Part 2

Some people can assume a sort of detached attitude in the early morning, while body-servants get them up and dress them and send them downstairs, but me, I confess, these attentions overawe. "Perkins is one of those strong silent men, is he not," I asked, "who creep into one's bedroom in the morning and steal one's clothes when one isn't looking?"

Charles has no sympathy with Spartans and did not answer. "I think you'll find everything you want. There's a telephone by the bed." I said that I was not given to talking in my sleep. "Then," said he, "if you prefer to write here is the apparatus," and he pointed to a desk that would have satisfied all the needs of a daily editor.

"Thanks," I said, looking at the attractive bed, "but I expect to be too busy in the morning even to write." I yawned comfortably. "Though it may be that I shall dictate, from where I lie, a note or two to my stenographer."

Charles doubted, with all solemnity, whether Perkins could manage shorthand, but promised to enquire about it. He's a dear solid fellow, is Charles, and he does enjoy being rich. Moreover, he means his friends to enjoy it, too. Lastly, "If you don't find everything you want," he said, "you've only to ring," and he pointed to a, row of pear-shaped appendages hanging by silken cords from the cornice.

"Heavens," said I, seizing his arm, "you're never going to leave a defenceless man alone with half-a-dozen bell-pushes!"

Charles softened; he admits to a weakness for electricity. "Some are switches, some are bell-pushes, and one," he said, blushing, "is a fire-alarm."

I climbed on to a chair forthwith and tied a big knot in the cord of the fire-alarm. "We'll get that safe out of the way first," said I, and then he tutored me in the use of the others. After some repetition it was drummed into me that the one nearest the bed was the switch of the getting-into-bed light, and the next one to that the bell which rang in Perkins' upstairs quarters, The other four or five I found, when I came to study them alone, I had forgotten.

I clambered into bed and with great intelligence pressed the correct switch. Had I left it at that my problem would never have arisen.

I have, however, a confession to make which ill accords with my luxurious surroundings of the moment. It is that I am accustomed to press my trousers myself by the homely and ignoble expedient of sleeping on them. My only excuse is that I am a heavy sleeper. So automatic is the process, that I was wrapped in sheets and darkness before it occurred to me that I had placed the trousers I had just doffed under the mattress on which I now lay. I could not help thinking how the masterful Perkins would take it when he came to look for them in the morning. I conceived him picking up my dinner-jacket here, my waistcoat there, and wandering round the room in a hopeless quest for the complement of my suit, trying to recall the events of the previous night and to remember whether I was English or Scottish ... and then, more in sorrow than in anger, spotting the lost ones....

As I contemplated this picture I was moved to pity Perkins, torn asunder between two dreadful alternatives, the one of leaving the trousers there and committing a dereliction of duty, the other of removing them stealthily and committing an indelicacy. I was also moved to pity myself, lying supine under his speechless contempt. I resolved to spare us both, to get out of bed and put things right. I stretched out a hand for the switch. I grasped it with an effort. I pressed the button.

No light ensued.

I pressed again ... and again ... with no visible result. I pressed once more, and still there was a marked absence of light. I lay back in bed and, cursing Charles, thought out his instructions. Cautiously I reached out again, pressed once more and succeeded. The continued oscillation of the second cord revealed to me what you have already guessed, that I had meanwhile rung the bell in Perkins' sleeping quarters four times.

To me the approaching climax was horrible; I could see no way of dealing with the situation shortly about to arise. To those who have never known and feared Perkins or his like it may seem that there were at least two simple courses to pursue: to lie boldly and deny that I had rung; or to tell the truth and admit that I had made a mistake. Men like Perkins, however, are not to be lied to; still less may they be made the recipients of confessions. Methods of self-defence were therefore unthinkable, and I knew instinctively that I must assume the offensive. I must order him curtly, upon his arrival, to do something. But what? As I waited anxiously I tried to think of some service I could require at this hour. What can a man want at 1 A.M. except to go to sleep? Even the richest must do that for himself.

There were footsteps outside.... Perkins'.... I thought harder than I have ever thought before, but my life seemed replete with every modern comfort.

"Yes, Sir?" said Perkins.

"Ah, is that you, Perkins?" said I to gain time, and he said it was.

I shut my eyes and tried to think. Perkins stood silent. I had some idea of leaving it at that, of turning out the light and letting Perkins decide upon his own course of action. I was just about to do this when I had a brain wave. After all, he was paid to do the dirty work and not I.

At that moment I was anticipated.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?" said the Model.

"There is," said I, in my most _négligé_ voice. "Kindly turn out my light."

Perkins may have been annoyed about this, but he was certainly impressed. His demeanour suggested that he had met autocrats before but never such a thorough autocrat as I. For the rest of my time there I pressed my trousers in the usual way, well knowing that he would regard the process not as the makeshift of a valetless pauper but as the eccentricity of an overstaffed multi-billionaire.

* * * * *

The Honest Hypocrites.

"Among the most formidable foes to the reform of our industrial system are those who pretend to be most bitterly opposed to it."

_Sunday Times._

* * * * *

Seen in a window in Clapham:--

"PAINLESS ADVICE FREE EXTRACTIONS."

This "derangement of epitaphs" fails to attract us.

* * * * *

"The Counterfoil in centre must be returned to the Syndicate, which is placed in the Large Wheel with other Subscribers' Tickets for the Draw."--_Derby Sweep Circular._

"As formerly, the ticket-holders, with their numbers, were placed in a barrel and thoroughly shaken up."--_Hamilton Advertiser._

These repressive measures ought to satisfy even the sternest member of the Anti-Gambling League.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Harold_ (_wanting a partner for the next dance_). "ARE YOU VACANT?"]

* * * * *

CIVIL WAR;

_Or, Some Words about CARTER_.

Not always for the noblest martyr, My countrymen, ye forge The crown of gold nor wreathe the laurel; One protestant ye count as moral, Neglect another. Take the quarrel Extant between myself and CARTER (Henchman of D. LLOYD GEORGE).

I see the Unionists grow oranger, I mark the wigs upon the green, The rooted hairs of Ulster bristle And all men talk of CARSON'S gristle, Then why should this absurd epistle, Put down beside my little porringer, Provoke not England's spleen?

Did HAMPDEN positively jeopardise His life, and did the axe Extinguish CHARLES'S hopes of boodle And all the wrongs of bad days feudal For this--that CARTER, the old noodle, With t's all crossed and dot-bepeppered i's, Should change my income-tax?

Thank heaven that one heart in Albion Retains its oaken core; Alone I can withstand my duty, And so my answer to this beauty Is simply "Rats!" and "Rooti-tooti! My toll for this year _must_ and _shall_ be on The sums declared before."

If not--if all things go by jobbery And tape dyed red with sin, Come, let him make a small collusion And, when he writes his next effusion, Grant me, we'll say, six years' exclusion From re-assessments of his robbery. And then--I _may_ come in.

But, if the fiend still stays importunate, My blood is up. _Ad lib._, Till at the door the bailiff rattles And rude men reave me of my chattels, I shall prolong these wordy battles, And may the just cause prove the fortunate; Phoebus defend my nib!

So long as gray goose yields a pinion, So long as ink is damp, Mine to resist the loathly fetters Of D. LLOYD GEORGE and his abettors, Posting innumerable letters To CARTER (D. LLOYD GEORGE'S minion), Minus the penny stamp.

EVOE.

* * * * *

From _The Birmingham Daily Mail's_ report of a fire:--

"The night-watchman was aroused."

A shame to disturb the poor fellow's sleep.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Squire._ "WELL, MATTHEW, AND HOW ARE YOU NOW?"

_Convalescent._ "THANKEE, SIR, I BE BETTER THAN I WERE, BUT I BEANT AS WELL AS I WERE AFORE I WAS AS BAD AS I BE NOW."]

* * * * *

ASKING FOR IT.

The big clock in the station pointed three minutes to the hour, and my train went at one minute past, so I didn't waste words with the man in the

## booking-office.

"Third r'turn, Wat'loo."

Nothing happened. He was there all right, but he neither spoke nor made any attempt to give me my ticket; he merely looked.

"Third r'turn, Wat'loo," I repeated, and again, inserting my face as far as possible into the window, very firmly, distinctly and offensively. "Third re-turn, Wat-er-loo."

Then he spoke, slowly. "Sorry, Sir, I can't do it. You have hit on the one station to which we don't issue tickets. Any other one I could manage for you, but----"

"Look here," I said sternly, "you don't seem to know your business. If you haven't got a printed ticket, can't you make one out on paper? Hurry up, man; my train leaves in a minute or two."

"Yes," he said more slowly than ever, "I could do that--we have blank forms for that purpose; but all the same I won't do it."

"Oh, you won't? And why?"

"Well, I don't know what the fare is. I----"

"All right," I said. "You don't appear to be drunk, so I imagine you're trying to be funny. As your sense of humour doesn't correspond with mine I shall take great pleasure in reporting you to the station-master;" and I prepared to stalk off.

"Wait a moment, please," he said, leaning a bit forward and dropping his voice to a confidential whisper, "I'll give you a tip. You don't want a ticket at all, Sir; you can get there for nothing."

"What do you mean?" said I.

"It needn't cost you a halfpenny," he went on, smiling. "It's not many lines that have a station like this, but we----"

And then, but not until then, did I realise where I was.

"Oh," I said, "er--third return--er--Surbiton."

I don't think railway ticket-mongers ought to be allowed to have a sense of humour.

* * * * *

IN A GOOD CAUSE.

_Mr. Punch_ ventures to remind his readers that the Centenary dinner of the Artists' General Benevolent Institution is to be held on May 6th, under the chairmanship of H.R.H. PRINCE ARTHUR OF CONNAUGHT. This Institution devotes itself to the relief of artists, and the orphans of artists, who are in need. _Mr. Punch_, who is to be represented among the Stewards at the dinner by his Art Editor, begs to return his most sincere thanks for the generous gifts he has already received from his readers, and will be very grateful for any further contributions addressed to Mr. F. H. TOWNSEND, "Punch" Office, 10, Bouverie Street, E.C.

* * * * *

"The King this morning received the Bishop of Sheffield, who was introduced to Mr. McKenna (Home Secretary), and did homage upon appointment."--_Birmingham Daily Post._

Mr. MCKENNA (_accepting homage_). "And now what do you think of my Welsh Disestablishment Bill?"

* * * * *

[Illustration: A DIVERSION.

BURGLAR GEORGE. "IT'S YOUR MONEY I WANT!"

JOHN BULL. "MY DEAR FELLOW, IT'S POSITIVELY A RELIEF TO SEE YOU. I'VE JUST BEEN HAVING SUCH A _HORRIBLE_ DREAM!"]

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

(EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.)

[Illustration: "THE INQUEST OF THE NATION."

_Mr. ASQUITH_ (_to Jury of ASQUITHS_). "Gentlemen of the Jury, you have heard the prisoner ASQUITH plead 'Not Guilty.' This should be sufficient evidence to enable you to arrive at a unanimous verdict of acquittal."

[_Prisoner leaves court without a stain on his character._]

_House of Commons, Monday, April 10._--Lively half-hour with Questions. Cluster on printed Paper indefinitely extended by supplementaries. Only once did SPEAKER interpose. Colonel GREIG, sternly regarding badgered PREMIER, asked, "Has the attention of the right hon. gentleman been directed to No. 453 of the King's Regulations?"

This too much for SPEAKER. If it had been the odd 53 it might not have been unreasonable.

"The right hon. gentleman," he remarked, "cannot be expected to carry all the Regulations in his head. The hon. member had better give notice."

Cannonade of Questions which opened along full length of Opposition Benches was concerned with the Plot.

"The Plot!" MEMBER FOR SARK savagely repeated. "That's the ineffective heading in the newspapers. In order to keep up their circulation in parsonages, board-rooms of directors, and suchlike fastidious quarters they are reticent with adjectives. It's only Mrs. PATRICK CAMPBELL who could select the appropriate one and give it due emphasis."

Short of that, Opposition did pretty well in denunciation of the Plot and condemnation of dastardly Government responsible for its planning. CHALONER opened fire with demand that judicial enquiry should be ordered into "allegations as to an unauthorised plot to over-awe Ulster by armed occupation." BUTCHER, WORTHINGTON EVANS, HELMSLEY, ARCHER-SHEE, LOCKER-LAMPSON, KINLOCH-COOKE--what was it GRANDOLPH, _à propos_ of SCLATER-BOOTH, said of men who "had double-barrelled names"?--blazed away. Sometimes in succession; occasionally in platoons. In each case imperturbable PREMIER gave the short reply that did not turn away wrath. On the contrary, angry passions rose.

Member for East Edinburgh, as usual going the whole HOGGE, suggested arraignment of BONAR LAW on charge of high treason. KELLAWAY, anxious to get to business, enquired "whether these Questions might not be addressed to the spies in the service of the Opposition." At end of half-hour even temper of PREMIER was ruffled. Asked a tenth Supplementary Question by BUTCHER, he sharply replied:--

"I decline to answer any such enquiry."

Ironical applause of Opposition drowned in burst of angry cheering from Ministerialists.

SARK, as mentioned, unusually roused. As a rule successfully affects attitude of one "who cares for none of these things." To-day moved to unsuspected depths.

"Here," he says, "is Ulster, for two years arming with avowed intention of forcibly resisting the law of the land. The Constitutional Party in this country, bulwark of Law and Order, who, when the Southern Counties of Ireland were in revolt, applauded PRINCE ARTHUR'S Cromwellian command, 'Don't hesitate to shoot,' backs them up, in my opinion very properly. CARSON has developed Napoleonic genius in reviewing troops on parade. F. E. SMITH has, with startling effect, 'galloped' along their massed ranks. LONDONDERRY has pledged his knightly word to be in the firing line when the trumpet sounds. All the while, to the bewilderment of onlookers from the Continent, who confess they are further off than ever from understanding John Bull, to the creation of ominous restlessness among their own supporters, the Ministry, Brer Rabbit of established Governments, have 'lain low and said nuffin',' much less have they done anything. Suddenly, without word of warning, they take steps for the protection of military stores in Armagh, Omagh, and Carrickfergus.

"That's their account of the transaction. We know better. It was a carefully devised Plot to take CARSON'S hundred thousand armed and drilled men at their word and compel them to fight. Not since war began has there been such unjustifiable--don't wish to use strong language, but must say--such really rude procedure on part of a so-called civilised Government."

_Business done._--MCKENNA moves Second Heading of Welsh Church Disestablishment Bill.

_Tuesday._--Wholesome spirit of enquiry animates House just now. BONNER LAW leads off with demand for judicial inquiry into "the Plot." Fact that its appointment would establish novel precedent in constitutional procedure adds interest to situation. PREMIER, with emphatic thump of the table that reminds it of GLADSTONE in his prime, stands by constitutional practice.

"If," he said, "the right hon. gentleman is prepared to make and sustain his allegation of dishonourable conduct on part of the Ministers, I will give him the earliest possible day to bring it forward. But," and here came the thump on the long-suffering table, "he must make it in this House."

Inspired by this high principle of getting at bottom of shady things, RICHARDSON has CHIEF WHIP up and sternly questions him about appointment of certain public auditors under Industrial and Provident Acts.

Position of CHIEF WHIP, though dignified and important, has inevitable result of withdrawing him from participation in debate. ILLINGWORTH now has his chance. Made the most of it. Head paper of prodigious length containing memoirs of the two gentlemen concerned, together with succinct history of the birth and progress of the Hetton Downs Co-operative Society, county Durham, of which one of them had been secretary.

House entranced. Rounds of cheering marked progress of narrative, concluding passages inconveniently rendered inaudible by tumultuous applause.

Apprehension in some quarters that this will be the ruin of a really capable, universally popular Whip. EDMUND TALBOT goes so far as to hint at apprehension that ILLINGWORTH will turn up every afternoon at Question time and give us another speech.

Fear exaggerated. ILLINGWORTH a shrewd Yorkshireman; knows very well brilliant success of to-day was due to concatenation of accidental circumstance. Not likely to risk suddenly acquired reputation by hasty repetition of exploit.

_Business done._--Welsh Church Disestablishment Bill passes Second Reading by majority of 84.

_Thursday._--Spirit of enquiry alluded to above manifests itself in fresh direction. The other day CHARLES PRICE wanted to know all about political pensions granted to ex-Ministers. Intrigued by disclosure of particulars of estate of our old friend GRAND CROSS. It appears he left property valued at £91,617. That a pleasant incident closing a worthy life. But, as Member for Central Edinburgh points out, he had for twenty-two years been in receipt of pension of £2,000 a year, a dole from public funds obtainable, as PRIME MINISTER admits, only upon statutory declaration of a state of poverty incompatible with the maintenance of position proper to an ex-Minister.

PRICE wants to know in the interests of the overburdened taxpayer whether aggregate sum drawn by the noble pensioner may not be recovered from his estate? PREMIER thinks not.

PRICE, undaunted, returns to the attack to-day. Cites cases of two other ex-Ministers drawing political pensions in supplement of private estate and fees derived from manifold directorships in public companies. Wants to know if payment can be stopped?

PREMIER says it is a matter of personal honour. Must be left to consideration of noble lords concerned.

_Business done._--Committee of Supply.

* * * * *

[Illustration: ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD.

"Harrowing tales were told about churchyards being seized, ploughed up and let as allotments."--_Sir ALFRED MOND on Nonconformist protest against the Disendowment of the Welsh Church._]

* * * * *

THE SEASON'S DELIGHTS.

Sir Archibald and Lady Bayne Have struggled up to town again,

Leaving the gentle Shropshire air For London dust and London glare,

And just that London folk may see Their lumpish daughter, Dorothy.

Sir Archie, in the club all day, Thinks of the bills he'll have to pay.

His wife is bored, and hates the smell Of cooking in a cheap hotel.

She also very much deplores The lack of likely bachelors.

While Dolly, in the season's swing, Longs for the Shropshire woods in spring And a dog chained up at home, poor thing!

* * * * *

"Members of the Oxford University 'relay' tea are in fine shape."--_Daily Citizen._

The one whose business it is to take up the running at the muffin stage is

## particularly rotund.

* * * * *

"He would rather he went for three years, for one could readily understand that for the first year he simply touched the fungi of the Council business."--_Hexham Herald._

Motto for rival town council: "There's no moss on _us_."

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Sandy_ (_newly arrived in the Canadian forest land_). "WHATNA BEAST'S YON?"

_Native._ "A YOUNG MOOSE."

_Sandy._ "OCH, HAUD YER TONGUE! IF THAT'S A YOUNG MOOSE I'D LIKE TO SEE ANE O' YER AULD RATS!"]

* * * * *

MUSICAL NOTES.

As a concrete protest against Jumbomania, or the worship of mammoth dimensions, the prodigious success of Tiny Titus, America's latest wonder-child, is immensely reassuring. In the Albert Hall, where he made his _début_ amid scenes of corybantic enthusiasm last week, the diminutive _virtuoso_ was hardly visible to the naked eye. (As a matter of fact he is only 21 inches high and weighs just under 11 lb.) Yet by his colossal personality he dominated the vast assemblage and inspired the orchestra to such feats of dynamic diabolism as entirely eclipsed the most momentous achievements of any full-grown conductor from NERO to NIKISCH.

* * * * *

What renders the performance of this tremendous tot so awe-inspiring is the fact that he is not merely a musical illiterate, who cannot yet read a note of music, but that he has received no education of any kind! Born at Tipperusalem, Oklahoma, on the 15th of March, 1912, he has for parents a clerk in the Eagle Bakery and a Lithuanian laundress. He never touches meat, not even baked eagles, but subsists entirely on peaches and popcorn. He has been compared to MOZART, but the comparison is ridiculous, for MOZART was carefully trained by his father, and at the age of four was a finished executant. But it is quite otherwise with Tiny Titus, who knows no music, and yet by the sole power of his genius comprehends the musical heights unattainable by adults. MOZART, in short, was an explicable miracle, while Tiny Titus is an insoluble Sphinx.

* * * * *

From the innumerable tributes which have been paid to the genius of this unprecedented phenomenon we can only make a brief and inadequate selection. Prince Boris Ukhtomsky writes, "When I listen to this infinitesimal giant of conductors I dream that mankind is dancing on the edge of a precipice. Tiny Titus is--the 32nd of the month." Mme. Jelly Tartakoff, the famous singer, writes: "I have been deeply shaken by Tiny Titus's concert. He is the limit." Of the homages in verse, perhaps the most touching is the beautiful poem by Signor Ocarini, the charm of which we fear is but inadequately rendered in our halting translation:--

Leaving his pop-gun and his ball, He goes into the concert hall, No more a baby, and proceeds To do electrifying deeds.

Wielding a wizard's wondrous skill, He leads us captive at his will, But only, mark you, to delight us, Unlike the cruel Emperor TITUS.

O'ercome by harmony's aroma, I sink into a blissful coma, Until, my ecstasy to crown, The infant lays his baton down.