemera, destined to leave no more mark on human history than the trail of a slug on one leaf of an oak. The Ideal must always be triumphant, — the soul can only hope to make way by climbing towards it. Thus it is with " imaginary " Love, — it must hold fast to its ideal, or be content to perish on the plane of sensual passion, which exhausts itself rapidly, and once dead is dead for ever and aye. With all its folly, sweetness, piteousness, and pathos, " imaginary " love is the keynote of 165 A CHRISTMAS GREETIN Art, — its fool-musings take shape in exquisite verse, in tales of romance and adventure, ii pictures that bring the nations together to stan( and marvel, in music that makes the strong mai weep. It is the most supersensual of all deli- cate sensations, — as fine as a hair, as easil)^ destroyed as a gnat's wing; — a rough toucl will wound it, — a coarse word will kill it, — -^ the sneer of the Realist shuts it in a coffin of^ lead and sinks it fathoms deep in the waters offi despair. Strange and cruel as the fact may seem; Marriage appears to put an end to it altogether. ** %^irOx ^ou, if ILaura tjao been petrarclj'sf Iwife !^e iMoulD Ijatie ijoritten bonnets? to Ijer all t)i0 life? " inquires Lord Byron. He certainly wouh not. The " imaginary *' love of Petrarch wa| the source of his poetic inspiration ; if he hadj ever dragged it down to the level of the con-j monplace Actual, he would have killed hi< Muse. In a similar way the love of Dante foi Beatrice was of the " imaginary " quality. Thos( who read the "Vita Nuova *' will scarcely fai to see how the great poet hugs his love-fancie| and feeds himself with delicious extravagance in the way of idealized and sublimated soul- i66 "IMAGINARY" LOVE passion. He dissects every fine hair of a stray emotion, and writes a sonnet on every passing heart-beat. Dante's wife never became so trans figured in her husband's love. Why ? Alas who can say ! No reason can be given sav that perchance " familiarity breeds contempt, and that the Unattainable seems always more beautiful than the Attained. The delight o^ possession would appear to be as brief as the flowering of a rose. Lovers are in haste to wed, — but when the knot is once irrevocabl tied, in nine cases out of ten they wish it could be untied again. They no longer imagine "imaginary" love! The glamour is gone. Illusions are all over. The woman is no longer the removed, the fair, the chaste, the unreach- able, — the man ceases to be the proud, thel strong, — the hero endowed with the attributes of the gods. " Imaginary " love then resolves itself into one of two things, — a firm, every-day, close and ttn^QV friendships or else a sick disap pointment often ending in utter disgust. Bu the divine emotion of " imaginary " love ha fled, — the Soul is no longer enamoured of it^ Ideal — and the delicate psychic passion which inspires the poet, the painter, the musician, turn 167 A CHRISTMAS GREETING at once to fresh objects of admiration and pur- suit. For it is never exhausted, — unUke any purely earthly sense, it knows no satiety. De- ceived in one direction, it flies in another. Dis- satisfied with worldly things, it extends its^ longing heavenwards, — there at least it shall find what it seeks, — not now, but hereafter! Age does not blunt this fine emotion, for, as may often be remarked with some beautiful souls in the decline of bodily life, the resigning of earthly enjoyments gives them no pain, — and the sweet placidity of expectation, rather than the dull apathy of regret, is their chief charac- teristic. " Imaginary " love still beckons them on; — what has not been found Here will be found There ! Happy, and always to be envied, are those who treasure this aerial sentiment of the spirit-^ ual brain ! It is the dearest possession of every true artist. In every thought, in every creative work or plan, "imaginary" love goes before,, pointing out wonders unseen by less enlightened^ eyes, — hiding things unsightly, disclosing things lovely, and making the world fair to the mind in all seasons, whether of storm or calm. In- tensifying every enjoyment, adding a double 1 68 "IMAGINARY" LOVE 'thrill to the notes of a sweet song, lending an ^extra glow to the sunshine, an added radiance to he witchery of the moonlight, a more varied ^and exquisite colouring to the trees and flowers, 'a charm to every book, a delight to every new scene, " imaginary " love, a very sprite of en- chantment, helps us to believe persistently in good, when those who love not at all, neither in reality nor in idealization, are drowning in the black waters of suicidal despair. So it is well for us — those who can — to imagine "imaginary'* love! We shall never grasp the Dream in this world — nevertheless let us fly after it as though it were a Reality ! Its path is one of sweetness more than pain, — its ways are devious, yet even in sadness still entrancing. Better than rank, better than wealth is this talisman, which with a touch brings us into close communication with the Higher worlds. Let us " imagine " our friends are true ; let us " imagine " we are loved for our own sakes alone, — let us " imagine," as we welcome our acquaintances into our homes, that their smiles and greetings are sincere — let us imagine "imaginary" love as the poets do, — a passion tender, strong, and changeless — and 169 171 r^as^ \ FORGIVEXESS BnuMi's -^ -^ .^ f« i^ keadir^ jNii is ?^ 1 >^ Set rrmir Ilg^CsKt lit libc^ on ! %^forgaif? 9c^. — {mt 3 canM G 1 Cl^ mnrHf^^y ^^ pmrtroBt^am^ r blotD leiai pM kflbt top Ixtt^paiiMfe A CHRISTMAS GREETIN f orgite ? ie^, — a^ tt^t €i^ti^t forgabe Wt^m tfje 2Putia^ hW tua^ giben, SUnti ^ell ^ucftti Doton t|)e traitor*^ ^efoul I©l^il0 f)i^ cur^e toa^ pronounc'ti in I^eaben |^otf)ing ^D Into, anti notljing ^o 6a^e 31^ a ^taB in tt)e fiacfe of a friend, Silnti tfjo^e to{)D ^ato pou l^anWe tl)e ftnife Scarce toontiet'D at pour enti ! f orgibe ? Se^, — mp fotgibene^^ ^tjall bm <©n pour grabe in '' coal^ of fire/' — 31t ^l)all ftintile into a flame anti leap €o tl)e f)eigl)t of mp life'^ Desire ! 3it ^ftall reaci) ^traig&t up to tl)e gate^ of I oBoti, Slnti tftere lifte a ^toorb ^Ijall ^tap, Slnti, ie^t pou come ^neafting out of i^ell 31t ^l^all 6ar pour t^eabentoarti toap ! 3lt ^ftall toarn pou off toitl^ tlje Iig{)tning fla^l #f an l)one^t faitl) fietrapti — 3It ^Ijall ^I)ut pou out from tlje gartien of B?f)aII not foreet! a ^ftall fteep pout name in mp ptaper^, €f)at oBob map rememBet a^ toell a^ 31 €f)e infamous taint it fiear^! a forgibe — a forgibe! 25ut 3 ^f^all forget ; — SBnb a^ long a^ tfte great toorfti^ roll, a?P forgibene^^ ^f|a« fie a^ tfte ^eal of Doom f ijreti tioton upon pour ^oul ! not 17s 177 MURMURINGS OF AVON THE ONG lines of rippling light and waves of sweeping shadow, — pale green reflections of trailing willow-tresses, such as Ophelia might have bound about her fair hair ere she sank to death, — delicate gleams of blue where the peeping clusters of forget-me-nots grow, amid soft feath- ery glints of mauve and golden-white from the purple loose-strife and meadowsweet, as they bend their blossoms to the drifting weight of the slowly moving waters ! Resting at ease in the cushioned punt, and gliding noiselessly between the close banks on either side, and under the overhanging trees, we gaze through half-closed drowsy eyes at the quiet fields where the brows- ing cattle stand, walled in by flowering hedges of wild rose and elder-blossom, or at the cool gloom of deep-embowered creeks filled with 'yellow water-lilies, where the tall brown-tipped rushes quiver to the tiny beat of the reed- 179 A CHRISTMAS GREETING warbler's wing. Above us the blue summer sky hangs clear as a crystal dome made luminous with golden fire, — around us a deep breathing silence holds the woods and meadows enrapt In a charmed dream. We are on the sweetest and most heart-valued of all the rivers of Eng- land, — Shakespeare's softly-flowing Avon, where the swans push their proud white breasts against the stream, and catch the sparkle of the sun through green leaves in their snake-like jewel-eyes among the " rank of osiers." Here, by these shallow pools and in these grassy nooks, must have often lingered the Master-poet of all the world, weaving his imperishable web of airy fancies the while he listened to the cheerful piping of the thrush in early golden mornings, and the plaintive passionate love-warble of the nightingale under the misty radiance of the rising moon. Here, wandering through the tangles of the "Weir Brake,'' the clear eyes of his imagination first caught sight of Puck, swing- ing on a branch of blossom, and Ariel speeding iswiftly by like a silver flash from a falling star. Here Poesy met him in the deep silence, and lay- ing her soft hands on his brows crowned him with the deathless laurel. Here, — though he was not i8o MURMURINGS OF THE AVON understood by any means as a " genius " by his own townsfolk, and was of far less importance to the Dogberrys and Justices Shallow of his day than the miller grinding corn by the river's brink, he only cared to live, and dream, and die. For when Fame had noised him abroad in London, — when he had experienced the follies *of fashion at the brilliant Court of Elizabeth, and in the household of the Earl of Southamp- ton, — when he had listened to the sugared r speeches of "rare Ben Jonson," who "loved him i this side idolatry " — he had but one desire, — to come back to the little town of his birth, where he was still looked upon somewhat dubiously as " wild " Will, and there make his home next to the old Guild Church, lovely beyond words even now in its crumbling decay, — so lovely that one^< can only hope the " restoration " just beginning to be talked about may be carried out by tender hands, reverently careful of every small stone which he, the king of England's literature, must so often have looked upon and loved. For there is romance in the old town still, — l^much more, perhaps, than in any other town in England. Old-world memories cling to it ; — old-world sentiments lie buried in the hearts of i8i A CHRISTMAS GREETING its noble-natured native people. It is a romance to think that the water flowing peacefully under the walls of the Church where the Poet's ashes rest, is the chief motive-power of the grand organ which pours out solemn melody every day through the columns and arches of this, one of the most sacred shrines in England, so that the river which he loved makes music for •him, not only with its own slow ripple outside, but in and around the solemn altar of his sleep ; — and, on the annually-kept anniversary of his birth and death, when all who can, bring flowers to the Grave, and the sweet harmonies flow gently round the quiet stone, with that almost audible menace carved upon it : — ** Cur0't be l)e lJDt)o mote^ m^ bonesf ! " the impression of his near and familiar presence is very forcible and striking, even to strangers witnessing the ceremony for the first time. Yes, — there is romance in the old town yet ! It has a " slow " Corporation — God be thanked ! — who object to have electric light in the place — God be thanked heartily again ! The hard [glare of electricity, common to stations and other .ugly bustling places, would utterly spoil the lovely 182 MURMURINGS OF THE AVON ^effect of the old streets and time-honoured build- ings, — as completely as the garish hue of staring J inew bricks and shining slate roofs is spoiling the fl >once exquisite httle village of Shottery, thanks to the indifference and complete inertia of the Marquis of Hertford, who owns a great deal of, 'the land about there, and probably does not trouble himself in the least as to what is being 'done with it. He should trouble himself, — but ithat is another question. Again, the "slow" Corporation (God bless it !) is an economical and romantic body. Economy and romance^ together, persuade it to respect the beauty of the moonlight. Because when the moon is up, the street gas-lamps go down. Wise Cor-^ poration ! They say metaphorically — "When^^C God lights up the town we are not wanted.'' { Thus is a sweet advantage given to poets ^ and dreamers generally. Moreover, the im- pressive loveliness of the Guild Church, the ' ! Grammar School, and the river is considerably enhanced. Myself, I have reason to believe that the members of the Corporation are all lovers of poetry. I am sure each one of them goes out and enjoys a little moonlight stroll on such occasions, sacred to the memory of Shake- 183 A CHRISTMAS GREETING speare, and I say again, God bless them ! Wq all appreciate those moonlight evenings. We are all delighted when the gas is lowered. A positive thrill of ecstasy goes through the town when Diana the chaste, the fair, the unreachable, sails through the dark blue heavens, attended by her starry handmaidens, and — an appreciable •saving is gained on the Corporation gas bill ! There are many other happy things which the Corporation are capable of, but these are too ^valuable in the way of hints to other Corpora- tions to give freely away here. But I may say they are not fond of spending money — which is a true sign of wisdom. Occasionally, however, in the goodness of their hearts, and misled by ome intermeddler, they waste it. A notable example of this has been the unnecessary destruc- tion of one of the prettiest bits in Stratford, — the sheet of water once known as the " Bancroft Basin " in the gardens called the " Bancroft Gardens," though why " Bancroft " the powers that be only know. Somebody gifted with an over-excitable nose, — a nose entirely out of ^Wining, — imagined that the Bancroft Basin emitted an undesirable perfume. This was not the case ; it was only the nose that was in fault. 184 MURMURINGS OF THE AVON But since the unfortunate and innocent piece of, water has been ruthlessly drained out and filled up, it has revenged itself by becoming a perfect distillery of objectionable odours, " best mixed '* in fact. The discussions of the Town Council con- cerning these odours were very funny, and re- minded one irresistibly of the Third Scene in j'^the Fourth Act of "Much Ado About Noth-'j ing/* In point of fact the modern Dogberry said, " If you meet a smell, you may suspect him by virtue of your office to be no true smell, and for such kind of smells, the less you meddle or make with them, the more is for your nose/* This incident of the " Bancroft Basin," how- ever, is only one of the very few and rare occa-i I. sions on which the Corporation, in their desire to be all things to all men, have been led astray. Taken all round, they certainly love their town, i and are decidedly proud of their great Towns- man. True it is that there are one or two of them inclined to cut the throat of advancing] prosperity by encouraging modern ugliness, modern innovations and hideous appurtenances of so-called "progress" which follow inevitably 185 A CHRISTMAS GREETING in the track of "jerry-built" houses. They, ; however, only do this, because in the press of their own personal affairs they do not entirely, ' grasp the real position of things. The fortunes of Stratford-on-Avon in the immediate future are centred in its growing association and interest with Shakespeare-history — nothing more nor' less. It is not too much to say that a perfect gold mine of wealth lies open to Stratfordians who will accept and recognize this fact, which has been staring them in the face for the last ten or fifteen years. None of the thousands o£ , visitors who annually pour money into the town would come at all if it were not for the name and fame of Shakespeare. And an infinite num- ber of things lie ready to hand for the further! growth of good luck in this direction. No trade, no manufactory will make Stratford or its people so prosperous as their Shakespeare-legacy.j They will be wise to make the utmost best of this' great and unique heritage, the more so because they will benefit the world by so doing, while ^ benefiting themselves. For example, if the half- timbered houses down the principal street were uncovered from their modern paint and stucco,' it would be one of the most perfect old English i86 MURMURINGS OF THE AVONJ thoroughfares in existence, and there are plenty of devotees who would visit it and stay in it for| the sake of its beauty alone. If, instead of pull- ing down their old houses, the people would renovate and carefully restore them, they would find it well worth their while, even financially speaking. On an average, about a hundred thousand strangers a year enter the town, — \ about thirty thousand are registered at the Birthplace alone. Few of these make any long stay, for two reasons ; first, there is not sufficient accommodation for them, — secondly, what ac- commodation there is has to be found in little "jerry-built" villas,' and, — as a very well- known and distinguished man remarked to me one day : — " We may just as well put up in Leamington. If the houses in Stratford were kept quaint andjj unique and historical, one would sacrifice every luxury to live in them for a whole summer, but these vulgar little dwellings in Shakespeare's town are a blemish and a disgrace ! " This is unfortunately only too true. All the new " things built in Stratford are in the worst ^ possible taste. The " new " street called Eve- sham Place, Is like a cheap bit of Clapham. 187 A CHRISTMAS GREETING The " new " houses on what is known as the " Rowley Estate " are built in the meretricious style of West Kensington " art." Occasionally in the town itself the owner of a fascinating, mysterious oak-raftered little shop, pulls it down, beguiled by the jerry-builder, and puts up a gaudy new plate-glass concern, like a suggestion of Edgware Road. He thinks he will get more custom that way, but he finds he gets less. People who come to Stratford turn away with disgust from tall, flaring new houses which are altogether out of line and keeping with the rest of the town, and though many of the visitors will run to any extent of extravagance in little old-world shops which look as if Shakespeare might have seen them, they will have nothing., to do with imitations of modern London. They come down to be rid of London altogether, and do not want to find any touch of it in Shake- speare's native home. Modern progress is decidedly not the " cue " for Stratford. Its good measures of gold, its full purses, its swelling bank-books, will be best' and most swiftly attained by setting its back to the wall of the sixteenth century and refusing to budge. In this it has a great financial prospect,; i88 MURMURINGS OF THE AVON — it holds all the rich possibilities of being the literary Bayreuth of the whole world, inasmuch as the whole world admits the genius of Shake- speare. The town of Shakespeare^s birth, there- fore, is the central pivot of the circle; the Mecca for the student's worship; — and this^ vein of riches, to be developed by the towns- people themselves, is as yet practically un- touched. Certainly some of the folks resident in the neighbourhood, who have sought to hold the memory of the Poet in a sort of feudal grasp, might have been useful had they ever so little^ resembled the Medicis family in Florence, in the way of being brilliantly cultivated, noble-man- nered, learned, astute, and above all things able;( to comprehend the genius they have attempted* to patronize. One can imagine a man with a^ nature like that of Lorenzo de Medicis settlec ■^ in Stratford, and attracting all the great wits anc cultured personages of the day around him, — ^^ building a superb Theatre in choicest marbles^ for the performance of the Immortal Plays, making that same Theatre free to all students! throughout the world for the trial and criticism/ of new works, — adding thereto a Lecture Hall and Library, a Ball and Concert Room, whicl 189 A CHRISTMAS GREETING. should all be absolutely free to the natives of the town, — placing these buildings under the 4 care of scholarly, educated and careful men, — and encouraging the study of art, science, litera- ture and music in the poorest aspirant to fame. One can picture the delight such a man would have in honouring and helping the town which had given birth to so matchless a genius as Shakespeare, — how he would throw open wider and wider extents of garden to the people ; how he would organize beautiful festivals on the ^ river and in the fields, — how he would form a superb orchestra for the pleasure of the many, and how he would offer endless incentives to the highest work, so that the place which had pro- duced one supreme Genius might have at least the chance of producing more. But, unfortu- nately, brains are not always united to long purses, and the possession of money is apt to breed meanness in small and ignorant minds. It needs an exceptionally fine character to stand the test of great wealth, and many who are put through the fire of fortune come out of it in lead instead of gold. True it is that the Fates discard the base metal in their own good time, but this, as Mr. Kipling would say, " is another story." 190 MURMURINGS OF THE AVON Some little while ago people were vaguely- amused at the report that a " Hydropathic Establishment " was to be built on the " Rowley estate " as a sort of speculation in a mineral spring at Bishopton which has long been dis- used, and which has no qualities whatever that are superior to the mineral waters of Leaming- ton a few miles away. Of course any chemist can be got to discover marvellous properties in it for a requisite fee, but " facts are chiels that winna ding ! '' The Stratford Corporation were quite willing to sell the land for the Hydro- pathic venture, but none of them had the least intention of taking " shares." Wise Corpora- tion again ! " Companies " would stand a poor chance, brought under the calm and leisurely con-, sideration of their practical minds. The idea of the Hydropathic Establishment at Stratford is of course absurd, — people scarcely patronize the Leamington Spa waters nowadays, though they were once so famous, and they would cer- tainly never trouble themselves about the Bish- opton trickle. Fashion goes abroad for its " cures." It does not want to show itself sick and decrepit in its own country. And quite right too. 191 A CHRISTMAS GREETING' Yes, — " Shakespeare 's the only wear '* fori Stratford-on-Avon, and the sooner his townsmen' can be got to see this and take the splendid] 7 opportunity such a chance offers, the better. A ( certain distinguished actor, who enjoys as much; )' social popularity as dramatic, has a great idea ofjj giving an open-air series of Shakespeare's Plays every year, — a sort of " Summer Festival, Cycle," in a well-known spot close to the town, and persuading all the rank, beauty, and fashion' of the cultured world to take Stratford by storm as they take Bayreuth. This would mean an in- flux of such prosperity to the town as can scarcely be realized. The suggestion has met with great favour in high quarters, and no wonder, foi(< such a " Festival " would be pre-eminently de-1 lightful. Every smallest corner of accommo- dation in the town and outlying villages wouh be let at big prices, and charming little house-Jl boats on the river would command premiums. For Stratford is formed by nature to be a centre! of artistic pleasure and romance ; and money cai be earned and people made prosperous by the uses of romance and pleasure, more easily thanj out of any factory, mill, or brewery concern. In the latter ways of coining the needful, it ij 192 MURMURINGS OF THE AVON the owner of the factory, mill, or brewery, who makes the fortune; not the poorly paid " hands" he employs. But in such a place as Stratford, where the name of Shakespeare is a sort of general amnesty to all nations, there is no valid reason why one individual should be better or worse off than another in their separate working spheres, — they are all townsmen of the One Immortal. And if they would practically recog- nize this, and make their voices heard with authority, mistakes would soon be remedied and wrongs set right. For example, may it not be urged that they should take care of their river, — the beautiful, romantic little Avon, which is in such danger of being utterly spoilt by the steam launches lately introduced upon it ? These, in their constant fussy progress up and down, are polluting the water and spoiling the banks on either side, their action actually uprooting and destroying some of the finest old willows fring- ing the stream. The odd part of it is that no one seems to know what is wrong or right for the river regulations. If a tree falls across the ^water, it is left to lie there blocking the way for months, a source of danger to every passing craft. The steam launches often go about in '3 193 A CHRISTMAS GREETING the darkest evenings without any light to give warning of their approach. No one says any- :thing, — no one does anything; but through the whole patient town runs one incessant and persistent grumble. As a matter of fact, the narrow bends of the Avon are not fitted for steam launches, and only light craft should be allowed, the more especially as the launches are steadily bringing the old trees down. The owners of the launches would not lose, but rather gain by such a rule, as they could charge eighteenpence and two shillings to any person taking a boat instead of sixpence a head as now. Moreover they would have a far better class of customers, more reliable for " long jobs " and for giving constant employment. On this point, as on so many others, it is singular how seldom '^ people see where their chief prosperity lies, and how often they take the wrong turning when the right one stands just facing them ! There are as many " Cliques " in Stratford as there are in the Army, and that is saying a great deal. There is the County Clique, the Church Clique, the Trustees of the Birthplace Clique, the Memorial Theatre Clique, with which is conjoined the Brewery Clique, the Grammar 194 MURMURINGS OF THE AVON School' Clique, the Trinity College Clique, and ever so many more. Dear little, quaint little, funny little " sets," all wanting to cut each other's throats, and for ever getting their knives ready ! And over them all, serene, invincible, leisurely and bland, rides the Corporation, fully conscious of power, and entirely aware that f its long historical record of antique splendour makes it a very notable object of respect in- deed. For even the Mayor is nothing com- pared to it, and can do nothing without it. He may suggest things, but whether they shall be carried out is quite another affair. The Corporation is not to be betrayed into un- seemly haste or excitement over anything. It is a Corporation apart from all other Corpora- 1 tions, — it holds the town as one may hold] a treasure casket with the jewel of Shake- speare's memory inside. Well may it be/ proud! — well may it take time to consider)^ its various duties with easy dignity, — well < may it look calmly into the nervous, fussy, J smoke-blackened face of modern Progress, and< say, "Well, young woman! Have you any- thing finer in the way of heritage to offer us than what we already possess ? " Well 195 A CHRISTMAS GREETING may it feel that the people who write and talk so much about Shakespeare, and the actors who make their living and fame out of Shake- speare, might do more to practically honour }him in his native place than they have ever i thought of doing since the days of David Garrick, who truly showed how much he loved his Master. Ah, dear " wild Will " ! If you were still as humanly living in Stratford-on-Avon as you are spiritually, you would find as much material for your wit and humour, your tears and laughter nowadays as ever you did in olden time ! You would still find a Justice Shallow — a Dogberry piping out " Dost thou not suspect my years ? Dost thou not suspect my place ? " You might discover many a buxom Mistress Ford, — many .| a pretty " sweet Anne Page," — nor are there lacking various sorts of Masters Slender who would say " I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother be dead, but what though ! yet I live Uke a poor gentleman born ! " You ight even unearth a Falstaff, truckling to persons of rank, fond of good wine and ever ^' talking of women, who would fairly well merit a king's reproach, — 196 MURMURINGS OF THE AVON *' 31 fenotD %e not, olD man ! jfall to t^v fxm^^ ^ l^oto ill iDtjite tjate become a fool anD fesfter ! " You would come upon many a fair face and lissom figure suggestive of Perdita and Miranda ; — and the countless lovely little children, met at every turn in the fields, with their bright frank eyes, clear skins and carelessly flowing hair, are charming enough for any crowd of fairies in a Midsummer Night's Dream. Oh 'yes, wild Will ! — full of gaiety, gladness, pranks and laughter, which covered that deep soul of supreme wisdom and philosophy, — you would find enough and to spare of claims on your love and sympathy, of matter for good-humoured jesting and tolerance, and of beauty to admire and give God thanks for, if you were still at New Place, seated under the old projecting oak eaves, and watching the fruit ripen on your favourite mulberry tree ! And though your house is gone and your tree cut down, through the sweet Chris- tian temper of a dead-and-gone clergyman, whose name is for ever cursed in Stratford, it is easy to believe that you are really there, because the vital memory of you is so close and friendly in this 'your native atmosphere. And as we push our punt slowly home along the peaceful Avon, and 197 A CHRISTMAS GREETING the light of the sinking sun reddens the fine old tiles of the houses not yet "slated " by the jerry builder, and gleams here and there on a pic- turesque thatched cottage, or a lattice window with a tuft of roses swinging on it, we forget the existence of all inharmonious things ; and the little town looks like a poet*s nestling dream of beauty, hallowed by the spirit of one to whom all things were as " airy ministers ** of thought. We believe that the clustering roofs, half buried in blossom, shelter none but kind hearts and' sweet dispositions, — we fancy that all who live in such a place must be friends together — and the F. C/s, or " Funny Cliques," vanish away from recollection, like the ugly separate booths at a circus-fair which are taken down when the circus« is over, leaving a clear field. The crimson light*^^ deepens in the west — the bells chime out the hour — and the gleam of a crescent moon peeps^ whitely through the willows. The punt glides) in against the landing-pier, — we step out with a ^ sense of having floated home from fairyland,! ) with the perfume of the meadowsweet and wih roses we have gathered about us, and all the' lovely freshness of the evening bathing us| in its cool sweetness. So up the road home- 198 201 SNOWDROPS €i^#3l2D tl^em at t|)p feet ! ^ure a^ tJje ^noto t^at cobereti tl)em at hittt^ ; frail a^ tfte life t&at binti^ tl^em to tfte eartl); 2ri)ep ate tt^im emBIem^, ^iDeet ! Wt^itt a$ t|)p birgiit breast, )' SCnti fragile a^ t^p faitf) ! €l)e comins spring ^l)all netjer fenoto a toeafter, ^lisl)ter tl)ing €f)an tf)ou art, at tl^e 6e^t^ €o^tiap €rutl^ hpept anb bieb 31n t{)p beceitful ^mile — <© tftou mo^t fair, €roton*ti toitl^ a tiu^ftp tdontier of tiarf^ Ijair, — 31 a^fe— tD&p Wt tI)ou lieb? €ell tliee tol^at ^in i^ tijine? I©f)p naugljt 6ut tl^i^, — of all men 'neatfj tlje 36fun €&ou (gentle soul !) fta^t efteateti onlp one ! 31 11 call tfte error mine. 203 A CHRISTMAS GREETING 31 Ujill not Wame tl)ee, cfjilti, — €fte fault toa^ mine, if for tf)p ftaunting epe^ef, Care^^ing fjanti^, anti lobe^ficgottcn ^igl)^, flt^p spirit tDa^ fieguirii* for noto toe ttoo ^l)aH part for ebermote, — 6ut ere tfjou turn to go, 31 plucft for tl)ee tfte^e tilo^^om^ 6orn of ^e^noto, l©ear tl^em upon t^p fjeart ! I^ot for tlje lotoe of me, — 25ut for tl)e olti rememBrance of a tiap %^ tieati a^ all t&e Blo^^om^ of la^t a^ap, Wf^m 31 Beiiebeti in tt^tt ! Sibinff, 31 ne'er ^ftall teJI €|)e ^torp of tl)e tiream from tof)icft 31 toafee ; — ] 31 tio forgibe tljee, for tf)p Beautp'^ ^afte; Sllnti ^0 — one hW ; — f aretoell ! 204 205 SAVAGE LONDON 'HERE are more than one hundred and eighty religious Sects in England ; — and all of them have Representatives in London. There are innu- merable Charity Organization Societies, — Missions without end, — Relief Funds with Centre Offices and Branch Offices^ in London. There is much preaching, much lecturing, much writing ; — yet, when all is said, done and written, the grim result is the same, — namely, that the squalor, filth, vice, ignorance, recklessness, wretchedness and brutality of the great Majority of the Poor in our wealthy Eng-, lish metropolis is a crying scandal, and " a rank offence that smells to heaven." The religious sects meet often and discuss much, — beginning their discussions generally with a bombastical flow of oratory, and ending in a violent wrangle over some knotty point of doctrine, while the miser- able creatures who cry to them for relief, cry in vain to ears that are deafened by selfishness and plugged up with conceit. A great deal too 207 A CHRISTMAS GREETING, much of the money subscribed to charitable^ Societies goes to pay secretaries and underlings, and many and many a starving wretch has been turned ruthlessly away unaided from the doors of a stately building, flagrantly announcing itself as a " Refuge for the Destitute." Yet nowhere are there such large sums subscribed to Foreign Missions as in London ; — the Kaffir, the Zulu,^ the " Heathen Chinee," — all these may appeal to London and be sure of a favourable answer. Dukes and Earls who love to see their names blazoned on lists of charitable donations, would appear, from what is said about them in print, to take a deep interest in the whole world, ex- cept that particular portion of the globe from which they derive their own magnificent reve-, nues, — and thousands of pounds are spent annually in reforming and civilizing the savage tribes of the desert and forest. Yet in the face of all this philanthropy, the horrible, almost incredible miseries of the London poor daily in-< crease, and we know for a fact, that while money is constantly subscribed for the conversion of! the foreign heathen to holy Christianity, an enormous population of native heathen, far more] degraded than the most uncultured desert bar- 208 SAVAGE LONDON barians, swarm at the very doors of the wealthy- would-be benefactors of humanity, and demand edress for their bitter and long-standing wrongs. It is a sorrow and scandal to us that it should be so ; but so it is. The neglect of years, and the rapid turn of the heel of modern progress, has produced the London Savage, — a being more wild, more reckless and terrible than the most bloodthirsty Zulu that ever revelled in human gore. He may be met anywhere ; — he lurks in dens be- ind some of the stateliest mansions of Kensing- ton and Belgravia.. Rolling in filthy straw, in company with several other savages like himself, ^who, with their wives and children, all lie together in one damp, dark, foul-smelling room, he lays ) his plans of robbery and murder with the same equanimity and self-applause as a fashionable preacher pens his sermon for the coming Sunday. He knows no difference between virtue and vice, — morality or the reverse. His reasoning is simple, — in fact, quite primitive; — if someone else happens to have what he wants and does not possess, such as a gold watch, for instance, or a purse of money, he considers himself justified in taking it, if not by persuasion, then by force. If 14 209 A CHRISTMAS GREETING he commits murder, he is perhaps caught and sen- tenced to be hung. Does he care ? Has he any remorse? Any dread of death ? Not he ! He goes to the gallows with entire fortitude and dies like an ill-used martyr. His children remember him as such, and follow his example in due time, so that the hangman is still a necessary official. One of the cruellest answers given to the pam- * phlet known as "The Bitter Cry of Outcast London," was that " London must wait." — On the very top of this, a letter was published in The Times from a Missionary, who begged for con- tributions towards providing suitable homes for English working-men in Paris. It is most ^ probable that the Dukes and Earls and Marquises of this land came readily forward in response to the appeal, leaving the London Savage in his old quarters, the centres of typhoid, cholera and small-pox, without more than a re-iteration of what had already been said — " London must wait." And still Savage London does wait — in a peculiar way of its own. It is as much as one's 'life is worth to walk on the Thames Embank-), ment after dark, — people are knocked down or mysteriously made away with on Hampstead Heath, Wandsworth Common, and other lonely, 210 SAVAGE LONDON , outlying places, and the very policemen, whose > anxious vigilance and active surveillance cannot be too highly estimated, are in such danger of their lives that they often need fire-arms in order to protect themselves during the exercise of their duty. Moreover, the London Savage has re- cently been making himself familiar with dyna- imite. Naturally, he approves of it, and chuckles [over the admirable rapidity of its action in destroying life. He tries it in order to be quite certain of its effect. He has been known to place some on a railway line, just as a train is about to pass, by way of experiment. The female London Savage has also found out a suitable pastime for herself in vitriol throwing, — a pastime the idea of which she has borrowed from her sister the Paris " Petroleuse." How delightful to scarify, bHster and burn into utter hideousness the face of some man or woman who has become repulsive to her ! It is a task which entirely satisfies her feminine instincts. Some grave clergyman will perhaps take her very seriously to task for having smothered her baby under a mattress. She will not see the force of his reasoning in the least. She will state rough facts in the face of his fancy argu- 211 fA CHRISTMAS GREETING ments. She will tell him there was no room for the baby in a den measuring seven feet by ten, where fifteen people huddle together, — she will )/also prove that there was no food for the baby, and no clothes either. It would have died any- how. So she goes cheerfully to prison for hav- f' ing smothered her child, and as she goes, she administers a few consolatory oaths to her brute companions, who congratulate her on her good fortune. Good fortune ? Certainly. She goes to prison, and prison means shelter and whole- some food at regular hours every day. For the English Government takes the tenderest care of its criminals. They are visited by the ministers of the Church, who bless them solemnly and commend their fragments of black souls to the care of Heaven ; and lady missionaries sit with them for an hour at a time, and give them good books and pretty little tracts to read. But for the miserable beings, who, in the midst of their misery, still feebly try to cling to honesty, there is no help — no hope. And so the evil grows and widens, like the ever moving ball of snow which gradually becomes an ava- lanche. The blood yet runs cold to read of the horrors of the French Revolution of 1789, 212 SAVAGE LONDON — of the unbridled ferocity of the Paris mob, to whom the crushing of human life was no more than the killing of mosquitoes. The graphic picture of the whole frightful scene drawn by Thomas Carlyle is not so much a history as a warning. The English tempera- ment is much colder, more stolid and patient than that of the French, — but at the same time it is more deliberately cruel and brutal when once awakened to a sense of injustice, and smarting under inexplicable wrong. The London Savages, once let loose, would be more dangerous to deal with than even those Savages of Paris were. Arid who can tell how long % London will wait ? How long will its ferocious patience, the patience of a tiger waiting for its prey, continue to hold out ? One thing might certainly be done in the meantime, and that is, to draw in all the money that is pouring out of the great English capital to the relief of foreigners, and let it flow into the proper channels. Charity begins at home. It is a mockery of wealth to use it for the benefit of strange nations, who, as soon as not, will turn and rend us, while neglect- ing our own people. The immense river of golden coin which rushes abundantly out of 213 A CHRISTMAS GREETING England on the least appeal to its generosity,' should be turned in the right direction, — home- ward. Let it flow down the city slums, — let it reach to the wretched hovels that lie within a stone's throw of the King's Palace of Windsor, — let it sweep away some of the accumulated mountains of misery in the homes of the poor, — and Savage London, melted to the heart, may yet learn to believe in a beneficent Creator, for whom at present it has less honour and less faith than the most abandoned heathen wor- shipper of wooden idols. Recognize the fact, good people ! — Christian London is more than half heathen, and the sooner this terrible truth is taken to heart, the more hope there is of those who are sincerely religious and charitable, hastening to the immediate rescue of their perishing kindred, the limit of whose stupefied endurance has been nearly reached, and when reached must culminate in some appalling dis- aster. It is a matter which at Christmas-time calls for some consideration among the numer- ous other claims which are set forward as worthy of remembrance by the influential and wealthy. Persons who give Two Thousand Guineas for a horse might ponder it, — and 214 SAVAGE LONDON those who are rushing abroad to spend their money on the gambling tables of Monte Carlo k might also take it to heart. The " Hooligan '* !is made of human material like ourselves ; he ' is not a special sort of manufacture. He is the unfortunate result of long years of neglect inflicted on his class by his brothers ; yet he is our blood and kin, and perhaps if we knew all about him, we should find that his faults of breeding and education are not so much his as the faults of those who leave him neg- lected in his lair. The King, whose earnest'^ exertions on behalf of the " Housing of the Poor" have scarcely' been done full justice to, has, perhaps, nothing more at heart than the- desire to remedy the evils of overcrowding, and to alleviate the misery resulting from want of proper breathing-room and light, — and Queen Alexandra's gentle and noble efforts in" the same direction have added an extra grace to • the many which adorn her life and character. But both the King and the Queen naturally^ expect response and assistance from the wealthier of their subjects in so great and necessary a work. Missionaries in India who spend time and money in endeavouring to " convert " Hin- 215 CHRISTMAS GREETING doos, who are often more truly religious than some of their would-be teachers, would do well ^ 'o turn their efforts towards "Hooliganism," ^and Jesuit priests who go about collecting funds to build more Roman Catholic Churches than are needed or wished for in a Protestant country, would build a truer and far more convincing ^Spiritual fabric if they would use some of their ^surplus cash for the rescue of such London heathens who have never heard of either Prot- estantism or Romanism, or indeed of any- religious faith at all. To such blighted and disastrous lives in the purlieus of the great city, Christ would assuredly go first of all, if He ever (Came again with the Divine Christmas message of " Good-Will." 216 217 JOE'S ORCHID € tooft a little time to groto, foe! ^€&e sprouting of it^ lta\^t$ toa^ ^loto, Wt fenoto ; 25ut note it^ $f^mns hnh$ unfoto, ^tigfyt a$ tfje elittering €ran^baal golU; — *€i^ toottf^p of a isfpecial '' ^fioto/' 3Poe! *€kda^ pe^tereb Bp an itiiefect foe, 5Poe! €&e l)otri& creature tooulli n*t go 25elotD ; — €I|e natibe, gnatoinB, noriou^ 25oer Clung to it^ berp root anb core, ^. Stnti trieti pour little temper ^o 1 foe! 25ut noto a&miring tfianft^ toe otoe foe! €o pou tolio force& tfje flotoer to Bloto, 21^ A CHRISTMAS GREETIN €&e trail of t^uxnan Blooti anb pain i$a$ left upon it^ leabe^ a ^taiti; — 25ut tfiat pou cannot fjelp, ioe ftnoto, 7 g^oe J aSorgeouief tfje goinen Blo^^^om? gloto, foe! €an ^nslanli ^nO^ a plant forego ? i©fjp, no ! iour ^ftill in OBrc&iti cultibation >, i^a^ giben u^ a conquered nation ; — ^ 2But, — mafee pou premier? <9t^, go le^Ioto foe! 220 221 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE HE was a thin, tall, "willowy" woman, long-necked, auburn- haired ("Titian Gloire," her coiffeur called it on the bottle), | and dark-eyed, with a carefully got-up complexion and an ex- pensive way of wearing her clothes. She never paid less than six guineas for a pair of corsets, thirty guineas for a "plain" morning gown, and ten guineas for a " simple " hat. The prices of the various other articles of her attire may thus, by these little items, be dimly guessed at. Whenever she moved, shook her silk skirts, < or played with her handkerchief, a faint odour was exhaled from her person, — an odour supposed to be "violets," but more like the last trail of a musk-rat. She passed for being very romantic and spirituelle^ owing to a trick she had of clasp- ing her hands and looking up at the sky or the ► ceiling in a sudden ecstasy. She would do this,< often without warning, in the middle of an ordinary commonplace conversation, greatly 223 A CHRISTMAS GREETING disconcerting everyone else who happened to be present. Good-natured people said it was her " soul-forces " that got too strong for her on these occasions, — others shook their heads darkly and hinted that she had " too much brain." As a' matter of fact, however, neither soul-forces nor brain-power were concerned in her composition, and the rapt " pose " which she found so effec- tive was the chief stock-in-trade of the " leading lady " at one of the theatres, from whom she had carefully copied it. Few women studied " histri- onic " attitudes as arduously as she did, and the chief object with which she ever attended a play at all was that she might take mental note of the languishing movements, the roll of the painted eyes, and the airs and graces generally of the newest fashionable heroine of the footlights, — - not because the said heroine was an Actress, fpr that she never is by any chance nowadays, — but simply that she might copy her " poses " and her gowns. Yet with all the trouble she took, and all the nervous excitement she suffered lest any " other " woman of her particular style and contour should turn up and compete with her on her own lines of conquest, she was not so much in the " social swim ** as she craved to be. No. 224 HE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE There was some fatality about it. She — "the beautiful Mrs. Arteroyd/' as she was occasionally called in society paragraphs (she having paid the modest sum of Five Pounds for this distinction to the enterprising lady journalist who "arranged*' for such special items of interest) — was not yet where she fain would be. She had made a poor marriage, — or so she considered it. Her hus- band was only a Colonel in the British army — just a man with a V.C. Other women, older and plainer, had "caught" or bought real live Russian princes. They — the said princes — had<< not any V.C, but then their wives were princesses and went everywhere, and everybody said, " There is the Princess RumstufFski ! " or, " How charming the Princess Numskullskoffis! looking ! " Why was she not a Princess Rum- stufFsky ? Why had an unkind fate elected her ^ to be the wife of a mere British officer with a I V.C. won in the prime of his manhood ? And with absolutely no fortune ! Though, when she / first fell in love with him — (what a stupid thing ^to fall in love !) — she had considered him very well off, and herself very lucky. He was the only son of a saving father who had left him an income of about three thousand a year, the 15 225 CHRISTMAS GREETING result of capital soundly and safely invested. But what was three thousand a year to a 'pirituelle creature of super-sensitive intelligence ho wore six-guinea corsets ? Nothing ! — abso- utely nothing ! Especially at such a time as the present, when excessive, ostentatious, vulgar, brazen wealth is the only pass-key into what is !called " society." Poor Mrs. Arteroyd ! She ad tried all sorts of ways to obtain a firm foot- ing on that slippery ladder which, like the magic Bean-Stalk of the fairy-tale, is supposed to lead aspiring Jacks and Jills to that mysterious region variously entitled " The Upper Ten " and " the top of the tree," — but what success she had won ^was too perilously like failure to be altogether gratifying. Sitting in her cosy boudoir, she thought it all over, the while she read the morn- ing papers sulkily, — they were full of war-news, — nothing but war — war — war! How sick she was of the war ! — how tired of all the deaths and wounds, and blunders and casualties and bother- ments generally ! She skimmed quickly through j the list of " killed and wounded," just to see ^whether her husband was among them, — not | that her heart beat one pulse more anxiously during the search, — she was only interested in so 226 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE far as that if he were killed she would have to go into mourning. " And I look my worst in black," she com- mented, as she glanced from name to name of all those included in the terrible "Death Roll of Honour." But no — Colonel John Arte- royd, V.C. , was not mentioned as either slain or wounded or sick of fever — there was no allusion to him anywhere as being in or out of action, and when she had made herself quite sure of this, she breathed more freely. There was no occasion for her to " look her worst " just yet. "Poor old Jack!" she said — "Tm glad he *s all right so far ! I don't know why I look for his name in the papers at all, I 'm sure, — / for of course I should hear direct from the War Office if — if anything had happened. But I daresay he 's really as happy as the day is long. He was mad to go to the Transvaal, and now he 's there I hope he likes it. He was made for active service — but at home — Oh dear ! — what a bore he is ! " Her hard brown eyes flashed coldly up and down the columns of news again, like sharp bits of steel getting reaay to cut through the insen- 227 A CHRISTMAS GREETING sible paper, — what a number of extraordinary things were being associated with the war, she thought, — and what an exceptionally "good time " some of the " leaders " of society were making for themselves out of" Tommy Atkins" ! " Fancy ! '* she suddenly exclaimed, as she caught sight of a paragraph placed prominently among other items of " court and society'* gos- sip — "There's that horrible little fat woman, the Marquise Degagee, pushing herself every-' where, all because she 's getting up a Babies' Fund ! What an idea ! ' To provide feeding-^ bottles and perambulators for all infants under twelve months, whose fathers are at the front.' And she's actually going to have a ^ Royal. Fancye Faire' for that I " In her excitement she jumped up and went to the window to read the objectionable an- nouncement over again. " Not a mention of Me anywhere ! " she said,^*^ with a pettish stamp of her foot — " it's too bad ! And I *m sure the woman who writes these things.^ actually lives on me. Drops in to lunch, — makes me ask her to dinner, — takes me to dressmakers who of course pay her for bringing me,, — and yet with all my good-nature she isn't 228 HE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE a bit grateful — she does nothing for me. The fact is, I must do something for myself. But < Iwhat shall it be ? " She sat down — or rather she " dropped " 'languidly into a chair, with that particular scented rustle of herself which she had long practised and loved, — and meditated. Taking up one 'of the fashionable " weeklies " which cater espe- ^cially for the feminine world, her brows puckered vexedly, as on its first page she saw the " ideal- ized'' picture of a lady with a turned-up nose, and a tiara, labelled " The Marquise Degagee," and read the following interesting article. "TOMMY'S BABY. " The Marquise Degagee, who is such a well- known favourite in aristocratic circles" (" What a , ^lie ! " ejaculated Mrs. Arteroyd — " She was never heard of till last season, when Lady Paw- purse started 'running her' ! ") " is organizing a, charming ' Fancye Faire ' which will take place 'in the rooms of the Hotel Beaumonde early next month. The object of the festival is to raise an ' Infants' Fund ' which will provide feeding- bottles, bone-rings, teething-pads and other neces- ,saries, including perambulators, for 229 all infants, A CHRISTMAS GREETING under twelve months, whose fathers are at the front. Royalty, always ready whenever a kind action is concerned, has extended its gracious patronage to the function, and Herr Bunkumopf, violinist of His Serene Highness Prince Dum- mer-Esel, will give his valuable services to the en- tertainment gratuitously. Some of the prettiest ladies of the corps de ballet of the Imperial Smoke- House will preside over tea and coffee stalls and will distribute the programmes, and His Serene Highness Prince Dummer-Esel has signified his intention of being present at the opening cere- mony. In order not to delay the useful prog- ress of this deserving charity, all mothers in need of feeding-bottles, ' prams,' and other baby-comforts are requested to send in their names, together with a copy of their marriage certificates, and the number of their husbands' regiments to the Hon. Secretary, Miss Jane Muddleup, at the residence of the Marquise Degagee, Belgrave Square. The Marquise Degagee is, as everybody knows, a true daughter of the old French nobility, and this generous interest of hers in ' Tommy's Baby ' will do much to improve the somewhat strained rela- tions existing just now between France and 230 HE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE f )England. The Marquise has written a touch- ing poem for the occasion, and one of the special features of the ' Fancye Faire ' will be her own recitation of it, in that pretty broken English >which, as hosts of her social friends are aware, lakes her conversation so peculiarly charming, ''e are permitted to produce one verse of this dainty and delicately humorous lyric : — "TOMMY'S BEBE! ♦* l^eto ! — lie pautjre bebe ! «bat toill itiii mu55er uo? 31t is? ^m& la bouteille Mt^icii it suck all 5e Da^ ttjrougt) ! l^eto ! — He pautre bebe ! 31t can Do noting but tt^ ! j?or it& fa^er, f e ' 2Domm^ ' bae^ gone ! g>a^ing ' atjieu ! ' bpe bi?e l We must not forget to mention that Messrs. Shrewd and Sly, makers of perambulators to the Royal Family, have kindly given one of their ' Empire Model Prams ' to be raffled for, for «:he benefit of the Fund. Anyone sending a postal order for One ShilUng will receive an elegantly mounted photograph of 'Tommy's Pram,' together with a beautiful copy, printed 231 CHRISTMAS GREETING in mezzotint, with a specially designed ' Art * cover, of the Marquise Degagee's appealing ^| verses. We recommend the public to lose no time in sending their shiUings to Miss Jane Muddleup, who will, as far as possible, attend to each applicant in turn. No loyal mother and mistress of an English home should be without the picture of 'Tommy's Pram * and the in- f^spiring lyric of ' Tommy's Bebe.' " Mrs. Arteroyd gave a short contemptuous laugh. " Inspiring lyric ! Stuff and rubbish ! Ab- solute gibberish ! " She read the " appealing " stanza again. ** l^elasf ! — 3le pautjre htU ! W|iat Ml it& mu55er uo? 31t 10 0an0 la bouteille Mtjici) it sfuck all 5e Da^ tljrougl) ! J^eto ! — Jit pautre bebe ! 31t can tio noting but tt^ ! ifor it& tant, ?e ' aommp ' Ija^ gone ! §)a^mg * aDieu ! ' bi^e-b^e ! " She threw down the journal in a rage — a' ^real rage this time. "Detestable little cat!" she said — "I can see her at it ! Dressed by Worth, of course, 232 THE LAURELS O F THE BRAVE and with all her diamonds on, reciting her trash before that ridiculous old Dummer-Esel, who does n't know the difference between verse and prose, — twisting and smirking and giving her- self all the airs of a Paris stage soubrette ! And Royalty is going to take her up, is it? Not if I know it 1 It shall take me up first ! '* Her eyes flashed, and for once her cheeks were a fine crimson without the aid of rouge. She looked at herself in the glass, — ran her white fingers through her " Titian Gloire " hair, and pulled it over on either side of her ears till it looked wild and wonderful, — opened her eyelids wide, — blinked them to note the eflFect of her long eyelashes, — then smiled languish- ingly at her own reflection and said, — / " I will do a poem ! " In this observation she strictly preserved her honesty. She did not say even to herself that she would " think " a poem, or " write " a poem. ' She said she would " do " a poem. And she ' did. She shut herself up in her room all day i and went to work. She happened to have an unusually large collection of music-hall ditties and " soldiers' songs," which had been sung in happier times by her absent husband. She 233 fA CHRISTMAS GREETING turned these over, perused them carefully, and V eliminated " bits " therefrom. It was hard work, Ibut she persevered, and like a child piecing a ^puzzle together, she fitted in lines and halves of >/lines until, by dint of close consideration and ^painstaking study of the music-hall " models," she hit out something like a feeble imitation. And finally, after making herself quite feverish and thirsty with worry and fatigue and the con- fusion of brain resulting from "variety" ballad- \ mixtures, she succeeded in " arranging " the 7 following colloquial and effective stanzas, muchi to her own satisfaction. I^ullo, SDomm^ ! Wi^ttf^t off to ? " ♦* 31 'm a leatjin' olo C^nglanD'sf fil)ore, - 31 'm oroereD on active sfntice, an' mebbe 31 'U come back no more — 31 'm bouno to poUfifti off i^ruger — ' 3DljDill be a tougtj fob, olD pal ! — 31 uon't toant to gibe no trouble — ilBut — iufiJt look after m^ gal ! REFRAIN ** 31usft loofe after m^ gal, toill ^e? Mfl)ile 31 'm frontin' tfje fire an' ttje foe lltfee a gootj olD pal, look after m^ gal - an' (&dSm h\tsi& ^e toljeereber 31 go ! " 234 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE " That will do as a beginning ! " said Mrs Arteroyd, nibbling anxiously at the pencil with I which she had " produced " these lines. " It suggests love and a spice of immorality. His ' gal ' — one of the silly creatures who walk out with him, not 'on the strength/ of course. It's a change, and it 's sure to go down ! Not his wife, — and not his baby — ugh! you little^ wretch ! (this was a side apostrophe to the absent t and unconscious Marquise Degagee) — but his ' gar ! Old Dummer-Esel will appreciate that I " She bit her pencil again and thought, — then glanced over a few more music-hall songs, and went on — ♦* ^t)e 'fif a toeab an' a lobin' creetur ! jlioc ♦ on ttie ^trengtlj; ^ou bet ! an' 't 10 'atu to be leatjin' \^n lonely, ^t)ougb 31 l^opesf toe 'II be mameu ^et,— llBut tbere 's; deatli lurkin' Doton xxi ttje^ kopfefif, anu grabes: in tbe goluen transfbaal — jl^eber minu ! — it '0 for ^m% anu country — ^ut — fu0t look after m^ gal ! REFRAIN ♦* 3Iu0t look after m^ gal, toill ^e ? Mbile 31 nt frontin' tbe fire an' tbe foe — i.ike a gooti old pal, look after m^ gal — an' ^atoi5 ble00 ^e tobeereber 31 go ! " 235 A CHRISTMAS GREETING Having got thus far, Mrs. Arteroyd paused and considered. She looked at the clock and saw that its hands pointed to five, nearly the time for afternoon tea. And she had been " making verses " ever since mid-day with only 1 a brief interval for lunch ! Her face was hot and feverish, her lips dry, — her brain — her J brain ? — yes, her brain was actually getting " fagged." She knew now what literary geniuses suffered when they overtaxed their nervous forces. " Positively I look quite tired ! " she said, gazing at herself in the convenient mirror to which she always turned in moments of harass- ment. " I have worked hard ! I don't think i I '11 do any more Tommy-poetry now, — I can finish it to-morrow. I 'd better go and see Mrs.,^ Long-Adder at once. She 's ' off work,' and as sick as she can be of not showing herself I 'm sure she'll be glad of a chance to come forward with ' Tommy's Gal.' ' Tommy's Gal ! ' — that' must be the title of the thing, of course ! That, and no other ! " She wrote it down andj- smiled at it admiringly. " Is n't it splendid ! ' Tommy's Gal ! ' Won't it just ' draw ' ! All'l the horrid men who have their own 'gals' on. 236 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE the sly will cough with emotion over it, — and all the idiotic women who have managed to get ' left ' by Tommies, civil and military, will cry, — that is, if Mrs. Long-Adder can be persuaded to recite it. Oh, she must do it! With that long peaky face of hers, and monstrous Chinese eyes, and thick wedges of all-coloured hair coming over her ears, and her wibbly-wobbly way of swinging her hips about, she will be a succes d' enthousiasme I And so shall I !" Her smile widened into an open dazzle of white teeth which irritable and unimpressionable persons might have called a triumphant grin, — and enveloping herself in a mysterious and wonderful cloak, all frills, old lace, sable-tails and musk-rat odour, she drove off in a quick hansom to a certain dubious little " flat " some- where about Victoria Street, which for the moment was the residence of the heart-enslaving, eye-fascinating, purse-emptying, cheque-demand- ing " caprice " of the stage, Mrs. Long-Adder. jMuch of the charm of this lady consisted in the, delicious vagueness and mystery of her surround- ings. She came " from America." W^hat part of America she came from did not transpire. She had a husband, — somewhere, — but who 237 A CHRISTMAS GREETING he was, and how he " fixed up " things for him- self, also did not transpire. Suffice it to say of him that he was never seen with his wife. Much may be comprehended in that brief statement. Mrs. Long- Adder was by way of being an actress, — that is to say she could not act. She wore gowns and glided about on the stage in them. London went mad over her. The Spread Eagle Conqueror^ a society journal published in New York, called her " our match- less American beauty," like a new sort of cigarette. And she who was "not received" in the intelligent circles of American culture, had a distinctly "good time" of it in England. Mrs. Arteroyd found her reclining in a long sofa-chair or chair-sofa, whatever the piece of " Art " furniture may be called, arrayed in a serpentine tea-gown of " diamante " lace over satin " ray- onnant," — and if Mrs. Arteroyd smelt like one musk-rat, Mrs. Long- Adder smelt like two. The celebrated stage-siren rose as her visitor entered, and extended a white hand, admirably manicured, and loaded with sparkling rings, the offerings of " homage " from various adorers. And then both perfumed ladies embraced, — that sisterly embrace of social feeling, in which 238 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE the gentle the one woman looks gracefully over shoulder of the other and breathes " Cat ! " to the neutral air. " How sweet of you to come ! " murmured Mrs. Long- Adder cooingly, — "I have been so dull ! Alone all day ! Such an unusual thing for me! '* And her sinuous form vibrated with a tremor of triumphant coquetry. Mrs. Arteroyd smiled discreetly, but said nothing. Sitting down by the chair-sofa she critically studied the woman, who was reported in club parlance to " have old Dummer-Esel under her thumb.'* " Not a bit good-looking really," she com- mented inwardly — "It's all her get-up. Put her hair quite plain and dress her like an ordi- nary respectable matron and she '11 be downright ugly. Two of her front teeth are false, I see, — and her skin is simply covered^ — covered with that new Paris mixture which * defies detection.* Her hair is certainly quite wonderful — she must have tried all the new tints on it in turn. I sup- pose it's the Chinese eyes that 'take' — horrid Mongolian things ! They work long-wise into slits, — and that corner-look always fetches the 239 A CHRISTMAS GREETING men. Anyway, she 's the only person possible for my business/* And, forthwith, putting on all her own airs and graces, and talking in softly confidential tones, she " plucked out the heart of her mys- tery " at once, and asked Mrs. Long-Adder to recite publicly the " poem " she had written on "Tommy's Gal." Mrs. Long-Adder looked at her in a sort of innocent child-like wonder. " You have written a poem ? " she said, with ^just the faintest unkind emphasis on the pro- noun " you. " Mrs. Arteroyd flushed and bit her lip. Then she laughed sweetly. "Yes! It's so easy, you know, to write about Tommy ! Everybody can do it ! " Mrs. Long-Adder laughed too. Not because she was particularly moved to laughter, but because she wanted to show how much more artistic and melodious her laugh was in compari- son to Mrs. Arteroyd's. "That is quite true !" she said, half-closing her " Mongolian " eyes in an apparent voluptu- ous dream. "And 'Tommy's Gal ' is a good title. I like it ! " 240 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE She gently rolled herself to and fro on her sofa-chair or chair-sofa. She was one of those women who glory in going without corsets, and she had a marvellous way of writhing and twist- ing her figure under a tea-gown, suggestive of the first stirrings of a snake in long grass. She had paralyzed and stricken His Highness of Dummer-Esel into a fatuous condition of senile 1 rapture by that special twist of herself, and had caused his little swine-like eyes to almost tum- ble out on his fat cheeks with the intensity of his admiring leer. She did that twist just now, and Mrs. Arteroyd instantly wondered whether she could imitate it. " Have you the poem with you ? " she asked i in rich drowsy accents, broken by a half sigh. "Only two verses," answered Mrs. Arteroyd. " I thought it better to see if you liked them before doing any more. But I can easily turn out half a dozen — " " Oh, no ! Please, no ! Four will be quite sufficient," said Mrs. Long-Adder — "The pub- lic, — especially the cultured public — will never stand more than four verses of anything. Let me hear the first two ! " i6 241 A CHRISTMAS GREETING Thus adjured, Mrs. Arteroyd began, as stagily as she could — ** l^ullo, %om\rvfi ! ixy^ttx'^t off to ? " And Mrs. Long-Adder lay back among her silken cushions and listened, blinking sleepily through her long black lashes, the while a faint half-satiric, half-pleased expression came and went on the face which certain of her admirers called "so weirdly beautifully!" Before the second verse was ended, she rose up to her full height in a dramatic attitude of inspired resolu- tion, while the "satin rayonnant'* and the " diamante lace " fell around her in sweeping, glorious, glittering folds. She saw her game and was prepared to play it. " That will do ! " she said. " Yes ! — it has every chance of a draw. I think I can manage it ! " She moved to and fro, softly and swishingly. " Yes ! Finish it ! " And through the tan- gles of her hair she smiled a bewildering smile. " There 's a Bazaar going to be held at the Gilded Rooms for the benefit of Tommy next week — I '11 offer to recite it there — dressed in khaki ! '' " You will ! " cried Mrs. Arteroyd, rapidly 242 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE considering how that "weird" lady would look' " in khaki," and as rapidly deciding that she must have her own way anyhow — " You really' will ! And do you think that your friend, the German prince — " " Dummer-Esel ? Of course ! He will do^ anything to please me ! " said Mrs. Long- Adder — " You may be quite sure he will come, and hear me. But you know you must give me a hundred guineas for the job." " Must I ? " And Mrs. Arteroyd^s face fell a little. " Why of course you must ! You must pay me^ and I shall give' the money to the Fund. That's how these things are done." " Oh, very well ! " said Mrs. Arteroyd hur- riedly — "I don't mind — " "I should think you didn't!" And again/ the temporary favourite of Prince Dummer-Esel smiled — " It will be a splendid advertisement for you — I mean for your pretty poem ! Now, ^ do please go home and finish it as charmingly as you have begun, — get it type-written and send it to me at once, with your cheque. I '11 man-| age all the rest for you ! It will be an immense success — simply immense ! " 243 A CHRISTMAS GREETING. " Do you really think so ? " asked Mrs. Art- eroyd eagerly, as she rose to go. " I am sure of it ! By the way, your husband is at the front, is n't he ? " "Yes. Jack is somewhere near Ladysmith, I believe." " Ah ! That makes it all the more interest- ing ! Now do go home and finish ' Tommy's Gal. * My recitation of it will quite take thci colour of the Marquise Degagee's ' Fancye FaireM" "Ah — h — h — h!" and Mrs. Arteroyd drew a sharp breath. Mrs. Long-Adder's Chinese eyes glittered — she laughed. " I hate that Marquise ! Don't you ? " For the moment Mrs. Arteroyd felt that she' loved Mrs. Long- Adder. But she was discreet.! "She is very — er — very — er — well!- pushing ! " she said cautiously. " Pushing ! Oh, that 's nothing ! I admire' push. You must push nowadays if you want toJ be anywhere. But she is so — so vulgar I So very theatrical in private life ! Yes ! — your poem is lovely ! Good-bye, dear ! What an exquisite cloak ! " 244 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE Moved by their mutual detestation of the^ Marquise Degagee, these dear women kissed each other again — this time without looking over each other's shoulders, and Mrs. Arteroyd departed in high satisfaction, leaving Mrs. Long-j Adder to roll gently and voluptuously on her sofa-chair and to laugh to herself as she thought of the "effect'* she would make on the mind of] Prince Dummer-Esel, when dressed " in khaki" ! In a few days everything was arranged as triumphantly as the most ambitious advertise- ment-seeker could desire. Mrs. Arteroyd fin- ished her " poem " effectively thus : — ♦♦ 31 ain't tttucli gitjen to blubberin', 115ut a s^omet^in' blinUeD m^ m m\)tn tbat t\)m gal came to t\)t station ilasft nigbt to toi^b me gooD-b^e ! an' notD 'ere 31 am at g>outbampton, mnijer orDersf from bloomin' pall-^all, an' toe 0ailsi in a bour for Cape toton ~ ^0 — lufift loofe after m^ gal ! REFRAIN ♦♦ 31u0t look after m^ gal, toill ^e? m\)d^ 31 'm frontin' tbe fire an' tbe foe — J.ike a gooD olD pal, look after m^ gal — an' ^atou bles^s; ^e tobeereber 31 go ! 245 A CHRISTMAS GREETING ♦♦ 31f 31 falU of tonm 31 'U fall figljtin' jFor tlie Ijonour an' name of tl\t iFlag — an' 31 'II onl^ be one of ten tboitsfanD, OTtio 'II Uie for t\)U runtm^ olD rag ! 515ut toe 're off — ooD^b^e, Cnglanu ! — 31 HI cru0t %\^t great llBriti^b jl^ation 's? m^ pal ! pa00 tbe l)at rounu !— anD 0a^ tol^en 31 'm Done for, ♦ mt 'II all loofe after W gal l ' REFRAIN ♦♦ l^es;, CBnglanti, loofe after m^ gal, ioiU ^e? Wbtt^ 31 'tti frontin' tbe fire an' t^e foe, llBe a faitljful pal, anD look after m^ gal— an' ^afcDO ble0s; ^e \j}^tttt\)tt 31 go ! " When Mrs. Long-Adder heard the final verse, < her delight knew no bounds. She at once saw what capital could be made out of calling the " great British Nation " the " pal " of Tommyj Atkins, and of giving his " gal " in trust to; England. What a point for patriotic pathos ! She practised the inflexions of her voice before, a mirror. " Pass the hat round ! " This, with demand- ing fervour, accompanied by the instant actiom of lifting the hat from the head, and holding it out to the audience. " And say when I 'm done| 246 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE' for." Tears in the voice here, with a quickly- effective droop of the head, and a faint gasp. Then with a burst of enthusiasm and tenderness — " We '11 all look after his gal ! " " It will go like wildfire ! '' said Mrs. Long- Adder to herself, as she got into her tights, and tried her " khaki " uniform — " Simply Hke wildfire ! That woman Arteroyd is too stupid for anything. She thinks she has worked out a good trick for herself, and so she has, in a way, but she does n't seem to see one bit what a first-rate business she is starting me on ! Wont I fool old Dummer-Esel! He'll have to look after his 'gal,' you bet, or my name is n't Myrtle Long-Adder ! " And acting on this resolve, she very soon set the ball rolling. London, like a big child waiting to be amused, rose to the occasion, and the forthcoming bazaar at the Gilded Rooms, when "the beautiful Mrs. Long-Adder" would recite "an exquisite poem by the gifted Mrs. Arteroyd, whose gallant husband. Colonel John Arteroyd, V.C, was now fighting for England's glory in South Africa," became the talk of the town. The Marquise Degagee heard of it and nearly fainted. The Bazaar would actually take 247 A CHRISTMAS GREETING place before her " Fancye Faire," — before she could have the chance of reciting " Tommy's Bebe ! " in the presence of Prince Dummer-Esel ! This was an unlooked-for catastrophe. And the "strained relations between France and Eng- land" were not improved by the contretemps. However, there was no help for it, — and the deeply disappointed authoress of " Tommy's , Bebe 1 " had to conceal her chagrin under an appearance of indifference to the world of fashion, which poured into her rooms in the kindly way the world of fashion has, to tell her of her exist- ing rival, — of the splendour of the preparations at the Gilded Rooms, — how " poor old Dum- mer-Esel " was really quite off his head with excitement, — what interest he was taking in the affair ! How Her Highness of Gottenken' was going! — how the Countess of Tiddlywinks. would be there ! — how the Duchess of Gloriosa would have a stall ! — how that delightful dancer (not proper, my dear, but so clever !), that de- lightful dancer who must be nameless, because so very very bad, would assist in the selling of* cigarettes — and Mrs. Long-Adder ! — oh yes ! — Mrs. Long-Adder's recitation would be " the] thing of the day ! " 248 fTHE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE "And Mrs. Arteroyd," said the breathless gossips, " is simply wonderful! She wrote the 'poem that Mrs. Long- Adder is to recite ! — fancy that ! And that poor man of hers at the front ! And she *s got a gown from Paris that's perfectly gorgeous ; — and I know the man who does her hair, and he told me the other day that he was sure she was going to be a social favourite, as she had just bought three new tails of hair ! Think of that ! — three new tails ! And such a gown ! My dear, it makes one's mouth water ! And where she gets the money i heaven knows ! For that poor man at the front has only got three thousand a year ! " " He may be dead by this time ! " said the Marquise with a pretty little shudder. " Poorl ting ! He may be dead ! " For a moment there was silence. The crowd of fashionable chatterers felt distinctly uncom- fortable. The Marquise smiled, — she had made an effect and she was pleased. "Yes, he may be dead!" she repeated."] " And if ze news come while ze bazaar go on helas I Come and have some tea ! " The noisy voices and laughter broke out again^ 249 A CHRISTMAS GREETING — the sudden spell of horror was dispersed. And a week later on the society throng " rushed " to the bazaar at the Gilded Rooms, — to see and to be seen — to watch Prince Dummer-Esel with slavish zeal, — to criticise the lovely Mrs. Long-Adder — and to congratulate Mrs. Arte- royd on " Tommy's Gal ! " And truly Mrs. Arteroyd was in her glory. She was quite clever enough to perceive that Mrs. Long- Adder meant ^ to make capital for herself out of the business, and she had previously determined that having paid a hundred guineas to be " talked about," talked about she would be. And she spared no pains to win her object. Her dress was a " crea- tion " of some wonderful clinging stufFof delicate amber shades softly interwoven, and impressing the eye with the suggestion of early primroses,. I — it fitted like a glove, and displayed the con- tour of the six-guinea corsets to perfection. Men said — poor, dear, deluded men ! — "a fine figure of a woman ! " — and women eyed her with that casual contempt which is the greatest compliment ill-dressed dames can pay to a well- dressed one. When presented to Prince Dum- mer-Esel, she curtsied with a fine carelessness, and gave him an upward smile of childlike ques- 2t:o THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE tioning innocence, — whereat His Highness chuckled and scented fresh game. " We are going to give you a wreath of laurels, Mrs. Arteroyd," he graciously observed — " He — he — he — ha — ha! We are going to pre-, sent you with the symbol of fame ! — ha — ha ! Pretty idea, is n't it — he — he ! — Mrs. Long- Adder suggested it — ha — ha! — woman of ideas, Mrs. Long-Adder — a woman of ideas ! Hum — ha ! We shall have a collection for 'Tommy's Gal * in Mrs. Long- Adder's hat, after your poem has been recited — in her hat — ha — ha ! — the regular South African hat, you know, that goes with 'the khaki uniform — he — he ! I shall put a Tenner into the hat — yes ! — ha — ha ! Mrs. Long-Adder's hat ! — he — he — he — he ! And instead of a bouquet we shall give you a laurel wreath ! You can keep it, you see — he — ha ! hang it up in the drawing-room at home, till your husband comes back — ha — ha! He'll have some laurels too, then, I daresay ! Got a V.C., has he ? Good — good ! Yes, very good ! ha — ha ! " And with these intelligent and distinguished remarks, he took his seat in front of the audi- ence, and Mrs. Arteroyd had the satisfaction of 25: CHRISTMAS GREETING )eing invited to sit beside him. Then there was flourish of trumpets — a bit of " Soldiers of the ing," played by the band — and then — and :hen — amid a burst of frantic applause, Mrs. .ong-Adder stepped upon a platform, gorgeous dth palms and exotics, and showed herself un- 'blushingly, arrayed in " khaki " uniform as " Tommy '* bound for the front ! The plaudits [were deafening ! Mrs. '^ Tommy *' Long-Adder '' saluted." Prince Dummer-Esel grew apoplec- :ically crimson with enthusiasm, and she turned me of her " Mongolian " eyes sideways upon him with a killing brilliancy. Then she began the doggerel lines, " Hullo, Tommy, wheer'ye ^oflF to ! " reciting them with all the vulgar t emphasis of that cheap, forced, sham sentiment which is the only emotional quality that succeeds |nowadays in winning the attention of that still more vulgar, cheap, forced sham institution known as " smart society." Away in South Africa, far removed from all social" hypocrisies, out on the bare brown veMf, and under the sickening scorch of a pitilessly hot sun, two men, friends and comrades-in-arms, were exploring the ground together and anxiously 252 ►THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE surveying the Boer position. They had made their way cautiously along as extemporized scouts | from the British camp to one particular spot which seemed a sheltered coign of vantage, to see if they could form any idea as to the extent of the enemy's defences. One of them, dark and broad-shouldered, lay flat, chest downwards on the grass, rifle in hand, looking up at his 1 companion, who, tall and fair, and of an impos- ing figure, stood erect, gazing out far ahead with something of a dreamy expression softening the light of his keen grey eyes. " I say, Arteroyd, had n't you better lie low ? '' said the recumbent man. " You need not make yourself a target for any marksman who may j be inclined to try his aim." "They have ceased firing for the present," and Colonel John Arteroyd, V.C., calmly took I out his field glasses and prepared to adjust them. "That ridge opposite is deserted." As he spoke he glanced down at his friend and smiled. " Dandy Ferrers knows how to make himself comfortable, I think, even under possi- ^ble fire ! I shall have to report you at home as a funk ! Lie low, indeed ! However, you 're no safer than I am, if a shell comes our way." 253 A CHRISTMAS GREETING Captain James Ferrers, called " Dandy " by- all his friends at home, on account of his some- what curious and capricious taste in neckties, laid down his rifle and took out his cigar-case. " I suppose,*' he said slowly as he lit a prec- ious " Havana," one of the last he had or would have, till he returned to England (if ever he returned) — " I suppose you really would n't care much ? You Ve got the V.C." "Yes, IVe got the V.C." And Colonel Arteroyd unscrewed and polished his field glasses with scrupulous attention. " It 's the best thing a soldier can have. But it is n't everything ! " Dandy Ferrers reddened with a quick sense of compunction. " No — of course ! — I forgot — there 's your wife — " Arteroyd looked at him steadfastly. " Yes, — there 's my wife. And she is the very reason why — as you. say — I shouldn't care much." " Is n't she good to you, old chap ? " queried Dandy sympathetically. Colonel Arteroyd smiled a trifle sadly. " Good to me ? Oh yes, I suppose so ! But 254 .THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE — you see — when I married her — I — I loved her. That is what she didn't understand. 'When a man loves a woman — really loves her, ^you know — " Dandy nodded gravely. "Well— then, he likes to think of her as something altogether sacred — something re- moved and different to himself We don't I want women to be angels — no, — but some- thing very near it. I wanted my wife to love me as I loved her — I wanted to feel that she iwas proud of me, and that if I could do a good thing at any time, she would be glad. A sort of giving her my laurels, you know, if I got any. Well — I soon found out she never would be glad that way. She wanted everything I could n't get. She went in for society, — I hate society. I can't smile when I 'm told to. I can't tell lies thirteen to the dozen. And unless you can do that sort of thing, society doesn't want you. Then our little child — a boy — died when he was two. He was a jolly little chap, — he got very fond of me — used to playi with my moustache and kiss me with all his little might — " Here Arteroyd paused and put his field glasses up to his eyes. Dandy 255 A CHRISTMAS GREETING Ferrers puffed a big blue ring of cigar smoke up into the burning sky and thought it likely that the Colonel was not taking a particularly clear sight for the moment. " Yes — that ridge is deserted," resumed Arteroyd coolly — "I thought I saw a moving speck — but I was mistaken. I believe they Ve got no more ammunition up there." " Go on with your story," said Ferrers softly. " Oh, my story ! It is n't much of a story, old chap ! The little kiddie died, as I said. That rather knocked me up, — left me a bit lonely. Then my wife — well, she was all the time anxious to be a great figure in society. I wanted a home, — she did n't care about it. She said that housekeeping was a bore, and that she hked hotels better. And I — well ! — I felt myself rather in her way. So I was glad to be ordered out on active service. You see, I want her to be happy, — for me, nothing matters." Ferrers was silent. " I have often thought," went on Arteroyd musingly, " especially since I Ve been out herej on these great bare stretches of burnt-up land, without a tree in sight, that death is n't the worst part of life. There 's a God somewhere. Dandy ! " 256 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE " Of course there is ! " answered Dandy promptly. " It *s only the parsons that make us doubt it." "When all the colour and gladness have gone out of the world for a man/* said Arte- royd, talking to himself more than to his friend — "when he does not see any hope or beauty anywhere, — and when the one thing — the best thing of all — love — has failed him — and with it all he 's done a bit of service to his country and lived as straight as he can — then I think death is often sent to him just in the nick of time — to save him. from growing hard and mean and bitter — and to take his soul to his Maker while it's fairly clean and sweet — " Ps — St! A sharp report — a sudden hiss through the air — a small but vivid flash of flame — a smothered cry — " Look out, Dandy ! — Take care of yourself! Good-bye ! '* And Arteroyd's tall figure, erect a moment before, rolled over and over on the ground, and then lay motionless. Reckless of all danger for himself, Ferrers rushed to his side. "Jack!" 17 257 A CHRISTMAS GREETING Silence ! A peaceful smile rested on the lipsi of his fallen comrade, but no sound came from them, — no sound would ever come from themt again. Shot straight through the heart, death' had been instantaneous, and Ferrers, dropping on his knees by the slain man, broke out sob-* bing, and was not ashamed of his tears. He cared nothing if the same Boer marksman who had " picked out " one of the King's bravest officers with such deadly aim should make for^ him as well. Almost he hoped for the same fate, and once or twice looked longingly towards the ridge from whence the fatal bullet had sped. But there was not a creature in sight, — whoever it was that had hit his mark so well had retired, apparently satisfied, — and the unkind sun blazed^ fierce and furnace-like through clear and smoke- less ether. With the salt drops of sorrow blis-^ tering his cheeks, poor " Dandy " reverentl; composed the limbs of the dead, and, crossing the yet warm hands upon the breast, unsheathed' the sword that had so often flashed aloft in fight, as a signal of courage and of victory, and laid it, hilt heart-wards, between the stiflfening fingers. Then planting his own rifle upright in th( ground to mark and guard the spot till he coulc 258 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE return with help to bear the body into camp, he , paused. "Good-bye, Jack!" he said hoarsely — and with a simple boyish tenderness he kissed the dead man's forehead — " Good-bye ! You said you did n*t care much — and — considering everything — I don't suppose you did. But you got your V.C. ! And God knows you deserved it ! " • •••••» The same evening that saw the Colonel's body wrapped in a soldier's blanket and com- mitted to a South African grave, " the beautiful Mrs. Arteroyd," as she was now admittedly and eagerly entitled, owing to the proud fact of having been seen seated next to His Highness of Dummer-Esel, scored a great " social " success. Her verses, "Tommy's Gal," were received with hysterical enthusiasm, and the collection made in Mrs. Long-Adder's hat after the recitation amounted to two or three hundred pounds. An enterprising newspaper proprietor offered to buy the manuscript and " run it up to auction" for one of the Tommy-Funds, which offer Mrs. Arteroyd condescendingly ac- cepted. And then, a classic wreath of laurels/ 259 A CHRISTMAS GREETING, tied with the English colours, was presented to her by Prince Dummer-Esel himself with his own hands, accompanied by the gracious words — " You must keep your laurels for your hus- band, Mrs. Arteroyd ! Add them to his V.C. ! _ ha — ha — ! Add them to his V.C. ! " It was a proud moment ! Expanding with her inward sense of elation, she received the garland with a studied affectation of graceful humility, and curtsied beneath the sunshine of the princely smile. Then, swinging the wreath picturesquely on one arm, she raised her head, flashed her eyes, and glanced round with an air of amused indifference on all the unsuccessful and discomforted women present, and in honey-sweet tones, accepted an invitation to a private little supper-party at which His Highness of Dummer-Esel — with Mrs. Long- Adder — would be present, on a certain evening in the coming week. But — Unfortunately there is always a " but." And it most often comes in when it Is least wanted. Solomon's lament on the vanity of human wishes is the universal daily moan. And the disappointments which sometimes (though not 260 THE LAURELS OF THE BRAVE half often enough) fall to the lot of society- schemers and notoriety-hunters, almost call for a new Solomon to bewail them. Only two days after her triumph, when " the beautiful Mrs. Arteroyd" was just pleasantly engaged in reading a glowing description of herself and her gown in a favourite pictorial " weekly,*' a telegram, not of the appearance of every-day telegrams, was handed to her. Its envelope was red. Her heart gave a sudden leap of fear, as she tore it open. Its contents were brief, and were dated from the War Office. " Deeply regret — ; Colonel John Arteroyd, V.C. Killed. Ladysmith." And Colonel John Arteroyd*s widow stood rigid and tearless. Her " society *' laurels were withered. She would have to " look her worst in black " after all ! 261 263 ONE ROSE |^€ — broppcti from fter hxta^t] a^ ^I)e pa^^ed along, %ikt a fluttering Uth from a ne^t, <©r tf)e final note of a ^ong — , <©ne — a^ fragile anti fair %^ tlje tooman f^er^elf, 31 ^toear ! ^ J©itJ) tfte Iigl)t of a tl)oii^anD ^unfteamje? caugl)t, in t|)e toaije^ of fter golDen Ijair ! (©ne — tol^ite a^ tfje ^noto — idt fell at l)er feet, i©I)en Ijer iaugf^ter, clear anti loid, Jleplieb to tl)e ferbiti l)eat (©f top lobe^toorti^ toilti anti bain, 3Ilnti mp Ijeart greto numft toitli pain %^ fjer mirtljful motherp cru^l^eli mp lieart, anti matitieneti mp fooli^l^ firain* f aretoell to mp tiream ! 31 ^^oulti Ijabe fenoton €l)at l^otoeber fair ^fje map ^efeem, i^er l^eart i^ a^ colti a^ ^tone, 265 A CHRISTMAS GREETING 5t mirror of Social bit c, 3[ ^parMhig nugget of icr, l^alucD at ** ^0 murl^ *' or more, rcalip for ^alt at its market prire ! a '' ^'oeietp ^tat ? '* Sej5\ tl>at is true : ^fte is prouti ; ^ucl) tDomen are ; SJet perhaps she tuiH ^mile on pou I Hour tuni tuill eome, marhe : ilDho ftnolDi5 ? perclianee pou toill ^tc €hc Iping glanees', the treaeljerous ^mile^' ^l^t latelp labisljeD on me. 3(if ^'0, pou tan ^'ap gou met me to^^night : Cell t\tv J tuent mp tuap Despising her trumperp flight : 09an, after all i.^ king — I^e ean laugh ^^ the little i6?ting <0f a tooman^js? sfcom, tohen the tooman hcr^ self 1$ iB?o poor anD loto a thing. <©ne ro.s?e ! — it toifl fatie Cre an hour he past — ^urh hot-house hlosfsonij^ are onip matie, %ikt toomen — to toither fa^t — 266 vO ONE ROSE ^ '^\ 1 Its Icabcs tDiU upcuri anU tjie In an oDoroufo siimt sigf), iStnti OTilp its little gf)ost boiil spcafe of mp transitnt iobe gone tip» <©ne rose — it is mme Co heep for a toftile — J fantp It tali not greatlp pine for tf)e loss of tjer laDpship's smite — 25p a duster of Diamonds prest, 'Ctoas slain on f}er cf}illp breast; »Coget()er toe '11 go, tf}e rose aiin I — toe botf) t}ai3e neeD of rest! 267 U 269 THE PRAYER OF THE SMALL COUNTRY M.P. WHICH HE PRAYETH DAILY jTHOU Especial Little God of Parliaments and Electors, with whom the greater God of the Universe has nothing whatever to do ! — I beseech Thee to look upon me. Thy chosen ser vant, with a tolerant and favourable Eye ! Con- sider with Leniency the singular and capricious Chance which has enabled me to become a Member of the Government, and grant me Thy protection, so that my utter Incapacity for the Post may never be discovered ! Enable me, P implore Thee, to altogether dispense with the assistance of a certain Journalist and Press- Reporter in the composition of my Speeches ! His Terms are high, and I am not sure of his] Discretion ! Impart unto me by spiritual teleg-^ raphy such Knowledge of the general Situation- of Affairs that I may be able to furnish forth an occasional Intelligent Remark to the farmers of this Constituency, whose Loyalty to the Govern- 271 \A CHRISTMAS GREETING Unent is as firm as their Trust in the Power of leer ! Give me the grace of such shallow Pro- fundity and Pretension as shall convince Rustic minds of my complete Superiority to them in [matters concerning their Interest and Welfare, and teach me to use their Simplicity for the con- venient furtherance of my own Cunning ! Fill [me with such necessary and becoming Arrogance Ls shall make me overbearingly insolent to Per- sons of Intellect, while yet retaining that sleek Affability which shall cause me to appear a Fawning Flunkey to Persons of Rank ! Enable me to so condescendingly patronize the Electors who gave me their majority that it shall seem I was returned through Merit only, and not through Bribes and Beer! And mercifully defend me, O Beneficent little Deity, from all possibility of [ever being called upon to address the House ! I am no speaker, — and even if I were, I have no Ideas whereon to hang a fustian sentence ! kThou Knowest, All-Knowing-One, that I have LOt so much as an Opinion, save that it is good For me, in respect of Social Advantage, to write M.P. after my name ! And surely Thou dost lIso know that I have paid Two Thousand *ounds for the purchase of this small portion of 272 PRAYER OF THE COUNTRY M. P. the Alphabet, making One Thousand Pounds^ per letter, which may humbly be submitted to. Thee, O Calculating Ruler of Parliamentary^ Elections, as somewhat dear ! But I have ac- cepted these Conditions and paid the sum with- out murmuring ; therefore of Thy goodness, be^ pleased to spare me from the utterance of even^ one word in the presence of my peers, concern- ing any Matter for the Advancement of Which" I have been elected! For lo, — if I said as| much as " Yea,** it might be ill-advised ; and yet again, if I said "Nay," it might be ill-timed !i Inasmuch as I am compelled to rely on the Jour- nalist and Press-Reporter before mentioned for whatsoever knowledge of matters political I pos- sess, and it is just possible that he might, through an extra dose of whisky-soda, — mis-( lead me by erroneous information ! O Lord of Press- Agencies and Grub-Street Eating-Houses,l if it be possible unto Thee, relieve me of this' Man ! He charges more, so I am credibly in- formed, per Hundred Words than any otherj Inventor of Original Eloquence in the pay of | the Unlettered and Inarticulate of the House ! And it is much to be feared that he does not always keep his own Counsel ! Wherefore,^ i8 273 LA CHRISTMAS GREETING gracious Deity, I would be Released with all convenient Speed from the Exercise of his | Power ! Rather than be constantly compelled ^to rely upon this Journalistic Wretch for Advice 'and Instruction, it will more conduce to my Comfort, — though possibly to my Fatigue, — to commit to Memory such portions of long- Iforgotten speeches spoken by Defunct Members if the House in the Past, as may be found suitable to the present needs of the Rural Popu- lation. The Corn-growing and Cattle-breeding Electors will not know from what Sources I de- rive my Inspiration, and the Editor of the Local Newspaper has not yet taken a degree in Scholarship. Moreover, the Dead are happily unable to send in any Claim for Damages against the Theft of their Ideas, which are as free to Independent Pilferers as the Original Plots of New and Successful Romances are free to the Dramatizing Robbers in the Stage- Purlieus, thanks to the Admirable Attitude of Dignified Indolence assumed by that Govern- ment to which I, one Fool out of Many, have ^the honour to belong ! Finally, O Beneficent Lilliputian Deity which governeth matters Parliamentary, — grant me 374 PRAYER OF THE COUNTRY M. P. isuch a sufficient amount of highly-respectable Mendacity as shall enable me to pass success- fully for what I am not, at least, so far as Society in the Country is concerned ! Fully aware am I, O Lord, that a Simulation of Ability will not always meet with approval in Town, though it has been occasionally known to do so ! There- ^fore I am well content to sit in the House as one MUM, thus representing through myself an inaudible County ! But in the County itself it shall seem to the Uninitiated that my thoughts are too deep for speech, while I retain in my own mind the knowledge of the Fact that my Humbug is too great for Expression ! To Thee, gentle yet capricious Deity, I com- mend all my Desires, praying Thee to keep the people whom I represent as Dumb and Inert as myself in matters concerning their own Wel- fare, for if they should chance to consider the Situation by the light of Common Sense, and me by the shrewd Appreciation of a Native Wit, it might occur to them to prefer a Man rather than a Wooden-headed Nonentity to Pro- claim their Existence to the King's faithful Commons ! Wherefore, at the next General Election I should lose my Seat, — which would 275 A CHRISTMAS GREETINGr be Disagreeable to me personally, as well as a Cause of Rage in my Wife, to whom my present" Condition of a Parliamentary Microbe is much more important and advantageous than it is to] the Country! And Thou knowest, O Lord,^ that when my Wife is moved by the Impetuous^ Persuasion of a difficult Temper, it is necessary^ for me, by reason of her Superior Height, Size, and Aggressiveness, to retire from the domestic < Fighting-ground, considerably worsted in the unequal Combat. Protect me, merciful Deity, from her Tongue ! — which is as a Sword to. slay all thoughts of Peace! And, concerning the accursed ubiquitous Journalist-Reporter-Para- graphist- Correspondent-Attached- to-all-NewS" papers Man, who, for my sins, wrote my " speech| to the Electors " at a high charge, and agreed, - and therefore expects, to write all my other public utterances on the same terms, I beseech/ Thee, when he next waits upon me with his< Bill, ready to Counsel or to Command, grant me the Strength and Courage to tell a more| \ barefaced Lie than is habitual to me, and to^ boldly say that I can do Without him ! Amen. 276 2 77 TO "THE (^UARTERLY''i With THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON i5€€€31|^4B, olti frienti! a merrp Cftrx^tma^ time €o pou, tDl)0 notl)xng merrp eber ^ee ; — 4Breat a^urtierer of poet^ in tfteir prime, — J©l)P Ijaije pou i^trucft at me ? I©itf) bengeful l)ooM of ^I^arpeneti critit^^teel Sou tortured giants in tl)e tiap^ gone 6p,— \%}xXx note upon pour creafeing, ru^eftp to&eel, gou ti fijceafe a IButterflp ! x%W\ pou're far too cumfirouisf for ^ucft tf)ing^ ! iour Ijeabp, clanfting ajrie tirag^ i* tl)e chaiS^e * €f)e Ijappp Kln^ect Ija^ tl^e u^e of toing^, Slnti fteep^ itief ^un^ftine^place 1 279 28 1 THE (QUEEN'S WISH |ER Majesty, Queen Alexandra,^ has, with her usual forethought and consideration for the wel- fare of the whole country, pub- licly expressed a desire that all the materials, velvets, brocades, silks, satins, and other adornments, used by ladies attending the Coronation, should be of British manufacture. Everyone must recognize the enormous amount of good that would result if this wish of Her Majesty's were fulfilled by the ready obedience and adherence of her women subjects to what they should consider, if the] are truly loyal, as tantamount to a command.^ British trade has long had serious reason to complain of foreign competition, and evils are rapidly growing in this direction which mayj promptly be stemmed and greatly mitigated byJ a united and resolved action from the ladies of_ the Empire at this particular juncture. A num- ber of the most influential among these have taken the Queen's wish into practical considera-' 283 CHRISTMAS GREETING :ion, and as a consequence of their earnest efforts :o " think out ** the position, it is proposed that "Ladies' Imperial Coronation Guild" should >e formed with different branches all over the :ountry, in which the members pledge themselves :o the following rules : — Firstly ; To employ none but English firms for the making of their Coronation dresses, dresses for the Drawing-rooms, and all other functions, throughout the Coronation year. Secondly : To purchase no materials for the said Coronation dresses. Drawing-room dresses, etc., that are not of guaranteed British manufacture. Thirdly : To employ none but British florists for the making of Court bouquets, and floral garlands of every kind, either for per- sonal wear, or home and table decoration. Fourthly: Where lace is worn, to give the preference to Irish point, Honiton, and other laces of British manufacture; the same rule to apply to raised embroideries, gold, silver, and bead trimming, ap-pliqu'e work, and all manner of ornamental design. 284 THE QUE EN^S WISH Fifthly: That throughout the whole of the Coronation year, that is to say from Janu- | ary ist, 1902, till December 31st of the same year, the Members of the Guild pledge themselves to inquire of all trades- men supplying them with any and every article of outer and under-wear, as to whether such articles are of British design 1 and manufacture, and that if said British design and manufacture cannot be abso- lutely guaranteed they shall decline to pur- chase same. Sixthly: They furthermore agree that, wher- ever It is possible, they will employ none but British subjects in all the functions, entertainments, and festivities which may be In progress during the season, such as cooks, waiters, and domestic servants generally, in order that this year of the crowning of Edward VII. and Alexandra may see an appreciable measure of extra prosperity, happiness, and good-will among all classes of the Empire wherever the British flag holds sway. It is also suggested that the names of all the ladies joining the Guild should be inscribed in a volume to be submitted to 285 A CHRISTMAS GREETING Her Majesty the Queen at the close of the Coronation year. Ladies willing to join this Guild and to prac- tically assist, by their influence and example, in carrying out Her Majesty's expressed wish for the benefit of British trade interests generally, are requested to kindly send their names and addresses to the Hon. Secretary, Imperial Coronation Guild Committee, ;^6y Essex Street, Strand, London. 286 28; % "A HAPPY NEW YEAR lUT of the unknown vastness of what we call Time, but what is truly God's Eternity, another Year-Star rises on the world's horizon, — twelve-pointed, bright-centred and glittering with the fair promise of clear skies. Down into ^the fathomless chasm of past history sinks the •last crimson point of the Star of the Old Year, which throughout nearly its whole course of .shining has been obscured by clouds of sorrow lamong many nations, and dimmed in its lustre 'by grief and disaster and continued war. The bells ring mournfully as it falls into the depths Iwhere lie hundreds of ruined civilizations, lost dynasties, buried records, and dead kingdoms ; — so many joys gone, — so many Hves lost, — so [many hopes marred, — so many plans frustrated, J — so many loves wasted, — and what gained ? Much or little ? How have we met the sweet 'things it brought to us ? How have we taken ,the bitter? For that is truly all that matters. 19 289 A CHRISTMAS GREETING It is not the fact of our personal joy or our per sonal sorrow that is the sum total figure of our ^ account ; it is simply how we have comported ourselves in both experiences. The Eternities do not care about what we Have, but what we Are. All this majestic universe, this constant triumphal march of the sun and the earth, like wedded lovers through palace corridors of stars, is not for the purpose of our Having, but of our Being. We can keep nothing but our own Souls. Everything else passes with the flight of the years, and vanishes as though it had never existed. The principal verb of our life, there- fore, is To Be — not To Have. Each man*s, each woman's destiny is that of being, — existing, — and showing good cause for such existence. Each life, no matter how humble, has a certain appointed orbit of duty in which it is set to revolve, with purpose, with individuality, with courage, and with truth. Herein for every one of us lies the only mystic meaning of an "Old" year or a "New." " What am I ?" not "What have I ? " is the question each human soul should ask as the past days fall like dead leaves from the trees, and the new days begin to glim- er like the first sprouting buds of the snowdrops 290 "A HAPPY NEW YEAR! and crocuses beneath the dark mould. Those who " have done their best, and hoped the rest " can let the Old Year go gently, with parting thanks and benediction for all the gladness it brought as well as the gloom, and can welcome the New Year in with confidence and joy. For if there is to be rain, there will also be sunshine ; and if there is to be storm, there will also be calm ! Much, perchance, will be seen in this next twelve months that should bring prosperity to England, with happiness and good-will to all men. Our King and Queen will be crowned, God willing, in the sight of the representatives of all nations, the beloved Sovereigns of the grandest Empire on earth. And, if all goes as the prayers of the nation would have it, there will be Peace where there has been War. Shall we not, as the bells ring down the mistakes and follies and omissions of the past, entreat the ^unseen Divine Ordainer of events that through- jout all the world, and not with us only, there may be harmony, unity, and general good feel- ing? In an age of civilization such as ours, is ht not time to put an end to barbaric disputes, rpetty jealousies, trade animosities and envyings, 291 fA CHRISTMAS GREETING and be as one great Alliance of friends, under the sweet blue sky which bends alike over the fejust and the unjust? Much harm is done now- ^adays by ill-conditioned and mentally-diseased persons on the press and platform, whose chosen work would appear to be to foment racial and religious hatreds, and to set community against community solely for the purpose of making notoriety for themselves and creating useless and pernicious agitation among others. Yet a ma- jority of the reasoning and reasonable could, if they chose, soon put a stop to such petty attempts to disturb the peace of nations. Never- theless, it is evident that the men of the Church ^and the men of the State will need to be both wise and tolerant in the face of certain emergen- cies which threaten us at the immediate moment. They will specially need to put their own per- sonal interests completely aside in a wider con- 'sideration for the good of the People. If they do not see the force of self-sacrifice and disinter- ested labour at the present juncture, it is almost [impossible not to foresee danger in the near future. There is too much of Self and too little of England in the present parliamentary , methods of attending to business. Let us, how- 292 "A HAPPY NEW YEAR!" ever, hope that this position of things will be speedily altered. But, unfortunately, grum- I blings are already beginning to be heard, though indistinctly and afar off, like the mutterings of a storm, on matters connected with the New Year, before that same New Year has time to set the tip of a toe within our doors. For is it not to be " Coronation " year ? Of course it is. And small spurts of irritation concerning the arrangements for that same Coronation are already more than audible. We are told that a jostle o^ parvenus is expected to oust altogether from the scene the native Imperial Briton; — that the workers in science and art and literature, i^who have helped to make the nation what it is, are to be set aside for grocer-knights and Jew millionaires ; and the rumor that the Earl Mar- shal, Duke of Norfolk (the loyal Englishman who wishes England set under subjugation to the Pope), is paying more attention to the claims of those of his own creed than others, is not calcu- lated to allay the angry feeling which is gather- ing and growing day by day. Certainly there is much to be discussed concerning this doubtful and uncomfortable matter; — but perhaps the least said the soonest mended. And to those 293 A CHRISTMAS GREETING who are beginning to "gird" ominously at what they are pleased to call " favouritism ** it will be as well to offer the reminder that the King himself is far too shrewd and clever, as well as too kindly, to wish to give serious offence to any of those whose work and position in any of the leading arts and professions merit the recognition of being asked to witness the Coronation, and that if such offences should unhappily occur, the blame rests solely with the Earl Marshal and those connected with the preparations in prog- ress. It is, perhaps, unfortunate that thousands of people are beginning to look upon the New Year as " Coronation Year " only ; so that before it commences they are getting ready for slights, offences, disappointments, irritations, and other causes for serious annoyance. One may venture to offer the mild suggestion that those who are so carefully preparing for the worst, should try to believe that the worst will not happen, and possess their souls in patience. It will be as well to meet the coming year as something more than a " Coronation " business ; — rather as a God*s gift of twelve months of time in which to do good work, — to be kindly to all, to cultivate cheerfulness and hope, and to make the best of 29^ A HAPPY NEW YEAR! everything, even when bad is the best. The possession of a merry heart is better than any crowning, and if some of us are only able to see the Royal pageant through worrying ourselves into jealousies, tempers, yellow envyings and green spites, it is surely better not to try for it at all. Listen to the message of the bells ! They ring in the new days, — the coming deli- ciousness of spring, — the odours of the lilac and may-blossom, the songs of the larks and nightin- gales, the lovely long drowsy days of summer, ^when the lush grass is full of flowers, and the bees drone one's senses to sleep while they gather the honey from the clover cups, and all the world is warm with the delight of the sun ! Hear the OT[l)at a luorlD of Ijappine^^ tjieir liarmon^ foretellsf ! " They ring in new dreams of joy, — new hopes ; ' — they promise in their thousand little echoes, a thousand sweetnesses which, when they come, we shall not be half grateful enough for, — they 'tell us to be brave, to be hopeful, to be kind, to be cheery, to be wise, — and to know that above all and through all, a loving God exists, guiding this. His small Earth, as He guides all greater 295 CHRISTMAS GREETING planets on in the appointed ways of good, by teady degrees, with marvellous windings and nfathomable meanings, up to Better and towards that Best which we see not, but feel afar off, even s we cannot see the Summer yet, though we know it is coming. Welcome then, fair New Year crowned with the crown of England! Welcome bright Star rising on the dark of finite things ! We will try and make good use of you ; we will accept each Hour of you as a Blessing, and each Day of you as an Opportunity for good. We will make each Month of you a chronicle of work, love, and sympathy for all human kind, so that the recording Angel may ^rite of you in flawless gold on stainless white, as one of the gladdest years in England's history ! And so, while the bells ring, let us set wide ^open our doors, and welcome the soft-footed, crown-adorned Stranger as he enters! If we ourselves decide to make him our friend, he will ever be our foe. If we trust the New Year with all it brings, whether of joy or sorrow, into the hands of God, at Whose command it comes to us, it will be and must be 296 297 KING BUTTERCUP'S W E D D I N G — An Extravaganza^ DEDICATED TO MY DEAR LITTLE CHILD- FRIEND, URSULA BLOOM |T is a long time ago since King Buttercup was married, so long that the most venerable Yew in the forest cannot remember anything about it, though it was a very grand Wedding and made a great sensation in the Flower- World. It took place in the beautiful meadows which sur- round the town of Stratford-on-Avon, where the greatest poet of all the world, Shakespeare, was born, — but it was long ages before either he saw the light, or Stratford-on-Avon looked as it does now. Only the West Wind, who was really present at the ceremony, can give any exact account of it, and he told me all about it, just as I shall tell you. If you doubt the truth of the story, you must blame him, not me ! This is how it happened. On a beautiful May morning, just as all the early Spring flowers 299 A CHRISTMAS GREETING were awaking from their night's slumber, a big Bee, splendidly dressed in a costume of brown and yellow velvet, bounced suddenly on a spray of acacia. He was one of the Town Criers in thcj employ of the Government, whose business it is to fly every morning from blossom to blossom,, and relate every event that takes place in Flower- land, where as yet they have no newspapers. With a long, loud buzz, the Bee proclaimed : — " Important ! Special ! ! Startling news ! ! ! His Gracious Majesty, King Buttercup, Mon- arch of Meadowland, is about to marry ! ! ! L Marriage of the Monarch of Meadowland !!!!!" At this, several lazy Forget-me-nots who had before felt inclined to take five minutes' more nap, ba:ame broad awake in a second, anc opened their sleepy blue eyes wide in astonish-J ment, while a group of highly cultivated Irises, instead of nodding drowsily on their green stemsi drew themselves up with an air of offended dig- nity, — "The Monarch of Meadowland," sai( they ; " What is he to us ? A common wih flower — a weed — a nobody — called a kinj merely by courtesy. True, he rules over a^ small part of our country, but pooh ! vje wouh not be seen at his court!" — and they rustled^ 300 ICING BUTTERCUP'S WEDDING their long leaves haughtily. The Bee rubbed his forelegs together thoughtfully for a second, and then observed — "You spoke of a ^ small' part of our country, — why Meadowland is the largest kingdom in it!" " Nonsense ! " sharply exclaimed a stately Hyacinth. " It is an unexplored wilderness, — \ its king and people are nothing better than savages ! Do not presume to argue with uSy Sir Bee ! /Fi? are the aristocracy ! " The Bee bowed humbly and was silent. " Pray," inquired a dandy Tulip, languidly uncurling his leaves to the sun, " who is the lady destined to be the future Queen of Meadow- - land ? " " The fair Daisy," replied the Bee, " And re- port says she is as good as she is lovely." A cluster of brilliantly-attired Crocuses here set up a shrill little laugh of contempt and derision. " What, Daisy ! " they exclaimed, — " that little fright! A dwarf! A model of ughness ! Well, the King's taste is not very refined ! " The Lilies, Hyacinths, and Tulips, together with some newly-awakened Jonquils, all joined in mockery of King Buttercup's chosen bride, 301 A CHRISTMAS GREETING and the poor Town Crier was losing patience^ with them, when he heard a sweet voice near him say — "Good morning, Sir Bee! Your news delights me. I am always happy when I hearj of the good fortune of others. Daisy has long been a dear friend of mine, and I heartily wish her joy. Come and tell me all about it ! " Thus invited, the Bee gladly flew down to a bank of dewy moss, where dwelt the flower who spoke to him, the fair and gentle Violet. The other aristocrat-flowers were silent; they knew that though the Violet was really a native of Meadowland, yet there was no one more hon- oured at the brilliant court of their Queen, the Rose, than she was, and they dared not speak against Daisy, whom she thus publicly acknowl- edged as a dear friend. Meanwhile, the Violet, after hospitably giving the Bee some fresh honey for breakfast, listened with great interest to his account of the approaching festivities. " Two thousand blue butterflies are com- missioned by his Majesty," said he, " to be^ the bearers of the royal invitations to the mar- riage. You will no doubt receive yours in the^ course of the day. One million spiders are 302 KING BUTTERCUP^S WEDDING employed in weaving a canopy under which the ^ bridal pair will receive their friends. The Daisy is to be attended by one hundred of the whitest ^Anemones as bridesmaids, and the King will be' ^ escorted by the same number of selected Celan- dines. The Wedding will take place to-morrow at sunrise, in the centre of the green field that slopes down to the river yonder, and after the ceremony there will be a grand Banquet. In the evening a State Ball will be held in the King s Palace, to which many of the highest aristocracy will come, though the season for them is not yet begun. But many have consented to travel thither to do honour to the King — one Lily in particular is on her way from the Nile, travelling^ night and day in order to be present." \y Here the Bee paused a moment, and rubbed vr, his forelegs in great excitement. Not only Violet, but all the flowers near him were bending' eagerly forward to listen to his account of the' morrow's programme, and he went on — " I am to be there with all the WorshipfuL Company of Town Criers, — we are to stand on each side of the path down which the King and his newly-made Queen will pass — and at a signal from our Chief, we shall all buzz together,, 303 [A CHRISTMAS GREETING which will have a grand effect. The Thrush has been asked for an anthem, but his voice has been so much admired, that he has become fanci- ful and conceited, and always has a cold when he is wanted to sing. He says he has heard that if singers can manage to have a cold whenever it suits their caprice, they become more popular. But I must not stay any longer gossiping, or I ^ shall never get through my business. I shall see you among the guests to-morrow. Good- bye ! " and away flew the Bee buzzing as loudly ^ as he could, for he felt very fussy, as most people do who have important news to tell. The Vio- let, left to herself, thought very much of her friend Daisy^s good fortune, and looked forward with eagerness to the forthcoming festivities. " Are you going to this absurd ceremony, I Lady Violet ? " inquired the same dandy Tulip, who had before spoken to the Bee. " Certainly, if the King invites me,*' she replied. " Oh, we are all sure to be invited ! '* he ex- claimed. " The vulgar little monarch will honour himself by pretending to know us and sending us his invitations ; but I, for one, shall not trouble myself to go." " Nor we,** said the Irises, 304 KING BUTTERCUP'S WEDDING " Nor we," chorused the Crocuses. " Well/* gently said the Violet, " we need not decide what to do till the invitations come." The sun was now high in the heavens, and all the fields and gardens were bright with life and" activity. The birds warbled gaily on the bud- ding green boughs, and hosts of gay insects with rainbow-tinted wings fluttered and danced in the fresh breeze. Many butterflies passed to and fro, some pure white, others pale yellow, others crimson, and some beautifully variegated; but as the messengers of King Buttercup were to be recognized by their blue costume, the other members of the tribe did not attract as much attention from the Flowers as usual. The hours passed on, and yet not a single blue butterfly appeared. Now, though Irises, Crocuses, and Hyacinths had all derided King Buttercup and, his bride, they were in secret very anxious to be invited to the wedding, which they knew well enough would be a grand affair, and they kept, sharp watch for the first glimpse of the RoyaP ambassadors. At last, a faint flicker of pale blue] wings appeared in the distance, and then the long expected procession of butterflies camel floating swiftly through the air. Very brilliant^ 20 305 lA CHRISTMAS GREETING and lovely they looked in the broad blaze of sunshine, and a linnet, perched up in a hawthorn tree, was so charmed with the sight that he com- posed a song about it and sang it then and there with all his heart in it. The beautiful butter- flies did not stop in their graceful flight for the Irises, or the Crocuses, or any aristocratic flower ; they descended to the Forget-me-nots, rose again lightly and went on to the Violet, where three of them rested an instant, then on again, now and then fluttering down to give in- vitations to some modest field flowers almost hidden in the grass — sometimes poising on the white blossoms of the blackthorn, sometimes dis- appearing in the scented cups of early bluebells — away they flew bearing King Buttercup's message to his chosen guests, and in a few seconds they had left far behind them the bril- liant cluster of cultivated flowers that had sneered so unkindly at the Monarch of Meadowland. The Hyacinths trembled with anger, and the complexions of the Crocuses grew even yellower ^n the extremity of their disappointment. But they said nothing ; — they knew well enough they had deserved the slight they had received. The day passed, and the young May moon 306 ING BUTTERCUP'S WEDDING smiled radiantly down on sleeping Flowerland |The Violet, who had been greatly excited by 4 eceiving a royal invitation, and the Forget-me- nots also, could scarcely close their eyes all night, and therefore they saw a party of the Fungus Elves practising their dances for the next evening. A pretty sight it was to see fthem all troop out from under the cover of ^he funguses which are their houses, and then to watch them gracefully skipping about in the moonshine. They were all dressed in brown and silver, and wore crowns of dewdrops, and nothing could exceed the activity and ease of their motions. Ten glow-worms lit up the grass on which they danced, and altogether it was a charming sight. Violet looked on at their fantastic capers till she fell unconsciously into a sound slumber, from which she did not awake I till the first streak of morning appeared in the east. A great noise of booming and buzzing then aroused her, and opening her dark blue / eyes she saw that the Town Criers were all passing her dwelling on their way to the wed- ding. Looking around her, she observed the coquettish Forget-me-nots busily engaged in dressing themselves for the occasion, and what 307 A CHRISTMAS GREETING a fuss they made to be sure! They washed all their leaves, and were most particular to arrange a dewdrop in the centre of each one of their blossoms. They certainly would have been the latest arrivals at the King's Palace had they not been reminded how time was going by a cross old grasshopper with a squeaky voice, who was hurrying off to the wedding as fast as he could go. '' There you are ! " he grumbled, " dressing yourselves and muddling about, just as women always do ! When are you going to start, pray ? I suppose you *11 arrive just as the ceremony is ended ! " And on he hopped faster than ever. The Forget-me-nots now hurried the finishing of their toilette, and the Violet hastily arose from her mossy couch. Putting on her richest purple robe, she summoned a fly (you can hire flies in Flowerland as you can in our world, only you do not pay them so much), and, seating herself on his back, away she went to the marriage fes- tival, and succeeded in reaching the meadow just as the King entered. What a scene it was to be sure ! Such a vast concourse of Flowers had never been seen assembled in one field before. 308 KING BUTTERCUP'S WEDDING They were all packed together as closely as theyi could stand, and all pressed eagerly towards one) spotj where the spider-woven canopy was erected. And a wonderful canopy it was, finer than silk,* and studded thickly with dewdrops of all sizes that glittered like the rarest diamonds. Unden^ it. King Buttercup sat on his throne waiting the approach of his bride. He was the cynosure of all eyes, and in truth he was a handsome little^ fellow. He wore a robe of cloth of gold, and^ on his head was placed a golden crown, and his bright face shone with happiness. Besidi him stood his attendant groomsmen, the Celan- dines, together with several other distinguished Flower-people, many of whom bore titles of distinction. There was Count Dandelion, on( of the handsomest soldiers in Meadowland, whoj had travelled in many countries, and, it was^ said, had saved many lives at the risk of losing his own. He looked very gorgeous in his showy^f uniform of pale green and gold, and he was en-^ gaged in what seemed to be a very interestin| conversation with the beautiful Lady Pimpernel,] who was one of the greatest belles and coquettes! of the court. Then there was the Grand Duke' of Borage who was flirting desperately with they 309 CHRISTMAS GREETING young Duchess Eye-bright, and the gallant no- bleman Lord Fox-Glove was busy paying most devoted attention to the graceful and fascinating Marchioness Meadowsweet. There were knights and nobles in abundance, and in short all the rank, wealth and beauty of Meadowland had gathered to King Buttercup's wedding. Many were curious to see the bride, as few persons present knew what she was like, and all they had heard was that she was very small and shy and timid. But now there was heard a great clash of armour, and a brilliant regiment of Rose Beetles splendidly attired in green coats of mail appeared on the field and formed in two lines, one on each side of the King. Then came the Bees or Town Criers, and took their places ; — after which a strain of sweet melody was heard, ^ and lo ! a skylark rose into the air, fluttering his pretty wings and singing as only skylarks can sing, with a clear, joyous voice that made the very heavens ring with music. And per- haps it is because he sang so beautifully on this occasion, that ever since that time the skylarks ^that live in the fields and woodlands round about Shakespeare's Town are famous for their lovely clear voices, which break forth in a chorus of 310 KING BUTTERCUP^S WEDDING the most joyous melody in the world every year when Spring colours the trees green, and fills *the meadows with flowers. They are, as they certainly must be, the descendants of that special bird which carolled so merrily on the morning King Buttercup was married. He warbled the " Wedding Anthem " instead of the conceited thrush, and as he sang, all the blossoms rustled ►their leaves expectantly, for it was time for the Bride to appear. A few seconds more of sus- pense and anxiety, and then a deepening mur- mur of applause and admiration ran through the dense crowd of Flowers as the fair Daisy entered. What a lovely little creature she was ! So simple, so pure and innocent; — so shy and sweet she looked in her snow-white robes, with her little golden bodice and crown ! She was followed by her bridesmaids, the Anemones, but beautiful though they were, simple little Daisy outshone them all. King Buttercup rose from his throne and advanced to meet her — all the Bees buzzed, the Rose Beetles clashed their swords, and the Skylark sang louder and louder, hovering like a living jewel in the sunshine, just 'above the Royal Canopy. Now as the little Daisy approached her kingly bridegroom, her A CHRISTMAS GREETING! great happiness and honour seemed more than< she could bear, and a faint, beautiful rose-blush^ tinged her tiny white petals. That is the reasoni why so many daisies are pink-tipped to this very' hour. The King bowed low and led her to his throne, — then turning to his courtiers and' friends said in a small voice as clear as a bell, — " Loving subjects ! It has seemed good to us that in order to maintain the honour and position of our Kingdom and State, we should | take upon ourselves the solemn duty of matri- mony. In choosing a partner for our Throne,( we have not considered rank and wealth so much as virtue and goodness, and in all our search we have been unable to find a fairer or more modest maiden flower than the Daisy,< whom we now have the honour to present to I you as your future Queen. We feel confident that the many beauties of her mind and the( sweetness, and constancy of her character will^ enhance the value of our Throne and increase the happiness and prosperity of our Kingdom. Moreover, it has been made known to us that, in days to come, that portion of Flowerland^ whereon we now grow and flourish will be made valuable and beloved to all the rest of the world 312 ING BUTTERCUP'S WEDDING by the presence of a far greater King than our- selves, — one who will lead the thoughts of men [even as we lead the first golden blossoming-out of Spring. Therefore it shall be our duty to make this centre of our realm beautiful with all the fairest thoughts of love and grace and inno- cence which can charm a Poet's fancy, and we here decree that these fields by the river shall be the beginning of all lovely fields in all lovely lands ! None shall be more peaceful and pure, — none shall be more full of gold and silver bloom, — none shall be more delicately fragrant, or more sweetly surrounded by the singing of birds ! Subjects, behold your Queen ! Before you all, I proudly declare my love for her ; — and from henceforth shall Buttercup and Daisy dwell together in hope to make the world brighter and happier for their blossoming ! " Loud cheers responded to the King's speech, and then the marriage ceremony commenced. The venerable Archbishop Ivy, glorious in his glossy green sleeves and quaintly twisted brown mitre, read the service and pronounced the ^Blessing, and then, as King Buttercup kissed Queen Daisy, there began a general " March past" of all the representatives of Meadowland, 3^3 A CHRISTMAS GREETING What a wonderful sight that was ! The West, Wind, who kept on blowing the news as hard as he could to all the four quarters of the globe, found it almost impossible to telegraph his description of the scene fast enough, though he was gener-* ally admitted to be an excellent reporter. The procession was almost interminable, and lasted nearly all day. Then there was the Wedding Breakfast, which took place under a beautiful tent of gossamer-web, round which a thousand tall Cowslips, officers of the Royal guard, stood "at attention." Innumerable Ladybirds, in black and scarlet livery, ran about, waiting upon the King and Queen and their distinguished guests ; — and some specially selected Moths, in brown coats and white stockings, brought various kinds, of honey-dew and sweet nectar to fill the Royal' cups. Then came a grand dance, and the King,- leading his fair Consort out, opened the Ball with her. All the flower-eyes were turned upon the Royal pair as they glided together over the' green meadow in the light of the setting sun at' the close of the long bright festival-day, — and, on the very edge of the grass, as an unin- vited spectator, stood the dandy Tulip who had] sneered at the whole business of the marriage. 314 KING BUTTERCUP'S WEDDING] when he had first heard of it. Yes, there hej was, twirling his petals just as some gentlemen, twirl their moustaches. " Upon my word ! " he exclaimed — " Th< new Queen is not bad-looking ! " Jealous Lady Hyacinth, who had followed^ him, heard what he said and was very angry. " Not bad-looking ! " she cried in a little shrill voice — " How dare you. Sir Tulip ! Do you' not remember that you admired Me yesterday? '\ "Ah, but that was yesterday ! " drawled the Tulip — " You are all very well in your way, but you are heavy, my dear Lady Hyacinth ! — large and heavy! — You do not wear well!" " Dear me ! " said a tall stately-looking flower- personage, attired in purest white and carrying a^ golden wand like a sceptre — "How you ' culti- vated ' persons quarrel ! I have never seen worse manners even among the frogs in Egypt Really, Lady Hyacinth, your poor relations the< Bluebells are much better behaved ! " Sir Tulip waved his leaves carelessly with at rakish air, and Lady Hyacinth trembled with, rage, — for it was the Lily who had come all the/ way from the Nile who thus reproached them,' and she was a great authority on deportment. 315 ,A CHRISTMAS GREETING Meanwhile the Buttercup and Daisy danced on, and all the other field and woodland flowers danced too, till the sun sank and the moon rose, and the meadows shone with the silvery reflec- tions of a million fantastic and graceful forms that swayed to and fro in the wind like pretty gleams of pale sunshine on dark green water. The river murmured and plashed among the f reeds — tall osiers nodded their heads in drowsy time to the flying feet of the flower-dancers, and ' little moor-hens paddled to and fro from one bank of moss to the other, gossiping and mak- ing their comments on the beauty and brilliancy of King Buttercup's State Ball. Higher and higher the moon climbed into the dark blue heaven, — the stars came out — and then the Poet Laureate and Chief Minstrel of Meadow- i land, the Nightingale, began to sing. As soon as he tuned up his first rich liquid note, the dancing ceased, — and all the flowers stood stock-still just where they were in the field, and bent their heads to listen, while tears of dew filled their eyes. And King Buttercup and ^ Queen Daisy, seeing all their subjects thus en- tranced, stole softly away together like the fond little lovers they were, and lay down to rest on 316 KING BUTTERCUP'S WEDDING a Royal couch of budding wild thyme and velvet moss. And the Nightingale sang on and on, — and the glow-worms came out and twinkled, and all the flowers fell asleep together, and their spirits wandered away to the beautiful Land of Dreams. And what they saw there, who shall tell ^ Queen Daisy rested her Httle head on the golden heart of her King, and they too folded themselves up closely and slept and dreamed, while the Nightingale warbled a seren- ade and lullaby in one all the night long. It was a magical night, and a magical wedding ; and the wonder of it all is, that ever since then, the fields have been' full of Buttercups and Daisies, and we have grown to know them so well and love them so much that if they were taken away from us we should not know what to do, or how to replace them. And if you want to know the exact spot where King Buttercup's marriage took place, — well ! — there is a corner by the river Avon, just between two beautiful bending^ willows, where you will find . . . But, no ! — I will not tell you what you will find in that' enchanted little nook. For if you know any-, thing about Fairyland, you do not need telling ! 317 HOW JACK BUILT HIS HOUSE ACK told a Lie. That was the beginning of the foundation of his House. There was no necessity for him to tell the Lie. There never is really any necessity for telling a Lie, and no good ever comes of it. Yet Jack told it. He lied to those who loved him best, — to those who had given him all he had in the world, — to those who had done everything for him, and who had set their hearts on his turning out a true-hearted lad, and an honest man. Well, — he didn't think about those folks at all ; — he simply thought about Himself. He wished to protect Himself from' the consequences of an act of folly. And he thought the best way to do that was to tell a good, thumping Lie, and put it up as a sort of^ brazen shield between Himself and a disagree- able half-hour. So he told it, quite cheerfully, and with a delightfully candid air of truth, chuckling secretly to himself when he saw that 318 HOW JACK BUILT HIS HOUSE people were foolish enough to believe him and to trust to his honour. He had, however, missed one awkward point in the matter. He did not know that the telling of one Lie would necessitate the telling of another to keep the first one up. But it was so. The first Lie was terribly unsafe at certain moments, and he was afraid that the foundation ,of his House would give in. However, the second Lie was easily invented, and the two false bricks in the human building were success- fully set together with a little mortar of hypoc- risy, and so steadied each other. After that, things progressed quickly, and the House grew up so rapidly, and to such a size, that it seemed as if a whole army of little demon bricklayers and plasterers from the lower regions < of the wicked had come of their own accord to | assist Jack in carrying out his design. One on top of the other the Lies were set in order, till Jack became so delighted with the showy ap- pearance of his building that he altogether forgot there was such a thing as Truth in the world. ^ Lies became so much a part of his existence that he told them on every occasion. From a Boy he grew, with his House, into a 319 A CHRISTMAS GREETIN Man, and went on lying. With an air of th( most ingenuous candour he looked his neigh-j hours smilingly in the face and lied to them all day long. He lied in business, — he lied at play. He lied to friends, he lied to foes. Nobod] knew where to have him, his lies were so cun-' ningly and cleverly adjusted. When through, dint of cheating, corruption and fraud, he had^ managed to amass a large fortune through the ruin of others, he lied to Himself and said hej was a good man. Thus you see he had nearly reached the top of the House he was building. Still entirely satisfied with his palatial Resi- dence, he kept on adding a brick or two here, an archway there, an additional column,, or extra ornamental pinnacle in various direc-j tions, till at last, when he was getting on in^ life, and was beginning to be rather fat and pursy, he decided to put the Roof on. He went down to a great Money-market to do] that, and floated a large company on a bip Lie. And so the Roof, all sparkling with gold and silver, was put on the splendid House that Jack! built, and Jack went home to eat a gorgeous- 320 ^HOW JACK BUILT HIS HOUSE dinner within its walls, and take his ease for the remainder of his days. But just as he arrived at the door of his grand Establishment, he saw a little beggar-lad, about as young as he had been himself when he first began to build. And this little beggar-lad, ragged and dirty and foot-sore, was actually presuming to stand in Jack's great entrance- hall as if he had every right to be there ! — in fact, as if the house belonged to him! Jack was furious. ■' What are you doing here, you rascal ? " he spluttered. "How dare you come here? Who the devil are you ? " ■ The little beggar-lad looked him full in the face, and did not budge an inch. " My name is Truth ! " he said ; " and I am here to knock down your House of Lies ! " Whereupon he raised his little child's hand — nd lo ! without any sound at all, but as rapidly as a heap of snow melting away in hot sunshine, the house that Jack built with so much care and boncern crumbled to atoms and disappeared, leaving no trace of itself but a faint bad smell like the passing of an open dust-cart. Now some people going by looked at the 21 321 A CHRISTMAS GREETING^ blank space where it had once stood, and said: " Dear me ! There used to be a House of^ Lies here, and everybody thought it would last for ever ! " " Not everybody," said the little beggar-lad, as he stepped out among them ; " Only the Jack that built it ! " And with that he also disappeared. And where was Jack ? What had become of him ? Well, he had fallen with the ruin of his House — and he must have died in a very strange and awful fashion. For just near the dust of the two first Lies he had set together in boyhood as a foundation for the after-building of his life, there was seen a crawling Worm, writhing itself in and out through the wet mould. And the Worm was the coward Soul ' of a false lad who never became a true Man ! 322 THE SWIMMING SHOES A FAIRY STORY IN a beautiful clear lake swam a large family of Ducks. At the head of them all was the Mother-Duck, quacking proudly, and all the ducklings tried to imitate her voice, which they considered superior to that of the nightingale. " Quack ! Quack ! " said she — " We have had enough of the water to-day. Let us swim to shore and see what kind of dinner we can pick up." Thereupon she turned briskly towards the land, and all her children dutifully followed her example, except the two youngest, who were very wilful and obstinate. " What greedy creatures you are ! " they cackled, — "Never can five minutes pass in peace without your wanting something to eat ! We do not intend to come on shore ; no ! we shall remain here on the water and swim about by ourselves." 323 lA CHRISTMAS GREETING " Naughty children ! " screamed old Mother- Duck — " Come to me directly ! The first .lesson of life is obedience to your parents, so Ijust come on shore at once ! '* " Oh, bother you ! '* replied the two rude young ducklings — " You are an old Silly ! I Yes — we repeat it, — an old Silly ! You know nothing. What ! Are we going to obey you ? I No, indeed! We are much too clever for that, L — much wiser than you are, and that's the sober truth. So leave off scolding, if you please, for we mean to stay where we are." Now under the waters of the lake lived a little sprite, a good fairy, who hated naughty, disobedient children, as all good fairies do. [And when he heard the ducklings, how they ktalked so rudely to their mother, he determined to punish them for their ill-manners. " Tiresome little things ! " he thought — They want a lesson ; and a lesson, and a sharp ione too, they shall have ! " With this, in the twinkling of an eye, he turned them into a pair of wooden shoes, and 'threw them on the shore in a heap of sand and lud. There they lay, quite dumb and unable .to move. The old Duck and the rest of her 324 THE SWIMMING SHOES family, seeing them disappear so suddenly, thought they had dived under the water to hide themselves. So without more ado, they wad- led away with a great noise, cackling and amenting over the wicked disobedience that ad been shown by these two youngest duck- lings to their Mother, who had been so kind to them. Meanwhile, they themselves lay in the mud quite still, — no longer beautiful and shiny ducks, but only wooden shoes, and very ugly |ones too. The worst of it all was, that, shoes as they were, they suffered dreadfully from a desire to swim, and thus suffering they said to them- selves, — " Oh ! if we could only get into the water ! If ome one would put us in — just for an instant ! '* But they wished and sighed in vain, for an old peasant who was passing by at this moment caught sight of them and exclaimed, — " Hullo ! hullo ! here are shoes ! Yes, shoes^ as I am a living man ! Now this is what I call [a lucky find ! " f With these words he put them on, and walked away in the greatest state of excitement. But rthe shoes were much too small for him, — they 325 A CHRISTMAS GREETING pinched his gouty toes and made him altogether very uncomfortable, so on reaching home he told his wife he had bought her a nice pair of wooden shoes. " I hope they will fit you," he said — "I have often noticed, my dear, how the old shoes you wear let in the damp — now these will keep you warm and comfortable ! '* The old wife tried them on. She was de- lighted with them. They fitted her to a T, as the saying is, and with hearty words and big tears of gratitude in her eyes, she thanked her tender husband again and again. He received these thanks in a very sly manner, for he knew in his heart that he did not altogether deserve them. " I have," he said inwardly, " given her some- thing which cost me nothing, — absolutely nothing ! " But he kept this to himself and smiled very good-humouredly, and thought — "Yes, yes ! She ought to be grateful — of course she ought. And she is grateful. Ha ! ha ! That is the best of it ! " The next morning the old woman went down to the river to fetch a pitcher of water, and on 326 THE SWIMMING SHOES her way she observed that her shoes were very muddy. " I will wash them in the river," she thought, " and then my husband will see what care I take of them — " No sooner said than done. The shoes were put in the water, — but what was her astonish- ment, and her fright too, when she saw them swimming away as fast as they could go ! The fact is that the transformed ducks no sooner found themselves in the water than they felt compelled to swim, — to swim, as it were, for^ hfe and death. And on they went, and on and on, quite heedless of the poor old. woman who sat down on the shore and cried bitterly. Her shoes had now gone away so far that they looked to her no bigger than bits of floating cork ; and while she was lamenting and crying, her husband came suddenly upon her. When he was in- formed of what had happened he gave her ai good beating for letting the shoes go so easily, and then he starved her all day to make up (as ^ he said) for the price of them. Ah ! what a kind^ man he was ! Meanwhile the shoes went sailing away, and never once stopped to inquire where they were 327 A CHRISTMAS GREETING going, till suddenly they struck against some obstacle in the water. It was the blade of an oar, and they immediately saw that they were close to a small rowing-boat, in which sat two children, — a girl of about ten or eleven years of age, and her brother, a sturdy lad some five or six years older. The little girl leaned over the side of the boat to see what had happened to the oar, and exclaimed, — " Oh, look ! A pair of shoes ! A pair of wooden shoes ! What a funny thing to find a pair of shoes in the sea ! '* Laughing merrily, she reached out her hand, and caught the shoes, one after the other, and lifted them into the boat. They are actually quite new,'* said her brother, examining them with curiosity. "And .1 do believe they will just fit you. Try them on — " And he put one on his sister's little foot. It fitted beautifully, — so she put on the ther, and then both children laughed aloud, — clear ringing laughter, like the tinkling of silver bells in a sledge. ^ " This is a good day's fishing ! " exclaimed the little girl. " Wooden shoes are not exactly pretty, but they are strong and useful, and these 3^^ THE SWIMMING SHOES will save mother buying me a new pair. They^ come at the right time, too, for mine are worn into holes ! " As soon as the children landed, they ran^ home to tell their adventure. Their home was a hut on the sea-shore, and a very poor hut it was, for their father was only a fisherman, and, they, with their mother, helped him to earn a living by making and mending the nets. The good mother smiled when she saw her little daughter return — she looked so bright and happy, and so proud of her wooden shoes. "It is a lucky fishing," she said — "and I will say nothing to spoil your pleasure, my little one; though your father told me to give you and Denis a scolding — " Denis flushed angrily. "Why, mother?" he inquired — " Why should we be scolded ? " " Nay, Denis," said the mother gravely ; "you should not ask, for you know the reason well enough. Your father has forbidden you to go out in the boat after dark, and yet you wiW do it, and what is worse, you take your little sis-, ter into the same danger as yourself, — and, as for you, Nanette," she added, turning to the 329 fA CHRISTMAS GREETING child, who stood silent and ashamed, " I wonder how you can be so naughty ! I have told you never to go out at night with your brother. He does not know enough about the coast and the hidden rocks, on which many a brave ship has struck and foundered. But you are both so wild and wilful because you know I have too much to do to be always on the watch for your foolish pranks. You care nothing for your mother. Now that you are so pleased with the wooden shoes, I foresee what will happen. You will be always on the water, trying to find some- thing else, — and some day you will both be drowned. Come, Nanette, be a good child, and promise me, at any rate, that you will not go out in the boat after sunset. Denis will not care to go alone, and so you will both be obe- dient. Come, come, promise me ! " " I promise you, mother,*' said Nanette in a low voice. Denis said nothing, and both children looked sad and sullen. As for the wooden shoes, the excitement about them soon subsided, though Nanette continued to wear them all day, — but they themselves noticed how reluctantly the little feet of their wearer seemed to run on the 330 THE SWIMMING SHOES various domestic errands required, — and in what a petulant humour the golden-haired little Nanette seemed to be. Night came at last, and the lovely moon rode high in the heavens, looking as round and bright as a silver shield. Every tiny wavelet on the sea was tipped with light, and here and there a deeper line of radiance showed plainly where the phosphorescent fish were gambolling and darting to and fro under the water. On the shore stood Denis, the fisherman's son. He was stealthily at work, unfastening the moorings of his father's skiff, and every now and then he glanced towards the • hut in fear lest his parents should be on the watch. But the little home was ^ shut for the night, and all was dark and silent. ^ Carefully and almost noiselessly, young Denis pushed the boat towards the edge of the water, and then he ran swiftly to one of the windows of the hut and tapped softly. In another moment Nanette appeared, and with her brother's help, she climbed through the window, and soon stood beside him. She wore her wooden shoes— and oh, how unhappy they felt ! How they wished they could say, " Nanette ! dear little Nanette 1 don't disobey your mother ! " 331 A CHRISTMAS GREETING. But they could only creak a faint disapproval as she ran along the shore in eager and feverish haste to be out with her brother on that spark- ling and beautiful ocean. Quite forgetful of her promise to her mother, she laughed in sheer* enjoyment of her own naughtiness and wilful- ness, and as Denis pushed out the boat and rowed quickly and steadily away from landji she clapped her hands in excitement and ex-' claimed, — " Oh, what a lovely night ! What a shame it would be to stay in bed while the moon is shining so brightly! '' " Yes," replied Denis, as he bent to the oars and rowed as swiftly as he "could — " Father is very unkind to wish to prevent us enjoying our- selves. We do no harm." " Besides," added Nanette, " even if the sea^ dU get rough, you know how to manage a boat in a storm, don't you ? " " Of course," said Denis confidently — " But] there 's no fear of a storm to-night. We are safe enough." As he spoke there came a sudden crash and crack — they had gone straight on a sharp rock !] — a treacherous rock, hidden in the waves and^ 332 THE SWIMMING SHOES unknown to any but experienced sailors. Their boat was splitting ! The water rushed in — Denis looked about him in despair. They were three or four miles from the shore — poor ►Nanette screamed loudly. '/ " Be quiet ! " cried her brother ; " I will save you, dear ! I can swim ! " And, flinging off all the clothes that might impede his movements, '/he threw one strong arm round his sister, who was now speechless with terror, and plunging (boldly into the waves with her, made gallant ^efforts to reach the land. As they left it, their^( boat parted asunder and broke in pieces. Oh, what fearful moments were those in which the unhappy children struggled for life and death, battling with the cruel sea ! * Thoughts of their mother, — the disobedience they had shown towards her, — the picture of her despair and sorrow when she should hear of their dreadful end, — all the little touching mem-^ ories of home swarmed thickly in upon them, — and Nanette gasped for breath. ^ "Are we going to die ? " she muttered feebly.' " Yes, dear," said poor Denis, " I am afraid so. My strength is going. I can't swim any more." 333 A CHRISTMAS GREETINGJ Then came a terrible moment, when all around them seemed of a blood-red colour — then it^ changed to a vivid green. The moon itself, the sky, the stars, all became green as the green water, — then gradually the arms of Denis relaxed, and the poor children sank together, down, down to their deaths. The moon shone, and the stars sparkled as brilliantly as ever, and only the float- ing pieces of the little boat remained on the rippling sea. Only the wreck? — No — there was something else, — the wooden shoes ! They had been loosened by the movement of the waves from the feet of the poor little Nanette, and there they were, on their travels as before. They felt dreadfully miserable, and were very much shocked and frightened at the sudden and tragic end of their late owner. " She disobeyed her mother ! ** thought they, — i and they quivered and creaked as the water car- ried them along, for they remembered their own disobedience when they were ducklings ; but they had not much time to think seriously, for they were now in the open sea, and they were ^ obliged to go at a very rapid rate. After several days and nights of journeying without any fresh adventures, they arrived at a part of the ocean 334 THE SWIMMING SHOES where a dreadful storm was raging. The sky- was black as ink, and the thunder rolled and crashed among the clouds in a frightful manner. Suddenly a blaze of red fire sprang up into the sky — then another and another, and the shoes saw they were signal rockets from a ship in distress. Swimming on and on, they at last perceived an enormous vessel rocking to and fro on the mountainous waves, and they heard her tall masts fall, splintered by the hght- ning. Suddenly there came a great crash, — a gurgling noise, — and then all was over. Now and then the shoes saw some unhappy creature struggling with the great waves for a few seconds and then sucked down in an abyss to certain de- struction. They were very much terrified at this dreadful scene, and they were trying to swim out,^ of it as fast as possible, when they found them- selves clutched by a man's hand, probably in mis- take for a plank or spar. The man was in the last agonies of drowning, and as he released his grasp of the wooden shoes, a flash of lightning illumined for a moment his ghastly and contorted features. Struggling to lift himself above the riotous and lofty billows, he cried, " Mother ! mother ! forgive my long disobedience ! " 335 A CHRISTMAS GREETING And with this last supreme effort of strength, the unfortunate sailor sank and was lost for fever. The wooden shoes were now completely horrified at the awful sights it had been their lot to see. " What an experience ! *' they said to them- selves — " Oh, how much better to be ducks than shoes ! Surely no happy duck in a pond ever witnessed such scenes ! The life of a duck in a pond is so peaceful — so placid ! " " Oh, if they had never disobeyed their good,< kind Mother-Duck," they thought! — but, in spite of their recollections, they were compelled to go swimming on just as they were, and so they got carried by a cross-current out of the ocean;! down a great river, and out of the great river into a smaller one, and out of that into a lake, — a beautiful clear lake which they seemed to( remember. As they floated along pleasant memories came into them, and they felt as if something strange was about to happen. * Suddenly, they saw a beautiful duck with' shining feathers coming towards them, and they nearly jumped out of the water in their excite- ment, for they moaned creakily to themselves, — 336 THE SWIMMING SHOES " We were ducks once ! We were ducks once ! " " Yes," said a soft voice near — " Poor little Nanette was alive once, but she disobeyed her ^| mother, and now where is she ? " The shoes trembled in the water, and then said to themselves, — " If we could only be ducks once more, we would never disobey our mother ! " Scarcely had they thought this than they felt a most curious change coming over them, and ere they had time to consider what it was, lo and behold ! — they saw themselves mirrored in the water, two beautiful plump ducks, with rain- bow-tinted plumes • and sleek shining heads, swimming gracefully along ! " Quack ! quack ! " they said — " Now we know where we are ! This is the same lake i where we were born, and where we used to float, — and there is our dear home, over there by the shore ! Let us find our mother, and we will never disobey her again ! " And neither they did. They were heartily j welcomed home ; and their strange adventures] > served to amuse the whole farm-yard for several months, though a cross old Turkey-cock was one day heard to gobble out, — 22 337 CHILDREN'S EVENING HYMN 1^ our l)eart^ celestial boice^ 2Dap i^ pa^^^ing, l^igl^t i^ coming, Mnttl anti ^rap I ** fat^tt, toe o6ep tfte ^ummon^, I^ear our crp ! ^itp u^, anti fjelp our toeahne^ief, €f)OU ^n$t i^ief) ! jFor tfte jop^ tljat mo^t toe c&ert^l^ ^rai^eti 6c €&ou !