Chapter II: Part 2

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

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

[Sidenote: MOVE ON, THERE!]

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

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

[Sidenote: SLOW-PACED PROCEEDINGS.]

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: CLOSE QUARTERS.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: GENERAL JAM.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: WISIBLY SWELLIN’.]

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

[Sidenote: FREE AND EASY.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: PERE LA CHAISE.]

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

“Why he more than another?” cried several.

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: SUPPORTING THE CHAIR.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: PRESSED TO WITHDRAW.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: SINGING SMALL.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: NURSERY RHYMING.]

[Sidenote: HIP, HIP, HIP.]

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

1.

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

2.

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

3.

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

4.

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

5.

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

6.

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

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

[Sidenote: COMPANY ADVICES.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: A MEDLEY.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: A MORAL.]

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

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

[Sidenote: HEADS AND TAILS.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: AGES OF MAN.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: SHAKERS.]

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

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

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

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

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

“What does it mean?” said Norval.

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

Bump, bump, bump went the train.

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

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

“What’s a pailway?” said Ranulf.

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

[Sidenote: A LA GLACE.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: TAKE NO NOTICE.]

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

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

BY ORDER OF THE MISMANAGER.

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

_Be fair to Pickpockets._

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

[Sidenote: POLITICAL PLATFORM.]

[Sidenote: MAN-TRAPS.]

[Sidenote: WAYWARD.]

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

[Sidenote: ALL A BOARD.]

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

“_Do you know who I am?_”

[Sidenote: SELF-IMPORTANT FRAME.]

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

“_I am the School Board_,”

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

“_You must make a bow to the board_.”

[Sidenote: SPLITTING WITH LAUGHTER.]

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

“_If you do that you will break me_.”

“How can laughing break you?” said Norval.

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

_Free translation._”

wrote the board.

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

[Sidenote: THE MEAN QUANTITY.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Board._—“You said mean, didn’t you?”

_Jaques._—“Yes.”

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

_Jaques._—“Yes; but——”

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

_Jaques._—“Yes, but I didn’t mean——”

[Sidenote: WHINE FROM THE WOOD.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: PRATING AND RATING.]

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

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

In this our heroes thoroughly agreed with him.

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

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

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

“What branches do you teach?”

[Sidenote: THE MODERN SCHOOL.]

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

“But what things do you teach?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: FRICASSEE.]

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: VIRUMQUE CANO.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: KNOTTY ARGUMENTS.]

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: ARMA CANO.]

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

[Sidenote: FOOLISH FEEDING.]

[Sidenote: COMMON-COUNCIL SCREWS.]

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

[Sidenote: PRAVE ’ORDS.]

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

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

[Sidenote: WARM WORK.]

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

[Sidenote: LIGHT CONDUCT.]

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

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

[Sidenote: AWFULLY NICE.]

[Sidenote: STOLEN SPOONS.]

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

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

[Sidenote: A BORED TEACHER.]

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

“Mischief-class hour!”

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

[Sidenote: MIXED STORES.]

[Sidenote: NO SHOP.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: AUGHT OR NAUGHT.]

“What is aught but as ’tis valued?”

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

[Sidenote: LADY PAS LAIDE.]

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

[Sidenote: CORDIAL BUMPERS.]

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

[Sidenote: ANCIENT THOMAS.]

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

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

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

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

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

“Eight years ago,” said Norval.

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

“No,” said Norval, indignantly.

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

“No,” said Norval.

[Sidenote: SCARCELY APARIENT.]

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

“I can’t follow you,” said Norval.

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

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

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

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

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

“Eight,” said Jaques.

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

“I’m not a beggar,” said Jaques.

“Didn’t you beg my pardon?”

“Yes.”

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

[Sidenote: COURTEOUS.]

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

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

“Yes,” said she.

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

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

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

[Sidenote: XPLAINING.]

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

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

“Yes.”

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

“Yes.”

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

[Sidenote: EVERY INCH A QUEEN.]

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: A BOUNDING JOY.]

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

[Sidenote: RUNNING MELODY.]

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

[Music:

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

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

[Sidenote: SOVEREIGN SPECIFICS.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: BAND-DITTY.]

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

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

[Sidenote: BATONS D’ORCHESTRE.]

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

[Sidenote: DECIDED HITS.]

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

[Sidenote: A THUMPING GAL.]

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

“Rise, Sir Charle——”

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

[Sidenote: GIVE AND TAKE.]

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

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

“Take yourself up.”

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

“Oh, you downy fellow!”

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

“X plain yourself,” said she.

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

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

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

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

“I should rather think so,” replied Jaques.

[Sidenote: GETTING A WIGGING.]

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

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