CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER. III.—THE LITERARY DUFFER. "I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and attitudinised in the Picture-galleries." Why I am not a success in literature it is difficult for me to tell; indeed, I would give a good deal to anyone who would explain the reason. The Publishers, and Editors, and Literary Men decline to tell me why they do not want my contributions. I am sure I have done all that I can to succeed. When my... more...

AFTER DINNER—AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR. SCENE—A Private Room in a well-known Dining Hotel. Eminent Politicians discussing "shop" over their walnuts before dispersing for the Christmas holidays. First Eminent Politician. I say that recent speech of yours at Skegness was a little strong. Preferring the Navy to the Army! Although the Army is of course the "Best possible Army," and all that! Eh? I say it was a little too thick!... more...

TO THE QUEEN. (From the Nation.) Queenly as womanly, those words that start From sorrow's lip strike home to sorrow's heart. Madam, our griefs are one; But yours, from kinship close and your high place, The keener, mourning him in youth's glad grace Who loved you as a son. We mourn him too. Our wreaths of votive flowers Speak, mutely, for us. The deep gloom that lowers To-day across the land Is no mere pall of ceremonial grief.... more...

"PLEASING THE PIGS!" (From a Private and Confidential Report.) Mr. CHAPLIN received a deputation on the subject of the Swine-fever last week. True to his dramatic instincts as regards the fitness of things, the Minister for Agriculture was, on this occasion, wearing a Sow-wester. He regretted that he was unable to don a pig-tail, which, as the representative of the Fine Old English Gentleman of years gone by, he should much like to do, but it... more...

BOAT-RACE DAY. The Reader will kindly imagine that he has crossed Hammersmith Bridge, and is being carried along by a jostling stream of sightseers towards Mortlake. The banks are already occupied—although it still wants half an hour to the time fixed for the start—by a triple row of the more patient and prudent spectators. On the left of the path, various more or less Shady Characters have established their "pitches," and are... more...

TOWN THOUGHTS FROM THE COUNTRY. (With the usual apologies.) Oh, to be in London now that April's there, And whoever walks in London sees, some morning, in the Square, That the upper thousands have come to Town, To the plane-trees droll in their new bark gown, While the sparrows chirp, and the cats miaow In London—now! And after April, when May follows And the black-coats come and go like swallows! Mark, where yon fairy blossom... more...

"'TIS MERRY IN HALL." "Knock'd 'em!" "What's in an 'at without an 'ed?" DISTAFFINA DE COCKAIGNE was wont to inquire, and "what's an 'all" (of Music like the London Pavilion) "without a NED" in the shape of Mr. EDWARD SWANBOROUGH, the all-knowing yet ever-green Acting Manager at this place of entertainment, who possessing the secret of perpetual youth in all the glory of ever-resplendent hat and ever-dazzling shirt-front, ushers us into the... more...

WRESTLING WITH WHISTLERS. (A Reminiscence of a Recent Exhibition.) SCENE—The Goupil Gallery. Groups of more or less puzzled Britons discovered, conscientiously endeavouring to do justice to the Collection, having realised that Mr. WHISTLER's work is now considered entitled to serious consideration, but feeling themselves unable to get beyond a timid tolerance. In addition to these, there are Frank Philistines who are here with a fixed... more...

CHAPTER III. Reims—Night—Streets—Arrival—Lion d'Or—Depression—Landlady—Boots—Cathedral—Loneliness—Bed. It is just ten o'clock. Reims seems to be in bed and fast asleep, except for the presence in the streets of a very few persons, official and unofficial, of whom the former are evidently on the alert as to the movements, slouching and uncertain, of the latter. We drive under ancient... more...

YOUNG GRANDOLPH'S BARTY.   (Afrikander Version of the great Breitmann Ballad, penned, "more in sorrow than in anger," by a "Deutscher" resident in the distant regions where the Correspondent of the "Daily Graphic" is, like der Herr Breitmann himself, "drafellin' apout like eferydings.") Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty— Vhere is dat Barty now? He fell'd in luf mit der African goldt; Mit SOLLY he'd hat a row; He dinks dat his... more...