Chapter VII

Boom! Boom! 'Twill bring in cent. per cent.,
With that Big Drum, Advertisement.
Nonsense, with _nous_ discreetly blent,
Finds the world cheated--and content.
But "make your game" while yet there's room,
For novel shapes of quackery. Doom
Awaits us in the outer gloom:
A day _may_ come when Bosh _won't_ "Boom"!

_Chorus._
That's how we "boom" to-day!
Tra-la! We "boom" to-day!
Ha-ha! We "boom" to-day!
Tra-la! We "boom" to-day!
[_And so on till further orders._

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.--Quoth one of the Baron's Assistants to his Chief, "Sir, those who love the personality, and venerate the memory of CHARLES DICKENS, will thank Miss HOGARTH who has selected, Mr. LAWRENCE HUTTON who has edited, and OSGOOD, MCILVAINE & CO. who publish, a series of letters addressed by BOZ to WILKIE COLLINS. They bear date between the years 1851 and 1870, were found among COLLINS'S papers after his death, and prove not the least precious of his possessions. _Foster's Life of Dickens_ will undoubtedly remain the medium through which the outer world shall know the great novelist." "True," interposes the Baron, "that certainly is one way in which admiration for the works of the great novelist will be foster'd among us. You agree? Of course you do. Proceed, sweet warbler, your observations interest me much." Whereupon the warbler thus addressed continued. "But, Sir, we are all conscious of a certain unpleasant taste those volumes leave in the mouth. Some of the incidents recorded, and many of the letters, present DICKENS with undue prominence in a possible phase of his character, as a ruthless tradesman in literature and lecturing, with some tendency to be overbearing in his social relations. In this little volume of letters to his old familiar friend we find him at his best, whether as a worker in literature or as a critic of other people's work."

BARON DE BOOKWORMS & CO.

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(_Suggested by Cook's Tourist in Egypt._)]

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_Cousin Madge._ "WELL, GOOD-BYE, CHARLIE. SO MANY THANKS FOR TAKING CARE OF US!" _Charlie._ "_NOT AT ALL_!"]

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THE MODERN ALEXANDER'S FEAST

OR, THE POWER OF SOUND.

(_An Ode for the Brandenburg Diet Day; a long way after Dryden._)

["At the banquet of the Diet of Brandenburg, the GERMAN EMPEROR said:--
'The assured knowledge that your sympathy loyally attends me in my
work, inspires me with fresh strength to persevere in my task, and to
advance along the path marked out for me by Heaven. To this are added
the sense of responsibility to our Supreme Lord above, and my
unshakable conviction that He, our former ally at Rossbach and
Dennewitz, will not leave me in the lurch. He has taken such infinite
pains with our ancient Brandenburg and our House, that we cannot
suppose he has done this for no purpose.... My course is the right one,
and it will be persevered in."--_Daily Paper._]

'Twas in the royal feast Brandenburg set
For Providence's pet:
Aloft in Teuton state
The god-like hero sate
On his Imperial throne:
His Brandenburgers listened round,
Appreciative of the Power of Sound;
All admire shouting--when the Shouter's crowned!
The Jovian Eagle at his side
Perched, and like Rheims's Jackdaw, eyed
The Olympian hero in his pride.

Happy, happy, happy Chief!
None but the loud,
None but the loud,
From the crass crowd may win belief!
His looks he shook, his long moustache he twirled,
And saw a vision of himself as Sovereign of the World!
The listening crowd admire the lofty sound.
"A present deity!" they shout around.
"A present deity!" the vaulted roofs rebound.
With ravished ears,
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres!

In praise of Brandenburg the Shouting Emperor spoke,
In language like a huge thrasonic joke.
The newest god in triumph comes;
Blare the trumpets, thump the drums:
Flushed with a purple grace,
He lifts his Jovian face!
Now give the blowers breath. He comes, he comes!
New ALEXANDER fair and young,
Drinking, in Teuton nectar, once again
To Brandenburg, that treasure
Of earth, and heaven's chief pleasure,
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Which to the gods has given such pain!

Soothed with the sound, the Emperor grows vain,
Fights all his battles o'er again;
'Twas Heaven that routed all _his_ foes, Olympus slew _his_ slain.
_He_ has the greatest of allies!
Doubters are dastards in _his_ eyes,
And grumblers at their deified
Young Emperor in his proper pride.
Should shake from their false shoes
Germania's dust. The Muse
Must sing Jove-WILHELM great and good,
By a benignant fate
Lifted, gifted, gifted, lifted,
Lifted to a god's estate,
Olympian in his mood:

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The mighty Master smiled to see,
Infant-in-Arms, young Germany,
Jove's nursling, quit his cot and pap,
And, quite a promising young chap,
Grown out of baby-shoes and bottle,
And "draughts" which teased his infant throttle,
Get rid of ailments, tum-tum troubles,
Tooth-cutting pangs, and "windy" bubbles,
A tremendous time beginning;
Fighting still, all foes destroying:--
"A world-empire's worth the winning!
Its fair foretaste I'm enjoying.
The new god now sits beside ye,
Take the gifts he will provide ye!
He's your young Orbilian schooler,
Your Hereditary Ruler!"
(The Brandenburgers bellow loud applause.)
"_My_ course is right, and glorious is _my_ Cause!!!"
The Prince, the god unable to restrain,
Rose from his chair,
With Jovian air,
And, hanging up his thunderbolts with care,
What time his eagle gave a gruesome glare,
The nectar gulped again and yet again:
Then stooping his horned helmet firm to jam on,
Voted himself the New God--Jupiter-(G)Ammon!

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"Let ALEXANDER yield the prize
To WILHELM of the Iron Crown;
_He_ raised himself unto the skies,
_I_ bring Olympus _down_!!!"

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LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.

No. XI.--TO PLAUSIBILITY.

MY DEAR PLAU,