Part 13

TIME: half-past six o'clock. Place: The London Tavern. Occasion: Fifteenth Annual Festival of the Society for the Distribution of Blankets and Top-Boots among the Natives of the Cannibal Islands.

On entering the room, we find more than two hundred noblemen, and gentlemen already assembled; and the number is increasing every minute. There are many well-known city diners here this evening. That very ordinary looking personage, with the rubicund complexion and pimply features, is old Moneypenny, senior partner of the great firm of Moneypenny, Blodgers, and Wobbles, corn factors of Mark Lane. He began the world as a fellowship porter, and always makes a rule of attending the principal dinners at the London Tavern, "because," as he says confidentially, to Wobbles, "don't you see, my boy, it's a very cheap way of getting into society." He is talking now to Sir Sandy McHaggis, a Scotch baronet, with a slender purse and a large appetite, with whom he has scraped an acquaintance, and presented with a spare ticket for the festival; knowing that the Scotchman is "varra fond o' a gude dinner, specially when it costs a mon nothing at all." The preparations are now complete, and we are in readiness to receive the chairman. After a short pause, a little door at the end of the room opens, and the great man appears, attended by an admiring circle of stewards and toadies, carrying white wands, like a parcel of charity-school boys bent on beating the bounds. He advances smilingly to his post at the principal table, amid deafening and long-continued cheers.

He is a very popular man, this chairman; for is he not the Earl of Mount-Stuart, late one of Her Majesty's Cabinet Ministers? and his wealth and party influence are known to be enormous.

The dinner now makes its appearance, and we yield up ourselves to the enjoyments of eating and drinking. These important duties finished, and grace having been beautifully sung by the vocalists, the real business of the evening commences. The usual loyal toasts having been given, the noble chairman rises, and, after passing his fingers through his hair, he places his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, gives a short preparatory cough, accompanied by a vacant stare round the room, and commences as follows:--

"MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN--It is with mingled pleasure and regret that I appear before you this evening: of pleasure, to find that this excellent and world-wide-known society is in so promising a condition; and, of regret, that you have not chosen a worthier chairman; in fact, one who is more capable than myself of dealing with a subject of such vital importance as this. (Loud cheers). But, although I may be unworthy of the honour, I am proud to state that I have been a subscriber to this society from its commencement; feeling sure that nothing can tend more to the advancement of civilization, social reform, fireside comfort, and domestic economy among the cannibals, than the diffusion of blankets and top-boots. (Tremendous cheering, which lasts for several minutes.) Here, in this England of ours, which is an island surrounded by water, as I suppose you all know--or, as our great poet so truthfully and beautifully expresses the same fact, 'England bound in by the triumphant sea'--what, down the long vista of years, have conduced more to our successes in arms, and arts and song, than blankets? Indeed, I never gaze upon a blanket without my thoughts reverting fondly to the days of my early childhood. Where should we all have been now but for those warm and fleecy coverings? My Lords and Gentlemen! Our first and tender memories are all associated with blankets: blankets when in our nurses' arms, blankets in our cradles, blankets in our cribs, blankets to our French bedsteads in our schooldays, and blankets to our marital four-posters now. Therefore, I say, it becomes our bounden duty as men,--and, with feelings of pride, I add, as Englishmen--to initiate the untutored savage, the wild and somewhat uncultivated denizen of the prairie, into the comfort and warmth of blankets; and to supply him, as far as practicable, with those reasonable, seasonable, luxurious, and useful appendages. At such a moment as this, the lines of another poet strike familiarly upon the ears. Let me see, they are something like this--

"Blankets have charms to soothe the savage breast, And to--to, do--a----"

I forget the rest. (Loud cheers.) Do we grudge our money for such a purpose? I answer, fearlessly, No! Could we spend it better at home? I reply most emphatically, No! True, it may be said that there are thousands of our own people who at this moment are wandering about the streets of this great metropolis without food to eat or rags to cover them. But what have we to do with them? Our thoughts, our feelings, and our sympathies, are all wafted on the wings of charity to the dear and interesting cannibals in the far-off islands of the green Pacific Ocean. (Hear, hear.) Besides, have not our own poor the workhouses to go to; the luxurious straw of the casual wards to repose upon, if they please; the mutton broth to bathe in; and the ever toothsome, although somewhat scanty, allowance of 'toke' provided for them? And let it ever be remembered that our own people are not savages, and man-eaters; and, therefore, our philanthropy would be wasted upon them. (Overwhelming applause.) To return to our subject. Perhaps some person or persons here may wonder why we should not send out side-springs and bluchers, as well as top-boots. To those I will say, that top-boots alone answer the object desired--namely, not only to keep the feet dry, but the legs warm, and thus to combine the double use of shoes and stockings. Is it not an instance of the remarkable foresight of this society, that it purposely abstains from sending out any other than top-boots? To show the gratitude of the cannibals for the benefits conferred upon them, I will just mention that, within the last few weeks, his Illustrious Majesty, Hokee Pokey Wankey Fum the First, surnamed by his loving subjects, 'The Magnificent,' from the fact of his wearing, on Sundays, a shirt-collar and an eye-glass as full court costume--has forwarded the president of this society a very handsome present, consisting of two live alligators, a boa constrictor, and three pots of preserved Indian, to be eaten with toast; and I am told, by competent judges, that it is quite equal to Russian caviare.

"MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN--I will not trespass on your patience by making any further remarks; knowing how incompetent I am--no, no! I don't mean that--how incompetent you all are--no! I don't mean either--but you all know what I mean. Like the ancient Roman lawgiver, I am in a peculiar position; for the fact is, I cannot sit down--I mean to say, that I cannot sit down without saying that, if there ever _was_ an institution, it is _this_ institution; and therefore, I beg to propose, 'Prosperity to the Society for the Distribution of Blankets and Top-boots among the Natives of the Cannibal Islands.'"

The toast having been cordially responded to, his lordship calls upon Mr. Duffer, the secretary, to read the report. Whereupon that gentlemen, who is of a bland and oily temperament, and whose eyes are concealed by a pair of green spectacles, produces the necessary document, and reads, in the orthodox manner,--

"Thirtieth Half-yearly Report of the Society for the Distribution of Blankets and Top-boots to the Natives of the Cannibal Islands.

"The society having now reached its fifteenth anniversary, the committee of management beg to congratulate their friends and subscribers on the success that has been attained.

"When the society first commenced its labours, the generous and noble-minded natives of the islands, together with their king--a chief whose name is well known in connexion with one of the most stirring and heroic ballads of this country--attired themselves in the light but somewhat insufficient costume of their tribe--viz., little before, nothing behind, and no sleeves, with the occasional addition of a pair of spectacles; but now, thanks to this useful association, the upper classes of the cannibals seldom appear in public without their bodies being enveloped in blankets and their feet encased in top-boots.

"When the latter useful articles were first introduced into the islands, the society's agents had a vast amount of trouble to prevail upon the natives to apply them to their proper purposes; and, in their work of civilization, no less than twenty of its representatives were massacred, roasted, and eaten. But we persevered; we overcame the natural antipathy of the cannibals to wear any covering to their feet; until after a time, the natives discovered the warmth and utility of boots; and now they can scarcely be induced to remove them until they fall off through old age.

"During the past half year, the society has distributed no less than 71 blankets and 128 pairs of top-boots; and your committee, therefore, feel convinced that they will not be accused of inaction. But a great work is still before them; and they earnestly invite co-operation, in order that they may be enabled to supply the whole of the cannibals with these comfortable, nutritious, and savoury articles.

"As the balance-sheet is rather a lengthy document, I will merely quote a few of the figures for your satisfaction. We have received, during the half-year, in subscriptions, donations, and legacies, the sum of L5,403 6_s._ 83/4_d._ Rent, rates, and taxes, L305 10_s._ 01/4_d._ Seventy-one pairs of blankets, at 20_s._ per pair, have taken L71 exactly; and 128 pairs of tops-boots, at 21_s._ per pair, cost us L134 some odd shillings. The salaries and expenses of management amount to L1,307 4_s._ 21/2_d._; and sundries, which include committee meetings and travelling expenses, have absorbed the remainder of the sum, and amount to L3,268 9_s._ 13/4_d._ So that we have expended on the dear and interesting cannibals the sum of L205, and the remainder of the sum--amounting to L5,198--has been devoted to the working expenses of the society."

The reading concluded, the secretary resumes his seat amid heavy applause, which continues until Mr. Alderman Gobbleton rises, and, in a somewhat lengthy and discursive speech--in which the phrases, "the Corporation of the City of London," "suit and service," "ancient guild," "liberties and privileges," and "Court of Common Council," figure frequently, states that he agrees with everything the noble chairman has said; and has, moreover, never listened to a more comprehensive and exhaustive document than the one just read; which is calculated to satisfy even the most obtuse and hard-headed of individuals.

Gobbleton is a great man in the City. He has either been Lord Mayor, or sheriff, or something of the sort; and, as a few words of his go a long way with his friends and admirers, his remarks are very favourably received.

"Clever man, Gobbleton!" says a common councilman, sitting near us, to his neighbour, a languid swell of the period.

"Ya-as, vewy! Wemarkable style of owatowy--and gweat fluency," replies the other.

But attention, if you please!--for M. Hector de Longuebeau, the great French writer, is on his legs. He is staying in England for a short time, to become acquainted with our manners and customs.

"MILORS AND GENTLEMANS!" commences the Frenchman, elevating his eyebrows, and shrugging his shoulders. "Milors and Gentlemans--You excellent chairman, M. le Baron de Mount-Stuart, he have say to me, 'Make de toast.' Den I say to him dat I have no toast to us; but he nudge my elbow ver soft, and say dat dere is von toast dat nobody but von Frenchman can make proper; and, derefore, wid you kind permission, I will make de toast. 'De brevete is de sole of de feet,' as you great philosopher, Dr. Johnson, do say, in dat amusing little work of his, de Pronouncing Dictionnaire; and derefore, I vill not say ver moch to de point. Ven I vas a boy, about so moch tall, and used for to promenade de streets of Marseilles et of Rouen, vid no feet to put onto my shoe, I nevare to have expose dat dis day vould to have arrive. I vas to begin de vorld as von garcon--or, vat you call in dis countrie, von vaitaire in a cafe--vere I vork ver hard, vid no habillemens at all to put onto myself, and ver little food to eat, excep' von old bleu blouse vat vas give to me by de proprietaire, just for to keep myself fit to be showed at, but, tank goodness, tings dey have change ver moch for me since dat time, and I have rose myself, seulement par mon industrie et perseverance. (Loud cheers.) Ah! mes amis! ven I hear to myself de flowing speech, de oration magnifique of you Lor' Maire, Monsieur Gobbledown, I feel dat it is von great privilige for von etranger to sit at de same table, and to eat de same food, as that grand, dat majestique man, who are de terreur of de voleurs and de brigands of de metropolis; and who is also, I for to suppose, a halterman and de chef of you common scoundrel. Milors and gentlemans, I feel dat I can perspire to no greatare honneur dan to be von common scoundrelman myself; but helas! dat plaisir are not for me, as I are not freeman of your great cite, not von liveryman servant of von of you compagnies joint-stock. But I must not forget de toast. Milors and Gentlemans! De immortal Shakespeare he have write, 'De ting of beauty are de joy for nevermore.' It is de ladies who are de toast. Vat is more entrancing dan de charmante smile, de soft voice, de vinking eye of de beautiful lady? It is de ladies who do sweeten de cares of life. It is de ladies who are de guiding stars of our existence. It is de ladies who do cheer but not inebriate; and, derefore, vid all homage to dere sex, de toast dat I have to propose is, 'De Ladies! God bless dem all!'"

And the little Frenchman sits down amid a perfect tempest of cheers.

A few more toasts are given, the list of subscriptions is read, a vote of thanks is passed to the noble chairman; and the Fifteenth Annual Festival of the Society for the Distribution of Blankets and Top-boots among the Natives of the Cannibal Islands is at an end.

(_Copyright of_ MESSRS. F. WARNE & CO.)

## ACTING WITH A VENGEANCE.

W. SAPTE, JUN.

Methinks 'tis a very remarkable "sign Of the times"--I must own this expression's not mine-- How in these latter days The theatrical craze Has obtained such a hold on all grades of society; And this love of the stage Is a mark of the age Which is not in accord with _my_ views of propriety.

'Twas only last week a young lady I know Invited the world in a body to go (On a wretched wet day) To a dull _matinee_, When she made her _debut_ in the "Hunchback," as Julia; A part which to act is A thing of long practice, Surely ne'er was conceit more absurd or unrulier.

How can amateur actors commence at the top Of the Thespian Tree, and avoid coming flop? It would seem very queer If a young volunteer Should begin by commanding the Royal Horse Artillery, Or if babies should bilk Their allowance of milk And insist upon sucking from bottles of Sillery. So it mostly occurs That an amateur errs, And gets chaffed for possessing less skill than audacity, When he tackles a part Without learning the art, And exposes his natural want of capacity-- And what is more painful, his lack of sagacity.

I'm bound to admit I was rather once bit By the mania myself in a mild sort of way; Paid a half-guinea fee To the Zeus A.D.C., And found myself cast for a part in a play. I think 'twas the Bandit Brothers of Brighton-- Or Eastbourne, or Yarmouth-- Or Hastings, or Barmouth-- I forget for the moment which place was the right 'un-- But I know there's a chief, Who at last comes to grief, After numerous blood-curdling adventures and rescues, Such as frequently writers in modern burlesque use.

Now the part of the chief Who comes to grief Was secured by a hot-tempered youth, named O'Keefe; In spite of the jealousy Of two other fellows, he Cast himself as the leader, without hesitation, And resented remarks with extreme indignation. So the others were fain Their rage to contain, And one e'en accepted the part which was reckoned To be, on the whole, the one that ranked second.

The local Town Hall was engaged, which would hold Some three hundred people--the tickets were sold-- The purchasers wishing to help the good charity We played for; some adding Donations, and gladding The treasurer's heart to a state of hilarity. Rehearsals galore Were to take place before The _debut_ on the boards of the Zeus A.D.C.-- For the members were earnest as earnest could be. Well, the opening one Was rather good fun, For we found that the practice of vigorous fighting 'Twixt Bandits and Coastguards was rather exciting; But later, you know It got rather slow For those who were "supers" to constantly go And lay the same victims perpetually low, With time after time the identical blow.

But Mr. O'Keefe, Who played the chief, Had a time less monotonous, greatly, than ours, And always kept up the rehearsals for hours. Still he wasn't quite happy, And often got snappy, For Richard McEwen, who'd wanted to play The part of the chief, and used often to say He'd have done it himself in a much better way, Was by no means contented, thus feeling superior To play "seconds" to Keefe, his decided inferior.

So he did what he could To annoy the great K., And misunderstood, In a scandalous way, All the stage-manager's proper directions, And refused to accept either hints or corrections.

Now in the third act, the time being night, The scene on the beach, there's a hand-to-hand fight 'Twixt the Bandit chief (That's Mr. O'Keefe) And the coastguard captain, Mr. McEwen, In which 'tis agreed That the first shall succeed, While the latter comes in for no end of a hewing.

But Richard McEwen was strong and quick, And a very good hand with the single-stick, And he didn't see why He should quietly die By the sword of a man, much less clever at fencing. So he _would_ give a twist Of his muscular wrist, Which disarmed the brave Bandit soon after commencing.

The rage of O'Keefe Exceeded belief, For McEwen _would_ do it at ev'ry rehearsal; The manager vowed It could not be allowed, And the company's protests became universal.

McEwen explained That he thought the piece gained By his showing his skill--how could anyone doubt it? "There's more credit," said he, "To the chief than there'd be If he killed a weak chap who knew nothing about it." And he went on to say that O'Keefe wasn't fit For the part of the chief, and could not fence a bit. O'Keefe in reply, Gave McEwen the lie, And vowed he would kick him Or otherwise "lick" him, While his eyes flashed like those of a tiger or leopard. He Induced us to think That his rival must shrink From placing himself in such obvious jeopardy.

He did so--and afterwards things all went smoothly, While O'Keefe played his part in a manner quite Booth-ly, Or, as somebody said, without meaning to gush, He'd have put Henry Irving himself to the blush.

* * * * *

As soon as the public performance drew nigh The local excitement ran awfully high, For reports had been spread (By the club, be it said) That something uncommonly good was expected, And so on the day We turned people away From the doors, where quite early a crowd had collected.

* * * * *

Well, the overture over, the drama began, But, thanks to our casual property man, The rise of the curtain Was somewhat uncertain. In fact, for five minutes or so the thing _stuck_-- Which was terrible luck! And affected the play, At least, so I should say, For the opening act went decidedly tamely, Though O'Keefe and his bandits stuck to it most gamely. There was not much applause, Which perhaps was because Our audience was certainly very genteel, And thought it was rude folks should show what they feel; Still, we should have preferred Some "bravos!" to have heard. And two or three gentlemen seemingly napping, We thought might have better employed themselves clapping.

If first act went badly The second quite dragged; The actors worked sadly, All interest flagged. And though very often we caught people laughing, The occasions they chose made us think they were chaffing.

Next came act the third, in which the O'Keefe Was to be very great as the terrible chief, For in it he killed His rival, and spilled The gore of the coastguards all over the coast, And eloped with a bride, Who beheld him with pride Though she could herself of a coronet boast. As a matter of fact We hoped that this act Would redeem in a measure the ones that preceded, And it opened so well, And O'Keefe looked so swell, That at last we obtained the encouragement needed. And then came the fight. No one thought, on that night, That McEwen would dare try his vile _tour de force_; And the battle began On the well-rehearsed plan, While the supers made ready to bear off his corse.

* * * * *

Whatever induced him to do it? Who knows? He says 'twas an accident. Well, I suppose, When a man tells you that, A denial too flat Might perhaps lead to arguments, even to blows. But, be that as it may, The O'Keefe _couldn't_ slay His opponent, whose wrist All at once gave a twist, And the brave bandit's weapon went flying away! The supers stood spellbound, as over the stage Strode the maddened O'Keefe; in a frenzy of rage He picked up his sword, and then went for his foe In terrible earnest. Oh, that was the sternest, Most truculent fight Ever fought in the sight Of innocent people, who shouted "Bravo!" Little knowing how soon the real blood was to flow.

Thank Heaven, the swords Were as blunt as two boards! Otherwise the result would have been simply frightful. As it was, every whack Make the deuce of a crack, While the audience considered it clearly delightful. With th' applause at its height, This most bloodthirsty fight, By a blow from the skilful McEwen was ended. O'Keefe fell as if dead, With a gash on his head; The supers rushed forward, the curtain descended.

Talk about clapping! And walking-stick rapping! While even the gentlemen formerly napping, "Bravoed" themselves hoarse With the whole of their force, And made their fat palms quite tender with slapping. "O'Keefe! and McEwen!" was shouted by all, Why the deuce don't they come and acknowledge the call? Then some people said "That blow on the head-- Was it part of the play?--or"--ah, see, in the hall A youth--he's a member, as that ribbon shows-- See! to Doctor Pomander he stealthily goes-- To the doctor, who sat With his coat and his hat Just under his seat, that he need not delay If a patient should send to fetch him away; But who never expected to find _in_ the hall A patient--and much less a bandit--at all!