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THE WESTMINSTER 
PROBLEMS BOOK 






THE WESTMINSTER 
PROBLEMS BOOK 

PROSE AND VERSE 

COMPILED BY 

N. G. ROYDE SMITH 

FROM 

TTie Saturday Westminster Gazette 
Competitions, 1904-1907 



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36 ESSEX STREET W.C. 

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INTRODUCTION 

rilMlS book consists of work contributed to the Problems 
and Prizes page of The ScUurday Westminster Gazette 
from February 1904 till the end of 1907. It does not 
include any of the Greek and Latin versions which have 
been published separately, and verse and prose transla- 
tions from French and German have been omitted as not 
of general interest. 

A great deal of the work which won Prizes on page 6 
was of an ephemeral or purely topical nature and there- 
fore not suitable for reproduction here, and readers who 
have followed the competitions will, on that account, miss 
several familiar names from these pages. Occasionally an 
entry which won a Prize has been suppressed in favour of 
some other piece which, though at the time it did not 
fulfil the conditions set, has worn better, and is included 
here on its own merits. 

It has been very difficult to ascertain the authorship 
of a large number of essays and poems, which were either 
^ sent anonymously or else printed without signatures in 
^ the reports. I have done my best to give credit for every 
J^ work to which my competitors have laid claim, and must 
^^irust to them to rectify for their own inmiediate public 
"^ any errors or omissions they may discover in the index. 
I have to thank Lord Curzon of Eedlestone for two 



r 



vi THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

experiments in metre on p. 311, and Mr. William Bowry 

for several poems sent in hora concov/rs. Mr. E. S. Tylee 

has allowed me to include his dialect poem ''Parson's 

Nag" from his published volume Trumpet and Flag 

(E. P. Putnam's Sons), and Mr. Edgar Vine Hall's songs 

have also been published since they won Westminster 

Prizes in Songs and Lyrical Poems (The Bibliophile 

Press). 

This book has been prepared chiefly for competitors 

and their friends. I should have liked to dedicate it, 

with sincere admiration, to those people who have so 

often nearly deserved the Prizes they have never won, 

but memories of the irritation similar expressions of 

encouragement used to cause at other Prize-givings have 

prevented me. 

N. G. ROYDE SMITH 

Odo&tff 14» 1908 



THE WESTMINSTER 
PROBLEMS BOOK 



THE 

WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

PROSE, 1904 

OF FISCAL POLICIE 

THE greatest Question between Man and Man is the Question 
of Fiscal Poltcie. For in Other Questions, Men are but 
Insular ; Their Education Bill, their Army Reform, their Licensing, 
their Irish Question ; But such as doe advance a Fiscal Policie are 
Imperial. It is a triviall text Book Rule, but yet worthy a Wise 
Man's Consideration. Question was asked of Chamberlain ; What 
was the Chiefe Part of the Fiscal Policie t He answered. Food 
will not cost yov, more ; what next ? Food wiU not cost you more ; 
what next again ? Food will not cost you mare. He said it that 
knew it best ; And had by nature, himselfe, no Advantage, in that 
he conmiended. The Fiscal Policie is often discussed; some- 
times explained; seldome understood. Food maketh the Fiscal 
Question more violent in Public Interest; Figures and Illustra- 
tions maketh the Fiscal Question less Intelligible; but Election 
onely doth alter or subdue Fiscal Policie, He that seeketh to 
understand the Fiscal Qiustion let him not give Himselfe too great 
belief in One Party or the Other. For the First will persuade 
him out of his Food ; And the second, out of his Vote. And at 
the First let him practise with no Fixed Policie, as Fence-«itters 
doe till they discover from what quarter the wind blows. But 
after a Time let him chew difficult apothegms, such as 

Learn to Think Imperially^ 
and 

My figvres are merely Illustrations, 

as advocates of the Fiscal Policie doe. For it breeds great awe 
1 



a THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

and admiration if the Texts used are mystick and sentimentaL 
Where the FiKol Question is acknowledged onintelligible, and 
therefore the Victory to understand it too hard, the Eesources had 
need be ; First to turn the Subject in Time ; Then to Qoe lease 
into Particulars ; And lastly, to Discontinue altogether to discuBS 
it. Neither is the Ancient rule amisse, To let welle alone, if it is 
going to cost you Monie. Let not a man force a Policie down his 
throat that he cannot well digest, nor vex others with the Errours 
of his Diet with a Perpetuall Continuance, but with some Inter- 
mission. And let not a Man trust his Victory over his Partie too 
farre; For the vnrath kindled by the Fiscal Question will lay 
buried a groat Time, and yet revive upon the Provocation or 
Temptation. Like as it was with Ghatsu>orih!s King^ turned from 
a Gouvernment Supporter to a Middle Counsellour who sate very 
demurely in the Cabinet till a Loaf was jeopardised. They are 
happie men whose Fiscal Policie sorts with their Vocations ; other- 
wise they may say. What am I going to get out of it f or Wh^re 
do I come in? when they support those things that doe not 
Affect them. In Questions, whatsoever a Man persuadeth upon 
himselfe let him get somewhat out of it. But whatsoever is 
Agreeable to his Estate let him take no care for any set Terms ; 
For his Interests will be served of Themselves; So as the con- 
dition of other Men's Affaires and Businesses will suffice. We 
will adde this, in generall, touching the Fiscal Question. 
A Man's Fiscal Policie runnes either to Words or Deeds ; There- 
fore let him seasonably Employ the One, and Avoid the Other. 

WM. H. HAAS 

EPIGRAMS 

Society may be divided roughly into two parts — the Upper 
Classes and the Supper Classes, or, in architectural phrase, the 
" Early English " and the " Late Decorated.'' 

The sinner jogs along his path, comforted and upheld with the 
thought of the joy there will be in heaven when he repents. 

To fail as a philosopher is sad, but to try to play the fool and 
fail in it — there's ignominy for you. 



PROSE, 1904 



SPEECHES FOR AND AGAINST THE MOTION "THAT 
BETSY PRIG WAS ABUNDANTLY JUSTIFIED IN 
HER SCEPTICISM CONCERNING MRS. HARRIS" 

Openino Speech for the Motion 

To successfully affinn this motion I conceive that we are 
bound to take up a position analogous to that of defending Betsy 
Prig in an action for slander; the slander consisting in the 
utterance of Betsy Prig's express disbelief in the existence of 
a certain Mrs. Harris, and the innuendo being that the Plaintiff 
Mrs. Gamp, who had given on various occasions exact and cir- 
cumstantial extracts from conversations held by herself with that 
person, was on each occasion guilty of deliberate falsehood, and 
was thereby held up to the world as a woman unworthy of 
credence in the most vital and intimate affairs of life. And, just 
as it is insufficient for a defendant in such a case to rely on a 
reasonable belief in his statements without actual justification, so 
are we bound to justify Betsy Prig by establishing affirmatively 
the non-existence of Mrs. Harris. 

But, to pursue the analogy further, as it is competent for a 
defendant to rely on matters of justification not within his know- 
ledge at the time of the utterance of the slander, so are we entitled 
to settle this question by use of all the materials supplied by our 
author, and not those only which were available to Betsy Prig. 

What do we know of Mrs. Harris? Absolutely nothing that 
does not rest on the unsupported word of Mrs. Gamp. 

Had any living person ever seen her ? No, for we are told that 
"a fearful mystery surrounded this lady of the name of Harris, 
whom no one in the circle of Mrs. Cramp's acquaintance had ever 
seen ; neither did any human being know her place of residence, 
though Mrs. Gamp appeared on her own showing to be in constant 
communication with her." 

True, Betsy Prig had had opportunities of seeing a "profile 
in bronze of a lady in feathers, supposed to be Mrs. Harris, as she 
appeared when dressed for a ball": but here again it is not 



4 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

impertinent to observe that the link connecting Mrs. Harris with 
the medallion was the veracity of Mrs. Qamp, and if we can 
destroy that link we shall have no difficulty in deciding that 
the bronze itself was designed to give the now classical air 
of verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing 
narrative. 

What, on the other hand, do we know of Mrs. Qamp 1 That 
she drank, drank spirits, and drank spirits systematically: Mrs. 
Gamp was either in liquor, or in hopes of liquor whenever she 
invoked the aid of Mrs. Harris; and if she was perpetually 
invoking that aid, it was because her every recorded word was 
uttered in one or other of these conditions. 

Now, it is matter of common knowledge — and Betsy Frig 
herself had gained it from that best of teachers, ex()erience — that 
the one supreme faculty with which the habit of excessive spirit- 
drinking endows its devotees is that of seeing in duplicate what is 
in fact one and indivisible ; indeed, it may be doubted whether 
Mrs. Gamp was single-eyed on any subject other than that of the 
main chance. Wo are then justified in inferring that Mrs. Qamp 
had invested her own "alter ego" with the personality of Mrs. 
Harris, and had set her up as the outward and visible sign of this 
inward and spirituous grace. 

Are we to condemn Betsy Prig for disregarding the blessing 
promised to those who believe unseeing ? 

Emphatically, no ! 

F. BOYD MERBIMAN 



Speech against the Motion 

Gentlemen, I approach this subject with all the diffidence one 
naturally feels in undertaking the vindication of a wronged and 
excellent woman. Mrs. Prig's ill-judged and insolent attack on 
the character and existence of Mrs. Harris does but bring home 
to us how strong is the circumstantial evidence in that lady's 
favour. Are not her surroundings, her children, her relations by 
blood and marriage, all familiar to us as household words? Is 
not her clinging and devoted nature sufficiently shown by her 



PROSE, 1904 6 

faithfully carrjring the gruesome keepsake of Mrs. Gamp's double 
teeth in her pocket ? Are not her very lineaments pictured for us 
in Mrs. Gamp's homely, though enthusiastic tribute : 

"'Oh, Mrs. Harris, ma'am, your countenance is quite an 
angel's ! ' Which, but for Pimples, it would be." 

Do not these pimples bear the hall-mark of reality upon them 1 
One involuntarily associates them with Oliver Cromwell's warts. 
Again, is her retiring and timid disposition not subtly indicated by 
her desire to conceal the fact of the sweet infant in her own family 
by the mother's side kept in spirits in a bottle 1 — a fact a more 
vulgar mind might seek to vaunt. Can any one be surprised that 
so modest a soul shrinks from general recognition? Who can 
pretend to believe that all these amiable characteristics are merely 
figments of Mrs. Gamp's brain ! The brain of an uneducated 
albeit shrewd and affectionate monthly nurse is surely incapable 
of originating and sustaining so complicated and circumstantial 
a story. Let me quote to you the immortal outburst in which 
Mrs. Gamp repels Mrs. Prig's extraordinary accusation : " If she 
had abuged me, bein' in liquor, which I thought I smelt her wen 
she came, but could not so believe, not bein' used myself, I 
could have bore it with a thankful 'art. But the words she 
spoke of Mrs. Harris, lambs could not forgive. 'No, Betsy!' 
said Mrs. Gamp in a violent outburst of feeling, 'nor worms 
forget!'" 

Can one be so blinded as not to recognise here the genuine out- 
pouring of a wounded heart? Could such generous indignation 
have been feigned ? 

One most important though painful circumstance remains to be 
considered. In vino Veritas, and in the harrowing scene where 
Mrs. Prig so wounds Mrs. Gamp's feelings that the latter has to 
resort to such comforts as the contents of her teapot can afford, 
what do we find ? The more the excellent woman loses control of 
her faculties, the more stoutly does she uphold the truth of her 
assertions as to Mrs. Harris, until at length she sinks into 
slumber still murmuring her well-known name. Then, if there 
had been a guilty secret on Mrs. Gamp's conscience, was the time 
for it to escape. 



6 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

No, gentJemen, the existence of Mrs. Harris most be classed in 
the poet's words as one of those 

" truths that wake 
To perish never ; 
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour 

Nor man, nor boy. 
Nor all that is at enmity with joy 
Can utterly abolish or destroy 1 " 

In view, therefore, of the extraordinary circumstantiality of 
the whole story, and in the absence of any jot of evidence that 
Mrs. Harris did not eioBi, I maintain that Mrs. Prig's incredulity 
was not justified by the facts. 

D. J. WILKS8 

A PLAIN TALE 
What Bbgamb of Jevon 

111 not tell ye how I come alongst the road just thin, but I'd 
been afther an iligant schame that shud ha' ended in lashina 
o' beer. 

It did not, an' me heart was as sore as me fut-soles. 

Hearin' the kyarts behind, I turned to see wud I ride back in 
thim, and there wobblin' towards me was the most amazin' sight 
iver I seen. Ut looked like a big red barril, wid a marvelious 
turnup, blue, an' green, an' red, an' yaller, shtuck in the top. 

" Phwat ha' ye there, ye black scutts ? " says I to the naygurs. 

"Twas the other sahibs gave him to us thus," says they, 
grinnin'. 

" An' phwat are ye to do with him ? " I says. 

"The big-headed sahib with spectacles said, 'Take him to 
Jehannum,' " says they. 

"A very proper way o* talkin'," says I, "whin he's had all 
the dhrink he cud howld,' whilst betther men ha' had to thramp 
ut, their hearts fair bruk wid the dust and the thirst." 

Thin it come to me mind quite suddint that here was a 
chanst to make up for me misfortunate night ; an', says I : 
"Bhoys," I says, "yell give me this dhrunk sahib." 



PROSE, 1904 7 

We Fowled him to a barn that stad oontagioiiB, an' thin me 
an' the coolies had a few worrds, they bein' wishful to share if 
annythin' come of it. But naygors are not mostly fightin' men, 
and they wint off like lambs before long, mumblin' : 

'' Lo, phwat tyranny is here ! " which alwos means cavin' in. 

Whin I got him in the bam an' was lookin' at him, I had to 
laugh. But all the rollin' he'd had was wakin' him, so I shtarted 
to shtrip off the carput at wanst to make sure of ut. For at 
meant beer annyhow. I cut the cocoa-nut fibre they'd tied ut 
wid, undher his feet, an' I shtarted to enroll very careful. 

If I'd be at all rough he'd shtart to groan, an' befure I'd got 
the carput all off him he begins to wriggle like the caddie wurrms 
in the ponds at home, an' says he : 

"WhaddyerdoinT' 

" Whisht ! " says I, whishperin' like a snufflin' bullock, an' 
rowlin' like the divil. "Ye're safe so fur," I says, "but they 
may find ye anny minut." 

He groans, an' be the sound ye cud tell the head he had 
on him. 

" Phwat are ye doin' wid that carput?" he says. 

" Ut's the one ye was rowled in to bring ye safe away," says I. 

He sits up, with his head betune his hands — I'd got the carput 
all off him be now — I was not surprised at him bein' onwell. 
Presintly he says : 

" Phwat's the matter wid me head ? An' phwat's this damned 
thing round me neck?" says he, tearin' off the ham-frill that 
was there. 

** Whisht, now," I says. " Sure we had to dishguise ye to git 
ye away alive." 

He swears at me very sober an' steady for a bit ; thin says he, 
all limp an' feeble in a minut like a wet collar : 

"I must ha' been dhrunk last night," he says, '*an' divil a 
bit do I know phwat I dona" 

" I would niver ha' knowed ye was dhrunk," says I, " ye spake 
out so bould. You been prachin' in iveiy hathin timple in the 
place," I says. 

*^ I been prachin' ! " says he, " I niver done such a thing in me 



8 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

life ! But phwat o' that if I havel" he says, like as if he's goin' 
to blub. " Phwat for have ye thrimmed me wid paper frills an* 
rowled me in a carput f " 

" Ye ha' thrampled on the prejooces of an ignirant an' blood- 
thirsty populus," I says very solemn, " an' it's your blood they're 
thirstin' for just now." 

At that he begins to blub right out, for he was all bruk up 
wid the dhrink he'd had. 

" I don't know what for iver I come to Injia," says he, wid hia 
hands over his eyes an' black tears rowlin' from undher. "If 
wanst I git back to England agin, divil a bit will I ivir shtir from 
there anny more." 

Wid that he looks up at me very pitiful, an' the face of him 
all colours, wid the black o' the tears an' the coloured gelatine on 
him, an' 

" Phwat will I do ? " he says, " I cann't thravel like this." 

'* Ye can not, sorr," I says, for 'twas as thrue as Moses. 

" They'll be watchin' the house ye're stayin' at," says I ; " jre 
cann't go there yersilf. But I know all the coolies, an' I cud 
shlip in an' git some o' yer things to ye." 

" I left me luggage at the station ; there's only a valise," he 
says ; " an' if ye'U git me clothes an' see me away on the momin' 
thrain I'll make it the best day's wurrk iver ye done. But, oh ! 
man, befure ye go, git me somethin' to dhrink i " 

"I wud be wishful to do that same, sorr," says I, **but I 
have not the price o' a dhrink o' wather." 

He pulls some silver out o' his pockut. 

" Take ut," he says, "in the divil's name, an* be quick." 

I fetched a dhrink an' a bucket o' wather an' a scrubbin'-brush 
to get what stuff he cud off his hair and cheeks. As I was comin' 
back wid thim I met a friend named Juldhoo, a naygur, an' says 
I to him, '' You go an' git one or two more, and come tearin' and 
yellin' past that barn in a minut, an' 111 give ye a rupee." 

I come into the bam puffin' and blowin' and lookin' over me 
shoulther. 

"Don't ye be frightened, sorr," I says, "they have not found 
ye yit, but the divils are tearin' mad after ye, an' no mistake." 



PROSE, 1904 9 

Wid that comes a tremenjus tearin' and yellin' up the road, an' 
me little friend shnk like a jelly. 

I left him schrubbin' at his head, an' I wint to the house 
where he was stajdn', and says I to the Khansamah, quite om- 
brageous : '* The sahib that's been stajrin' here wants his things," 
says I, " but ye don't need to wake your masther over ut The 
sahibs ha' been havin' a bit o' a disagreemint," I says, *'an' ye 
know what your sahib is whin things go contrarious, so the other 
one is gdn' away at wanst." 

He give me the things widout a wurrd, an' I tuk thim to the 
poor little man in the bam. He'd schrubbed himself somethin' 
like dacint, an' afther he'd changed, we shlipped off for the 
station. We come into it very quiet along the rails, an', glory 
be, none o' the naygurs noticed us. Whin I seen him safe in a 
first-class carriage he behaved like a gintleman, but he given me 
a look wid his little eye as the thndn wint off that made me 
glad I hadn't kept him round till the dhrink was all out o' him, 
an' I've wondhered since was he thinkin' perhaps I hadn't told 
him all the thruth. 

MABEL A. MARSH 



EPIGRAMS 

In our hearts we all rejoice in a fool and would not have him 
wiser for the world. 

Most good sayings were originated by the ancients, elaborated 
by the French, and attributed to Disraeli. ... A paradox is only 
a platitude in fancy dress. 

Rats smell rats. 

No fruits without roots. 

The supreme immorality consists in ignoring facts. 

It \a depressing to receive kindnesses that are mere bids for 
a martyr's crown. 

The attitude of an angel towards a saint must be a curious 
blend of humility and disgust. 



10 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



THOUGHTS ON LOOKING OUT OF A WINDOW 

I had let myself drift farther than I had dreamed. When 
I came out of my chambers to go to the usual dining-place and 
force myself to eat the food necessary to keep life in me I bad 
no consciousness of being less well than a man ought to expect 
to be. But the wind was in the west and May was nearing its 
end, and there came a call as clear as the voice of the girl you 
love speaking out of the dusk of the rose-garden on a summer 
night I turned back to my rooms, and my packing was soon 
done. Nine o'clock found me at Paddington, and by eight in the 
morning I was here in the cottage which looks on the loveliest of 
all bays. I have slept; I have bathed in the clean, purifying 
Atlantic waters; I have lain in the sun on hot, white sands. I 
have wandered on clifis and towans in the long-lingering twilight, 
and have gathered the glow-worms which now make our little 
lawn a near reflection of the skies. It were good to sleep, but to 
be awake is better. There is scarce a light to be seen except the 
yellow revolving flash from Godrevy. The waves on the beach 
below f^ll with no more noise than that of the breathing of a child 
asleep, but from the distance comes the calling of the reef Hevra. 
Was it Hevra called me back to the West — Hevra that is always 
calling, day and night, to the hearts of the children of my country ? 
Yesterday at this hour I had hardly escaped from London. Now 
it is as if I were a tree that had stood here for a hundred years, 
with always the good wind blowing and the sound of the sea. 
I shall sleep soon, but the light will flood the little room and 
there will be the crying of the gulls come over from the cliffs 
by Godrevy and Hell's Mouth to seek the mackerel thrown 
back to the sea to-night by the fishermen who had reached home 
too late to touch a price for their catch. Sunlight will be shining. 
Perhaps there will be a mist, and there will be no sound save 
the whisper of the sea and the falling of the drops from the 
caves ; and the gulls will be only glints and glimpses of shining 
white, seen momentarily in the blue haze. The tide will go 



PROSE, 1904 11 

oat, and with it the mist, and It will be fall day. Shall it be 
a walk to the pine wood on the hill, or shall one sail aroand 
about Hevra, or along by Qwithian Sands, and try for pollack, 
and visit the sea caves? That shall depend on the mood of 
the moment Whatever shall be will be good, and now . . . 
Hevra, I have come back. Will yon not give me the good sleep 
that I used to have? 

H. D. LOW&T 



THOUGHTS ON LOOKING OUT OF A WINDOW 

A precioas lot of thoughts one gets lookin' oat of this 'ere 
window ! Why, you can't see nothing but boots beyond the area 
railin's, unless you stand close up against the window, and then 
you can per'aps get a glimpse of knees. 

But knees ain't the sort of articles to make thoughts surge 
up into your brain ; leastways you don't get no beautiful thoughts 
out of 'em. If I was to look out on green pastors and flowin' 
streams while I was rollin' the pastry I could 'ave thoughts — 
fine poetry sort of thoughts — with the best of 'em. But boots 
and knees ! Low-down things like that can't raise you. Why, 
three-quarters of a 'orse and a whole dog is a fair luxurious view 
for us cooks in these London kitchings. 

Not but wot boots don't make you think, but the thoughts 
they give you is more about blackin', and the pore things what 
labour on them boots, and the people wot wear them, than 
aujrthing else. I know them highly-polished boots. They means 
a determined master. The sort that'll say — " Well-blacked boots 
or a month's warning ! " And they ain't altogether bad to work 
under. If you serve 'em fair they'll do the same by you, and 
pay your wages reglar, and good tips at Christmas. But they're 
as particler with their chops as their boots, and if the soup's 
washy — don't you 'ear of it, that's all ! 

Then there's the patent leathers. You get 'em under trowsers 
and under petticoats. Under petticoats they don't mean no worse 
than the sort that's out a good bit, and is everlastin' wantin' pieces 
of lace and 'andkerchiefs and blouses done up at 'ome, and in a 



12 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

hurry. They ain't the worst kind of missus, they fly out quick, 
but soon forget, and you're rid of 'em most times and get the 
'ouse to yourself. 

Under trowsers patent leathers means a fusser, and if there's 
one thing I can't abide it's a fusser. Nothing is right from 
soup to say'ry ; and, lor ! the coffee ! Coffee turned my 'air grey 
when I lived with a fusser, and pretty near druv me into an 
asylum. There's a broad-toed, low-'eeled boot you see under stuffy 
black petticoats sometimes. The legs as far as you can see is 
thick. Defend me from them as from the — no, it ain't the word 
to put in thoughts, but you know. 

They'll 'ave you down at six to the minute, they'll get up 
themselves and creep down, and watch you through a chink in 
the door while you do the stove, they'll rub their fingers along 
picture-frames and mantelpieces 'alf a dozen times a day, and 
they^l smell a follower a mile off ! 

There's a down at the 'eel boot wot's not pleasant to live 
with either. There's often a torn petticoat above it, and loose 
braid. That's a muddlin' missus. She leaves everything all 
over the place; puts 'er purse where she can't remember, and 
declares you've taken it ; forgets to pay your wages, and says she 
'as ; orders things, and then says she 'asn't ; arsts you questions, 
and forgets wot you answer, and leads you a fair dance with 'er 
'ap'azardness. Lor! I ain't 'alf done about boots, let alone 
knees and the lowest 'alves of dogs and 'orses. And my milk's 
boilin'! 

VIOLET ROTTEN 



EPIGRAMS 

His enemy shot at him and missed ; his brother's gun went off 
by accident, but the man was none the less dead. 

Love is only blind ; Envy has a squint and sees double. 
It is a good joke that carries no sting. 
Beauty needs no logic. 



PROSE, 1904 18 

FABLES 
Ths Robin and the Spabbow 

A robin sat on a bare branch, sliiyering. 

" It's cold," he said, " but it might be worse." 

" How cheerful you are ! " chirped a little voice behind. " Will 
the spring ever come ? " 

" Of course it will," Robin replied. " What has been will be. 
That's philosophy." 

" I'm not a philosopher," the little voice pleaded. " I'm only a 
sparrow, and I'm so cold I shall die." 

" If you think you are cold, you will be cold," Robin snapped. 
'' That's the newest school of thought. Do as I'm doing." Then 
he sat up straight on the bough, and began to say, '* I'm not cold 
— I'm not cold," as fast as he could. 

" What's that for ? " said the sparrow. 

"That's Tlie Science" Robin replied. "That will make you 
warm quicker than anything.'* 

Just then the sim came out and shone on a roof near. 

" Good-bye," chirped the sparrow. " I'm going to get warm 
the way I know." And he sat there happily in the sunshine. 

Suddenly Robin plumped down just next to him. 

"Hullo? You here!" the sparrow exclaimed; "I thought 
you wouldn't come for anjrthing." 

" Why not ? " Robin said. " I'm not cold— only I thought I 
might just as well say it over here" 

Here then the Moral that we would present — 
Theory and Practice both are excellent 
Yet without one thing more are useless — hence 
Make all subservient to Common Sense. 

R. K. w. 

An Up-to-date Fable 

A number of animals once proposed to occupy themselves by 
playing the game of " Follow-my-leader." Subsequently there 
arose an uncertainty as to whether the company had chosen the 



r 



14 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

weasel or the gazelle to be their leader. To avoid nnfleemly 
dispute, these two animals proceeded together, and, aiding each 
other, sormoanted many apparently insuperable difficulties, to the 
surprise of beholders and the embarrassment of their followers. 
At length they came to a quickset hedge surrounding a field of 
com which the weasel desired to traverse, being of an active nature 
and, moreover, well protected by his fur ; the gazelle, being of a 
more sensitive disposition, objected to breaking through the hedge, 
both by reason of the discomfort to himself and his followers 
and for fear of doing damage in the neighbourhood. The leaders 
therefore parted company, to the bewilderment of their followers^ 
who rent the air with doleful cries, some going this way, some 
that, while the more philosophical sat down to wait till a seer 
should pass by who might tell them the name of their leader and 
his probable destination. 

Moral, — Be sure of your leader before you consent to be led. 

" MALLARD " 



LETTER FROM MRS. MALAPROP TO LYDIA LANGUISH 
ANNOUNCING JULI/^'S FINAL RUPTURE WITH 
FAULKLAND 

Mrs. Malaprop to Mrs. Jack Absolute 

Mt dear Niece, — Oh, Lydia, was there ever such an 
apostrophe! All the genteelest and most modish persons in 
Bath invited to grace the nuptial cemetery and at the last moment 
Madam JuUa throws over her lover and all is Charon! I am 
almost distorted with grief and irrigation. Had it been you, 
Lydia, who perpetuated such an improper action I should hardly 
have been surprised; for before you was married to Captain 
Absolute — ^however, I will make no delusions to the i)ast. But 
that Julia, who has such a delectable sense of propriety, and who 
had so long supported Faulkland's fanciful humours and caprioles, 
should discard him finally, is almost imperceptible. For my 
part| after this wretched piastre I have done with young women 



PROSE, 1904 16 

and their love a&irs. Martrimony may become absolute for 
aught I care. 

In fairness, I own, I must exercise Julia for her share in this 
unhappy denudation. Tou know that Faulkland's jealous and 
relaxing temper made his love for Julia a torment both to her 
and to himself. You was aware that she actually absolved the 
engagement about the time of the superstitious duel — when that 
odorous Irishman, Sir Lucius OTrigger, acted so ungenteelly. 
After their reconsecration, Faulkland, I confess, endeavoured to 
overcome his deformity and behave like an irrational being, but 
very soon his natural synthesis asserted itself, and he again 
began to plague Julia with his foolish fancies. Indeed, after 
the date was fixed for the illustration of their nuptials his jealous* 
whims and rackets seemed to increase, and Julia, who had shown 
an unpalatable patience and goodness till now, and had borne 
all his surplices and laboured to remove them, began to be wearied 
with the continence of a jealousy so violent and ill-founded. The 
very day before the wedding his evil genesis put him upon a 
new tropic of jealousy, which was Julia's permitting an elderly 
officer to hand her into her coach from the play. The factious 
wretch had the odyssey to make this a ground of complaint when 
next he visited Julia. It was too much. His doubting her 
love, and the impossibility she thought there was of dissuading 
him of it, caused her great distress. She saw plainly, she told 
him, that these fancies he entertained would in the end distinguish 
his love, and would also ineffably destroy her a£fection. She 
could not believe, she said, that he loved her truly, and therefore 
she would never consent to marry him. Faulkland flung out 
of the house like a manacle, and is now doubtless inuring the 
pangs of remonstrance ; but nothing, I am convinced, will shake 
Julia's dissolution. The poor girl is doomed, I procrastinate, 
to a life of celebrity. 

You may suppose I was putrified with astonishment when 
I heard Julia's story. I have not regained my equilibrium as 
you may see from my writing, which is hardly eligible. — Your 
affectionate aunt, 

MABTHA MALAPBOP 



16 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

HERBERT SPENCER'S PROBABLE DEFINITION 
OF A COMEDY 

Herbert Spencer's idea of *' Comedy " might be a reetatement 
of his idea of life, such as " The oontinuoos adjustment of thinner 
relations to stouter relationn." 

The intrusion of a discontinuous causal relation into a homo- 
geneous group of well-balanced conclusions. 

Romantic Comedy 
The successful cohesion of the homogeneous. 

Comedy of Manners 
The exposition of the ultimate homogeneity of the apparently 
heterogeneous. 

Domestic Comedy 

A philosopher contradicted by his wife. 

Farce 
A (Natural) Law repudiated by a bishop. 

Herbert Spencer's Idea of a Comedy 

A discovery cancelled by a quotation. 

A dilemma with a broken horn. 

" Spencer's idea of a tragedy," said Huxley, " is a deduction 
kUled by a fact." 

"His idea of a comedy," I should say, "was ditto, with 
extenuating circumstances." 

A sentiment disguising itself as a truth. 

Spencer's idea of a comedy was a reduciio ad absurdum, 

A popular religion with a mistaken beginning and a happy 
ending. 

A platonic intrigue between literature and tradition to evade 
the truths of science. 

An unclassified, natural phenomenon masquerading as a 
miracle. 

Darwinism criticised by a gorilla. 

The Orthodox routed by Paradox. 

A rival's deduction killed by a fact. 



PROSE, 1904 17 

A Hegelian refuting the theory of Evolution. 
A Kantian justifying his existence. 
A culmination deferred by the incalculable human. 
The incalculable staving-off felicity 

A DEF^ ^wledge of jfTBIE 

When the rur^ .*^^^e: .^i. >ughe and I were well 

u • XI. ie wl* * ^ cry with open^^ i ^ i ^i. 

known m *"®\<^- c^jn i ^^ ourselves to leame the 

social kwes of k ^ ^^ ^^ ^^^ , < with least patience, had 

the fame of " Jfl*|-^eadie my argv " ^^^ ^® ^^ ^^® ^^ 
several protesJ^S"^ ,\imistrie then P®"^^ *°^ listened less to 
that wee 8a>\ 7^'^^^ ^^^ ^^^ jucke us both that each did 
care to look upon ^ p^^. iin^^ ^^^ best. 

Now therefore - dl I ei .'oure to showe that a stronge 
affection to my calling (that as you knowe is F^dmistrie) is likely 
to misguide me if it hath not the supporte of a stronge argument. 

For I could showe you how from earliest times the arte hath 
had its followers. Each countrie had its own. The Roman poete 
Terence once hath sayde **per manus tradere"; to that the 
meaning seemeth obvious, for wee knowe much of hereditarie 
fayling. Cicero did also saye *' haec non sunt in nostra manu," 
nor doe I doubte l)ut that hee ment his future life ; and lastly 
Sallust (if indeed a further profe is needed) hath sayd "neque 
mihi in manu qualis Jugurtha foret,'' implying also '' sibi in manu." 
From the Greeks wee doe acquire such profes as are contained 
in phrases of thys kind, €19 x^^P^^ tkStiv, or better still, dwh x^^P^ 
Xoyia-aa-Oai. And if you search the more profopde of Q***^ 
you find a secte that flourished with our e^Loellf^^j^ '* , - 

X«p«yo.yolbyname. ^Timinator l^^to a^t 

In likelie manner all the learned land- _^„. • i. ^ 
, , ^ , . ^ . ., . , -le most important events 

the arte of Palmistne its professors, K^i^ 4.1.^ v • 

, ^ 'people the charminir custom 

countries where men and women a- „ . , ., 1. i_ xi_ • 

^ , . . . . , . . .au unmarned maiden to be their 

Palmistne is an arte of imi' ^^, :«4.««r * n • *!. 1 

XI- -x • XI. IX.' -annot interfere at all m the general 

termeth It in thys word Ifp^j^j^^ ^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^ 

this end to preach an<J ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ .^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ 
exhibited m imaguu^jg^^ ^^ appointment being for one year 



18 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

learning being vertuous action, those skilles that most serTe to 
bring forth that have a most iust title to bee Priceless over all 
the rest; wherein wee can only shewe the Fklmistes noblenes 
by setting him before all other Conjurors. For knowledge standeith 
so upon the abstract and ^enerall that bappie is that man who 
may understands i^^^^J.|j ^appie that can applye what he 
dooth not perceive, ^f" °"^ 

For that a fayned ^L . • much force to teach as 
a true example .(sith th^P^*^ Conudy , ^ ^^ highest 

key of passion). With thai*® homogeneoui^ve to compare the 
Palmiste and a Historian. T^ Manners *■ the latter is subject 
to the former, for whatsoev\ homogeneity ^&^*^®"» whatsoever 
counsell, pollicy, or wario stral .^IL ^ian is bound to 

recite, that may the Palmiste Yi\!(niyimi\a^^^tnak!b as it pleases 
most; beautifying it both b^^'^ftravagance and exaggeration, 
as it pleaseth him that hearetli it, having all (from Ananias) 
under the authoritie of his imagination. 

Nowe therein of all sciences (I speak of humane and according 

to the humane conceit) is our Palmiste the Mocker. For he dooth 

not only shew the way, but giveth so sweete a prospect into the 

way as will entice every woman to hear it from him. Nay ! he 

dooth as if your journey should lye through a fayre vineyard, 

at the first give you a cluster of grapes, that, full of taste, you 

may long to passe further. 

Infinite profe of the strange effects of this palmisticall inven- 

^n might be alledged, only two shall serve that are so often 

A popUiA/i. as I think all women knowe them ; the one Paris, 

ending. at least, what she desired the most ; the other 

A platonic intrigue bi-a, celebrated for hys riches. 

the truths of science. 

An unclassified, natural pu , • .. x ^i. i. i 

- '^ Tge obiection to the various styles 

-^ ' . . .^. . , , .„ will tolerate, for all Palmistrie 

Darwinism cnticised by a eorilla. ^ i. v ^ i 

^ ^ . , , , / ® , t many knowe, but only 

The Orthodox routed by Paradox. j ^ j 

A rival's deduction killed by a fact ^^ ^^^^^ ^^ i^ ^^^ 



PROSE, 1904 19 

lying that maketh PalmiBtrie. One may be a lyar without being 
a Pahniste, sorely one might be a Palmiste and escape the 
opprobrium. 

Nowe then goe wee to the most important imputations laid to 
the POOBE Palmistes. First, that there is required no knowledge 
of Palmistrie but rayther a knowledge of mankind. Secondly, 
it is the mother of Lyes. Thirdly, it is the Nurse of Hope. 
And lastly and chiefly they cry with open mouth that Parliament 
hath mayde it for ever illegal. 

I could answer all these at some length were I not confirmed 
in the opinion that alreadie my arguments hath convinced you. 

If you loye not Palmistrie then this much curse I must send 
you, that while you liye you live in ignorance of what youll be 
and never get the poorer by my skille, and when you die you'll 
marvel what we knowe. 

APIS OCULUS 

THE DISCRIMINATOR 

Ugal is an island in the Southern Seas, and its inhabitants, 
though belonging to that class usually referred to as ''natives," 
are people of enlightened ideas. The island, a charming spot, is 
at present large enough for their needs, the love of justice is their 
ruling passion, and their only official is the person called by a 
Ugalian word meaning " The Discriminator." 

" The office of Discriminator is hereditary, and at the time of 
my story was held by a youth named Kara. He was young for 
such a responsible post, but his father had lately died. Kara was 
the eldest son, and the Ugalians conservative, as all enlightened 
people are when they obey their instincts^ never thought of 
questioning his fitness for the post. The Discriminator has to act 
as umpire at the Queen's Race, one of the most important events 
of the Ugalian year. Among this people the charming custom 
obtains of appointing every year an unmarried maiden to be their 
Queen. Although the Queen cannot interfere at all in the general 
economy of the island, the position has certain privileges, not the 
least being the right to bestow her hand in marriage where she 
pleases, during her reign. The appointment being for one year 



«0 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

only, the Ugalians, to fill the annual yacancy, do what all enlightened 
people do in such cases — they hold a competitive examination in 
a subject which has no connexion with the duties of the post 

The maidens run a race, the goal being a bowl filled with the 
juice of a red berry. The winner must mark her breast with this 
juice, and whoeyer first shows the mark is proclaimed Queen. 

When Kara became Discriminator only two competitors, Vea 
and Ilya, had any real chance. Now, Kara and Yea loyed each 
other, but there were obstacles — Kara's uncles. Kara, though of 
aristocratic birth, was poor, and his two uncles determined that he 
should establish the fortunes of his house by marrying a rich 
maiden. Ilya was wealthy, and was not unaware that Kara was 
the most personable young man on the island. Yea was beautiful 
and poor. Her only weapon against avuncular prejudice was her 
fleetness of foot. Often did she steal at night from her father's 
hut and glide down to the seashore, where Kara met her, and 
under his direction she practised starts and short and long 
" sprints," in preparation for the race. 

When the day came, all Ugalia lined the course. Kara's uncles 
took up positions conveniently near the finish with confident hearts. 
They knew nothing of Yea's moonlight flights, for they had been 
occupied at tliese times in another part of the island super- 
intending the training of Ilya — each alternately acting as critic 
and running beside her to '* make the pace." 

The Discriminator stood beside the goal alone, holding in his 
hands the victor's crown — a vrreath of white flowers. He gave 
the signal, and the race began. In a few seconds it was seen that 
two of the competitors had far outstripped the rest They were 
Yea and Hya — and they were level. Kara's uncles turned pale 
under their dusky skins, and gnawed their underlips when they 
saw the two girls dart past them neck and neck. Now they were 
together at the bowl, together they stretched their hands to the 
juice. . . . Yea touched her breast first ! But ... ah ! who saw 
it? Uya in her haste splashed the liquid slightly, and before 
either girl could lift her encrimsoned hand from the bowl one 
small drop had fallen on her breast Ilya neither saw nor felt it. 
No one saw it— except Kara and Yea. 



PROSE, 1904 SI 

They looked at each other, one fleeting glance passed between 
them, bnt it was long enough for these simple island chUdren to 
exchange their inmoet thoughts. Often they had discussed the 
possible issues of the race, and though neither had foreseen the 
actual eyent, each knew at once how the Discriminator would act. 
His look contained no inquiry, but a mute assurance of the words 
which followed— hers showed only confidence in him. The breath- 
less silence was broken by the Discriminator's yoice. According 
to custom he proclaimed the winner as Queen, then stepping 
forward he placed the crown upon her head. Reader, upon whose 
head did he place it ? Remember that Kara was Discriminator, 
and that a Ugalian's ruling passion is Justice. Remember that 
Yea loved and honoured him, that he loved Yea, that Ilya loved 
him ; remember that small red drop, and decide ! 

ALTIORA PETO 

THE NEW AND THE OLD 

The last time I met Erchie I saw at once that he had some- 
thing important to tell me. 

"I was lookin' for ye," he said, "for I've had an odd 
experience." 

" What was that, Erchie 1 " I asked. 

"I was sittin' the ither nicht by the fireside," he began, 
'< Jinnet bein' oot for messages, when the door opened and a gey 
queer-lookin' couple cam' in. Ane was a tall, grey-beardit man, 
wi' a long blue goon an' a badge on his airm like what the boys o' 
the buit-black brigade used to weer. The ither was a wee chap 
wi' a lot o' reid aboot him. There were reid stockings, a reid 
grauvit, and a tammy wi* a red toorie. 

"Before I had time to tell them to come awa' in, the wee 
ane says : 

" * You're Erchie ; I ken ye frae yer picture.' 

" * Dae ye ? ' says I. * I'm gled I'm like it. But ye see, I'm 
the rale oreeginal.' 

" * Yer feet's no' sae flet either,' he says. 

" * Are they no' ? ' I says. * I'm sorry I canna let ye see my 
hert, so's ye could tell me if it's warm enough.' 



«« THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

" * Neyer heed,' said he, quite cheery. ' Dae ye ken me frae 
my picture?' 

"*No,' said I. *I ken ye by yer impidence an' yer toorie. 
Te're no blate.' 

"*No,' says he, kind o' huffy, 'I'm no blate; I'm Wee 
Macgreegor.' 

" 'Te are that,' says I. ' Jist Wee Mac, an' yell ne'er be 
onything else ; but ye're fine as ye are.' 

" ' He's a rale divert,' says the auld man, speakin' for the firat 
time, ' though I'm no' shair I ken what a divert is ; it's no' a word 
I ever use mysel'.' 

" * Maybe it's no' guid enough for ye,' says I. * An' for that 
maitter, wha may ye be ? ' 

"'Edie; Edie Ochiltree. Ye shairly ken auld Edie, the 
gaberlunzie man ? ' 

" * Whit's gaberlunzie 1 ' says Macgreegor. 

'* ' Jist a beggar wi' a meal poke,' says the auld ane. ' But 
maybe ye'll no' ken whit a beggar is noo ; ye've been gettin' on 
sae weel since I left the warld.' 

'* ' Deed no,' says I, thinkin' he was takiu' a rise oot o' us, 
' we ha vena sich a thing. Whit was it like ? ' 

"*Erchie, ye auld footer,' says Macgreegor, * ye're bletherin'. 
We've plenty o' beggars.' 

** * Whist, Macgreegor,' says I, * an' dinna disappint Edie.' 

*' ' Are ye ony freen o' Prince Edie ? ' says the callant to him. 

" ' Wha's Prince Edie?' says the auld man ; * ye're no' meanin' 
Prince Charlie?' 

***Naw, I'm no',' says Macgreegor, *an' I'm no' meanin' 
Mary Queen o' Scots or King William cross't Byne Watter. I'm 
meanin* the wee chap aboot my ain size that's aye gettin' 
photygraphed.' 

" ' Whit's photygraphed ? ' says Edie. 

'* ' Da ye no' ken it's gettin' yer likeness ta'en ? I min' fine 
when I got my likeness ' 

"*Ay, it's a' in the hook, Macgreegor,' says I. * Ye needna 
start on that.' 

" ' I'll ha'e to tell the Shirra aboot this,' says Edie to himsel'. * 



PROSE, 1904 2S 

" ' Whitna Shirra,' says I, wonderin' if he was gaun to mak' a 
o' it. 

<< ' When I say the Shirra,' says he, ' there's but ane I could 
mean.' 

" * Maybe in your day ; but there's twa or three noo. There's 
Shirra Quthrie, him that tried Du£^ for bein' disorderly in the 
Mull o' Kintyre vaults. Dear kens whit they micht ha'e done to 
Duffy if I hadna explained he was jist singin' *' Dark Lochnagar " 
in a new key. ''Gae wa', Duffy," says the Shirra, "an' min' 
there's nae keys like the auld keys." ' 

"*It wasna Guthrie but Scott I was meanin',' says Edie. 
'Sir Walter Scott — him that wrote aboot me.' 

"'That's it, Edie,' says I. 'I couldna think whaur I had 
heard o' ye afore. But I min' noo — it was in a book Wullie got 
at the Sawbath schule for sayin' the 119th Psalm aff by hert. It 
wasna exactly a non-stop performance, for they gie'd him twa rests 
to tak' a sook at his orange. An' I read " Bob Boy " aince,' I says. 

" ' Bob Boy,' says Wee Macgreegor, ' I min' him fine. I saw 
him in the Princess, when Aunt Purdie got tickets frae the 
dairyman that has the bills in his winda.' 

" * Whit's the Princess ? ' says Edie. 

"'Listen to him,' says Macgreegor. 'He doesna ken the 
Princess ; maybe he disna ken the Empire or the Zoo either.' 

" ' There's some things,' says I, no' wantin' to hurt the auld 
man's feelin's, ' that boys like you shouldna ken — the Princess is 
a theatre.' 

" ' An' dae ye tell me,' says the beggar, ' that Bob Boy's in the 
theatre?' 

***No' the noo,' says I. 'It's "The Grup o' Airmour-Plated 
Steel " or " The Warst Man in the Sautmarket " that's on the noo.' 

'"The Sautmarket,' says Edie; 'that's whaur Bailie Nicol 
Jarvie cam' frae.' 

"'The Bailie was a bobby-dazzler,' says Macgreegor. 'He 
was the boy to fecht. Yon was fine when he got the reid-hot 
poker an' near roasted the Hielan'man. It was better than the 
clown in the pantomime.' 

" * What's a pantomime 1 ' says Edie. 



«4 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

'' ' Oh, a baurlej. Ye bate me at askin' thmgs, Edie,' says 
Macgreegor. 

'' ' An' ye're no' easy bate, either, Macgreegor/ says I. * Bat 
I've been wonderin' if it wad be impident o' me to ask what 
brocht the twa o* ye here.* 

'' ' I was playin' wi' my barra,' says Macgreegor, ' when Edie 
cam' up to me. "Here's yin o' the students in the procession 
that's forgot to tak' his fancy claes aff," I said to Katie, an' then 
he asked me for Mr. Macpherson, an' I brocht him here.' 

" ' The bairn's richt,' says the beggar, an' I cam' wi' a message 
frae the Shirra. He bade me tell ye that he has been readin' 
ye're bit book, an' Macgreegor's tae, an' he hasna enjoyed onything 
sae much sine he cam' to whaur him an' me is noo.' 

'" Whaur's that?' says Macgreegor, but Edie took nae notice 
o' him. 

" ' He said I was to tell ye that there's a lot o' your words 
that he's no verra fameeliar wi'. He tell't me some o' them — 
"menoj," an' "nyaf," an' "smout," an' ^'skoosh cars," an' 
" swarees," an' as shair's daith they put me in min' o' some o' the 
things that Doostersdeevil used to say.' 

" * Wha's Doostersdeevil 1 ' says Macgreegor ; an' wi' that Edie 
took to lauchin' an' could hardly be got to stop. 

" ' Doostersdeevil,' he said at the hiner-en', * was an unco 
cleyer German. He was a kin' o' treesure-hunter.' 

" ' Did he dig for Weekly Record medallions ? ' says Macgreegor. 
' My Paw dug up a ten-shillin' jdn, but they fined him a pound 
for spylin' a man's gairden, an' he said it wasna much profit, 
efter a'.' 

" * Better a fine than bein' put in jyle,' says I. 

"Tve been in jyle mysel',' says Edie, *yon time I led 
Doostersdeevil the dance ' ; an' he set to the lauchin' again. 

" ' Was it a cake-walk like this ye led him ? ' says Macgreegor, 
an' the brat set aff roun' the kitchen, his heid hingin' back an' 
near touchin' his heels. 

"Edie turned fair white wi' fricht. 'Is there onything 
wrang wi' the laddie ? ' he whispers to me. 

" * No' a thing,' says I, * it's jist a new gaime.' 



PROSE, 1904 26 

" *Lod,' says he, Tm gled Tm jist here on a veesit. There 
was anither bit o' the message,' he gaed on. 'Ye were to tell 
Hugh Foolis frae the Shirra that he tried to keep it daork himsel' 
at first, but it wadna work. " Tell him," he said, " that makin' 
books is a kin' o' murder, an' is shair to come oot. Foulis '11 be 
identified the same's The Unknown was." ' 

" * Wha was The Unknown,' says Macgreegor, ' an' whit's 
iden ' 

" * Macgreegor,' says I, * it's time you ,' an' wi' that Jinnet 

was shakin' me by the shouther. 

" *Erchie,' says she, *ye're an aufu* man to sleep.' 

" * Ay, an* to dream nonsense,' says I." 

DANIEL SCOTT 



A JOURNEY TO THE SEASIDE 

In the Style of Sir Thomas Malobt 

How Sir Percy Vale, his Lady and his bracket, journeyed 
to the Sea 

It fell on a time that Sir Percy was sore ill, and the weather 
was hot, so the leech said his advice to the intent that he might 
betake himself to the sea. That is me loath said Sir Percy but 
sith I must needs it shall be so. But his Lady was passing glad 
thereof and made much trussing of clothes. So it befell after 
within a sennight all came prepared. So on a day Sir Percy and 
his Dame set forth on his chariot without horses, as the guise is 
at this time, and they rode more than a pace till they came to 
Fenchurch, and there took train unto the South end, in Estsex, 
whereas Sir Percy had a barget. And many men at Fenchurch holp 
Sir Percy the which passing courteously gentily disparpled handsel 
among them. And they all accorded that by his largeness the 
curtiest Knight he was. Namely he gave large guerdon to him 
that guarded the train to the intent that he and his Lady should 
take post alone. For, he said, we will not hold speech of neither 
more nor less, neither at the beginning, neither at the ending. 



86 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

And 80 in sooth he thought at that time. Not for then he 
mistaken. 

Now it fortuned that the knight had with him a bracheti a 
glasting beast and one of great annoy. By malfortune at the 
departition of the train this brachet, being held by no lune, sprang 
to the ground and voided Sir Percy, the which, wonderly wroth, 
yede foot hot after him, and that so eagerly that all men had 
wonder. Right so the train let make for to move and none might 
stop it. 

Now it happed near hand in other part, there was found an 
uncouth sort, of different strain in estate and range to Sir Percy, 
being but villains and of low parage, but lacking no manner of 
spending. Right now the brachet sprang in among them, and Sir 
Percy wot not what to do, but one there, seeing what had betid, 
thrang him from behind, whiles other cleight him deliverly by the 
arms, and he wist not what had become but rashed among them. 
All so soon as he who had taken guerdon heard the fare at this 
array, he called out — What cheer. Sir Knight, what cheer t Sir 
Percy was too astonied for to speak but one there, hight Arry, 
cried back at him — What ho, ancient, what ho ! 

' And when Sir Percy wist what had befallen he had such 
sorrow and heaviness there might no tongue tell it. And in sooth 
the sort was strange. The damosels had much false ouches y-set 
with stones and pearls in latten and their mantles were purpled in 
many colours. Everych mocked and juped at the orgulous knight 
and one with a horn, a much young man, cleped Alf, blew some 
deadly motes. Then they demanded of him truage for his siege, 
and some made no other cheer but clipping and kissing, while 
others gave themselves to chaunt, asking many times if one Sir 
William Bailey might not return to his home. All this term the 
brachet was questing like twenty couple hounds, and the knight 
was wood with rage. Then they made ready a feast of eating, 
drinking and cheer out of measure, and enforced Sir Percy to 
drink there the strongest wine that ever he drank, him thought, 
and therewith he was much chafed. And all that betid to him 
there is no maker can rehearse the tenth part of it. But within a 
while Alf and Arry had language together, and there sprang up 



PROSE, 1904 27 

debate; then incontinent began a great stour, and either gave 
other many hard strokes, being marvellous good men of their 
hands. The French book saith they fought near half a day and 
never rested but right little, and there was none of them both but 
had grimly wounds. One had such a buffet that the stroke 
troubled his brains, whiles the other fell down noseling so he brast 
out in blood. All this while the brachet made the grisliest 
groans, for in the recounter both it and Sir Percy had many sore 
scathes that it was pity to see. At the last they were concluded. 
In a while the train let stop, and him who watched it came to 
spere after the knight and the mountenance of his miscomfort. 
Much araged Sir Percy dressed him thenceward, all that ever he 
might fling, to his wife which was in great dole, tray and tene, and 
them twain wept with heaviness. When had dawed a little the 
Lady she searched his wounds & lay there soft salves. And by 
when he was wield himself they had come to the rivage where lay 
great multitude of ships, galleys, carracks, dromounds and cogs, 
but Sir Percy would none of them, nor the barget which he ought, 
but cried aloud — By the faith of my body right now I repenteth 
me, & shall the days of my life, that ever I let make this journey. 
And the Lady — ^Y-wis the brachet is in default, if he had not 
been this had not happed. But the brachet retrayed with his 
maims, kept himself covert <fe softly made his moan. 

RUPERT LISTER 



DESCRIPTIVE PASSAGE WITHOUT ADJECTIVES 
Fashions for Autumn 

Autumn is upon us, and those who like myself are compeUed 
to return to London are now reluctantly laying by muslins, lawns, 
insertions, and transparencies — the daintinesses and delights of 
the summer which passes away too soon. We may, however, 
solace regret by glancing at the windows of the shops which now, 
as ever, display so seductively the fashions of the hour. Look in 
at Messrs. Reid and Mayne's, and you will see, as I did yesterday, 
a coat and skirt of tweed, whose hue recalled the heather I had 



28 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

left 80 lately. I could almost feel the wind and sun and hear the 
bees buzzing as I looked at it. The coat was built squarely and 
somewhat severely, as we saw others in the spring, and carried a 
collar of satm, on to which braid was applique, the whole cun- 
i^gly again suggesting heather in colour and design. The skirt 
was modishly cut, and evidently designed by simplicity and 
adequacy of style for the exiguities of the troHoir. The seams, 
which display a multiplicity and variety of strapping, have been 
manoeuvred by Messrs. Reid and Mayne with the dexterity — ^I 
would almost say the chicanery — one expects from them. 

And what do I say of the buttons ? Madame, there are none ! 
Then how does it fasten ? Ah ! Go to Messrs. Reid and Mayne 
and ask to be shown the ''m du cceur** Enough said. The 
costume is in truth the apotheosis of savoir /aire 1 She who has 
wisdom will buy it and, having arrayed herself therein, will isM^ 
calmly the fog and smoke of an October in London. 

Then for the drawing-room and the boudoir, the sofa and the 
fireside ! We must have frocks ^x>Mr causer , pour rire, pour baire 
(le the, hien-entendu). Pay a visit to Messrs. Larkins ; there you 
wiU find en effet gracefully draping its folds in robes and tea-gowns, 
and the material which reached England but lately — gradeuee. 
This greets you in a variety of shades which bewilder while they 
enchant. 

I must tell you of a frock I saw which was carried out in 
gracieuse and which makes me ache with longing whenever I think 
of it. The colour suggested a bed of asparagus by moonlight^ and 
as cloudiness of texture is the characteristic of gracieuse the hue 
was certainly very happily chosen. The designs was of the kind 
which ravishes by simplicity and which, relying on suggestion 
rather than on performance, at once stirs the imagination and 
delights the eye. Lightly, dreamily, irresponsibly, the skirt shook 
forth flounces. These pointed the way to a hem which would 
coquet gracefully with the ground as the wearer moved. Round 
the shoulders, as a cloud rests on the hilltops, floated a mist of 
lace. The bodice was cut en ravanche and was not ornamented 
save for grignets of the lace which were irregularly disposed upon 
it. The fastenings were cleverly concealed under vinedons of the 



PROSE, 1904 29 

material. The sleeyes resembled nothing so much as monntain 
streams in the manner in which they issued from the mist and 
flowed down ever more widely until they were suddenly "cribbed, 
cabined, and confined," and lost in the mist of a waterfall (again 
the lace). The cost of the frock is an absurdity ! 

I also saw a daintiness in samite — the colour of a horse- 
chestnut and of a glossiness which implored while it defied 
description. Simplicity, nay " tailor-maidishness," ruled here. 
It was simply a witchery of stitchery ! Frivolity, however, burst 
out in the buttons which — alternately of gold and silver — were 
cut into the shapes of clubs, spades, hearts, and diamonds. This 
would do excellently for a morning at Bridge. 

Chicette is still with us, and she who likes to meet the 
weather halfway will do well to provide herself with an example 
of Mr. Remington's entourages. They are a defence against the 
brutality of November. 

Hats are fast reaching the nadir of popularity. I heard 
rumours, indeed, of a strike among the workmen at Messrs. 
Bowler and Topper ; but on the whole, I think that a " hat- wave " 
may be confidently looked for in 1905. 

Of gloves and shoes I have not space to speak ; they are, as 
ever, the delight and the extravagance of Dame Fashion. The 
chausisure known as "Hermes" gains ground hourly. But the 
price? Alack! "Ask the purse what thou shouldst buy." And 
so. Adieu ! Ladies. 

K. T. STEPHENSON 

EPIGRAMS 

Good people should remember that dressing badly does not 
necessarily help the poor. 

Love denied becomes, to all outward seeming, more and more 
intense; brighter and brighter it bums, and its colours become 
more and more unearthly until, suddenly, it goes out. From the 
beginning, silently, working beneath a show of increasing strength, 
a decay has set in, not heeded, until, at one blow, it accom- 
plishes its aim. 



80 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

A TRUE STORY 

"Oh, come, Burn, this is sheer foolery!" I said. "I don*t 
believe there are any houses in this cursed country. Let us give 
up short cuts and get back to the high road ; that must take ua 
somewhere some time. I am tired of lifting my bicycle over 
gates." 

Bum stopped and looked round over the mist-sodden fields. 

"A wise suggestion, my son," he said calmly, "if only we 
knew how to get to the high road.*' 

I was startled. 

" Don't you know where we are, then ? " I asked quickly. 

** Haven't the faintest idea." 

My terrier Tim, curled up in his basket slung to my saddloy 
poked up his head to see what we were stopping for. I lifted 
him out ; if this tramping over fields and lifting of machines was 
to go on he might as well run. Instead of careering about as 
usual, he lifted one paw and sniffed suspiciously. 

There we stood in the mist and the gathering twili^^t, and 
even Tim was subdued. 

"It is no good waiting," I said impatiently. "Let us go 
forward as straight as we can." 

We had hardly started again when Burn said in a tone of 
relief: 

" There's a house at last." 

Pushing a wicket-gate we passed into a garden, and found 
ourselves facing a good-sized buUding. 

" There are no lights," I said dubiously ; " it strikes me there 
is no one at home." * 

"Dare say not," returned Burn, scanning the front of the 
house, " but there will be in a few minutes." 

He made for a small conservatory, and as the door gave to 
his hand, looked round with a grin. 

"Nine people out of every dozen forget their conservatory," 
he said. 

"It's fairly cool, though," I objected, "to walk into another 
man's house like this." 



PROSE, 1904 81 

''It is cooler to sleep in the fidds, with everything sopping 
wet," retorted Boniy whose notions of ethics are elementary. 

Leaving our bicycles in the conservatory we went into a small 
room, with books to the ceiling all round the walls, and a writing- 
table in the window, strewn with papers. There was a dank, 
unpleasant smell of mildew, and leather bindings rotted by the 
damp. I peered uneasily about in the half-light. '' What a dirty 
hole for a man to work in," I said. 

Bum opened the door, and passed out into the hall. 

"By Jove! It is a queer place, and no mistake!" he 
exclaimed, as a large mat of old spiders' web fell on his head. 

The hall was damp and slimy, and in the corner stood an 
umbrella-stand with three rotting umbrellas in it, while on a 
row of pegs above it was an uncouth row of sordid, moth-eaten 
coats and hats. 

"Where is Timi" I said sharply, for the sake of talking 
about something wholesome. ** Here, Tim ! Tim ! " 

My voice echoed back with a strange muffled clang. 

I stepped hastily into the library again. Tim was crouching 
on the threshold of the conservatory — his tail tucked in, his back 
bristling, the picture of abject terror. 

"Come here, sir!" I said roughly, making a grab at him; 
but he dodged my hand and fled forth into the mist. 

" It's too dark to see anything properly," said Bum in a low 
tone. " I'll light my lamp and bring it along." 

He looked rather queer as the light fell on his face. 

We went into the next room without a word. It was evidently 
the drawing-room ; a grand piano stood open near the door. I 
ran my fingers over the keys and awoke one faint tinkle that 
sounded so uncanny I stepped back in a hurry, and a lot of plaster 
came clattering from the ceiling. 

Remnants of carpet still clung to the stairs and muffled our 
footsteps as we went up. A door stood open before us when we 
reached the top, and we went into the room. 

The remains of a scarlet blazer hung from the bed-post — I 
know it was only a scarlet blazer, I feel sure of it — on a chain 
was a mouldering portmanteau, half unpacked ; the bed had been 



3« THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

occupied, bat not for long, for the dingy piUowB were not 
misplaced; the bed-clothes had been flung 0% all together, and 
trailed from the farther bedpost to the floor. 

I was explaining to myself that to walk six miles over soggy 
fields, and to lift a bicycle over a score or so of gates, makes a 
fellow's heart thump a bit, when Bum caught hold of my arm, 
and I thought at first that he had broken my humerus. But I 
forgot that when I looked at him. You could see the whites 
of his eyes all round, his face was blue, his lips drawn back from 
tightly clenched teeth. 

Instinctively I followed the direction of his glance. 

My impression is that we took the stairs together at a single 
bound. I maintain that Bum would have left his bicycle behind ; 
it was I who ran both machines down the drive, and I confess 
that I should have abandoned them at the front gate if I had not 
fortunately found it flung, long since, from its hinges. 

It may have been three miles away that we stopped to mount, 
and Tim joined us, whining and shivering and looking back, with 
his back still bristling and his tail tucked in. Bum persists, now, 
that he suddenly thought the house too damp to sleep in, and that 
we didn't see anything. 

Well, perhaps we didn't. Bum ought to know. If any fellow 
likes to make sure, I can give him the address of the house; I 
found it out afterwards. Not that either of us wants to see it 
again — for we don't — neither does Tim. 



INTERVENTIONS 

By Henby James 

" Continuez Messieurs et Alesdames, coniinuez toujoun t ** 
That well-known utterance of the artist instructor has, it would 
seem, been the only direction that Mr. Henry James has found 
it necessary to give to the characters in his latest novel. While 
they continue to talk to each other he will take their portraits — 
and not only the portraits of themselves, but of their rooms, their 
furniture — ^in a word, their atmospheres. In '^ Interventions " 



PROSE, 1904 SS 

the plot can neyer be said to '' thicken " — in fact, one may aak 
after reading it whether there is a plot at alL A young American, 
who has been studying Art in Faris, comes to London with the 
intention of devoting himself to journalism. After a winter in 
London, however, he marries, forsakes the journalistic field in 
which he has not succeeded in raising any crop to speak of, and, 
taking his wife to Rome, he returns, not to nature, but to art. 
Mr. Heniy James has never been an enthusiast for " plot-culture," 
but— do we require a plot from a man who is neither a Family 
Herald nor an Anarchist ? What does it matter to us that Roger 
Trentham gets no dinner on the day of his arrival in London for 
many chapters, because he is sitting for his " impartial " portrait t 
Roger Trentham (the young man from Paris) is a character after 
the author's own heart. He has a passion that amounts almost 
to a monomania for dissecting, analysing, and classifying his 
surroundings. 

Every one and everything that comes under the eye of this 
observant young man is analysed, parsed, resolved into its com- 
ponent parts, and docketed. "His mind contained a set of 
pigeon-holes in which his acquaintances were placed. These he 
would review from time to time and furbish up the labels outside." 

Trentham spends his first week in town at the house of a 
cousin, Mrs. Whitcomb, wife of the Rev. John Whitcomb, Vicar 
of St. Boniface's, Regent's Park. While he is waiting for her 
in the drawing-room he experienced a ghastly desire to turn a 
somersault in the middle of it. Anything to combat the feeling 
that he would become en mite himself if he remained still. He 
notes '' the flowers placed in various inadequate positions in the 
room betrayed a talent for organisation which was dissociated from 
any artistic subtlety in manoeuvre." 

The vicar's lady, indeed, is a bom organiser. At dinner sub- 
sequently — " Her conversational methods were those of a carpenter. 
She could saw off any convenient length of wood. She could, if 
necessary, make a plain deal table and put it on all fours, but as 
to polishing it ! Roger admitted to himself that french-polishing 
was after aJl a 'close' trade, and why should his cousin be ex- 
pected to show a knowledge of it? She had her method, however 
3 



34 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

a decifliyeness which floated over every obstacle. Another guest, 
also an artist, had lately been in Borne, and haying proclaimed 
the name of this town as the captain of a river steamer does his 
places of call, she smiled inclusively at the late Italian sojourner, 
and, dropping Roger at this landing-stage, she passed on as one 
who had no concern at this particular haven." Mr. James's style 
is always delightful, and yet one wonders at times how Roger in 
the course of his perpetual analysis of himself and every one and 
everything around him ever found time to eat his dinner, or how 
he ever gathered himself into a sufiiciently synthetic whole to 
propose to the altogether charming Sibylla Canton. Sibylla is the 
one element in the story which resists analysis, as indeed an 
element should. We wish to state unreservedly that we think her 
the most charming portrait of any in Mr. James's varied collection. 
It is impossible to say that she is like any one we met before. She 
is herself, irresistible, entrancing, distracting. Roger realises that 
the methods of the Public Analyst will not do here from the first 
moment of their meeting. "She stood before him a delicate 
surprise, an unanswered question, piquantly insistent, and yet with 
an elusive air of having answered it to her ovm satisfaction. 
Here was some one who refused to enter any of his well-stocked 
but ever-gaping pigeon-holes. She was animatedly irrelevant to 
everything that he had been saying or thinking during his 
previous life. He was conscious of an intellectual stridency about 
his manner and conversation which he had never detected before. 
He felt that a question would be a bristling inquiry from hia 
mouth, and that he might trouble the waters of intercourse by 
rushing in as a fool rather than as an angel. He showed an 
incoherency in his first remarks which, on a subsequent recollec- 
tion of the interview, pricked him with a poignancy undiminished 
by the lapse of time. Sibyl, however, was blissfully unaware that 
she had caused a flutter in the pigeon-cote, and, construing his 
inarticulate murmurs of tea and coffee rightly, declined to have 
any at present. At that moment the piano stopped. ' Was that 
Schubert ? ' she asked. ' Yes,' he admitted ; then, with a crushing 
sense of his own blatancy, *I heard it often in Paris.' 'My 
brother is going to Paris as an art student. Do you know any- 



PROSE, 1904 85 

thing abont the life there?' He hesitated, then plunging desper- 
ately, ' I was a student at Julian's for three years,' and he went 
away with the stream." 

Want of space precludes further quotation. We can only 
assure all lovers of Mr. Henry James that when they have read 
^'Interventions" they will re-echo Stevenson's verdict upon 
Roderick Hudson : " Sir, you have never done anything better 
than this." k. t. btephenbon 

ASPECTS OF DETERMINISM 

OB 

(In words of one syllable) 
What do ws Mean bt the Phbase '*Fbbb to Act"? 

In this age, when there seems to be no bound set to the range 
of what we may learn of man and the world in which he lives, 
when the great store of facts, which we mark with due care and 
set each in its own place, swells day by day, when at each step it 
grows more clear that what rules the world is no mere chance, but 
strict laws, to which all must bow, it is not strange that we pause 
and ask : " What is the place of man in this great scheme ? These 
laws by which all life that we know — beast and bird and fish — 
are bom and reach their growth, and die to give place once more 
to new life — must not we too yield to them ? " And so comes the 
first great doubt : we ask if in truth all that we do is not bound 
by a law, which we may not break, but which shapes from our 
birth the course we are to take. The stern chain in which cause 
links with cause through all time seems to crush us and to break 
dovm our pride. Is not the claim that we are free to act and to 
seek our own good a mere boast, a vain dream which our own 
thought shapes? And yet it is just by the fact that we can so 
doubt that our doubts may be set at rest. If we were in truth 
mere slaves of the law of the world, mere links in the chain of 
cause, how could we so doubt and ask? Nay, how could we know 
that there is such a chain ? Can the mind which grasps it and 
joins the links into one whole be a part of it? The facts which 
form for us what we know of the chain come to us each in its own 



86 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

place in time, and yet the mind in one act can grasp them, and 
Hnd them into one. How can the mind, then, be, like them, a 
thing in time f 

But 8tiU it may be said: *'We grant this point; we grant 
that there is a mind or Self which knows, which is not in the great 
chain of cause ; bnt yet does this show that we are free to act f " 
But to this we may say : '^ If we may grant this, what does the 
chain of cause mean? We could not know the mere facts which 
form the links of the chain, much less grasp the whole, if there 
were not a Self to know. This chain, which seems to bind us, 
and which we in vain strive to shake off, is a chain which we 
forge by our own thought and shape by our own act. Nor is 
this all ; for what in truth do we mean by the word ' free ' ? Free 
from what ? To be free must mean to be free to fight some force 
which binds us — just this force^ in fact, which rules all the world 
that we know ; were there not such a force, and did we not feel 
it, in which sense could we claim to be freol And so we come to 
the truth : we forge a chain that we may break it ; we shape a law 
that we may bend it to our will ; we form a world that our life 
may be no vain dream, but a Force which works in it and through 
it to one sure end." a. h. sidgwick 

SENTENCES CONTAINING ALL THE LETTERS OF THE 
ALPHABET AND ALL THE PARTS OF SPEECH 

The effects of jealousy are a vexed question ; they are curiously 
different in man and woman, making the one hate the object ci 
his love, the other (Heaven help her !) detest those who would 
rob her of her prize. m. pabtridoe 

Alas ! in spite of our much-vaunted sanitation, we find that 
influenza, a germ disease^ w still so widely prevalent that, like 
a conqueror, it year by year invades the bodies of those who are 
subject to its noxious influence. " wollaston " 

A child laboriously learns the six-and-twenty letters of the 
PjngliRli alphabet, and lo ! for prize he gains a fairy key which 
reveals to his juvenile mind the secret of all literature and 
eloquence. f. c. helps 



PROSE, 1904 37 

THE GOOSE^IRL AND THE- GANDER 

Once npon a time there lived a Queen with two daughters ; 
one as ugly and wicked as herself, the other (her stepchild) as 
good as she was fair. Now it chanced that a rich young Prince 
was trayelling through the world in search of a bride, and he 
came to the country where this Queen lived. 

" If he sees my sister he will not want to wed me" said the 
ugly daughter. 

** You leave that to me," said her mother, and paid a visit 
to a wise woman in the neighbourhood. That night the Queen 
said to her stepchild, *' You look tired, my daughter, and I think 
that a warm bath would refresh you — see, I have prepared one 
with my own hands." Now the Princess did not know that her 
cruel stepmother had squeezed some hemlock-juice into the 
water, and when she came out of the bath her skin was quite 
brown and speckled like a toad's back ! 

''Next I will comb your hair," said the Queen. She drew 
a poisoned comb through the maiden's tresses and they turned 
into tufts of coarse black wool. 

" Look at me," commanded her stepmother, and as the poor 
child looked up she squirted adders' blood into each eye, and 
lo ! they were no better than boot-buttons. 

"Now you are too frightful to live in the Palace any longer," 
cried they both, and drove the Princess out on to the common 
to tend the geese. 

But one thing the Queen had forgotten to take from her — 
her voice — which was so exquisite that any one hearing it would 
gladly have died for her. When the Frince arrived he rode 
directly to the Palace, across the common, where the goose-girl 
had just driven her flock home to roost. It was sunset, and in 
the distance they heard some one singing in a voice of such en- 
trancing sweetness that the Prince exclaimed, "I shall marry 
none but the owner of that voice." 

The Queen looked out of the window, and when she saw the 
young man advancing she fastened a beautiful mask over her 
ugly daughter's face and led her downstairs. 



38 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

After some conversation the Prince asked the Princess whether 
she could sing, to which the Queen replied that her daughter 
had the Toice of a nightbgale, but, as she had strained her throat, 
the physicians had forbidden her to use it at present. 

When he heard this the Prince was overjoyed, imagining 
that here was the ideal bride he sought ; but before she left them 
alone together the Queen forbade him to salute his betrothed 
except on her fingers, explaining that this was the custom of the 
country. 

When the Prince returned to his inn and told his faithful 
servant the news, Hans laid his hand upon his master's heart and 
said : 

" It does not beat quickly enough for a lover, there is some- 
thing wrong. To-morrow insist on kissing the Princess and make 
her sing to you." 

Accordingly next day the Prince begged his betrothed to sing, 
and the vain, sOly girl, forgetting her mother's warnings, uplifted 
a voice as harsh as a crow's ! 

'' For that I must kiss you," cried the Prince, and directly his 
lips touched the maiden's dieek he discovered the mask. 

Her screams soon brought the Queen to the spot, and when 
the young man upbraided her for her deceit, " Come, come," said 
she, "you will love my daughter fondly after you are married 
to her." 

''Married? I will never marry her ! " cried the Prince. 

At this, in a terrible rage, the Queen struck him with her 
shoe, and turning into a gander he wandered out on to the 
common, where the goose-girl tended her flock. 

When his master did not return, faithful Hans knew that 
something had happened to him, so he ran to consult the wise 
woman. 

"The Prince is changed into a gander," said she. "Go to 
the common at sunset to-night, taking with you an axe and my 
apron. Chop off the Queen's head and throw it from you, but 
be careful not to let a drop of her blood touch you. Then throw 
my apron first over the gander and afterwards over the gooee- 
girL" 



PROSE, 1904 89 

Hans thanked the witch, gave her a purse of gold, and, 
taking her apron, departed. 

That evening at sunset faithful Hans hid himself behind a 
bush on the common ; and just as the goose-girl was driving her 
flock home to roost, the Queen came out of the Palace. 

" Will you marry my daughter now ? " she asked. " Never ! " 
cried the gander. 

Then the wicked woman seized the bird to strangle it, but 
at that moment Hans sprang out at her, and with his axe drove 
her head right off her shoulders. 

Directly her blood gushed out it turned into a great sheet of 
water, but forgetting the witch's warning, Hans let some of it 
faU on his foot, which instantly becaihe lifeless. 

He now threw her head into the sea, and it became a 
beautiful ship; next he threw the apron over the gander, who 
once more resumed his proper shape, and then over the ugly goose- 
girl, who stood up a beautiful Princess. 

" Here is my rightful bride," cried the Prince, falling on his 
knee before her, for he had heard her wonderful voice calling her 
geese; and now Hans had no fault to find with his master's 
heart-beats. 

They got into the ship and sailed safely away to the Prince's 
kingdom, where they were married and lived happily ever 
afterwards, but the faithful Hans continued lame to his dying 
day. 

JANE BAYLY-JONES 



AND THE MORAL OF THAT IS 

«( Laugh and grow fat," says the proverb. And the moral is 
— " Where corpulence is bliss, 'tis jolly to have size." 

** Few and short were the prayers we said." And the moral 
** If you're waking, call us early, call us early, mother dear." 



" Mary had a little lamb." And the moral is — "Enough is as 
good as a feast." 



40 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



AND THE MORAL OF THAT IS 

" Truth is stranger than fiction." And the moral is — " If you 
tell a lie — tell a good 'un." 

''Necessity is the mother of Invention/' And the moral of 
that is—" Another • story.' " 

KENNETH P. BROWN 

"Accounts and geese both have to be cooked." And the 
moral of that is — " If you want a man done, do him yourself." 

" You can see an acrobat walk on a slack wire, and an organist 
jump on a slack choir." And the moral of that is— "You can't 
make a somersault without breaking legs." 

"The good boy does not complain when the nurse rubs the 
soap into his eyes." And the moral of that is — " Let us soap for 
the best." 

"The sulky man and the camel have both got the hump." 
And the moral of that is — " We know what we are, but we know 
not what we may be." 

'' It is only a mean man who means to augment his means by 
being amenable in mien." And the moral of that is — " The more 
the means the less the meaning." 

KATE CLABKB 

" A stitch in time saves nine." And the moral of that is — " It 
is very important never to mend too late." 

" We cannot help it if we have no brains, but it is our own 
fault if we are without manners." And the moral of that is — 
" Half an oaf is better than low bred." 

*' The peppermint drop in the mouth of a child is more pungent 
than the odour of sanctity." And the moral of that is — " Look 
after the young, or the old must look after themselves." 



PROSE, 1904 41 

SIX EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF JANE EYRE, 
SUPPOSING HER TO HAVE BEEN SUCCESSFUL IN 
HER APPLICATION FOR THE POST OFFERED IN 
THE FOLLOWING ADVERTISEMENT : 

"A Young Lady Companion, aged 18 to 25, is required by a 
married middle-aged lady, whose residence is in the most open 
part of Islington. The household, a healthy one, consists of the 
lady, her husband, three servants, and an old and valued canary. 
The young lady should be of good parentage, blessed with good 
health, bright disposition, amiable temper, moderate personal 
attractions, and the education and accomplishments properly 
incidental to upper middle-class life. She would be expected to 
look upon herself as one of the family, and be as cheerfully and 
industrially useful in household matters as the lady herself is. 
There would be good board and lodging, but no salary ! '' 

13 CORNHILL CrBSOBNT, ISLINGTON, 

November 10 
''Reader! picture me youngs desolate, and inexperienced, 
standing before the door of my employers, ignorant of what 
welcome awaited me within. "If this be the open part of 
Islington," I murmured, " Heaven help the enclosed ! " My reso- 
lution almost failed, but the fog was filling my lungs, pride came 
to my aid, and — I rang the bell ! 

A small room, furnished chiefly with antimacassars and 
chromo-lithographs, a small fire, and a small, elderly lady occupied 
in working what looked like another antimacassar ! She took no 
notice of my entry. I felt rather confused when my incon- 
spicuousness was thus pointedly urged, upon me, but I advanced 
firmly until my shadow fell on her work. 

She looked up and whispered^ "Dear me! Are you !'* 

<* I am Jane Eyre, madam," I said composedly. " Speak louder ; 
I am very deaf." " Jane Eyre I " I shouted. ... By this time 
I felt quite unembarrassed and at leisure to attend to my 
surroundings, which were humble but cosy. A loud knock at the 



42 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

door difltarbed me. . . . While he was attending to his tea and 
taking little notice of me I was able to observe him. My Master ! 
seen now for the first time. 

The massive brow shaded with silver curls, the firm jaw and 
chin deep-set with wrinkles, betokened the effects of a fierce 
intellectual fire within. " I shall not be afraid of you," I thought, 
" for I can meet you on your own ground." 

... I am certain that my ill-starred employers cherish some 
family secret. They observed me covertly all the evening. The 
canary did not sing a note. 

November 11 
Presentiments are strange things ! As a child I was subject 
to them. . . . The canary is a large specimen and of a peculiarly 
bright colour. At breakfast, Mr. Brande shouted to Mrs. Brande, 
" The bird is singing." She smiled and said, " Yes, I just hear 
him." Reader, it was not singing ! I went calmly on with my 
breakfast, and affected not to hear. ... I went into the drawing- 
room and caught sight of myself in a mirror. There was not 
much style about my dress, but at least it was tidy, it fitted, and 
it was '* suitable " to my position. 

While thus engaged, I heard a step and saw Mr. Brande 
looking at me curiouidy. " I wish to speak with you, Miss Eyre. 
Kindly sit down. Did you hear me tell Mrs. Brande that the 
canary was singing f" "Yes, sir." "Well, did you notice 
anything ? " "I noticed that it was not singing, sir." ** Ha ! 
your habits of observation have been trained, I see." He paused 
and seemed to scrutinise my face, which met his calmly, and then 
said with suppressed emotion, '' That bird is a painted sparrow ! 
I accidentally let the canary escape some months ago. Afraid of 
the affect which this calamity might have upon Mrs. Brande, and 
unable to procure another of the same size and colour, I committed 
the fraud I have just indicated. Mrs. Brande is deaf. It is, 
therefore, easy to make her believe that the bird is singing. You, 
iu one of the family^ will please io back me up." Hei ceased and 
left me abruptly. . . . '' So ! " . . . She has said nothing about 
it yet 



PROSE, 1904 48 

November 13 
. . . The ease of her manner, at once correct and cordial, 
attracts me. Were it not for the canary, that yellow and silent 
terror. . . . The crisis came this evening. She came into the 
drawing-room and busied herself as usual in arranging the 
antimacassars. I offered to assist. Suddenly she whispered, 
"Have you noticed anything about the canary?" "It is a fine, 
bird," I answered promptly. "But did you hear it sing?" she 
whispered. I could not answer this truthfully; I would not 
answer it untruthfully. I was silent. She continued : " He is 
far too old to sing now, but Mr. Brande, who is old too, fancies it 
does, and I humour him. I expect you, cm one of the family^ to do 
the same." She quitted the room as she spoke. 

November 14 
I have played bezique, the piano, chess, and dummy whist, 
darned tablecloths, and extinguished Mrs. Brande's cap, which 
caught fire. I have had no time to-day to nurse chimeras or 
dream of the future. The curate called, and looked once as if 
about to speak of the canary, but I had deftly placed his small 
table with his cup of tea in such a position that he would most 
likely upset it when rising to approach the cage. This occurred, 
and served to hasten his departure, for which on other counts 
I was sorry. 

December 10 
The curate has called often, but the canary lives in the dining- 
room now, so my heart is at rest. ... I have told you. Reader, 
that I ... I have always felt myself fitted to be the wife of a 
clergyman. 

December 12 
The blow fell at breakfast time. The bird by some means 
escaped from its cage, and after our united efforts to catch it had 
failed, fluttered into the slop-basin full of toarm water/ and 
drowned. I hastily took it out and wrapped it in a clean hand- 
kerchief ; at the same time, unobserved, I poured some coffee into 
the basin which rendered the yellow tinge less noticeable. . . . 



44 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Mrs. and Mr. Brande have been consoling each other. . . . 
Edward called later, and the news of our engagement distracted 
their attention to their prospective loss. Mr. Brande said, " Wc 
most soon Jface a greater loss. We shall lose Jane Eyre^ 

K. T. STEPHENSON 



REFLECTIONS OF A GUY ON THE FIFTH OF 
NOVEMBER 

4.30 P.M. This is an improvement on guarding grass seed 
in the garden. Windsor chair all to myself, and plenty of string. 
New stuffing too, and a pair of boots. 

Seclusion rather wearisome, all the same. Wish some one 
would come and complete my toilette, which at present leaves 
much to the imagination. 

4.45. Really hope that some one will notice my left boot 
before I appear in public. Think they might have put more straw 
in that leg. Perhaps it is the leg and not the boot. Must 
mention it in any case. 

6.0. Hurrah ! here they come — now for some attention. So 
I am to have whiskers, am I? Do be gentle. And here are 
medals. I am of real importance now. 

7.0. Toilette completed. They are really most attentive to 
me. Have never worn this sort of hat before. Queer arrange- 
ment. Seems to be on crooked. No one notices boot Feel 
annoyed. Enough to disgrace any respectable scarecrow. 

7.30. So I am to have a procession. Did not expect so 
much. Find myself the central figure. Feel pleased. Remember 
boot; feel sad. Hope no one sees it Cheers from the populace 
lining the route. Also hisses. Wonder why? Feel pleased with 
populace. Attempt royal bow. Hat falls off. Boy says, '' Now 
then, Roger, what cherup to 1" Rude boy. Puts hat on again. 
Think perhaps I had better not try bowing. 

7.40. Popidace throws offerings at my feet Offerings rather 
hard. Aim of populace not all that could be desired. Wish they 
would show their feelings otherwise. Still, it is delightful to be 
so popular. 



PROSE, 1904 46 

7.42. Offering hits me in the face. Think that it must have 
been an egg. 

7.43. Podtiye that it was an egg. . . . 

7.45. Ftoceasion reaches large open space. In the centre 
I peroeive an erection of stupendous height. Wonder what it is ? 

7.50. Bearers deposit me on the ground, then seize me, and 
without " By your leave " hoist me to the top of aforesaid wooden 
stmctore. Cannot understand this. 

7.55. Escort retires, leaving me enthroned — enthroned ! The 
very word. I see it all now. Verily I am a monarch among 
men. Always did think I was too good for grass seed. 

8.0. Grand display of fireworks, entirely in my honour. 
Really feel most flattered. Position here, though proud, rather 
draughty. Again remember left boot; but what matter — in a 
king all things are well. 

8.15. Small boy approaches with squib to salute me. Regret 
that I cannot acknowledge the favour. Squib explodes suddenly. 
Must I fear Anarchist bombs ? Hat really feels most insecure. . . . 
By the way, thought kings always wore crowns? Rather puzzled. 

8.30. More explosions. This is really very dangerous. 
Beautiful ruddy light plays on my medals. Feel that I am 
looking my best. Populace cheers. 

8.32. Much warmer now. IlluminatioDs really splendid. 
Most promote some one for this. 

8.34. Getting rather hot. . . . Unpleasant crackling sound. 
. . . Populace seem pleased. 

8.35. Small boy shrieks, ''(jk> it, old Admiral, now you'll 
sizzle ! " Can he possibly mean me t Am I really nothing more 
than an Admiral? What a terrible blow . . . feel I shall never 
recover from it . . . 

8.36. Hotter and hotter . . . can't stand much more. Very 
smoky too . . . very hot . . . think I almost preferred grass 
seed . . . flame nmning up my right leg . . . why not the 
leftf . . . terribly hot . . . only an Admiral too . . . flames 
creeping up my back . . . positive that . . . I . . . preferred 
. . . grass . . . seed. 

DOROTHY KIKBT 



46 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

HOWLERS 

Lakouaobs 

'Eirct yap ^<rtfc^ ^fupav t^k Kvpiav i^jcovorav — For when she 
saw that Lady-Day had come. 

T5 ycvofxcvov icaXa>$ ^x** — The baby is doing well. 

^iuriv €K ^ifioviov fiiv ovScvbs fiavrjvai KXco/xci^, ^Kvdais 3c 
6/uX^<ravra avrhv aKparoirorqv ytvitrOox — ^They say that Elleomenes 
did not go mad by the act of any deity, but the sennons of the 
Scythians made him take to drink. 

Tav/Ms yrip€wav — The bull is a widow. 

Ov yap av fiaKpav txvevov avrhv firf ovk cx^*' ''"* orv/xjSoAov — I 
should not have got far without a ticket of some sort. 

Vergilium vidi tantum — I have seen too much of Virgil. 

Non hie numen adest, non Di — Here is no divinity ; here no 
inseparable prefix. 

Coeruleae puppes— Skye terriers. 

Peritissimi viri — Men who kept on being killed. 

Anna virumque cano^-" Arms and poison for the dog ! " 

Aes triplex — a threepenny bit 

Compare Caesar and Alexander. — Caesar, Caeserior, Caeserri- 
mus ; Alexander, Alexandrior, Alexanderrimus. 

Hors d'oBuvre — " Out of work." 

Hs mangeaient du jambon cm — They were eating what was 
believed to be ham. 

Pas de deux — Father of twins. 

Tant de malheur — Unhappy aunt. 

Qui pent apprendre le tr^pas universel des siens sans d^sirer le 
tombeau f — ^Who can learn the universal decease of his folk without 
longing for a drum f 

Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute — It is certainly not the 
Prime Minister who is cute. 

Divinity 

What are the two things necessary to baptism? — Please, sir, 
water and a baby. 

Asked what he knew of the Creeds, a Badley boy wrote: 
'* First they wrote the Apostles' Creed and nobody believed it^ and 



PROSE, 1904 47 

then ihey wrote the Nicene Creed and nobody believed it, and then 
they wrote the Athanasian Creed and they had got to believe it." 

Ending to the Parable of the Mustard Seed — '* And the fowls 
of the air came and lodged under the branches thereof and 
brought forth some thirty-fold, some sixty, and some an hundred." 

" Mary Magdalene was the sister of seven devils." 

"The Cities of Refuge" were for those who unintentionally 
committed suicide. 

What is a graven image? — ^An idle maid with hands. 

HiSTOBT 

The British Constitution is what you may call a sound one, 
but on account of its insolent position it suffers from fogs. 

Henry VIII. was brave, corpulent, and cruel; he had an 
ulcer in his leg, and great decision of character. 

What was the fate of Richard II. f — Richard II. is said 
to have been murdered by some historians. His real fate is 
unknown. 

General 

" What is the area of London compared to Paris ? " — The area 
of London is where the servants live, and has steps down to it. I 
have never been to Paris. 

Explain " sotto voce " — In a drunken voice. 

What is meant by a " nasal organ " I — A Harmonium. 

What is meant by a " Hibernating animal "? — An Irishman. 

What is the Masculine of " Regina "? — Reginald. 

" George Washington was the man who said he never told a lie." 

Classify " triangles." — Triangles are of three kinds — the equi- 
lateral or three-sided, the quadrilateral or square, and the multi- 
lateral or polyglot. 

Define "Horse-power." — Horse-power is the distance a horse 
can carry a pound of water in an hour. 

Name the three highest mountains in Scotland. — Ben Nevis, 
Ben Lomond, and Ben Jonson. 

What is the shape of the earth 1— Obsolete. 

How does a cow rise from the ground? — By its musils and the 
power God has given it. 

M. N. KEYKVa 



PROSE, 1905 

THE PHILATELIST 

<' QEEN better days, I reckon," said I, with a jerk of the head 
^ to the door that closed behind the weather-beaten steward. 

" Better days, sir ! I just believe you ! " said the " Colonel," 
sitting bolt np to emphasise the point. '* Seen days the like of 
which no other man on this ship has ever seen. That man, sir" — 
lowering his voice to a pitch of reverent adoration — " has made 
seven fortunes — seven distinct, splendiferous fortunes, sir ! " 

** And lost them," I remarked. 

" Oh, you can sneer. He's down now ; any one can wipe their 
darned boots on him. And he don't spin his yams so freely as 
some. But I know. He's everlasting proud, that's the size of 
it ; and a man with a past like his . . . and I'll lay he'll make 
another fortune yet before he's done with." 

"Tips?" 

The Colonel flattened the speaker with a stare. We could see 
him pullulating with narratives, and we got them — got several, 
which proved one of two things^>either that the Colonel was a 
consummate master of fiction, or that the weather-beaten steward 
was the genius of modem America incamate. 

This man, whose "Christian" name was Derek and whose 
surname was variable, had been trained, it appears, as a high-class 
expert engraver and printer. At first home-made bank-notes were 
his speciality, and at least one of his fortunes came from that 
source. But afterwards he had dwindled to postage-stamps, and 
it was as an irregular and immoral philatelist tJiat the strangest of 
the Colonel's stories pictured him. It occurred to me that in 
these degenerate days, when highwaymen and pirates are out 
of fashion, it is the collector of strange things who has the best 

48 



PROSE, 1905 49 

chance of adventureB. Eggs, orchids, gems, giraffes, and jade 
have made men acquainted with strange bedfellows before this. 
Ton would not expect much of postage-stamps ; but Derek made 
romance even there. He had travelled up and down the world 
raking over the dead letters of petty American States and Pacific 
islands for rare old issues. Then he had been so rash as to 
sapplement his discoveries with a few manufactures at his own 
works in Camberwell, London. That was lucrative also, but when 
the final discovery came his credit went, and he was left with 
dosens of rarities on his hands — mostly genuine, but unconvincing 
to dealers who knew him. 

The enforced month of solitude which he enjoyed at Fentonville 
was a month fertile in new ideas. When he came out he put all 
his gear, hia dies, and his handpress, and all the paraphernalia of 
an up-to-date colour engraver into a little tramp steamer at Leith, 
and travelled away out of earshot of Pentonville back to his old 
hunting-grounds in the West P^ific Ocean. Somewhere in the 
East Indies (the Colonel had never heard the exact location, but 
he opined it was somewhere near the Cocos) was a bit of island 
called Santa Colonia. There he landed. 

Now the constitution of Santa Colonia was peculiar. It was 
nominally a republic of about fifty huts, containing a mongrel 
assortment of Malays and runaway Lascars, who divided their 
time between fishing and leprosy. There were also three distinct 
fevers to be caught on this blessed island. Great Powers had 
often tried to annex it, but the only thing they had ever retained 
was one or two samples of its fevers. In the early 'forties the last 
attempt was made, and the net result was one demi-scmi Dutch- 
num of a pilot left behind by accident. This man, who in his 
sober moments was a man of some ability, having passed through 
every stage but the last of the three fevers, and being so saturated 
with alcohol as to possess a certain degree of immunity from 
leprosy, had been the pioneer of European civilisation in the fifty 
huts, and was now styled First President of the Free Republic of 
Santa Colonia. 

We gathered it was not a nice place of residence, but there our 

philatelist with his one idea disembarked his plant and i)aid a 

4 



60 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

visit of ceremony to the President. The President received him 
with suspicion. The philatelist ingratiated himself with gifts, the 
most acceptable being a pair of Sunday trousers made in Camber- 
well. (There were only three other pairs in Santa Colonia, and 
the President felt that a certain amount of display was essential 
to the maintenance of his dignity.) So they made a compact and 
a covenant together, negotiations being rendered difficult by the 
fact that the President had forgotten most of his Dutch and the 
philatelist had never known more than a little German. Still, he 
managed to communicate the idea, which was nothing less than 
the foundation of an inland postal system. 

When you consider that on the island of Santa Colonia there were 
only fifty huts, and these were closely grouped round the Presidential 
mud-palace at the only harbour, and that only two of the inhabit- 
ants in the island could either read or write, it will occur to you 
that an inland postal system was somewhat of a superfluity in 
Santa Colonia. Yet the philatelist devised with most exemplary 
ingenuity an embossed silhouette of the Presidential features, 
taken from an ancient daguerreotype. He surrounded it with the 
usual bay-leaf crown, a picture of the Presidential residence 
underneath, a palm in each comer, and a number to represent 
centimes, paras, annas, reis, and other coinage according to the 
fancy of the reader — the real currency of the island being 
calculated on the standard of rotten fish. These stamps he made 
in various colours, to represent various values. One issue lacked 
a perforation on one side ; this was <^led in after five copies had 
been issued. Another had the palm-trees upside down. Some 
were surcharged " Official.'' Some were postmarked and actually 
affixed to letters addressed to dusky natives, who never got them 
and could not have read them if they had. Thus for six months 
all went merrily, and several hundreds of stamps were issued — 
not too many, for fear of flooding the market The natives 
meanwhile looked upon the printing machinery with reverence 
and dread, and would have fallen down and wor^pped it had not 
the President beaten them away with sticks. 

Well, of course, the difficulty was to dispose of them. The 
President would not let the philatelist go to Europe, because he 



PROSE, 1905 51 

trusted no one out of his sight ; and the philatelist was a marked 
man among the stcunp-dealers of Europe. So finally the President 
went off with a portmanteau full of stamps and left the philatelist 
busy with the second issue for the coming year. The President, 
according to the Colonel's account, did exceedingly well in Europe. 
The damaged copies sold for two hundred pounds apiece, and the 
ordinaries were in great demand at five shillings. 

And how did it all end ? Did the President ever come back ? 
" What do you think ? " asked the Colonel. ** With seven thousand 
pounds in his pocket and all Europe for his playground ! He was 
the ' lion ' of a London season, and died of it. No ; Santa Colonia 
had to do without him. The philatelist waited six more months 
and then he started a third issue with his own head on the stamps, 
and began to look about for a steamer to take him home. But 
when the natives saw his likeness coming out on the little magic 
stick-papers an unholy fear came upon them, and they preached a 
crusade against unauthorised demons, and took that philatelist by 
the neck — Shaving previously smashed his plant — aud put him out 
to sea in an open boat ; and that's why Santa Colonia stamps are 
so rare." 

J. C. STOBART 



''CONFESSIONS" 
(Weitten while Waiting at Clapham Junction) 

1. Q. In which proverb do you most devoutly believe 1 

A. " Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds " (I have 
been reduced to trying a refreshment-room cigar). 

2. Q. How have you escaped public notice so longi 

A. By being careful only to express my feelings on the 
subject of the S.W. Railway system at the deserted 
end of the platform. 

3. Q. Of all possessions beyond your reach, which would you 

rather have ? 
A, Clapham Junction. I would afforest it. 



68 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

4. a What is your pet epigram ? 

A. I don't keep one ; they don't make good pets. My last 
one died from insufficent airing. 

5. Q. What truism annoys you most 1 
A, All things come to him who waits. 

6. Q, On what income should your best friend be able to live 

comfortably ? 
A. On mine, if she would only believe it. 

7. Q, If fate had always been on your side, where would you 

have been now ? 
A. Fust Basingstoke — whereas I am at Clapham Junction. 

8. C2. Do you think men should part their hair in the middle ? 
A. Yes, if they have an even number ; otherwise, it involves 

needless hair-splitting. 

9. a What do you consider the most beautiful line of poetry? 
A. " I waited for the train at Coventry." 

10. Q. What (a) book (b) picture do you dislike most? 

A. (a) Last April's " Bradshaw," which I appear to have 

consulted under the impression it was the current one. 

(b) A triptych representing Milo at different periods of 

his career, which has been facing me on the platform 

for the past twenty minutes. 

11. Q. How many persons do you suspect of harbouring a 

secret passion for you ? 
A. All the station authorities at Clapham Junction. Why 
else should they conspire to keep me here ? 

12. Q. What is your besetting misquotation? 

A. " (d) Saturdays only " (" Bradshaw " passim). 

(This is how the passage runs correctly. I 
usually quote it as follows : " (d) Except Saturdays.") 

13. Q. What do you do with your Christmas presents? 
A. Pay my Education rates. 

14. Q. What is the very last thing you will part from? 
A. Clapham Junction. 

C. K. BAINES 



PROSE, 190S 68 



THE SUPERSTITIONS OF DAILY LIFE 

There is a borderland of the soul wherein poor human nature 
spends much time, a shadowy region, the debatable land between 
the bleak kingdom of a courageous if somewhat insolent scepticism 
and the milder country swayed by an equally courageous and 
perhaps nobler spirit — reliance upon and trust in a dimly appre- 
hended external Power. In this debatable land dwells the hag 
Superstition. Here she has inhabited from time immemorial, be- 
stowing upon her subjects vague promises of good fortune, dim 
and haunting prophecies of evil. All who enter her realm are 
afraid, but know not what they fear. She whispers horribly to 
them in the night, and at high noon they start from fear at the 
thought of her. They desire one thing continually — to appease, 
to propitiate, something, some one, they know not what nor 
whom. 

Every soul knows this dismal country, and some have caves 
there and abide constantly in them, but some have strength to 
break often away and wrench themselves free or pay some small 
tribute and so escape. The hag delights in petty observances and 
childish acts of worship. We laugh at these and her for a season, 
and then — we too enter the shadows, slinking each to his own 
cave! 

Superstitions proper are, as one interpretation of the word 
declares, survivals. The fear of and desire to propitiate the Un- 
known is a universal and hereditary attribute of human nature, 
which long ago received expression in various acts differing in 
external details in different localities but like in essentials. These 
in every case crystallised into a miniature ritual which has often 
survived its explanation. It seems natural that many superstitions 
should be connected with birds, for what creatures are more 
obviously on the face of things in contact with the Unknown! 
Coming we know not whence, passing we know not whither, we 
hail them as presages. Again, certain birds are clearly marked 
out as the proper objects of superstitious awe. Tou cannot look a 
magpie in the face without feeling that this bird is in 



64 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

of a secret of its own, and knows yours as well. Hence its sadden 
appearance recalls you from your petty actualities to a sense of 
the vast mystery around you, and — a presentiment is bom, 
whether of good or of evil depends on your own temperament, the 
local history of magpies, and a hundred and one arbitrary circum- 
stances. The owl, with its twilight habits and mournful voice; 
the raven, seldom seen, sombre hued — the croaker par excellence 
— are necessarily ill-omened fowls. But the cuckoo brings luck 
to him who runs on first hearing that " word, in a minor third," 
which is doubtless a fanciful way of counselling energy during the 
spring. Swallows' nests are counted a fortunate possession, as 
are storks' nests on the Continent, and woe to the man who expels 
rooks! Cats and dogs rank equally with birds as creatures of 
presage. It is not strange that the dog, the ''first friend" of 
man, with his sometimes more than human sympathy and intelli- 
gence, should be accounted fateful in his appearances, and his 
mournful nocturnal howls. Cats are in broad daylight but un- 
canny creatures. At night — which is day to them — with their 
gleaming eyes, and the indefinable thrill of their silky coats, his 
would be a stout heart who would deny them some measure of 
occult power. A black cat is generally an evil omen, yet by the 
law of contraries it is sometimes hold lucky if a black cat enters 
the house. Colour has much to say in superstitions, as has also 
number. Black and white in general stand for good and bad luck, 
but in many families it is held that a dark man should be the first 
to enter the house with the New Tear. Again, a piebald horse is 
lucky. Wish when you see one; remain silent until you see a 
white horse, and your wish will " come true." The rarity of the 
piebald would make it ominous, and the horse being a comfortable, 
everyday animal the omen would be good, but the meaning of the 
white horse as a necessary appendix is obscure. It recalls the 
fox's tail, which is not to be thought of when the new moon is 
seen. Wish when you see the new moon, do not think of the said 
''caudal appendage," and all will be well But the very inexpli- 
cableness of the veto forges a lamentable chain of association of 
ideas which the present writer for one is alwajrs unable to break. 
The moon, formerly the object of religious worship^ preserves a 



PROSE, 1905 66 

relic of her former greatness in superstitions observances. Curtsey 
to her nine times when she is new, turn your money, and — do not 
look at her through glass. This last is a remarkable superstition, 
for, as glass is, compared with the worship of the moon, a recent 
invention, it is clear that this idea is not a very old one. 

Of numbers 13 is the deadliest, an opinion generally held to 
be as old as the Christian religion; 3 and 7 are the luckiest 
numbers. Their symmetrical structure and their being odd 
numbers unite to render them peculiarly blessed. For as the 
oracular Barney Machree said, " There is luck in odd numbers." 
Why in odd numbers ? There is certainly something dashing and 
generous about an odd number; no exact {)eddling balancing of 
one half with another, but the full score and something over — 
for luck ! 

A picture has been held to be the origin of one of the most 
deeply rooted of modern superstitions. In Correggio's "Last 
Supper " Judas is represented as having spilt the salt, but it seems 
more probable that the superstition was the origin of this detail 
in the picture, and not vice versa. Salt as a mysterious essential 
of life, the ancient emblem of hospitality, naturally assumed 
mysterious characteristics. But why do we now throw it over the 
left shoulder and ejaculate '* 1 hope my Cornish friend is well " ? 
To propitiate the hag 7 

K. T. STEPHENSON 



A PICTURE 

Over my bed there hangs a picture which I can see reflected in 
the mirror opposite like the dream of a dream. 

It is a misty picture of a girl on a barge — a huddled, desolate 
little figure — alone with the sky and the water, and, although her 
surroundings must be in perfect accord with her mood, she is 
entirely unconscious of them, and her troubled thoughts are turned 
inwards. 

The sky suggests a certain cold aloofness from all little foolish 
human things that suffer, the water holds no comfort and oflen no 



i 



66 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

counsel, and the gathering darkness enfolds her without tenderness 
and permits no escape from the gloom which enshrouds her spirit. 
Yet she has come to Nature for help ; she has sought for and has 
found isolation so complete that she has become for the time being 
a part of this vague, colourless scheme — a something inanimate 
and unearthly ; her soul beats its wings no longer in helpless pain 
on the weary body which is its prison, but escapes out into the 
common greyness around, and is at rest — at one with Nature. 
She has touched ground ; she hopes for nothing more from life ; 
she dreams of nothing more. She is only a girl, but she has 
acquired the wisdom of all the ages — she has learned to 
suffer. 

I wonder who painted that picture ! Strange and ungrateful 
of me that I have never taken the trouble to inquire, for I should 
like to say " Thank you " to its originator. I should like him to 
know that I have been that girl. 

MARGERY FSLIX)WS 



LETTER FROM LOUISA HARRINGTON TO HER SIS- 
TER CAROLINE STRIKE DESCRIBING THE COUNT 
DE SALDAR'S COURTSHIP 

Mt dearkst Caroline, — Yes, you may this time truthfully 
felicitate your Louisa. And the sweetest of creatures ! Such 
grace, such elegance! And such expressiife shovldtrsl More 
than ever I feel for my darling sister compelled to pass her 
days in the embraces of a backbone. The name? Sefior Silva 
Diaz, Conde de Saldar de Sancorvo. How does it sound to my 
Carrie? 

A foreigner, I hear you say. What of the Earl of B.^ the Hon. 
George P., and the others? My dear, I have taken my choice, 
and as one cannot marry all, let us choose the best, as poor papa 
sayB. A countess is somebody. In verity I am now more than 
ever convinced that for masculine manners you must go to the 



PROSE, 1906 57 

Continent ? Ce$ autres f Disconsolate, no doubt And, on dU^ 
the Earl in his despair is contracting a hopeless mesalliance with 
a person wholly beneath consideration. A domestic servant I I 
could weep for him, were it not for the ludicrous resemblance to 
the conduct of poor Peter Smithers. You remember ? 

A miracle of elegance, I have said. There is in my Silva that 
refined melancholy conveyed in the tender droop of the Iberian 
eyelid. And his manner of crossing a room ! Englishmen lurch 
or shuffle or stride. A Southern nobleman tt^pBf I could, in 
faith, wish our Evan nothing better than the opportunity of 
studying such a model as the Count. Not rich. But for that, 
as Silva says, one can wait. He has claims. And his wife will 
find it a pleasure and a privilege to advance them by such poor 
means as she possesses. 

His wife ! But let me start at the beginning. For I know 
my Carrie longs for the whole history. At the Cogglesbys — con- 
trast me that name, je fen prie^ with the music that is to be mine 
— ^under Harriet's roof I met him first. I marked his distinction, 
his air^ as he entered the chamber of the reception. Those 
Cogglesby receptions! Torment to one of my susceptibilities, I 
assure you. Yet, one should confess it, Andrew has acquaintance 
amongst the highest in Europe. How, otherwise, account for the 
presence of Silva ? I marked him from the first, and I saw that it 
was a case for diplomacy ; here was no prey to common snarea So 
under the shoulders of my circle I watched him. Leaning by the 
fireplace, solitary, abstracted, trisU^ were he English one would 
have said bored. But Portugal has manners and can dissemble. 
Judging the moment when he could bear it no longer I sought 
Harriet and prayed her to present him. His relief ! And when I 
rallied him so delicately upon his melancholy, " Ah, mademoiselle," 
he said, with a delicious lift of an eyebrow, " when man is alone, 
man is always sad. Is it not ? ** You should have heard the pretty 
Eng^h. He said of it once, « Broken, like my art!'' For no 
foreigner, nobleman or beggar, can swallow our odious English 
" h " — the asthmatic of consonants. I spoke to him of Portugal, 
said I had heard of its beauty, longed to see it. Words failed him. 
But what need of words to one who has eyes and shoulders^ 



68 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

movable shoulders/ I permitted him to escort me to supper, and 
drank the wine of his country, always a penance to my delicate 
system, as my Carrie knows. As the evening advanced he grew 
tender ; he is the sonl of sentiment ! He spoke lines of Portuguese 
poetry. I praised the sound of that mellifluous tongue. He offered 
instruction, and I had a first lesson on the spot. He taught me 
Portuguese for " loaf,'' verb and noun ! He was pleased to praise 
my attire. I was wearing the mauve, dear papa's choice. His 
favourite colour was blue, the colour of his skies. 

On the following afternoon he came to pay his compliments to 
Harriet. I was wearing blue. He saw and was grateful. He 
praised our parks. I told him that I generally walked there in 
the forenoon. Thus the impression was made. Now to make it 
indelible. 

This, my sweet one, I have observed in men. You have never 
won a man until you have made him jealous. The next morning I 
was walking in the park with the Hon. Qeorge P. when the Count 
passes. I smile my sweetest. He lifts his hat with a scowl. For 
a week I see no more of him. 

A week! The limit of his endurance. He came full of 
reproaches, protestations, complaints. I assert my independence. 
The liberty of Englishwomen. He melted, sobbed. We mingled 
our tears on the sofa. 

Such are our battlefields, Caroline I 

It is to be soon. Such is dear Silva's ardour. By the way, 
when you announce this to your friends do not omit to mention 
that the De Saldars are of almost royal blood. Not that / care for 
that, but people are weak. 

Needless to say, I have not thought it necessary to introduce 
Lymport. Nor has he inquired. He assumes the highest. And 
he is right Once out of England, out of sound of the shears ! 

Wish me joy, dearest one, and recall me to your amiable 
Strike. Adieu ! . louisa 

J. 0. STOBART 



PROSE, 1905 



59 



RUDYARD KIPLING AS A DISCIPLE OF 
WORDSWORTH 

Quid non mortalia pectora cogts, avri aacra/atnea ? 

To demonstrate a connexion between Kipling and Wordsworth 
might seem at first sight to be a tour de force. To the orthodox 
critic the one is the embodiment of the quiet contemplative, the 
other of the loud unreflective. While Kipling is circling the world 
in a tramp steamer or hurrying across a continent in a prospect- 
car, Wordsworth takes a walk up Borrodale. To make a poem, 
the one expands a single mood or incident in the ease of a philo- 
sophic calm, the other compresses a world-wide experience into 
tabloid form in the train between Southampton and Waterloo. 

But, in spite of this apparent difference, there are similarities 
between the two. Both poets headed a new literary movement, 
and in both cases this was a break-away from previous tradition. 
Wordsworth brought poetry from the salons of Mayfair to the 
countryside and the peasant's hut ; Kipling carried it further into 
the engine-room, the barracks, and the public-house. Wordsworth, 
in revolt against the current poetic diction, had recourse to the 
ordinary pedestrian language of the middle classes ; Kipling, finding 
that Browning had already employed most of the English language 
for poetic purposes, yet managed to extend his diction still further 
by the introduction of countless scientific and trade terms, the 
adjective "bloomin'," and all words which usually begin with 
'* h " with the aspirate omitted. Finally, a enemy might say that 
both, besides being poets, are also frequently writers of prose. 

Now, when we reflect on the difference and on the resemblance 
between the two, we naturally ask which of these is essential and 
which accidental. Are the two poets essentially different, pos- 
sessing by accident certain points of similarity, or is there one 
principle at work in both, expressing itself in differences? To 
answer this question we have to consider not only their actual 
preserved works but also their general spirit and intellectual 
attitude, their historical position, and the political and literary 
environment in which either lived. 



60 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

The position of Wordsworth is by now a commonplace of 
literary criticism. He found poetry bound in the chains of 
artificiality and cramped by the hard conventions of the rhyming 
heroic. He headed the revolt, the return to nature, the emancipa- 
tion of poetic thought and poetic form. He claimed a place in the 
kingdom of poetry for humble scenes of peasant life, for trees and 
rocks and flowers, for simple emotions, and possibly, too, simple 
thoughts. And with this new matter came a new form — "the 
language of conversation of the lower and middle classes" — the 
ordinary Anglo-Saxon words, and, above all, the ordinary Anglo- 
Saxon monosyllable, of which he was the first great champion. 
The word "thing" is one from which Po|)e and his school 
would have shrunk, as being flat, inelegant^ unpoetic. Words- 
worth establishes its claim in the lines : 

For old, unhappy, far-off things 
And battles long ago. 

How would Cowper have dealt with such a phrase ? Probably in 
some such way as this : 

Of bygone deeds calamitous she sings, 
Of mighty contests and the strife of kings. 

Of course Wordsworth was often carried too far by his princi])le8 ; 
his passion for simplicity of life carried him into the details of 
Poor Susan or Goody Blake ; his passion for monosyllables nerved 
him to face that most terrible of all monosyllables — "Jones." So 
keen was his contention with the ofiicial eighteenth-century poetry, 
that he often ranged himself under the banner which is always 
hostile to all poetry — the banner of prose. 

The environment of Kipling was of course very different ; the 
world had moved on in the interval ; new poetic traditions had 
arisen, flourished, and fallen. Above all, Wordsworth had done 
his work ; the victory over Pope and the return to nature had been 
accomplished, perhaps even too completely. Tennyson had lavished 
all his pictorial and onomatopceic art on the English countryside ; 
hifl commonplace book was full of lines about the sea or the ousel, 
to be worked into future poems. The Saxon monosyllable, from 



PROSE, 1905 61 

being a resource, had become a disease. If ** thing " is the typical 
Wordsworthian word, surely " lilt " is the typical Tennysonian. 

Browning, of course, stood apart from contemporary influences ; 
and Kipling, at any rate in his early work, is saturated with 
Browning. But there were some spheres of life which Browning, 
with all his encyclopaedic range, never touched; he "ransacked 
the ages, spoiled the climes," but they were mostly other ages and 
other climes; like all the other early and middle Victorians, he 
kept apart from what was really the great fact of the Victorian 
age— namely, the industrial revolution, with its accompaniments 
of town life, machinery, and the despised and rejected aspirate. 

Then came Kipling, uplifting the banner of the lower classes, 
as Wordsworth had uplifted the banner of the middle. The town, 
from being a dull aggregation of red-brick and smoke, becomes the 
theatre of passions and their achievements, the field of Badalia's 
struggles, or the background of Charlie Mears's metempsychosis. 
Machinery, from being a lifeless substitute for the labour of man, 
becomes endowed with a voice, a message, a romance of its own. 
The dropped "h," from being a stigma of degradation, becomes 
the battle-cry of the new movement, the mark of emancipation. 
Wordsworth had found poetry in Michael and his hut; Kipling 
only carries the same process a step further when he finds it in 
McAndrews and his engines : 

Backed, bobbed, braced, and stayed. 
And singin' like the morning stars for joy that they were made. 

But, it may be said, are there not still great differences? How 
can the loud cosmopolite, with his hurry, his blatancy, his doctrine 
of blood and iron and racial domination, be really a disciple of the 
calm philosopher of the Lakes? Is not the {K)et of machinery, or 
of "Sussex by the sea," only a small part, and not the most 
characteristic part, of the real Kipling ? 

Kipling is a man of such extensive and varied interests that 
it is difficult to understand him entirely, to comprehend all his 
activities in the light of one principle. But there is such a 
principle latent in his thought; Kipling no less than Browning 
has a metaphysic of his own. For him there is a God, or Fate, or 



est THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

the Lords of Life and Death, outside the aniverse, and working it 
like a machine. Hence man is likest God, not when mercy seasons 
justice — that is a delusion of street-bred peoples — but when he sits 
outside another machine — a type of the universe — and works it. 
Hence comes Kipling's glorification of the engineer, the gunner, 
the absolute autocrat, the Roman Catholic religion, and, ultimately, 
Ood. From this doctrine he deduces his religion; we must 
believe in Qod, since the head of the Indian bureaucracy must be 
responsible to some one— otherwise the machine would not work. 
Hence, too, come his ethics; it is best for man to work a big 
machine, next best to work a small machine, or be part of a big 
one. Hence the young man should enter the Army or Navy, if 
possible, since they are big machines ; failing that, he should go 
away among the inferior races and work them into a mechanical 
system : above all, he should have nothing to do with democratic 
government, which is not a machine, but an organism, and cannot 
be worked from outside. 

Now this doctrine of Kipling may seem in direct antagonism 
with those of Wordsworth and most other poets ; he seems himself 
so far conscious of this that he alters the spelling of the Deity's 
name. The Ood of Wordsworth is immanent in nature : 

The Presence which disturbs me with the joy 
Of elevated thoughts ; 

the God of Browning is immanent in man and nature alike, or, 
rather, the principle that makes them one; the Gawd of Kipling 
is merely chief engineer to a very big machine. But Kipling's 
doctrine, if we examine it, is only an exaggerated development of 
Wordsworth's. The " return to nature " is only one side of that 
glorification of the object as opposed to the subject which is 
characteristic of English thought, and which animated the whole 
scientific development of the nineteenth century. When the return 
to nature begins the balance is fairly preserved ; the " inward eye 
which is the bliss of solitude" is no less important than the 
daffodils observed. But as the landscape widens and grows in 
interest and complexity the inward eye is forgotten ; we gaze at 
the wonderful panorama, seeking its ruling principle in it alone 



PROSE, 1905 63 

and forgetting that it can only be found in the inward eye 
itflelf ; and when the prospect begins to embrace the whole world 
and the call for a unifying principle becomes more urgent it 
is too late to retrace our steps, and we must seek the principle 
without^ in a God or Qawd who is postulated to make the system 
work. 

It would be interesting to trace the development of this 
principle, its relation to Kipling's political and ethical doctrines, to 
the British Empire and the White Man's Burden. But having 
proved Kipling's metaphysical sonship to Wordsworth, I had better 
cease. 

It would be a i>ity to spoil it by an anticlimax. 

A. H. SIDOWICK 



DEFINITIONS OF ENVY, HATRED, MALICE, AND ALL 
UNCHARITABLENESS, CONTAINING ALL THE 
LETTERS OF THE ALPHABET 

Envy is A's feeling towards Z when Z has just the particular 
cake that A wants, even if there exists no suggestion that Z bested 
him in any way in acquiring the prize. 

Hatred is A's feeling towarda Z when A is possessed by such 
extreme ill-will that even if he had all the cake in the world and 
Z none, the joy of the situation would not altogether quench the 
blaze of his animosity. 

Malice is A's feeling towards Z when A is revenging his 
grudge by zealously spreading the injurious rumour that Z acquired 
his cake by the exercise of wrongful means. 

All Uncharitableruss is A's feeling towards Z when A can see 
nothing to justify Z's possession of the cake, and experiences a 
quiet hope that Z may be seized with violent regret (and other 
things) if he eats it. 

B. H. WHITE 



i 



64 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

GIVEN THE CHARACTER OF POLONIUS, LAERTES, 
AND OPHELIA TO FIND THE CHARACTER OF 
MRS. POLONIUS 

POLONIA 

Proof — {Firsty or a priori method,) 

What sort of person would Polonius have married ? 

" Give every man thine ear but few thy voice." He being a 
man who gave every man his voice would naturally prefer a lady 
who was more ear than tongue. Now listeners are of two kinds 
— those who listen to criticise or to learn, and those who are silent 
because they are afraid or unable to speak. That Polonius should 
have married a critic is as impossible as that a critic should have 
married Polonius. Therefore Polonia must have belonged to the 
latter category. She married Polonius for the same reason that 
Ophelia would have married Hamlet, or any one else — ^because he 
asked her. Thus Polonia was weak-minded to start with, and it \& 
easy to imagine to what a depth of imbecility a few years of old 
Polonius and his good advice must have driven her. 

{Second method : by the theory of heredity.) 

Polonius bulged with good advice, together with " a plentiful 
lack of wit and most weak hams." Laertes also exuded discre- 
tion ; see his adieu to Ophelia with the priggish termination : 

"Youth to itself rebels though none else mar." 

Thus Laertes clearly "took after" his male parent. Now 
Ophelia, on the other hand, with her perpetual "Yes, my lord," 
" No, my lord," " I shall obey, my lord," and " I do not know, my 
lord, what I shall think," was obviously an amiable young person, 
but very, very weak : no good advice from her, but she was for 
every one the uncomplaining receptacle of it : with what a deplor- 
able result we are all aware. 

Thus both methods lead to the same conclusion : videlicet, the 
weak amiability of Polonia. 

Now since such a character, or indeed any other, after ten 
years of " this tedious old fool," would be reduced to utter mental 



PROSE, 1905 65 

annihilation, and since Ophelia was evidently born long after her 
brother Laertes, and therefore after the aberration of her mother's 
intellect had become pronounced and hopdess, it is not difficult to 
detect the hereditary taint which predisposed this nnforionate 
young woman to cerebral derangementi insanity, and suicide. 

In short, we have proved that a certain character was inevitable 
for the wife of Polonius, and probable for the mother of Ophelia. 
It only remains to add that the distinct traces of gentleman^ and 
sportsmanlike feeling which we find in Laertes must have been 
derived from his mother, since it is clear that the ** fishmonger " 
possessed the instincts of a bully and a sneak. Therefore 
Mrs. Polonius was undoubtedly an imbecile lady of refined 
instincts. Q.E.F. 

J. C. STOBAKT 



Mrs. Polonius 

She had been a pretty girl, pretty enough to turn yoang 
Polonius's head, and to cause that usually so cautious courtier, 
"suffisring extremity for love" of her, to conmiit the one rash act 
of his prudent life, and risk the "desperate undertaking* of 
making a mesalliance — for Mrs. Polonius was of i^beian birth. 
His was a short infatuation and a long regret, for his wife's beauty 
faded rapidly, and the "bl&ze" of his love faded with it. AU 
that was left was his belief that experience had made him a perfect 
mentor for youth. His frequent warnings against impetuous 
passion have the sting of personal disenchantment. It was long 
before the romantic girl, who had looked up to him as a demi-god, 
could reconcile herself to the loss of his affection, for his soul had 
been " prodigal " to give " the tongue vows " during their courtship, 
and her laments were continuous and tearful, greatly annoying 
Polonius. Tears afterwards, when Ophelia tells him of 
Hamlet's '^ tenders of affection," probably in a sentimental tone 
like her mother's, Polonius bursts into such a storm of irritation 
that it seems directed against some remembered grievance rather 
than against Ophelia. He sees her mother in her, while he wishes 
her to act *' as behoves my daughter." Being a failure both in her 
5 



66 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

hiuband's eyes and in the aristocratic society which he f requented, 
Mrs. Polonius withdrew to her nursery, and, faithful to her old 
hero-worship even in her sadness, taught her children to adore him 
as she had done, and to find wit in his ponderous puns, and 
eloquence in his prosy platitudes ; obliterating herself the while so 
entirely that to them, too, she seemed only a gentle nonentity 
compared with their pompous father. Unwittingly, however, they 
were both largely formed by her. 

Ophelia had many of her traits. Not only her gentleness and 
obedience, but her very mannerisms. Her description of Hamlet 
(Act ii scene 1) is full of circumstantial detail dear to the 
middle-class mind — ^much in the style of Juliet's Nurse. Her 
little commonplaces (Act iv. scene 5) — **We know what we are, 
we know not what we may be.'' '*I hope all will be well." 
" We must be patient." " They say we made a good end " — are 
evidently echoes from Mrs. Polonius's former visits of condolence. 
Even the old sentimental songs with which her mother used to 
sing her to sleep haunt her in her madness. Laertes warns his 
sister against a confiding tenderness which she certainly did not 
inherit from Polonius. On the other hand, in his father's long 
sermon of advice to him one catches hints of what Polonius 
probably thought his dangerous maternal inheritance. 

"Give to thy thoughts no tongue." (Mrs. Polonius had a 
tendency to prattle.) 

" By no means vulgar." (There rankled the thought of the 
plebeian blood.) 

" Not gaudy." (Mrs. Polonius had dearly loved cheap finery.) 

What Polonius did not see was that Laertes also got his better 
qualities, his uncalculating generosity, his too tardily awakened 
conscience, his family affection, from his mother. The only time 
that she is mentioned in the play (Act iv. scene 5) it is by her 
son ; but even he uses her more as a figure of speech than as a 
personality — although the a4jective "true" rings with a certain 
reality after the rhetorical "Chaste unsmirched brow." 

Poor Mrs. Polonius, faded, sentimental, bourgeoise, common- 
place, rather silly — but true I 

B. 0. WADB 



PROSE, 1906 67 

STORY OP A PSYCHICAL PHENOMENON IN THE 
STYLE OF DANIEL DEFOE 

A Tbus Relation 

OF A 

Phantasm of thb Liyino; 
in which, daring a period of anxiety & rickness, 
one Mrs. Riohabdbon 
appeared to 
Fanny Beown, a little waiting maid, 
the 5th of January 1905 : 
which apparition supports the views of the late Mr. Myers, 
put forward in " Human Personality," recently controTerted. 

This relation is attended by circumstances that were the 
subject of investigation by a gentleman whose eminent position 
in one of the universities renders fraud impossible. The Mispress 
of the Oirl, with whom the apparition conversed, is a gentlewoman 
of known charity and piety, a stepdaughter of the said gentleman's, 
who lives in London. 

A Rblation of the Appabition of Mbs. 
Richardson 

By Miss A 

Mrs. Richardson is a maiden gentlewoman of about five-and- 
thirty years of age, compelled by adverse circumstances to accept 
menial employment. For some years she served me faithfully as 
waiting-woman, and our intimacy grew little by little until we 
had come to be more like two friends than mistress and maid. 
Though .of a pleasing mien and cheerful air, this estimable woman 
suffered from a disorder which it seemed beyond the power of 
physic to relieve ; for suddenly her distemper would cause some 
part of her body or even her face to swell to such disproportion, as 
would have been laughable were it not terrifying. In December 
1904 we parted with mutual regret, forasmuch as she had inherited 
a small property in the vicinity of London on the death of her 



68 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

brother, a tradesman in a small way of business. The last among 
the many friendly offices she did me was to instruct a little maid 
in all those acts of service which had proved so greatly to my 
advantage. 

On the 5th of January 1905 this little maid was alone in the 
kitchen, where my dinner was preparing, and fell into a doze, on 
her own confession; which she had no sooner done, than she 
hears the bell of the telephone in the passage. She went to see 
who was there, and this proved to be Mrs. Richardson, lately her 
fellow-servant, to whom die owed all her instruction in the use of 
that instrument. She saw Mrs. Richardson replace the receiver 
and turn the handle, and at that moment of time the clock in the 
hall struck five after noon. 

Ma'am, says the little maid, I am surprised to see you ; but 
begged her to enter the kitchen and to drink some tea, which Mrs. 
Richardson complied with. She told her she was desirous of sending 
an important message, and had come to that house because there 
was no telephone where she now lodged. But how came you, asks 
the maid, to enter without my knowledge? Oh! says Mrs. 
Richardson, I still possess my key, which I will leave for your 
mistress before I depart. Then she asked the maid if she re- 
membered two volumes that lay on the table by the bed of her 
mistress. Fetch them, says she, and so the maid goes away and 
fetches them. 

Then Mrs. Richardson feU to reading parts from the book, 
which was Myers' " Human Personslity " ; which she continued to 
read to the wonder of the maid, who understood little of what was 
said, commenting on the wisdom of the writer, who had conceived 
the clearest notions of the subliminal self. She spoke in a rapt 
and pathetical manner, forgetting to eat ; and when she rose, her 
tea remained untasted. Then the cape of Mrs. Richardson's mantle 
fell apart ; and the maid cried, Dear Mrs. Richardson, you have 
begun to swell. To this she received no answer, further than 
a request that she should replace the volumes without delay. On 
her return she found that Mrs. Richardson had departed without 
salutation. 

When I entered later in the day, I was informed of her visit. 



PROSE, 1906 69 

and noticed on the table the tea which she had not tasted; and 
this surprised me, as it had been of her own choosing. Some two 
hours later, I received a letter from Mrs. Richardson by the hand 
of her little niece, begging me to come to her at onoe, as she 
feared she might die. As she had visited my house that day, and 
as I was indisposed with a cold, I did not go that night; but 
next morning, I hastened to her bedside. Her illness had some- 
what abated, but the physician feared her throat might have been 
obstructed during the night. It was unwise of you, says I, to 
imperil yourself by a visit to me at the beginning of so grave 
a disorder. I assure you, says Mrs. Richardson, I have been in 
my bed these three days ; and then she tells me of the love she 
bears me and how she had thoughts of the many beautiful sayings 
in " Human Personality." Then I asked her if she was disturbed in 
her mind, and she said she had forgot she was no longer my 
waiting-woman ; and when her distemper was growing, ^e had 
thought earnestly of me. During her anxiety, she had fallen 
asleep about five of the clock with a desire in her mind to warn 
me that no dinner would be ready on my return, in consequence 
of her disordered health. 

Immediately on coming home I questioned the maid concerning 
the occurrence of the previous afternoon. She never varied in her 
story, but says she should have told me before that Mrs. Richardson 
was wearing a blue locket. This strangely surprised me, for such 
a locket Mrs. Richardson had shown me that afternoon and said she 
had received it but two days before from a sister in Kent. My 
maid, though no hypochondriac, has been part crazed by the know- 
ledge that she had converse with an apparition ; and, though con- 
vinced of the truth of her story, I have sent her to an Hospital, 
where the most sceptical may be convinced from her particular 
relation. hxnbt hbad 

IN DEFENCE OF PUNNING 

Punning may be defined as the employment of a word or 
phrase which suggests, by resemblance either of spelling or (more 
commonly) of sound, another word or phrase, or another sense of 



70 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

the same word. The resemblance may be of any degree: we 
haye the Exact Pun, which consists in two different senses of 
the same word ; the Good Pun, such as that mentioned by Charles 
Lamb between "hair" and "hare"; or the so-called Bad Pun, 
such as the world-famous outrage on Judas Maccabeeus.^ 

Punning is usually attacked as — (1) not amusing, (2) actively 
offensive, (3) in any case useless. Let us take these points in 
order. 

(1) This view is usually infected with the modern taint of 
subjectivism : it generally resolves itself into the simple statement, 
" / do not find punning humorous," a position which is thought 
to defy further argument. The reply is, of course, obvious; 
the argument is merely a revival of pre-Socratic sensationalism. 
There must be some universally valid conception of the humorous 
for even a denial of it to have any meaning. By a dialectic regress 
we determine this concept, and define humour as the sudden 
perception of some similarity or contrast — each, of course, in- 
volving the other — ^between two objects not consciously related 
before. This definition explains parody, burlesque, and other 
forms of humour. A pun is thus seen to be, by definition, one 
of the purest types of humour. Hence the subjectivist plea " I 
do not find it funny" is self-contradictory, since it presupposes 
this objective concept ; it is merely the Aesthetic equivalent of the 
burglar's or Tariff Reformer's plea, " / do not find ordinary moral 
standards satisfactory." The reply is well known : sensationalism, 
in the realm of humour as in other realms, if consistent, must be 
speechless. 

(2) The more subtle opponents of Punning surrender their 
position and fall back on the bare statement^ "Punning is re- 
pulsive to me personally." This argument is more difficult to 
meet : there can be no objective standard of Repulsiveness, and 
so our opponent is not immediately guilty of inconsistency. We 
have, then, to examine the causes of this repulsion, and by show- 
ing what other things ought to be equally repulsive from the 
same cause, reduce him ad ahmrdwn^ Now, the objection is 

* Hoaiy-Toiy-0 1 Do-jo8*mak*-a-bee-'iit (bee-hive). 



PROSE, 1906 71 

probably baaed upon what U really a aound instinct : tbe objector 
feelfl that the punster is outraging language and is emphasising 
accidental similarities of sound at the expense of the essentiid 
relations of thought. This is seen clearly in his varying attitude 
to the Exact, the Good, and the Bad Pun. The first he tolerates, 
because the connexion is not really accidental, but essential : a 
pun, for example, on two senses of the word ''bow" only rouses 
the scientific mind to point out the underlying etymological con- 
nexion. He is less kind to the Qood Pun, since here etymological 
connexion is rare, and the relation is usually accidental ; but at 
least word corresponds to word, and the divisions of language are 
kept inviolate. But the Bad Pun overrides all considerations of 
etymok>gy, structure, and division ; and he feels it as a lapse into 
primal chaos from the hard-won Cosmos of language. But what, 
after aU, is the punster doing? He is only utilising for his own 
purposes accidental similarities of sound in words which bear no 
linguistic relation. This is precisely what has always been done 
by every poet that ever wore the bays of Apollo. Poets use, and 
are forced to use, sound-effects every bit as accidental as even 
the Maccabeeus masterpiece. Our objector, if he is consistent, 
must only allow them sound-effects where the connexion is essential 
— f.e. in onomatopoeic words. Thus, in Tennyson's line 

The murmur of innumerable bees 

he would allow him ''murmur," since the word is designed to 
convey the sound; "innumerable," on the other hand, conveys 
the " murmur " sound only accidentally ; the original Latin word 
would not do so at aU : hence Tennyson is making a Bad Pun. 
Therefore, for our objector, Tennyson and all other poets stand or 
fall with the nameless genius who invented the " Maccabaeus " 
pun. He must reject all or accept aU. 

(3) Having disposed of the sasthetic attack, we can face the 
utilitarian without qualms. In these days of reaction from the 
ideab of 1840 it is happily superfluous to refute the utilitarian 
position ab iniUo : having proved that punning is humorous, we 
need not further prove that it is not useless. But a few apodencri 
proofs may serve to indicate the strength of our podtion and to 



7« THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

show that puns are not, as is generally supposed, mere ephemeral 
creations belonging to the lighter side of life. A Pun by the 
Delphic Oracle, of which Croesus did not see the point, caused 
the fall i)f the Lydian Dynasty, and consequently the rise of the 
Persian Empire. A Pun ^ — ^by the same inveterate joker — caused 
Athens to build a fleet, and so led the way to the rise of the 
Athenian Empire. A Pun by Cicero^ clinched his case against 
Yerres, whose fall was the first nail in the coffin of the Sullan 
oligarchy, and so cleared the way for military autocracy and led 
inevitably to the rise of the Roman Empire. Finally a Pun — 
some authorities say three Puns — by Pope Gregory caused the 
oonversion of England to Christianity, which, as we all know, led 
to the rise of the British Empire. In the great movements of 
cosmic history, what are kings, principalities, and powers beside 
Puns? 

All the great men of the world have made Puns. Shakespeare 
made them ; Aristophanes made them ; .^schylus, Rabelais, Ben 
Jonson — ^the list is endless. I make them myself sometimes. 

Mr. Balfour does not* 

A. H. SIDOWIOK 

COINCIDENCES 

A recent writer has described with great sympathy and truth 
the feelings of some children, come to years of discretion, whose 
toys were to be sent away — how, in the dead of nighty they stole 
to the box in which the toys were packed, and, extracting from it 
a few of their most treasured relics, buried them in their garden, 
that the hand of the stranger might never rest upon them. 

With some such feelings a modem writer approaches the 
subject of coincidences. For these are surely the toys of our race's 
infancy — the tangible objects round which hangs our first un- 
conscious symbolism. The years of discretion teach us that toys 

1 Of. Herodotus, L 63, va 141. 
« In Verr.. II. L 46. 

* Except possibly « While I am leader of this party I intend to 
lead it.*' 



PROSE, 1906 78 

are made of lath and plaster ; the ages of discretion teach us that 
coincidences are too often the workings of a natural law, and bid us 
send them away in a box to the sayage, the mystic, the dreamer. 
But there still lurks in us the spirit of rebellion, which the calm 
voice of science cannot exorcise ; and in some midnight hour, when 
science sleeps, let us steal out and give them at least a decent 
burial, and perhaps a few words of funeral oration. 

For these forgotten toys once formed the only stepping-stone 
from the lower world to the higher. The stars at the birth of a 
victorious chieftain, the birds' flight across the path of a successful 
expedition, the rain which seemed to answer the priest's invocations 
— ^it was in these that our ineradicable impulse to wonder first found 
its satisfaction. It is true that this wonder begot science and 
philosophy, the brood of Kronos which deposed its own parent. 
But the battle was a long one, and the victors were divided. 
Philosophy at least never forgot the wonder from which it sprang : 
religion and poetry, at least in the first struggles, fought by its 
side, and superstition was always a bold and useful skirmisher. 
Even science itself found at first that it had won but a Pyrrhic 
victory. For when it had shown that the stars are merely a great 
system moving by unalterable law, wonder turned round on it^ 
and found in this very thing a new source of strength. The 
relentless march of the heavens typified the relentless march of 
man's fate; their ordered unity typified the unity for which he 
strove ; and so from its ashes arose Coincidence, and called itself 
Astrology. 

For us, of course, coincidence can never mean so much again. 
The mists of morning, which covered its early movements and 
made all things and shapes seem alike, have given place to the 
clear light of day, in which we can distinguish, and classify, and 
label Coincidence must take its place in the ordered army of 
fact : the excursions of its youth are over, its wQd oats are sown. 
And military restraint is not good for it — ^it grows pale and 
under its limitations. 

The law d probability is its n<m-commiflBifliied < 
somewhat of a martinet Lei eoineideiioe exeaed ill 1 
so litUe, and sdenoe steps in. If I see two nm (i 




74 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

of a club^ each with a aixpenny edition of Haeckel under his arm, 
I may call it a coincidence : if I see six men, Coincidence is at 
once ordered back to the ranks, and Science hastily explains that 
it is a Theological Club. I may smile or groan, bnt I may not 
wonder. In other ways, too, coincidence is boond by the Rational ; 
indeed, we can now see that it cannot exist without a rational 
basis. Bill, in ''Troy Town," remarking on the coincidence of 
his being hanged on his birthday,' might be thought a pure instance 
of chance happening. Cromwell's victories at Dunbar and Worcestei, 
and his death on the same day,, might seem an even stronger 
instance. But^ alas ! what is it that makes these events coin- 
cidences f It is merely the length of our year — ^a year 364 days 
would spoil them ; and this depends on the motion of the earth, 
and so aspiring wonder knocks its head against the Solar System — 
a sad shock to one so old. In one place only coincidence retains 
its ancient power. On the shores of the Mediterranean, where 
every prospect pleases and only man is vile, around the green 
baize tables, among the waste products of civilisation, coincidence 
finds its last and most faithful devotees. If such be the ending 
destined for it upon earth, better a quick death, a veil swiftly 
drawn, and a quiet grave. 

Yet the old age of coincidence has not been without its con- 
solations : it has even had its triumphs. Not ODly does humanity 
as a whole still refuse to walk under ladders or sit down thirteen 
to dinner ; Science itself was driven to invoke the aid of its ancient 
victim against the onset of Psychical Research, until it could save 
its face by compromising on Telepathy. But the battle only 
showed the weakness of the old warrior: the more coincidence 
was used the weaker it grew, and the more insistent became the 
demand for scientific explanation. And so Coincidence, "rude 
donatus," put up its sword and left its last field. 

Its task is over. They that fight the battle of the ideal 
against the actual no longer need its aid ; they can meet science 
in fronts from the end to which it advances ; they need not attack 
it from the quarter from which it arose. So at last we may bury 
the toy of our childhood, not perhaps in the Valhalla of OdUud and 
Thor, or the ^dryland where rest Cinderella and Jack the Giant 



PROSE, 1905 76 

EiUer, bat in some green spot open to the stars which were once 
its friends, where the birds fly that were once its messengers. 

KOI irai(eiv ore Kacp^, iwai^nfuv * ^vUa koI vvv 
ovKcri, XMiriptis i^povriBos a^iuda, 

A. H. 8IDOWI0K 



COINCIDENCES 

The ordinary man dismisses coincidences with a " Dear me ! " 
or a " How odd ! " But your philosopher who lives by wonder sees 
a pretty problem in them. Surely, he reflects, so strange a knot 
of events must signify something, be more than a fortuitous 
concourse of circumstances. But what? For it is hard to escape, 
and still harder to accept, the first and obvious solution, that if 
coincidences mean anything at all they mean that events are 
furiously wirepulled from the "other side." 

But in a mythopceic age, or in a mythopoeic mood, we make no 
bones about swallowing such a doctrine. We not merely accept, 
we greedily affirm the existence of wirepulling powers, and glory 
in our own puppetdom. Our complaint then is that coincidences 
and other miracles are so few. With that liberal supply of 
machinery they should be as the sands for multitude. 

That this mood is well known to us all is obvious enough from 
the fairy-tales. There the never-so-ordinary reader calls imperiously 
for his full rations of "voonders upon voonders," and gorges 
himself with miracles. And a fairy-tale without coincidences 
would be a fairy-tale without fairies. 

In real life also there is a curious half-acceptance of the 
doctrine on the part of men of destiny and their admirers. Tour 
real man of destiny, no less than the fairy hero, accepts coincidences 
as his right. He even appeals to them, or we do for him, as 
proofs that he is being used, as the phrase goes. It is right and 
proper therefore that the stars in their courses should fight for 
him. The smallest event has significance. 

The fairy defect of the fairy theory of ooinddenoes is, of 
that it proves too much; it empties out the baby with the 



counsL^H^^ 



76 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

A Batiflfactory explanation of coincidences must leave a little room 
at any rate for the action of the human mind. 

Now at this point, curiously enough, one aspect of fairy 
mythology begins to chime in with the most recent mythology — 
I mean with what has been named Metapsychics. 

Besides the non-human agents of the older mythologies there 
was often the human mind itself, in the form of the master magician, 
the wise old woman, or the silly son. And these purely human 
persons were frequently supposed to outmanoeuvre all the non- 
human powers in the direction of events. 

But that is just what Myers and his school claim for the 
'' subliminal " consciousness of man. As those who know anything 
of metapsychics wUl agree, there as yet appears no end to the 
wonder-working powers of the submerged mind. Among other 
little miraculous trifles, it runs our physical organism — ^in its spare 
dme, so to say. But its main work appears to be just that wire- 
pulling of events in time and space that meets us in the fairy-tale. 

Thus while the fairy-tale might reply to our question — What 
causes coincidences? — by pointing to the human magician, the 
school of Myers would point to the subliminal consciousness of 
every human mind. There, they say, is the destiny that shapes 
our ends, that loads the dice we throw, and plays the music to 
which we dance. Like another of Kipling's " harumfrodites," we 
are puppets and showmen too. 

How far we dare go in applying such a theory depends upon 
our courage. But we can scarcely go further than a distinguished 
Cambridge professor has lately gone, or in a more delightful 
direction. 

It is, or should be, generally admitted that of all people 
below the rank of men of destiny, lovers are most often indebted 
to coincidence. Their great miracle of coincidence is, of course, 
that *'just we two" should have met at all in a world of millions 
of souls. Cynical people see nothing remarkable in that ; but our 
professor, being a professor of philosophy, sees a good deal 
Believe not, he says, that this beatific meeting is due to nothing 
more than geographical propinquity ; but seek its origin, if not in 
other stars, at least in other states of your soul. In the subliminal 



PROSE, 1906 77 

world yoa two^ yoa happy two, conspired together to bring it 
about, and from Uience you pulled the strings that moved oTents. 
What wonder, then, that your course is strewn with coincidences ! 
Not to know them would be to argue true loTe unknown. 
Comforting as such a theory is to the lover, the novelist will find 
it equally comforting. He need no longer make-believe that his 
manifold coincidences are inevitable; he may boldly believe that 
they are, and tell his ruder critics to go to — Metapsychics ! Only 
he must be warned of this, that coincidences cannot be improvised. 
They will not come just when you do call them. Unless, there- 
fore^ the stuff of coincidences is confessedly mingled in the plot 
from the beginning, the story is only spoiled by producing them, 
juggler-fashion, out of obvious nothing. The sound maxim for 
novelists, as well as for other observers of human nature, is this : 
Always allow in your calculations for the incalculable subliminal ; 
you never know when you may need a coincidence, or a theory of 
coincidences. ▲. b. oraos 



A Caiasirophe is the fool's word for the fact that the seed 
which he has sown has come up. hbnbt masblsy 

A Mitutiderstanding is a term used by those who first meant 
what they did not say and then said what they did not mean ; (or) 
is a term used by those who have been led to say too much by the 
ftu^t that they ought to have said more. hsnby mabblbt 

An EntanglemefU — The mix of the warp and woof of " a will 
of its own " with the web of things as they are. 

JAMBS LB MORE 

A Sulk is the state of mind in which it would be well if one 
were to speak more and think less. k. t. stephbkbon 

A CaUutrophe—Wh&t we fail to see past. 
A Mi9under$tandinff — ^What we fail to see round. 
An Snianglement — What we fail to see through. 
A iSWife— What we fail to see in. 



78 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



SWEARING AND STRANGE OATHS 

The first remark to be made with regard to profane swearing is 
that popular ethics on the subject are in a thoroughly chaotic state. 
The ordinary Sunday-school condemnation of the habit is as 
inconsistent as the pulpit condemnations of gambling which leave 
the Stock Exchange untouched. 

For sure the first thing to be recognised about the man who 
misses his train and says " Damn ! " is that his language has no 
conscious reference to any theological dogma. If the man who, 
at the Professor's Breakfast Table, uttered three words, two of 
which were ''Webster's Unabridged," and the first an emphatic 
monosyllable, had really visualised St. Paul's conception of 
a groaning and travailing Universe (including Webster's Una- 
bridged), I for one would find a unique interest in his view-point. 
But let any reader ask the next man in the train who speaks of 
"the deuce" exactly what he knows or believes of the Dusii. 
The result will be pure blank. 

This obvious fact is not recognised in current ethics. The 
broken collar-button, the suddenly punctured tyre, the train 
missed by half a minute, produce an inevitable overflow of nervous 
discharge. Now, human behaviour under these conditions may 
take several forms. 

Some people let their emotions explode down ticket-of-leave 
channels. The present writer was once installed in a home wherein 
the domestic encumbrance was an aggressive adherent of the 
Salvation Army. When diplomatic relations with the mistress 
reached breaking-pointy the electrical condition of the kitchen 
atmosphere was always indicated by the overheard skains of 

'Tis life everlasting ; 'tis heaven below. 

So, too, I recollect observing the divergent behaviour of a man 
and his wife over one of the exasperating incidents of our trying 
civilisation. The man followed the energetic advice of a friend of 
mine : " D , and have done with it." The lady expressed her 



PROSE, 1906 79 

irritation (and her opinion of her bosband's language) with perfect 
propriety — and took an hour to do so. Now, tested by any aane 
ethics, there is not a penny to choose between this pious domestic 
and exemplary wife and the erring man who employs the em- 
phatic monosyllable. The kitchen hymnody warbled " D ! " 

to the dullest ear; and the emotions of man and wife were 
chemically the same stufi^ differing as squib-powder differs from 
gunpowder. 

Why not keep your irritation to yourself, and exercise restraint t 
asks an objector. There go two words to that. Emerson once 
said that if you are a poet and do not write poetry, the latent 
inspiration "will out,** even through the pores of your skin. 
A cynical lady observed to me that this is true of masculine bad 
temper too. The man is silent, and the evil thing comes out 
like a malarious atmosphere, poisoning the very springs of agreeable 
sociability. No ; my energetic friend's wisdom, as quoted above, 
is better than this. 

But perhaps the reader will argue that the impatience itself is 
immoral. The brilliant author of " The Defendant ** has taken up 
the cudgels for what may be called the swearables of our petty 
life. The worst knife that ever broke a pencil, he tells us, is not 
really a bad knife, but a good one if only we were not accustomed 
to a better. "It would be regarded as a miracle in the Stone 
Age." Bother the Stone Age ! The razor that failed to shave me 
this morning is undoubtedly a perfect weapon from the standpoint 
of the Stone Age. But then the chins of the Stone Age need no 
mora groomiDg. The fact is, Mr. Chesterton's defence is sheer 
immortal conservatism. I could defend Slavery or Armenian 
Massacres, or even the continuance in office of the present Qovem- 
ment, if you grant the antediluvian point of view. 

I should like to take a stronger line still. Swearing is 
essentially a Liberal habit. The emphatic monosyllable is the 
oldest and most venerable form of the creed of Mazzini and 
Gladstone. What is Liberalism ? It is academic discontent with 
things as they are. What is Swearing? It is non-academic dis- 
content with things as they aro. Mr. Gladstone's language 
against the Turk was saved only by prolixity from the charge of 



80 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

profanity ; Mr. Stead and Mr. Dillon ha^e croflsed the fence. The 
firat aboriginal Liberal in the Stone Age was the man who chipped 

his knocklea when trying to chip his flint hatchet, and said ! 

But meantime there are Fhilistinea in the land; and the 
present writer is a practical moralist. A string of convenient 
substitntes for swear-words is a felt want of our civilisation. 
Why not innocuons oaths? The Leimire How once suggested a 
perfect phrase for this purpose : " Dan Godfrey's blazing blast- 
furnaces " — the mouth-filling quality of which leaves nothing to be 
desired. I have known a Shakespearian enthusiast who fell 
back upon 

Now in the name of all the gods at once 

in time of stress. But enough of these toys. The great nation on 
which the sun never sets is obstinately conservative. It abides by 
its own beef, its own beer, it own fogs, its time-honoured dulness, 
its venerable ill-temper, and — ^last, but not least — ^its own pet mono- 
syllable. Offer it " Strange Oaths ! "—your thanks will be, '< Don't 
carea !" 

R. E. CBOOKE 



MORAL STORIES 

Gbimalkin and Littub Edith 

Once in ten thousand years a cat is allowed to speak. Grimalkin 
was that cat Little Edith had just pinched his tail. So 
Grimalkin said — 

" Why do you pinch my tail, Edith ? " 

'* Why, where else should I pinch, Grimalkin ? " 

OrimaUdn felt that he had wasted seven words ; Edith did not 
understand in the least. 

*' Put yourself in my place," he said earnestly ; *' would 

you like me to pinch your taill" 
*' But I have no tail," said Little Edith. 



PROSE, 1905 81 

So Orimalkin had another ten thousand years to think of the 
proper answer. 

Moral 

When opportunities are rare, 
Embrace them with excessive care. 

J. 0. STOBABT 



Thb Clothss and the Mbn 
{Afier G. Bernard Shaw) 

A rich man, feeling generous, presented his poor reUitions with 
new dothes. One was a clerk, crippled with rheumatism and 
a large family. He received a dress suit. The other was an over- 
worked curate, who had charge of a straggling district. A cycling 
suit was sent to him. While thanking the donor, he pointed out 
that he possessed no bicycle. The clerk also mentioned that he 
never had a chance of wearing evening dress. The rich man, 
deeply touched, immediately sent the country curate some ball 
tickets, and to the rheumatic clerk — a bicycle. 

Moral 

Not the Gift, but the Giver. 

HILDA NIWMAN 



The Ape that Ignored the Past 

A Youthful and Reforming Ape, fresh from a tour in Utopia, 
publicly advocated the use of nutcrackers. " In Utopia," said he, 
" nobody cracks nuts with his teeth, and consequently toothache is 
unknown." 

The Dental Adviser to the Crown rose to reply, and demon- 
strated that — 

(a) The Reforming Ape lacked all appreciation of the dignity 
of Apish customs. 

(6) It was centuries of strife with toothache that had made the 



82 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

character of Apes, and indeed the Empire of Apeland, the things 
they respectively were. 

The Youthful Ape died under a shower of cocoanuts. 

It was always too late to reform. 

R. D. DBNMAN 

IN PRAISE OF CATS 

The true cat is the emblem of tranquiUity, the incarnation of 
home, the embodiment of Oriental Nirvana at the Occidental 
fireside. Cats! As we see you, grey, sleek, motionless, staring 
with mysterious eyes through the heart of the red-hot coals into 
a Beyond that we cannot perceive, of what are you thinking T 
Some say, because you do not fawn upon your master like a dog, 
nor play tricks, nor come at a whistle, nor work like the horse, 
the ass, or the man, that you are stupid and lazy. These are 
people who have not leisure to think. The cat is the only animal 
capable of abstract thought, the proof whereof lies in her absolute 
calm of expression. Such calm is only attained by those who 
have grappled and vanquished the abstract problems of existence. 
Feline philosophers, could ye but speak ! 

The true cat is the hearthrug cat. Some may boast of mousers 
or show cats. Heed not these. It is only the cat of deficient 
intellect or of insufficient sustenance that condescends to prey 
upon mice and rats. A well-fed, well-trained cat may occasionally 
pursue a mouse if it should cross her path, but only in a pure 
spirit of amateur sport, and as one feature of the lordliest life on 
earth. The cat that habitually and professionally catches mice 
for a living is no lady ; and the cat is properly the most ladylike 
thing on earth, not excepting the lady. 

At the show the cat is quite in her element. For cats are 
always on show ; never unconscious, even when asleep^ of the 
value of appearances. There is one feline attitude at washing- 
time when one hind leg has to be raised in the air somewhat after 
the manner of a leg of mutton. This is not a graceful attitude, 
and the cat knows it. If she thinks that you are looking she will 



PROSE, 1905 8S 

sometimes begin with a deprecatory cough, and if you are a 
gentleman you will look the other way. But the show cat is 
not the true cat. For the most part she is a bundle of monstrous 
fur, wherein the elegance of feline shape is utterly obscured. 

Black cats require a separate paragraph. Some think they 
push the mystery-business to the verge of indecency. Black cats 
are uncanny. They visibly hold commerce with the unseen. 
When they are young and the rain is in their blood, black cats 
execute the wildest and most mysterious of leaps and gyrations. 
They are evidently at play — ^but with whom ? Ah, with whom T 
That was why they burnt old women who associated with black 
cats in the Middle Ages, and perhaps they were right. Black 
cats! 

No, the true cat is the tabby. That is the distinctive feline 
marking, as seen in her uncle the tiger. And the tabby is the 
most catlike of cats, the most graceful, the most indolent, the 
most meditative. For the cat is as the lilies of the field, that 
toil not, neither do they spin. The essayist may quote Shake- 
speare; but neither "harmless" nor "necessary" is an epithet 
complimentary to the cat. For the true triumph of feline genius 
is the manner in which she has contrived to live in comfort, rent 
free and owing no service to any man. No true cat comes when 
you call, because you caU. She will come if there is anything 
to eat, otherwise you may call until you are tired. 

Perhaps the secret of the cat's success as a fireside ornament 
is, in addition to her repose of demeanour and perfect manners, 
the silence in which she lives and moves. Walking daintily on 
cushioned velvet she makes no sound in her progress; she will 
walk through a bed of flowers or a table of Venetian glass, and, 
if not disturbed, breaks nothing. In repose she is silent too, until, 
saturated with bodily comfort, warm and well fed, she breaks into 
that most reposeful of human sounds, matched by nothing but 
the hiss of the tea-kettle. The purr of a cat has often deterred 
wicked men from crime. 

A silent, self-centred philosopher ! 

Ah, but in ihe silence of the night has not your blood run 
chill at the sound of those unearthly shrieks like the wail of lost 



84 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

souLs in the fire t And when yon were told that this is the wooing 
of Puss, did it not give yon cause to ponder upon the nature of 
the mysterious creature who deigns to dwell under your rooft 
A creature of a double life : by day the silent, somnolent, indolent 
prophet of repose, by night a dreadful, wailing, wild-eyed ghost of 
the shadows and the house-tops. Ah Sphinx! Ah mystery! 
He who loves thee most least comprehends thee. What hast thou 
seen, what hast suffered, to put that note of agony in thy 
nocturnal voice? How hast thou meditated, what riddles hast 
thou solved, to spread thy hearth-side face with that ineffable 

calm? J. 0. 8T0BART 



IN PRAISE OF CATS 

Custom, as inexorable as when she binds the names of 
Thackeray and Dickens eternally together in our conversation, 
forbids tlie discussion of cats uncompared with dogs: let no 
profane lust after originality drive us from obedience to her 
decree, rather let us meekly proceed once more to weigh in the 
balance their traditional respective merits. In fact, on this 
subject, the only permissible gambit is the question whether the 
one has less heart than the other, to which the reply must be no 
crude affirmative or barren negative, but, as befits the subtle and 
elusive nature of our theme, a nice evasion of the alternative, 
as " that the cat can more than make good in quality what she 
lacks in quantity," or " that where she falls short in intensity she 
surpasses in discrimination." For your dog, or rather your un- 
selfish dog — the whole depths of canine egotism no pen has yet 
probed — ^flings himself upon you with an " abandon " which allows 
no leisure for selection. Ages of evolution have given him one 
commanding need, an object for his love, a chance or a cash 
transaction has made you that object, so that he will fawn on 
you, idealise you, worship you, wiUi a devotion practically inde- 
pendent of your individuality. It is quite otherwise with the 
cat Her green eyes watch you shrewdly, with an almost cruel 
impartiality. She condemns, tolerates, admires you piecemeal, 
but if the sum-total of your qualities prove satisfactoiy, she will 



PROSE, 1905 86 

tender you, in consideration of your duly rendering service in 
food, fire, and massage, the honour of her cakn, unexacting affec- 
tion. To each of the high contracting parties is reserved their 
absolute independence of action and untarnished self-respect; 
neither sentimentality nor passion may mar the alliance which, 
when once formed, is durable, philosophic, Emersonian. 

Hence it is that men of hasty, impulsive natures, craving 
admiration of any sort, soldiers, sportsmen, and those who follow 
the rough excitements of business, are accompanied by dogs; 
while it is left to the cat to take her place as the honoured fellow 
of dons ^ in our universities, as the friend of artists, the beloved 
of poets and bishops. Sometimes there arises an actual antagonism 
between men of the former class and the too scrutinising critic, 
so that of at least one gallant soldier it is whispered that he 
fears nothing — ^but a cat. 

Let us not be thought rashly to maintain that cats are the 
only creatures capable of a restrained and lofty friendship for our 
race. Some men boast of a relationship all but perfect with a 
squirrel ; but for ourselves we always suspect that in reality they 
need to lavish a world of tenderness and devotion to gain in return 
but rare and tricksy &vours from their squirrel friends. With a 
jackdaw things may go better. Humour prevents his flattering 
preference from degenerating into mawkishness, but his companion- 
ship is exacting and whimsical, and it is not every one who can 
stand the strain of his rapid alternations between teasing and 
coaxing, between pecking and caressing. Besides, these other 
friendships are comparatively rare, results of lucky accident or 
complete compatibility, they lie, like the aristocratic manner, 
beyond the reach of the majority. But if you have gained a fair 
share of true civilisation of spirit, it is hard if you cannot have a 
cat to your hearth, to say nothing of kittens to your home. 

There is, alas ! another and a dimmer side to the fair medal 
of pussy's fame. As night comes on the darker steed of the pair 
which draw the chariot of her little soul (some coal-black Cinderella 

^ Sach as was the late lamented Senior Fellow of Corpus ChrlBti 
College, Oxford. 



86 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

charger would Plato have fabled it ?) grows strangely restive, and 
too often, taking the bit in its teeth, bolts awaj into regions of 
horrid, anti-«ocial barbarism. Philosophy, self-restraint, good 
manners, apply their brakes in vain — but this is in praiae of cats, 
and our very title bids us turn our eyes from the Hyde-like 
degradation of a noble nature. Who dare say, moreover, what 
purgatory of self-reproach is passed through at early dawn ; what 
hard-fought battle between the higher and the lower self precedes 
the attainment of that peace with the world and herself which 
radiates from the gentle cat who, restored to her right mind, mews 
for a sardine or whisks her gracious tail into your breakfast plate 
next morning ! oilbkbt whiteman 



ON THE BOKKOWINQ OF BOOKS 

A topic for the cynic, this. He may dilate upon the matter 
with a bland relish of its bitterness, noting with a smile of satia- 
faction the absurdity of the lender's anguish, the sublimity of the 
borrower's forgetfulness, as signal examples of the meanness and 
paltriness of the human soul, which are his chief delight. 

But the book-lover cannot dally with an affair so vital; to 
him it is unspeakable. To dwell on it is to forfeit all esteem for 
humankind. Mention the subject to him and he will turn upon 
you with churlish ferocity and voice, with a stern sense of virtue, 
his absolute determination never to lend a book. 

For in the society of the passions and affections the true love 
of books (not the mere love of reading) is an unsociable member. 
It does not consort with the love of humanity, as does the love 
of sport or of wine, but keeps by itself, sour and jealous, brooding 
over old wrongs, resentful of the demands that may be made on 
it by other feelings. 

Thus it is commonly found that the borrower of books stands, 
for the bibliophile, as the very type of all that is most treasonable, 
shameless, and graceless in human nature ; and this all the more 
if, in his inexperienced years, he himself was apt to lend. He 
cannot forgive himself for that trustfulness that was so foully 



PROSE, 1905 87 

abused from tiine to time, because the ghosts of the bookis lent 
long ago haunt him reproachfully. 

And indeed it is the suffering of the poor dumb books them- 
selves that would pierce, if anything would, the caUousness of the 
borrower. Exiles from their master's care, if they do not languish 
mouldily on a garden-seat or bank where they have been left, they 
stand on alien shelves in mute protest. It is their lot most often 
never to be opened from year's end to year's end ; if a £^nce fall 
upon th«m it is a glance made irritable by the qualms of stifled 
consdenoe; none takes any pride in them; none handles them 
lovingly, remembering their past history ; they are- elbowed by 
strange books whose neighbourhood has no meaning; and far 
away their rightful owner looks at the gaps in his shelf, where 
they should be standing with their fellows, cudgels his brain for 
the name of the rascal who has despoiled him of them, but 
sooner or later fills up those very gaps with new-comers. 

And yet, after all, despite all the heartburnings which this 
business of the lending and borrowing of books brings in its train, 
the world of friends would be a poorer place without it Perhaps 
the man whose master-passion is the love of books will do well for 
his peace of mind to keep clear of it. But it is a plain fact that 
he who never lends a book never has a book returned to him, and 
misses thereby one of the true pleasures of friendship. For 
between friends, such, at any rate, as are rather lovers of reading 
than lovers of books, the trusting and restoring of a book sweetens 
their intimacy in a way that more than compensates for an 
occasional actual or possible loss to their library. It is the token 
of the generous courtesy which is the garment of friendship, the 
vehicle of that communicativeness which is its essence. 

A friend would have his friend enjoy the writing that has 
rejoiced his own heart; it is even a fervent delight to him to 
know that the written word brought its message to his friend's eye 
from the same page that gave it to his own. And the book itself 
is dearer to him for having been handled by his fellow. 

Therefore, as an element of friendship^ despite the scorn of 
the cynic and the sour wisdom of the jealous book-lover, the 
borrowing of books has its place among the pleasant things of 



88 THE WESTMINSITR PROBLEMS BOOK 

life; and the careless and nngrateful borrower offends not only 
against the rights of books, but against the ri^ts of human 

fellowship. BLXANOR OBOPPKR 



BORKOWING BOOKS 
There are three ways of obtaining books — baying, stealing, 
and borrowing. The buyer loses money, the stealer loses reputa- 
tion and sometimes liberty, the borrower loses nothing except the 
lender's friendship. The difference between the last tiwo classes 
is rather subtle : both take the book, neither gives it back willinj^y ; 
but the thief, if pressed, wiQ probably deny his theft, while the 
borrower is always ready to acknowledge his borrowing. It ia 
generally best, when trouble is brewing, to address your victim 
voluntarily with some such phrase as <'It was so good of yoii 
to lend me that book." 

Borrowing books as a profession or as a means of livelihood 
is justly condemned by the right-minded; it should rather be 
regarded as a sport or as a fine art^ according to its grade. The 
lowest and least intellectual form consbts of entering a friend's 
house during his absence, removing a book, and leaving a message 
of insolent triumph to that effect ; this last act marks the transition 
from a felony to a gentlemanly proceeding. The second stage 
represents a moral advance upon the first : ethically it lies some- 
where between highway robbery and Rugby football. The dis- 
tinctive mark is that the owner is present when the book is 
borrowed ; the borrower announces his intention of borrowing the 
book, and wins the race home with it in his pocket. The varia- 
tion of this method, in which a third friend is introduced to hold 
the owner down while the loan is being completed, is of a lower 
grade, and can only be defended as a joke. 

In the third stage we pass from barbarism to civilisation; 
and moral institutions, which are the mark of civilisation, are 
here present in the form of certain presuppositions of politeness 
on either side, which constitute the rules of the game. Rule I. 
is that it is impolite to refuse to lend a book. This would se«n 
to put the game into the borrower's hands ; but Rule II. restores 



PROSE, 1906 89 

the balance by allowing the lender, within limits, to Bay that he 
has ahready promised the book to another friend. Matters now 
seem at a deadlock, but Rule m. again modifies the situation : it 
say that lies coming under Role 11. most not be too glaringly 
obvious. It is clear, then, that the borrower must exercise a nice 
discretion. On the one hand, the book must be valuable enough 
to be worth borrowing; on the other hand, it must not be so 
valuable as to force the owner to invent a really artistic lie and 
so escape Rule III. Where not much is at stake he wiQ probably 
refuse the effort involved, and let the borrower win the 
game. 

In this higher stage the game admits of several interesting 
variations, such as the Sick Friend, the Journey, and the Biter 
Bit. The Sick Friend is used either in attack or defence : thus 
the borrower may say that his friend is ill and in need of a 
certain book, and offer to take it to him ; or the lender may 
refuse to lend the book on the plea that he has already promised 
it to another sick friend; in such a case, however, the lender 
must observe Rule m. with care. The Journey variation is 
purely offensive : the borrower is leaving the lender's house and 
borrows the book to read in the train ; if the lender replies that 
he has promised to lend it to another friend to read in the train, 
he infringes Rule III., and loses. The Biter Bit is one of the 
most interesting of all the variations : as the name implies, the 
lender becomes a borrower ; he has lent, let us say, a book (a) to 
a friend. He then goes to the friend's house, borrows a second 
book (6), and says, " As I am here, I may as well take back that 
book I lent you," adding, '' for poor Jones," if he is also playing 
the Sick Friend. 

The above may serve to indicate some of the possibilities of 
this game. On its merits as a form of sport it is needless to 
dwell. Like all the higher forms of sport, it does much to train 
our faculties, and is an invaluable element in the education of 
an Imperial Race: at least it teaches thoroughly the two great 
lessons of Enterprise and Diplomacy (otherwise called lying and 
stealing), which form the A B C of Imperial expansion. It is 
with a just historical appreciation that the Book-borrowers' Club 



90 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

have placed in their vestibiile the baste of Ananias and Baiabbaa, 
engraved with the motto, " Honour among Borrowers." 

Book-borrowers on the whole are a prosperous and contented 
race^ and entertain a kindly feeling for one another, althouf^ 
their interesto frequently conflict. They are often scattered in 
this life — some live near Hyde Park, some in Portland ; but they 
will all be reunited later on. 

A. H. SIDOWICK 



HOW THE DADDY GOT HIS LONG LEGS 

Here is another story, O my Best Beloved, and it tells how 
the Daddy got his long legs. 

Once upon a time, before people were in such a 'scrudating 
scurry and before there were any motor-'buses, there was a 
Dretful Discontented Daddy. 

He was always grumbling about himself ; he grumbled about 
his toes and his nose and his tongue and his lung and his 
antennae and his appendicitis, but most of all he grumbled about 
his short, short legs. 

His legs were shorter than a centipede's, and, as you know, 
Best Beloved, the Daddies don't think anything of centipedes. 
" Clerks and Cabmen ** Father Daddy always called them. 

When the Dretful Discontented Daddy grumbled Father Daddy 
got mos' awful angry, and licked him, long and lustily, with his 
short, short legs. Tou must know, Bdovedest, that Father 
Daddy had short, short legs, too. 

That made tiie Dretful Discontented Daddy grumble all the 
more, because, as he took peculiar pains to point out, if it wasn't 
for his short, short legs Father Daddy couldn't catch him, and he 
would never get a long and lusty licking. 

When Father Daddy said he had no ground for complaint the 
Dretful Discontented Daddy said that even if he had it would be 
no use to him, as he hadn't what you might call a leg to stand on 
it with. 

Then Father Daddy was confused and struck dumb, and had 
no available answer, because it was Logic, and, as the Dretful 



PROSE, 1905 91 

Discontented Daddy explained, it stood to reason, and no one 
could reasonably expect anything more of him with his short, 
short legs. 

But when he added that Father Daddy couldn't get away from 
the fact because his legs were so short too. Father Daddy got moa* 
'stonishing angry, and said if the lumpy earth wasn't good enough 
for him he had better go and live in a Plate Olass Window. 

"Aye, aye!" said the Dretful Discontented Daddy; "just 
so, and not otherwisa Transport me to my Flatal-Pkne." 

That was the way the Dretful Discontented Daddy always talked. 
He thought it was Logic, too. But he made a mos' monstrous 
mistake in choosing his premisses. 

At the top of the Plate Qlass Window there was a Patent 
Ventilator, and on the other side of the Patent Ventilator there 
was a Wild West Wind. 

When the Dretful Discontented Daddy climbed up to the 
Patent Ventilator (and it took the Dretful Discontented Daddy 
three weeks to climb up to the Patent Ventilator with his short, 
short legs) the Wild West Wind blew him all the way down to 
the bottom of the Plate Qlass Window again. 

Then he was more dretfully discontented than ever, and he hid 
his face in his short, short legs and longed to go home. 

The only way home was through the Patent Ventilator, so he 
climbed and he climbed and he climbed, and he reached the 
Patent Ventilator in two weeks and six days. Just that time and 
no more. But he was so surprised that it hadn't taken him three 
weeks that he forgot all about the Wild West Wind, and the Wild 
West Wind blew him all the way down to the bottom of the Plate 
Glass Window again. 

It was all so spontaneous sudden, and he was so surprised, 
that he forgot to grumble, and said to himself, " If I got there 
quicker it strikes me my legs must have growed." And that was 
Logic, too. Best Beloved. So he climbed and he climbed as hard 
as he could climb, and' he kep' on and he kep' on and he kep' on 
a-keeping on, and each time his legs grew longer, and he gained a 
day each time ; and each time it was all so spontaneous sudden, 
and he was so surprised, that he forgot all about the Wild West 



92 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Wind, and the WUd West Wind blew him all the way down 
to the bottom of the Plate Glass Window again. 

By-and-by, and in coarse of time, he was able to dimb up to 
the Patent Ventilator in no time, and he became so 'customed 
to finding himself at the Patent Ventilator in no time that 
one day he remembered not to forget about the Wild West 
Wind. 

But when he tried to squeeze through the Patent Ventilator, 
behold ! his short, short legs had grown too long. 

Then the Dretful Discontented Daddy was more dretfullier. 
discontented than ever, and longed more'n ever to go home. 

Suddenly, and when he least expected it — and it does happen 
that way sometimes, O my Beloved — it occurred to him that as 
he had arrived there by Logic he might find a logical way out 

He said to himself, "If I can see through the Plate Glass 
Window I can wear a hole through it." And that would have 
been Logic, too, Best Beloved, if the Plate Glass Window hadn't 
been so hard. But the Dretful Discontented Daddy didn't think 
of that He was thinking of his dear family and how inordinate 
envious they would be of his nice long legs. 

So he started wearing a 'normous hole all over the Plate Glass 
Window, and he got so practised that he went all over it in no 
time. 

He is still trying to wear a 'normous hole all over the Plate Glass 
Window, and he can get all over it in less than no time nowadays, 
his legs have grown so 'ceptionally long. 

Occasionally, and between times, when Father Daddy comes 
and pokes fun at him through the Patent Ventilator, and asks him 
how he got his nice long legs, he pretends not to mind, and 
answers indifferently, " Specs they growed." 

But when a Stranger-man, taking a 'telligent interest, inquires 
who he is, he smiles in a sad and sorrowful sort of way and says, 
" I am the Daddy that longed for big legs, and all windows are a 
pain to me." 

lOHABOD 



PROSE, 1906 

EXPOSTULATION WITH A PARENT 

NOW, then, Clumsy ! 'Old up, can't yer ; and don't shove a 
chap inter the gutter. 

Tou wait till we gets 'ome, and see what Muvyer's got to say 
to yer, that's all ! 

Shamed of yerself, do ; in this 'ere state agin, same as last 
Toosday. 

Serve you jolly weU right if I chucked yer altogether. (Look 
out for that puddle, now ; there goes ! Wad did I tell yer?) 

'Urry up, now — past eleven o'clock, and me wantin' to be abed. 
But what's the odds to you if the Boss buUyrags me for bein' late 
at school or punches my 'ead for noddin' when another bloke's 
sayin' 'is Collick ? 

Oh ! no yer don't, neither — not a bit of it ! No sittin' on 
doorsteps, with the rain a-pourin' and peltin' and soakin' through 
everythink, an' my toes a-bustin' out of my ole boots. 

You buck up, now, and come along. Tou " ain't a-goin' to " ? 

All right, then ; 111 leave yer and skidaddle 'ome alone. There, 
dont'ee cry. Dad, dont'ee. I didn't mean it, I swear I didn't 

Look'ee here. Fader ; the teacher, he give me thruppence to-day 
to get my boots mended, coz it was my burfday. 

Tou 'urry up, now, an' you shall 'ave some baccy to-morrer ; 
you shall, for certain. 

That's right, mate, push along. 

The thruppence? Ho, ain't you wide awake, jest, an' no 
mistake? No fear — not me — not such a flat ! But you shall 'ave 
the baccy right enough. 

"Don't want none"? Ho, jrus, you wilL YouU grab at it 

98 



94 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

fast enough to-morrer. Shut up, I teU 'ee. I ain't got no 
thruppence, so stop it. 

Mind the step. 

Why, 'ere's luck! Muwer, she's out, n-looking for yer; so 
tumble inter bed, an' she can't jaw yer till to-morrer. 

B. BAUHEB WIIiUAHS 



ESSAY ON GOING YOUR OWN WAY 

One of the most cherished Articles in the private Creed of the 
Ordinary Man is the belief that he could — ^if he would — get his 
own way. That he does not attempt to do so is due, he thinks, to 
a kindly regard for others and a not ignoble wish to refrain from 
running counter to the ordered advance of his fellows. And these 
considerations alone keep him from setting out on that way of his I 

O pitiable credulity, that hoodwinks him and cheats him into 
believing such a fairy-tale! Getting your own way? Do you 
really think such a thing exists as your own way ? Can you see 
— or rather can you even imagine yourself seeing — any way in 
life, however fantastic, that can honestly be called yours f For a 
very few years, it is true, you had a way of your own and tried to 
get it — and I rather think you succeeded. But soon the grey 
cloud of Convention settled upon you and blurred all the land- 
scape, till it grew 

heavy with some veil 
Risen from the earth or fall'n to make earth pale. 

And the bright lights of earth and sky were gone, and you saw 
nothing but a few monotonous paths fenced in with neat hedges of 
What - other -people- expect - you-to-do- in-the - circumstances. Of 
course there is variety even in these paths. If you are disposed by 
nature to be a good citizen, you take a nicely paved path and keep 
your feet dry. If you are cantankerous, you choose a way full of 
puddles. But the hedges are always there, and the fog never lifts^ 
and soon you learn to believe that there is no fog, but that you see 
the whole countryside and are taking your way across it. 

A few there must be, I fan<7, whom the mist can never Uind ; 



PROSE, 1906 95 

for ''some there are that with due stepB aspire " to reach what 
lies beyond our trim roads. So they leap the hedges and find the 
broad hillside and moorland, and plunge across them, getting their 
own way and I know not of what delight beside. 

For the rest of us, who dimly hope that the beaten track that 
we see Ib not all, there is no salyation save to take the hand of a 
very little chUd and follow where it leads us, as it gets its own 
way. But woe to us if we bring the little feet to walk along the 
paths within the hedges, and bid the little eyes yield to the grow- 
ing mist which lies so heavily on owr eyelids ! 

M. V. HILL 



ADDITIONAL CHAPTER TO "ALICE THROUGH 
THE LOOKING-QLASS" 

Alice was getting quite accustomed to jumping little brooks, 
and finding on the other* side a new kind of person ; and so, after 
jumping this last one, she was surprised to see Humpty Dumpty 
again, still sitting on the wall, and still smiling at her. 

"Does he always smile, I wonder f" she said to herself as 
she approached him, curtseying and trying to remember whether 
it was his belt or his cravat. '* We meet again," she said, looking 
up at him. 

"^ Whose fault is that f " said Humpty Dumpty. 

"I suppose it is mine," replied Alice ; but he merely smiled at 
her so pleasantly that she did not feel at all shy. " I have been 
wishing to see you again," she went on, " because I want to ask 
you the meaning of l^e other hard words in the poem, which you 
began explaining to me so kindly." 

" I didn't explain them kindly," remarked Humpty Dumpty ; 
" it was kind of me to explain tiie words ; that's what you meant 
to say." 

Alice thought that was what she had said, but she had learnt 
that it was easier not to argue with Humpty Dumpty. 

''I like explaining," said he; "tell me what you want to 
know." 

"Well," replied Alice, glad to find him so accommodating, "I 



96 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

can goeis that frunUaus means fnming and foriona, and that by 
galumphing you mean triumphing gallantly *' 

''No," said Humpty Dumpty, interrapting her, "it means 
galloping triumphantly ; but I see you understand the principle. 
Go on." 

''Then what is uffishf" asked Alice; "'in ufSsh thought^' 
you know." 

" I do," said Humpty Dumpty. " It means a kind of huffjr 
uppishness, and people who hunt Jabberwocks are very liable to 
it. It is not infectious." 

"That's a comfort," Alice replied. " Whiffling^ I suppoee, 
means whistling and — and sniffing ? " 

" Yes," he replied ; " it is a triumph of onomatopoeia." 

"And what is that?" Alice asked eagerly ; "it sounds nice." 

"r-ttty^y," Humpty Dumpty continued hurriedly, *' means 
turgid and bulgey ; all woods, you may have noticed, are turgid ; 
and this one was bulgey as weU. What next? " 

" Let me see," said Alice, repeating the next verse quickly to 
herself. 

" You may," remarked Humpty Dumpty. 

" What does vorpal mean ? " she asked. " ' His vorpal blade 
went snicker-snack.' " 

"Why, of course it means that the stroke was mortal to hia 
corporeal vitals," said Humpty Dumpty. "You might have 
guessed that, I think." 

" Well, I can guess that burbled means that the Jabborwock 
bubbled and gurgled, and that chai*iling is chuckling and snorting. 
But what is beamish f " 

"Dear, dear," said Humpty Dumpty, "have you no sense 1 
He was beaming, of course ; aiid he was Flemish, on hia mother's 
side. Now, have you guessed manxome f " 

Alice thought a little, and said, " Does it mean the foe was 
handsome and Manx? — But then the Jabberwock had a tail, so 
he can't have been Manx." 

" Handsome is right," said Humpty Dumpty ; " but the other 
part of the word is 'manicured.' He was very careful of his 
nails." 



PROSE, 1906 97 

"Thank you," aaid Alice; "then that is all— except the 
Tumtum tree. I've never seen one." 

" But you must have heard of things being done in ioto,** said 
Hnmpty Dumpty, " which is the ablative of Tomtom." 

r. 8IDGWI0K 



IN PRAISE OF PROCRASTINATION 

To live by the clock, as thoogh for ever catching imaginary 
trains, is to Live in misery. It is difficolt, however, to persuade 
energetic or ponctoal people of this. They always act and talk as 
though there were some merit in getting a thing done — whether it 
is wanted or not Mrs. Baxter, in " Quisante/' is a good example 
of this : " She was under spiritual contract to make two petticoats 
a month," and she interrupted the conversation to say: "'I'm 
splendidly forward. This isn't an April one ; I've done them, and 
this is my first May.' It was impossible not to applaud and 
sympathise, for it was no later than the 27th of April." Some one 
asked her if she had ever thought what would happen if she 
stopped making petticoats, asserting that it illustrated the absurd 
importance we attach to ourselves, and that the race would get 
itself clothed somehow. The good lady was quite unimpressed, 
and was hard at work on June petticoats in May. The pity is that 
such people cannot realise that the world would go on quite peace- 
fully and comfortably without their strenuous efforts. They make 
a little god of Punctuality and rise up early in the morning to offer 
sacrifice to it. They spend their life in an unceasing effort to do 
everything at the proper time — or sooner, for the habit increases 
till they become miserable if they only finish anything wJien it is 
wanted. Their life is one long feverish task, and they probably 
die before their time in order to live up to their principles. These 
punctual people have many proverbs to hurl at Uie heads of 
weaker brethren : "Never put off till to-morrow what you can do 
to^y." Why? we ask; but they are doing to-morrow's work 
and have no time to answer. 

" A stitch in time saves nine." The poor idiots do not realise 
that if the stitch is put off long enough it need not be done at all. 
7 



98 THE WESTMINSTER PROBIJEMS BOOK 

'* The early bird catches the worm/' which seems to show that 
worms, anyway, are subject to a different moral code from the rest 
of the world. 

They — the punctual people, not the worms — ^boast that they 
" rise with the lark " ; but unfortunately they do not " go to bed 
with the lion," which would seem an appropriate end, both to the 
proverb and the people ! 

They drag poor Solomon in to back them up, and as Solomon 
lived at a time when wisdom meant moral precepts, not brilliant 
epigrams, he uttered very excellent sentiments about sluggards, 
and ants, and the virtues of early rising ; but Solomon was wiser, 
and from his realistic description of the sluggard's petition for " a 
little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep," 
we may gather that he had tasted the joys of lying in bed after 
he was called. The people who bound up at the appointed hour 
lose one of the greatest pleasures of life. To half waken, to turn 
over and curl up again, just for a few minutes (!), and to fall into 
a gentle doze, is to enjoy luxury in its most seductive form. It 
has been well described by a poet who was, otherwise, uninspired : 

A pleasing land of drowsyhed it was, 

Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye, 

And of gay castles in the clouds that pass 
Forever flushing round a summer sky. 

There eke the soft delights that witchingly 
Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast 

And the calm pleasures, always hovered nigh ; 
But what e'er smacked of noyance and unrest 
Was far, far off expelled from his delicious nest. 

This is the gift of " Procrastination " ! 

Punctuality can only reward its devotees with an increase of 
activity, accompanied by self-conceit; but Procrastination gives 
unending pleasures. The happy moments spent in bed in the 
morning, when a sleepy conscience, giving gentle pricks, only 
heightens our enjoyment, are almost equalled by those at night, 
when we sit before a fire putting off the moment of going to bed. 
The pleasantest part of a visit is that when we say we ought to 



PROSE, 1906 99 

go, and know we ought to go, but linger for a few last words, 
becanae we are enjoying ourselves too much to tear ourseWes 
away 1 It is only those who can throw punctuality to the winds, 
and put off their daily duties with a clear conscience, who can 
enjoy a sudden and unexpected holiday — who can go just because 
the sun beckons and the wind calls, for a long, idle day in the 
open air, and come home, tired and happy, filled with the beauty 
of the world and the joy of living, to find that the day's work 
which they had planned has remained — very comfortably — undone, 
and that the world has been clothed — even without their petti- 
coats! ** Procrastination,'' says the moralist, "is the thief of 
time"; but surely a thief like Lamb's friend who borrowed 
books and did not return them — yet "if he sometimes, like the 
sea, sweeps away a treasure, at another time, sea-like, he throws 
up< as rich an equivalent to match it." We have lost a day, but 
have gained a treasure, which cannot be taken away from us — a 
happy memory. To procrastinate is often sound, worldly wisdom. 
It is not always expedient to act too quickly, and " to be too busy 
is some danger." Most of the men in history who have kept their 
heads, both metaphorically and literally, in troublous times were 
those who waited to see how the cat jumped. Queen Elizabeth 
lived peaceably in the main, and left her country happy and 
prosperous by the simple expedient of putting off her marriage, 
and keeping all the eligible princes in Europe dangling after her, 
instead of turning one into a troublesome husband and the rest 
into declared enemies. She knew that when she made a bargain 
she must keep something in her basket for the next customer or 
she would lose her market ! 

Even in lesser matters Procrastination is sometimes useful. 
We may turn the tables on the worshippers of action and say, 
"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread," or "What is done 
cannot be undone." Indeed, when one does not know what to do 
it is a very sound rule to do nothing ! By procrastinating we may 
find a way out of our difficulty or the difficulty may end itself. 
At the worst, silence can never sting as words do, and the letter 
which has never been written cannot rankle like the letter which 
has ! Perhaps we take Procrastination too seriously, and confuse 



^^^'^Lc*??^ 



100 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

her with the sober virtae Prudence, when we imagine her as taking 
part in affairs of State. She is the companion of oar idle hoian, 
the Juliet who whispers : "It is the nightingale and not the 
lark"; a thief, perhaps, but one who steals so pleasantly and 
robs us of what we value so little that we are content to look the 
other way and believe that her thievish tricks only add to her 
charm. Auci bowman 

THE DUSTY MILLER 

Was there a real miller ? Why, yes, dear, of course there was. 
Ever so long ago — he lived in a little old-fashioned mill with his 
old mother. The miller was a kind man. He made porridge for 
all the hungry cats, and he fed the birds all winter. When cruel 
people moved away and left poor pussy to starve she knew just 
what to do. She went right down to the mill, and lived in one of 
the sheds and ate the miller's porridge. 

No, he wasn't married. If he had been married there wouldn't 
have been any story, I'm afraid. You see, he helped all the poor 
people, and fed cats and birds, and kept his old mother comfort- 
able, and somehow he never thought of getting married. But by- 
and-by the old mother died — and that winter the miller was very 
lonesome. He began to think of a wife then. But he was getting 
too old for most of the girls ; and somebody exactly to his mind 
was not so easy to discover. He was afraid to marry a wife who 
might grudge the cats their porridge. 

Well, one day he had been at the fair, and he had stayed late 
watching the dancing — not dancing himself, but only looking on. 
And he was coming home — lonely to his lonely house. And there 
in the moonlight, by the Holy Well under the Fairy Thorn, he 
saw a young girl sitting. 

She looked tired and wet — for it had rained since the gloamiQg^ 
and she was bathing her weary little white feet in the well — ^ber fair 
hair hung all about her shoulders. The miller was wrrj for her. 
He stopped to speak to her, and he lingered speaking to her, and 
she told him that she was a stranger and had come a long way* 
Her blue eyes were so sad, and she shivered in the eold, and the 



PROSE, 1906 101 

miller took his own warm cloak and wrapped it round her. And 
she thanked him, and asked him to meet her again and she would 
give him the cloak. 

Well, he went back there — and there she was with a little 
more colour in her cheek — and they made another tryst The 
miller was in love — there was no doubt of that. But he could 
hear nothing of her by day, and he never questioned her after that 
first night: it was enough to be beside her — and look at her. 
Sometimes she would sing. Such music! none ever heard the 
Uke! 

But all this time it was dawning upon him that there was 
something unearthly about her. For one thing — ^night by night 
she appeared to him in finer dress and more radiant beauty. At 
first he hardly noticed any change — then it began to trouble him ; 
and one night, when she came from behind the thorn, in a green 
robe all sparkling with gems, her wee white feet in golden slippers, 
he threw himself on the ground and kissed the hem of her 
garment. 

"Ah!" he cried, "how happy — how unhappy I am! For 
you are either a fair princess or — what is more likely — the Elf- 
Queen. And soon I shall lose you, and I shall wither in 
despair." 

" I did not mean to harm you," she said. " But it is true 
that the time of my stay here is come near an end, and I too am 
unhappy with the thought of losing you, for I have learned to 
love. Tell me, miller, do you wish that we should meet 
thus year by year, and never lose each other while the world 
lasts?" 

So the miller said there was nothing he wished more. Then 
she smiled and made a sign ; and where he had been there was a 
little knot of mealy flowers — ^the first Dusty Millers that ever 
grew, Darling. For you see the Fairy Lady was April, who comes 
poor and shabby and grows splendid day by day, and the Dusty 
Miller is always there when his Lady is in the land. Do you like 
the story. Darling t" 

" But how did the cats do ? " said Darling. 

AOmBB S. FALOONSB 



108 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

POPULARITY 

" Fame floats on the wind's breath," say the wise men ; but 
that thing which, like fame, is much sought for, and, like love, 
much longed for, is swift as the wind to pass, and slow to come as 
dawn to one that is lost. 

Tou may search in vain through all the lands and half the 
seas ere you shall find a man who is loved of his peers, though 
this graft and, as it were, side branch of the Tree of Love is the 
pride of youth and the chief hope of all age that is not made a 
dead thing by ill-health or the joy of gold. I think the charm 
that takes men's hearts with love is the one thing that lives on 
when the man who waked the heart of it is dead. For some short 
years it lives, and like a fire in the wind dies out and is gone. 

But when the m^n who is loved has made his own niche, small 
though it be, in the House of Fame, and yet his friends speak not 
of him, but their eye glows and the flush comes red on their cheek 
— that man you shall count wise to smooth the rough ways of life. 
Then you must hear the talk of the maids that served in his house 
and the men that have tilled his fields ; and if they too speak no 
ill of him you shall judge him for more than wise. He is rich in 
the gift of love, which can draw love as the stone draws steel ; his 
name shall sound sweet in the months of men all the length of his 
yean ; and he shall taste of the Wine of life and drink from the 
cup of the gods. 

BTHKL TALBOT 



THE VICE OF CONSISTENCY 

Long years ago a Man — ^perhaps it was Adam himself — set up 
a Fetish, shrouded it with solemnities, and named it Consistency. 
Then he called upon Woman to reverence it and bow down to it, 
and she, in each succeeding generation, has striven — ^more or less 
successfully — to yield it her respectful admiration. But at heart 
she knows that her worship is hollow, and there have been 
moments when she dared whisper that the Fetish is a sham and 
can only bring disaster on its devotees. Yet of the solemnity of 



PROSE, 1906 103 

its pretensions there can be no doubt Let Man, its High-Priest, 
speak and he will tell you that to be consistent is to be noble, 
just, and honourable — to be inconsistent is to be trifling, irrational, 
and untrustworthy. On this belief as foundation he builds an 
amazing structure of rules for life and conduct. Take but his 
views on politics. It is needful, says he, for a well-ordered state, 
that a man's beliefs and deeds of to-day should be consistent with 
those of yesterday, and should foreshadow to-morrow's. But if 
woman would but follow her true instinct, which bids her call a 
consistent man a bore, she would haye none of this vicious theory 
that one action must follow another in succession of dreary 
likeness^ like iron palings all of a size. 

Even in dining, Man avers that Consistency it is that bids him 
eat his fish before joint, and makes it altogether unthinkable that 
the soup should appear after cheese. But Woman has never yet 
brought herself to believe that consistency in dining can be a 
virtue. For, though I doubt if she would admit it, her ideal of a 
dinner can be satisfied by a savoury and an dclair. 

How is it, then, that, with these sceptical thoughts in her 
heart, Woman can yield as much reverence as ever to this FetLsh 
that masquerades in such virtuous guise ? Is it not that she may, 
by a noble exercise of the contrary Virtue, prove how really 
vicious is Consistency ? So she continues to aid Man, in spite of 
her inward knowledge, in his worship of tiie great Sham. 

Thus, by one great self-sacrificing exercise of her native 
Inconstancy, does Woman undo the mischief wrought by this vice 
of Man. M. V. hill 

EPIGRAMS 

The only use many people have for a God is as a safe and reliable 
agency for the proper chastisement of those that trespass against 
them. 

Some people seem to believe that God's Providence operates 
only outside the sphere of human aim and motive. If this be so, 
it must be by a strangely circuitous and perplexing method that 
Providence dodges the devices of mortals, so as to bring about the 
world's great events notwithstanding. 



104 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

THE TINTED GLASS 
A Reyisw 

It is not often given to the reviewer — an epicure of somewhat 
jaded palate — to experience a new sensation. Mr. Rudyard 
Killing provided one some years ago, and a few others, but very 
few, have done so since then. Now, with the coming of spring, 
'<M. A. Knowles" has done it for us again with <*The Tinted 
Glass," a book which must always be considered a very remark- 
able performance whatever the author's subsequent work may be. 
It is not a book which bids fair to attain an exuberant popularity. 
There is a hint of allegory in it which will be distasteful to some, 
and a certain old-world precision and leisureliness of style unsuited 
to an age which cherishes the Rapid Review. These remarks 
will perhaps recall "John Inglesant," but "The Tinted Glass" 
is not in the least like " John Inglesant " — that marvellous jewel 
of story, an opal in a medieval setting. It is fanciful, somewhat 
after the fashion of Hans Andersen perhaps, and the quaint, 
direct, lucid style, with the abrupt changes from humour to 
pathos, the sudden half-caustic, half-playful reflections of the 
author, are not unlike his manner. It is worthy of note in this 
age, which approximates every day more nearly to the state of 
things prophesied by Mr. Chesterton when " we shall not be able 
to see the ground for clever men," that this book contains no 
intentional epigrams, carefully thought-out paradoxes, startling 
epithets, or other depressing manifestations of the author's 
ingenuity and industry. He is, in fact, to be congratulated on 
having achieved a style without mannerisms and with distinction. 
"The Tinted Glass" is a simple story, essentially English in its 
setting and its characters — save one. The scene is a village in 
Dorset or Somerset, the date somewhere in the dreamy age before 
motor-cars were, almost before railways were — the last years of 
England's beauty sleep, in fact John Deverel possessed a wife, 
a son, Roger, and the most prosperous farm in the village, though 
his wealth was not expressed in luxury. "The best parlour at 
Deverel's was a long, low room with a polished floor and no 



PROSE, 1906 105 

carpet, windows wider than their height and no curtainB, carved 
wooden chairs and no cushions. On the polished table in the 
centre there always stood a large china bowl full of flowers, and 
on a high side-table there lay two books — the Bible and Shake- 
speare. The room was certainly well furnished. The neighbours 
said that the Deverels did not need to make a show to let others 
know how rich they were, and that is certainly a convenient 
reputation." The farmer and his wife are in keeping with their 
honest, homely surroundings, and their son is — a poet and a 
philosopher. He grows up treated always with kindness, but 
never understood by his parents, inherits the farm at their death, 
and lives his whole life in the village in which he was bom, liked 
but never in the least comprehended by his shrewd, cheery 
agriculturally minded neighbours. The book is, in fact, the story 
of the life of a man who lived always in a foreign country inhabited 
by a race friendly but foreign to him. When a boy he picks up 
in one of his facer's fields a piece of glass tinted with prismatic 
colours, a fragment centuries old turned up by the ploughshare 
from its long resting-place. Here the discerning reader vnll 
scent the allegory which is certainly not artfully concealed. He 
keeps the tinted glass always, and gradually falls into the habit 
of observing mankind through it. The glass, needless to say, 
has remarkable powers of altering perspective and colour for the 
gazer. The poet, in fact, sees things as they are, and is thus 
worlds removed from his neighbours, who can never be persuaded 
to look through the glass, and regard him in general as an 
amiable eccentric. Roger has his love a£EiEiir, but it is only an 
episode in his life and in the book. The development of this 
episode is a half-ironical contrast of two methods of courtship. 
Marian Barton, the village beauty, is a triumph of characterisation. 
She was *'what some would call an ordinary girl. Ordinary, 
howevor, only in the sense that there are many like her in 
England. Not clever, but with subdued twinkling lights of 
humour about her, and full of a golden, radiant content destined 
to be a lamp unto the feet of her husband." Marian has another 
lover besides Roger, a certain William Friar, a cheerful and 
commonplace young fanner, evidently the ri^t man for her. 



T 



106 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Roger recognises. He decides to make room for the triumph of 
the commonplace, and tells her one evening of his love and his 
decision. Marian only half understands him, for she is entirely 
engrossed with the vision of William coming over the common 
to meet her, and Roger leaves her to that happy consummation. 
This, as we said, is only an episode in the book. The life of the 
village goes on ; Marian and William are married, and go through 
various vicissitudes of fortune. Unconsciously to them all Roger 
la always their best guide, philosopher, and friend, though many 
look upon him as a harmless lunatic. The book stops — it can 
hardly be said to finish — with a description of the feverish activity 
engendered by the opening of a railway through the district and 
the leap by which the village becomes a town, which is marked 
by the birth of its newspaper. The actual end is in 1870, and 
the passing bf the Education Act, with Roger's comments thereon, 
dose the story in a singular though not inappropriate fashion. 

K. T. STEPHENSON 

THAT BOOKS ARE THE BEST FRIENDS 

Those who believe this cannot have read Walt Whitman. 

For, indeed, I know of no author who emphasises the con- 
trary with so much conviction and to so much good purpose. If 
books are to be ranged according to their " friendliness," his will 
certainly take a principal place on our shelves ; yet no sooner do 
we settle down in an easy-<;hair to participate in the delights of 
a '' causerie " with our newly discovered friend than we are asked 
to look for him — ^not on such-and-such a page, nor between the 
lines, bat "under our boot-soles." This might appear at first 
sight nothing less than a hollow and uncharitable pretence at 
abasement, a scurvy trick of self-humiliation pranked upon the 
unwary and warm-hearted fellow-sinner in order to circumvent 
his attempts at a confession — ^as a man might shake his empty 
purse in the face of a petitioner or forestall the request of a loan 
by bagging a sixpence to redeem his waiatcoat. This lowering of 
a man to your boots is not more in season than the premature 
and unattended disappearance of your neighbour below the table 



PROSE, 1906 107 

at a friendly dinner-party, putting an untiinely end by his mere 
impatience to the mutual ''feast of reason" and progressive 
**flk)w of soul." But to deal seriously by our author — for we 
have been but trifling with him so far — the injunction is not 
that we should examine our shoe-leather, or the dusty carpet of 
our sitting-room, but that, having emerged with him into the air 
and succeeded him at his own diversions, we should "see what 
flowers are at our feet," behold and consider the pleasant ''leaves 
of grass," and look along "the open road." To do this in the 
right spirit — and that is our author's — is to be on a pretty good 
understanding with Nature and feel the community of fellow- 
travellers. Yet this would seem to be no less than what we had 
hoped to derive from a long course of mutual cultivation and 
friendly tete-k-tete with our books. Do I hear certain well-to-do 
friends and comu relations protest at this juncture f Is this atti- 
tude as much above their understanding as the other was beneath 
it! Such as have money to supply themselves with knick-knacks, 
pictures, motor-cars, &c., like prodigiously to attach to their sub- 
stantial surroundings a local habitation and a name. And, indeed, 
I confess myself to a certain sympathy even with the book-lover 
who lends a value apart from its author to an uncut favourite. 

There are such things as associations apart from authorship. 
An old china tea-cup that we have in our possession has gained 
great properties of friendship from having stood for many years 

on the chimney-piece of our great-grandmother F , who, 

we know, disliked Chinamen as much as we do ourselves^ and 
cannot be thought to have cherished this chipped remnant of a 
set on account of any secret affection she bore ihe "pagan" 
handicraftsman who made it. A cabinet-maker once produced 
a square and sullen piece of furniture which has, since it left 
his hands, acquired an air of tenderness, almost sisterliness, by 
reason of the affection bestowed upon it by some departed friend. 
How much more, then, will books^-our constant companions, 
taken up at all odd moments of the day, full of the "sounds 
and sweet airs" of past reading, recalling, perhaps, a face long 
since forgotten, a voice "long since mute," a field or scenery 
long since destroyed or converted — seem able to replace or to 



108 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

better the friendshipB we still retain with spirits of our own 
flesh and blood ! But is not even this, after all, only friendship 
by proxy ? Could we love our books, our cabinets, our old china 
tea-cups unless we had loved the friends whose memories linger 
about them ? Can we love them at this moment without includ- 
ing many parts of the broader reality in our affection ? Merely 
to make friends of books for their own sakes would seem, in the 
words of CervanteS) to be ''wanting better bread than is made 
of wheat." Shakespeare, as Dryden tells us^ and we can well 
believe, "needed not the spectacles of books to read Nature," and 
Beatrice, as Shakespeare himself tells us, "could see a church 
by daylight," which I take it to mean could give all things their 
due, and recognise one form of truth without unnecessary exag- 
geration of another. e. maocoll 

THE COMPLEAT VAGABOND 
Chapter VII 

This morning I was up before the sun, and I washed in the 
stream as the warmth began to come into the east, and a bird or 
two tried timidly for a reply, each one emboldening another ; so 
I returned to my fragrant haystack, and watched the sunrise. 
There came into my head the conceit of Sir Francis Drake's 
epitaph, that says "the sun himself cannot forget his fellow- 
traveller"; and I thought that the combination of poetry and 
scientific inaccuracy in that phrase would date it for any one. 
But Drake was no vagabond; he had an object, and reached 
forward to an inconquerable hope. Tour true vagabond is a 
free agent. I recalled the new word " casual " — it was new when 
last I read a newspaper forty years ago — and I agreed with myself 
that the word described me best Thorough independence of 
civilisation is (alas!) impossible for me; the laws of England 
prevent me from stealing my food — " convey " the wise it call ; 
her climate prevents me from going unclad; and comfort bids 
me seek a barber now and again ; while my most galling chain 
is that which binds me to my banker : thank Heaven, I have and 
need no solicitor! But money I must have, to buy me food 



PROSE, 1906 109 

and cloiheB, though I only buy clothes when I go South in 
winter and spring, because I can get better clothes for my money 
at a place I wot of in Northern Italy than anywhere else. And 
it b usually at that season when I have to leave England that 
I return most nearly to civilisation. Last year, on the boat to 
MarseiUes, I met a man whose aim in life, or lack of aim, was 
very like my own ; but even he had seen an account of Gordon's 
death at Khartoum in a newspaper some twenty \years ago, 
whereas when I retired from sophistication, Gordon was indeed 
known to me, but by the merest accident. Men will be talking, 
and they insist on trying to " inform " you ; they are unselfishly 
anxious that you should hear " the latest," and selfishly anxious 
that you should hear it from no lips but theirs. For me, I care 
for none of these things. If a man will tell me what he has 
seen for himself of the way the wren builds ; if he will sing me 
a song of the people that has never been "lapped in lead" — 
type, I mean — or if he takes my crust as his due without thanks, 
I know him for a brother vagabond, a casual like myself. It 
is many years since an Essex casual told me that the wren built 
her nest from the outside, working inwards, while the blackbird's 
last labour is to add an extra covering without; which I never 
knew before. And then the carol I heard from a Herefordshire 
mummer last year! — ^the quaintest possible collocation of Chris- 
tianity and Paganism, like our marriage service — ^and all of it 
sung to a tune like a stream in sunlight Only the other day 
I gave bread and bacon to a vagabond obviously poorer than 
myself, whom I forbore to remind of the three shillings he has 
owed me this half- century. He was almost bUnd, and did not 
know me; but as I looked at him I recaUed the place where 
we made the bet he has since lost, on that windy down that 
overlooks our old school. So we spoke of common things, till 
he used a phrase that I know he learned from one of my dead ; 
and it jarred a chord of memory long since out of tune, so I bade 
him God-speed and struck off into a side-road. How I love 
these little side-roads of England in summer 1 Till they cease 
I ramble along them, first on this side and then on that, stopping 
to look at a flower, or to remember where last I heard that 



110 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

warble. Yagabondia is a happy land for a man to whom lack 
of companionship is not loneliness ; and such have I been forty 
year. 

F. SIDOWICK 



"EULALIE; OR, THE ELMS AT R^AUYILLIERS " 

[NoU to the Reader, — Let it be granted that "prose descrip- 
tion " may be : (a) subjective ; (6) objective ; and (c) the blend 
of (a) and (6), which results in the "pathetic fallacy" — 
a frequent trick of the "decadents." Let it further be 
granted that "the style of the modern decadents" may be 
concocted by taking the mannerisms of, intei' alia^ Qeorge 
Moore, Oscar Wilde, Richard de Qallienne, Max Beerbohm, 
and Arthur Symons ; mixing together, straining, and throwing 
away the sediment.] 

The leave-taking had been arranged for sunrise. . . . 

Alone among the hours, and especially in mid-autumn, this 
hour is proper for lovers' farewells. The soul trembles at the 
approach of the garish day ; and the body is wrapped about — as 
with a shroud of samite — ^by the chill mist of the autumn dawn. 
The terrors and the shadows of night have scarce flown; the 
gross sunshine forbears yet a little while to flaunt its rays before 
the drowsy mom. The exigent, punctual day looms ahead, grim 
with the terror of the unknown, lowering with the menace of 
enforced activities that gall the weary limbs of man. How shall 
one live through the daylight hours till gentle night comes again ? 
Only the very strong and the very brave are unafraid at dawn. 

Neither Sylvester nor Eulalie was very strong and very brave. 
They chose to part at dawn simply that no element might be 
kcMng to complete the sadness of their separation. He and she, 
wearied with a long and tearful vigil, would cower beneath the 
elms of R^uvilliers like two children untimely awakened and 
carried out of doors to shiver under the wan sky. . . . 

Arrived at the meeting-place before the appointed hour, 
Sylvester rested on the trunk of a fallen tree, and surrendered 



PROSE, 1906 111 

himself to the gentle sadneas that welled up within his souL 
The woodland wore an aspect of damp and dishevelled melan- 
choly ; an aspect of some goddess issuing, divinely discontented, 
horn her bath. The leaves, sad and dun-coloured, fluttered to 
the ground like lost illusions — the iUusions that Sylvester had 
once entertained about life, about love. Illusions and ambitions 
alike had been shed ; had detached themselves from his philosophy, 
and sunk to where the multitude of their kind awaited them with 
the boon of a peaceful oblivion. 

Ah! he could at last look upon the landscape and not feel 
rebuked ! In this season of decline and decay, Nature no longer 
repelled him with what some sensitive spirit (was it himself ?) had 
termed "the great staring egotism of its health and strength." 
The dun carpet beneath the elms gave forth a subtle yet poignant 
aroma : an aroma sadder than the sad sere colour of the leaves ; 
awesome as the nervous whisperings with which they fled before 
the wind. What more fitting miae en sehie could be devised for 
the interview in which Eulalie and himself were to say farewell ? 

With her fine sense of the emotional and aesthetic requirements 
of the situation, Eulalie would assuredly introduce no jarring 
element of colour or sound. She would show, as always, a 
consummate skiU in avoiding not simply the bancU but also the 
more complex banality which consists in the too passionate 
avoidance of the commonplace. Eulalie was unique; and Syl- 
vester's duty as an artist in melancholy was to take leave of her 
for ever, that his artistic experience might be enriched by the 
emotions thus aroused. p. o. ltsl 



EPIGRAMS 

What you fear to say seriously you may safely put into an 
epigram. Wit rushes in where Qravity fears to tread, for it 
excites as well as covers a multitude of grins. 

Most of us spend our lives dreaming of what we will do when 
we wake up. 



112 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



MAHOMET 

Mahomet was not hia real name ; only I called him so because 
he would never keep still, and I had to see that the mountains he 
sought in his eagerness did not do him any harm. 

Those were the days when we searched for the Fortunate Isles 
over a sea of carpet, in a ship manufactured out of two overturned 
nursery chairs. 

" We must never find them, Mahomet," I used to say. 

But Mahomet always would, and he always has, ever since. 

With some dim prescience of my attitude towards Life, I would 
never disembark, but used to watch him surmount the difficulties 
of landing and gain a perilous footing on the table, previously 
laden with the desire of the moment. 

Sometimes, when it was twilight, I would point to luminous 
cottages shadowed by opaque mountains in the depths of the fire, 
saying: 

" There are the Fortunate Isles, Mahomet." 

*' Red-hot coals," he would answer gravely. And once I 
showed him the canal outside, where a moonlit barge was passing 
through a sheet of silver. 

'* It is raining diamonds in the Fortunate Isles," I whispered. 

" Moonbeams," was his brief reply. 

Later the quest lay in more definite ways ; for me in a country 
produced by the contact of a blank sheet of paper and a black-lead 
pencil — for him — well, for him — a wife and nursery of his own, 
where the old game is being played by sundry smaller Mahomets. 

Mahomet the Second is my favourite ; I have just been ex- 
plaining to him, as I tucked him in his crib, the real way to those 
same islands. 

"Well, do you understand?" I asked him. "How do you 
find them?" 

"You go on and on till you don't get there," was his drowsy 
answer. 

He is the smallest philosopher I know. 

BOO 



PROSE, 1907 

THE FORTUNATE ISLES 

THERE is one man and none other whom I pity ; he has never 
known the Waters of Babylon, and to him alone are shut 
the straits that lead to the Isles of the Blest. Strangely indeed 
dkl those old Children hold that that dividing channel was the 
channel of death : strangely, for children are nearer to the start- 
ing-place : or was it a true word veiled in allegory ? 

He knows the Fortunate Isles whose soul has returned from 
captivity. As he sat by the Waters he shed no tears ; he forbore 
to hang up his harp, but its strings sent forth a note of melancholy : 
sometimes, like the poet of Rome, " he laughed at tears, and shed 
them in his heart." But the season came when the rough places 
were made plain, and the crooked ways straight ; when the waters 
took on a calm, and his barque bore him to those golden shores 
where roamed the Qreat Ones he had known and loved; where 
reigns an independence known to no philosophy of earth. 

Therefore I pity him whose surface-waves are stirred; for 
the knowledge of the Waters and the Isles moves the masses of 
the depth, while the surface is calm and untroubled. 

Blest Gate, that openest thy joys to rich and poor alike ; 
Mystery, whose initiates must pass from darkness into light; 
Temple, that spumest not the lowly worshippers, adorned with 
richer sculptures than those of Pheidias and Praxiteles, whose 
Deity hath arms outstretched to all who travel thither by the road 
of Suffering ; Valley of the light of life ; Mountain, where " tears 
from the depth " are dried ; Blest Isles, to your shores shall my 
aoul fly; she shaU sit beside the Waters of Babylon in a bitter 
captivity, that at the last her return may be glad ! 

DOUGLAS p. HILL 
8 118 



114 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



THE aOLLYWOG AS A SYMBOL OF OUR 
NATIONAL DECADENCE 

[In publishing the papers of my honoured friend the late Professor 
Nogo, I make no apology for indvding the following frag- 
ment, which was evidently to form part of his treatise on the 
subject on which he was ike acknowledged authority — the 
Decadence of the English during the period 1850-1940. The 
research and intimate knowledge displayed therein are to my 
mind equalled only by the brilliant criticisms and luminous 
condusioTu, I may add that Professor Nogo evidently 
intended this chapter to be illustrated by photographs of 
objects from his unique collection of antiquities, — 0. iT., 
Tokio, 2613 A,D.] 

If it be true that a straw shows the direction of the wind, and 
a leaf the current of the stream, it is assuredly an indisputable 
fact that a nation's advance or decline may be traced by the trifles 
that go to make up its ordinary social life. To a close student of 
English history the period 1890-1910 is especially rich in traces 
of the nation's decadence, and in no field does research yield such 
marvellous results as in that of the social life of the English 
middle-classes. Among the many signs of advancing decay I have 
selected one that seems to me to be the clearest symbol of this 
declension. It is an object of which, so far as I can judge, the 
hidoousness was equalled only by the popularity — I speak of the 
'* golliwog.*' In describing it I find it difficult to avoid incurring 
a suspicion of wanton and malicious exaggeration, wherefore, in 
order to escape from this appearance of malice, I will refer my 
readers to the photographs taken from some golliwogs in my 
possession, and I feel confident that these illustrations will give an 
impartial view of these repulsive objects. Yet to me it is as a 
symbol of the decay that was attacking this great nation that the 
golliwog possesses its supreme interest. 

First, let us consider the name. The word itself is an affront 
to both eye and ear. No derivation can be assigned to it with any 



PROSE, 1907 116 

confidence, though I may in passing express my opinion that 
Ph)fe88or Sinsen has suggested a not improbable origin of the 
word. [He holds that goUywog is composed of two parts, both 
of which are corruptions of other words : golli being a corruption 
of dolly (a child's puppet), and toog a low form of the verb 
to wag. The whole word would thus mean a wagging doll or 
toy.] This appearance of a practically meaningless word which 
passed rapidly into the common speech of one of the most 
civilised nations of antiquity is in itself a sign of the canker 
that was attacking the English, even in their noble and unique 
language. 

Secondly, the black colour of this object is, to my mind, of the 
utmost significance. It was, I judge, a cynical acknowledgment 
of the failure of the white races in the struggle for supremacy, and 
an admission that the future was in the hands of more virile 
peoples, savage and uncivilised though they might be. 

Thirdly, the fact that the cult of the golliwog became so 
popular as even to oust that of the *' peterrabbit " and other such 
totems proves that the English were fast losing all sense of beauty 
and dignity of form and colour. That a people who held some of 
the most marvellous stone images of antique art in its museum- 
temple should devote itself to the admiration of the most hideous 
grotesque that could be designed is inconceivable on any other 
hypothesis than that of national decadence. 

Fourthly, the appearance of this golliwog in the education and 
training of the young is surely the most unmistakable and pathetic 
symbol of the general decline. Imagine a child with fresh and 
unspoiled instincts of the good and beautiful surrounded by 
objects which cease to terrify him only when his sense of beauty 
has been blunted or debased, and you will perceive how serious an 
emblem this golliwog is of a deliberate lowering of the standard of 
truth in art. 

As I regard the five specimens of this object that I have been 
able to collect, I am filled not only with a loathing for its hideous- 
ness, but with an unfeigned pity for the young eyes and minds 
that were terrified by its appearance. Yet from the not incon- 
siderable literature devoted to the golliwog, I gather that the 



/ 



116 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

English had persnaded themselyes that it was a laughable and 
mirth-exciting object — thereby revealing their own enfeebled sense 
of humour and wit. . . . 

The signs of decadence which were not wanting in political 
and commercial life were eclipsed by this symbol which was 
enthroned in the nurseries and homes of the people. 

M. V. HILL 

PROSE PARODIES 

DiCKBNB {in ifu dark). 

Night ! never was such a night, never ; not if you collected all 
the darkest nights mentioned by historians, since the days of 
Pharaoh, and all the blackest nights invented by novelists since the 
days of Robinson Crusoe, and baked them into one compact night 
of the customary number of hours, and coated it thickly over with 
lamp-black and emptied several bags of the darkest possible soot 
upon it, would you turn out such a night as that was ! 

Carltle {dedining an invitation to dine ttnth Lord Mayor and 
Cabinet Ministers). 
... for which I thank you; but there are factors in the 
essence of the proposal that forbid my acceptance ; besides which, 
there are cocks and hens, contriving noises and eggs ; motorisms, 
contriving noises and smells ; a Thames river whence are stenches 
and sounds : — these all infemaller than pit of Erebus could emit, 
than pit of human stomach can endure : so that I am sick ; and 
must decline this you proffer me ; which is, nevertheless, beautiful 
to me. . . . 

Miltok (pleads for a Restraint upon the Liberty of the Press). 

. . . Let me persuade ye^ Lords and Commons of England ! 
th^ right-minded in this r^m, the simple folk and the learned 
together, desire not that this unbridled liberty continue longer ; 
for as men gather not grapes from thorns, nor, having sown tares, 
do they expect wheat thereof; so assuredly the vintage ye shall 



PROSE, 1907 117 

gather from this planting I tell ye of will be a vintage of bitter- 
ness ; and at the harvest from this sowing will be no songs of the 
reapers. 

RusKiN (rampant). 

To be able to say, That is beautiful, is well ; being, in some 
sort, " deep calling unto deep ; " and to say. That is beautiful and 
true, IB very well, being further interchange of salutations on the 
part of deeps ; but you will say. That is beautiful and true and 
cheap ; which is not very well, nor well at all, nor anything but 
ill; and thyself an ass egregious, and rascally beggarly knave; 
avast therefore, and avaunt! — egregiate no further, but back to 
thy herd, thou most remarkable ass — with thy Cheap / 

RuBKiN (comparatively eouehant). 

When it has dawned upon England that grass is meant to be 
green, and not black; that there has been spread above her a 
firmament intended to appear blue, and not brown ; that Nature 
b admirably competent to suspend in that firmament all requisite 
clouds, to drop fatness and not pestilence; that streams bound 
from the hills and play about the valleys under the impression 
that they are pure and not poisonous; there may then be room 
for hope, that she shall not presently be extinguished, erased from 
the catalogue of islands, abased by an avalanche of seas. 

F. H. FLINT 

From " Marius the B<mk Clerks" by Walter Pater (from Book ii. 
Chap. ix. "Procrastination"). 
Well ! it was there, as he beat upon the station gate (that so 
symbolic barrier !) and watched the receding train, that the idea 
came upon him ; casting, as it were, a veil of annoyance over the 
vague melancholy of his features; and filling, not without a 
certain sedate charm, as of a well-known ritual, his mind with a 
now familiar sense of loss — a very desiderium — a sense only 
momentarily perceptible, perhaps, among the other emotions and 
thoughts, that swarmed, like silver doves, about his brain. 

BUPSRT BfiOOKE 



118 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



" SCAPHO-SCAPHEaONY " 

The persons who call a spade " a spade " are these : The plain 
man, the dull man, the true man. The plain man because he has 
no Tact, the dull man because he has no Imagination, and the true 
man because he has no Fear. But the bedside man, the poet, the 
auctioneer, the emphatic or profane person — because they have 
those things which the others have not; or, in the latter class, 
because they have not that thing which the others have — namely. 
Patience — will use equivalents, euphemisms, synonyms, metaphors, 
synecdoches, metabolisms, and tropes of every sort, rather than 
face the thing as it is. 

It is Tact that teaches us to call a navvy " an Excavator," or 
a bargee " a Navigator " ; the same instinct makes a postman with 
timid calves say "Good dog!" or the Greek to call his Furies 
" Eumenides." The Chinese are the most euphemistic people on 
earth, therefore the least progressive. 

For, behold, here is a great solemn truth. So long as you 
continue to call a spade a spade, so long is there a chance of your 
continuing to think of it merely as a spade — and trying to improve 
it. It is nothing transcendent, the spade that you can call a spade. 
The lie that you can call a lie is half repented already. But the 
lie that you call policy or intuition or tact or excuse or inspira- 
tion or God — a plea, or a parable, or a convention, or a euphemism, 
or any figure of speech whatsoever, that is a lie that wiU breed. 

Ideas are so cheap to-day, it is so easy to spin theories, and 
the a priori method saves such a deal of hard reading and straight 
thinking, that hardly here and there do you meet a man who has 
the habit of looking a Fact between the eyes without blinking, and 
staring it out of countenance. Yet to have mastered a Fact is to 
take a step forward ; to have discovered a new one is more, it is to 
take a step uptoard. Stubborn and sturdy are Facts. 

Are there no beautiful Euphemisms! Not for spades, it would 
seem. I think you will find none for things that have hard out- 
lines like a spade. But for vague equivocal things like love and 
fighting (for examples), which various eyes see variously, things 



PROSE, 1907 119 

which have in reality ugljish aspects but which it is desirable that 
some should admire — why, there is the field of the beautifying 
euphemism that artists call Romance. Thus you may teach Life 
to babes, or Virtue to the Pit. 

But are there no harmless Euphemisms ? There are, yes, some 
puny, poor drawing-roomisms. Lions must roar at you like suck- 
ing doves lest they fright the ladies— or suchlike— -who go about 
in drawing-rooms and kid gloves and rose-coloured spectacles — a 
queer get-up ! For such the honest old spade becomes a " fancy 
article," tied up with pink ribbons, stuffed and plushed to make a 
toasting-fork to ''sell" — another euphemism — at a Bazaar. 

But are there no virtuous Euphemisms ? For " women labour- 
ing with child, sick persons and young children," breaking the news, 
hiding the depths — noble lies forbidding to despair ? Perhaps, if 
you meet that lunatic brandishing a knife, you may be justified in 
misdirecting him. But such encounters are rare, and when news 
is ** broken " or depths concealed from the young, one sometimes 
wonders whether wisdom or cowardice has the largest share in it. 

Finally^ why is it that those who are bold enough to call a 
spade "a spade" generally prefer to speak and think of muck- 
rakes. Is it because prudery has so long worn the garb of 
innocence that decency herself now goes suspect ? Genius and its 
mission to shock ! It was not always so, and surely, surely it has 
been so long enough. Since Shelley and Byron began it have we 
been shocked inadequately? We blush no more at anything (in 
print), we stick at nothing (in literature), we sympathise with sin 
(on the stage), we have not much objection to nudity (in art). In 
a word, we have already embraced the spade, embraced and 
swallowed it. Now let us go on and talk of something a little 
nobler! J. c. stobart 

ON CALLING A SPADE A SPADE 

You cannot avoid it, of course, when it m a Spade, and has 
been left to you. In that case it becomes one of those unpleasant 
duties that you owe to Society ; but, even then, be sure that it is 
a Spade before you speak. If you can, however, obey the law of 



1«0 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

charity, and leave it to the other man to say the nasty word, and 
to do the nasty thing. All of which is an Allegory. 

Be 9ure that it is a Spade before you call it. That is the 
invariable rule. Now, I have no doubt that when you call a spade 
you mean something nasty. Yet, really, there is nothing objec- 
tionable about it in itself. The genius of the Bronze Age who hit 
upon the happy idea of attaching his tomahawk to the burnt stick 
with which he used to scratch the ground no doubt found it a vast 
improvement ; to the gravedigger it means bread-and-butter, and 
perhaps Christmas pudding ; to Elizabeth and to the Poet Laureate 
it brings royalties; and though, according to Father Yaughan, 
Lady Chicane sees in it the loss of her personal honour and of the 
family diamonds, still a Spade in the hand is better than No 
Trumps with the adversary ; and there are noble souls like Mr. 
Micawber to whom a spade may be something to turn up. 

Remember, there is nothing more deceptive than a spade-call. 
It may come from strength or from weakness. The spade may be 
a weapon of defence with which the noble-hearted peasant protects 
his holding from the attack of the foreign foe ; or it may be the 
instrument by which he puts to death his innocent rival You 
can never tell. 

So, high-bom, respectable British Matron, precise and pharisaic 
in the dulness of your ultra-conventional suburbanity, do you not 
see that your supposed candour is the acme of cant? You call a 
spade a spade, and you think that thereby you are equipping 
yourself with a tool wherewith to cleave in two such worms of 
earth as husbands, or curates, or sons-in-law, or tradesmen, or even 
cooks. Whereas the worm doesn't even turn. Why shoidd he, when 
he knows well enough that there isn't any spade there at all ? 

The bishop in the story was quite right. The spade conven- 
tion laughs our so-called candour to scorn. In ordinary circum- 
stances we do not trouble even to play out the hand, unless, 
indeed, the spade-call has evoked the repartee of a double. Why 
should we? The spade is but the guinea's mark, the coin itself 
may be a counter or may be current money, according as it is 
qualified. 

We British are said to suffer from onomatophobia — that is, we 



PROSE, 1907 1*1 

reyerence words more than things. The truth is that we think of 
nouns as standing for realities and overlook completely the adjec- 
tives that accompany them, and yet in our incomparable language 
the a4jective comes first, in order to convey the leading idea to the 
mind before the noun comes to destroy it But we turn adjectives 
into nouns and then misapply them, and this \a what we mean by 
calling spades, spades. Let me give an example : I take in two 
newspapers, a " daily " and a ** weekly " ; whether either or both 
take me in is beside the question. The *' daily" is renowned 
throughout all the world for its immense circulation and its skill 
in splitting infinitives, yet it knows no viler word to apply to 
those whom it considers iMByond the pale of decency than " Liberal " ; 
while the "weekly," famed as it is for its patronage of all the 
liberal arts, knows no more scathing term to hurl at its enemies 
than « Moderate." 

Let us get rid of cant. In these County Council days, when 
living pictures are forbidden, we know that the naked truth can 
be nothing more than a plaster saint Even Mr. Labouchere 
supplies the lady on his cover with a sufficiency of drapery to pass 
muster in a London crowd. Kipling has shown us, and Qermany 
has proved to us, that the uniform is not the least part of the 
official's equipment. So to call a spade a spade is worse than 
indecent^ it \a futile. Take my advice, and if you cannot do 
better — ^leave it petkb pipkb 

LETTERS FROM THE SHADE OF BEETHOVEN 

To RiCHABD StBAUSS 

As I was taking my daily walk round the ramparts of Elysium 
the other day, I met my friend Mozart, for whom I hear you still 
profess a certain admiration, and we fell to discussing the musical 
developments of Germany since we left it to the tender mercies of 
younger generations. Tou may care to hear our opinions, even 
though after the fashion of the day you should scarcely conceal 
your contempt for the judgment of your elders. Mozart urged the 
imperative need of keeping absolute music wholly distinct from 
illustrative, and insisted upon dramatic music being reserved for 



128 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

the theatre. " Bravo ! " said a voice behind us, and we saw that 
somewhat self-assertive fellow Wagner close by; "did I not say 
that Berlioz made himself grotesque in the concert-room by trying 
to express in notes what can only be intelligible with the help of 
action?" Mozart agreed, and so did I, although I somewhat 
resented an irreverent clap on the back with which the Saxon 
emphasised his approval of my friend's words. They then both 
turned on me (as I fully expected they would) and said that I 
began it. They were both wrong, however, as they presently 
admitted, for if I did work to a picture I never defined what the 
picture was, but left my hearers to imagine their own. My 
Pastoral Symphony would have been so named even without my 
sanction ; I did not reproduce any sounds save the notes of birds, 
which in themselves are absolute music. I did not try to represent 
the growing of turnips^ or even the bleating of sheep. My aim 
was to induce the same impression which a sojourn in the country 
makes upon the dweller in town. When I perpetrated a Rondo 
about the loss of a penny, I did not add a triangle obbligato to 
illustrate its fall upon the floor. When I expressed my gratitude 
for recovery from an illness in one of my last quartets, I did not 
preface it with a movement to describe the pathological details of 
my sufferings. 

I revenged myself on your namesake by telling him that you 
were hailed as Richard the Second in direct descent. " Utmnn t " 
he cried ; " Franz the Second, if you like. That stuff comes from 
Liszt." I was just about to ask Wagner why he had not included 
his father-in-law in his diatribes when Mozart broke in. *' No," 
said he, " from Kotzwara, who wrote the * Battle of Prague,' and I 

am afraid that even our friend Beethoven once " " True," I 

said, "but that was after an unusually bad dish of fish at the 
Matschakerhof." At this moment Brahms came up, and said in 
his bluff way, " You and I have never been to London ; come and 
hear ' Heldenleben ' at the Queen's Hall this afternoon." And we 
all set off together. 

I am afraid that none of us liked it, least of all Wagner, who 
declared that the only enjoyable pages were reflected from his 
" Nibelungen." Mozart said that if he wrote chromatics he 



PROSE, 1907 188 

preferred to loake them fit, and if mosaic was hammered together 
the chips were apt to fly into one's eyes. Brahms was silent, but 
granted occasionally. I congratulated myself on my wisdom in 
choosing even that scoundrel Napoleon for a hero rather than 
myself. 

But, dear Sir, how could you allow yourself to depict lovely 
Woman by such a series of squeaking non-sequiturs as that violin 
solo? Was your face smarting from the feminine nail I If I had 
BO described my Immortal Beloved, I should have composed many 
Busslieder before I was restored to favour. And your battle? 
Honestly I prefer Kotzwara's, for his thunders would not have 
caused a temporary return of the deafness from which I suffered 
80 long. 

No, young man. When I wrote the Pastoral Symphony, it 
was "the expression of sensations rather than music-painting." 
Tour work is "the impression of sensationalism rather than 
music." Can you invent a real melody, or are you trying to 
conceal the fact that you cannot ? Tour parti-coloured mists are 
alluring, but, believe me, they will dissolve when the sun shines. 

We all wondered if it had so happened that the title^ pro* 
gramme, and composer's name had been withheld, what fate would 
have befallen your " Heldenleben." 

So we returned to Elysium, found little Schubert in a Nectar- 
stube, dragged him to the piano, made him play his song ** An die 
Munk^*' and felt better. l. v. btvn 

Brothsb, — From the abode of the dead, and yet of the living, 
I greet thee. All hail to thee, great artist that thou art ! Like 
thee, when on earth I was criticised, mocked at, made light of; 
now all men praise me — yea, even beyond my deserts. So shall it 
be with thee, when thou art come to the place where I now am. 

One hundred years ago I wrote these words at the head of the 
Pastoral Symphony: "Mehr Ansdrack der Empfindung als 
Malerey." But in a movement of that symphony I imitated a 
storm, for well I knew that without a definite picture there can 
be no emotion. It was all I could do then ; Weber, Schubert, 
Schumann, Wagner — above all, Wagner — these came after, not 



1«4 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

before me! I had only Mozart — Mozart and old Haydn — to 
build upon. But thou — what is there thou canst not do, with thy 
means t The bleating of sheep, the tumult of battle, the sick and 
wandering fancies of the dying, the ecstasy of love — all these 
things — ^ay, and more — canst thou portray. The whole realm of 
life and spirit lies open before thee. True, the critics are not 
satisfied; thy works, they say, are ugly, formless, illegitimate. 
But what of that ? So— or much the same — they said of me ; and 
where are they now ? Go thy ways ; go thy ways, and leave these 
little men to their chattering. A hundred years, and where will 
they be? 

I say not that I can foUow thee in aU thou dost. But what 
of that? Who knows if I or thou be right? Could old Haydn 
follow me ? So go thy ways. Keep to thy own path — thou canst 
do no else. It is thy path, and, lead it where it will, thou must 
follow it. If it leads to Heaven, thou hast thy reward. If to 
Hell — what then ? Dost thou fear to be in Hell with me? 

A. R. CKIPPS 

Toung man! (Jungef) there are those on this side of the 
river who do not scruple to tell me thou art my spiritual son. 
So ! it is not the least of our afflictions in this nether world to see 
the harvest of our deeds, and here are many virtual fathers who 
see with a vision death has cleared the inherited behaviour of 
their offspring. So if to me, knowing no link between us, thou 
appearest, at times, but a sedulous ape of my worser habits, there 
are other moments when I have not scorned to think thou drewest 
inspiration from me. Still would I remind thee, for thy good, 
that though I sought ideas in the pasture I never looked for them 
in the kitchen or the nursery. And if in my strains thou hast 
heard Fate knocking at the door, never didst thou hear a gutter 
urchin (Sira9senbube) rattling his stick on the railing& Young 
man, these are unworthy tricks; mere mockeries of music and 
travesties of sound ! And why, with such an orchestra as thou 
hast in these days at thy command, seek the earth over for bizarre 
and weird forms of wood and wind, save to tickle the ears of 
groundlings who love excitement and novelty, and reck not if true 



PROSE, 1907 186 

harmony is lost therein? Not ill were it for thee, perchance, 
shonldflt thon endure some tonch of my world ill, and that deafness 
to mortal sounds which befell me might tune thy spirit ears to 
more celestial notes. Young man ! thou hast the germ of the true 
musicianly spirit Prostitute it not to novelty-mongering, lest 
worse befall thee ! hallah tatb 



ON OTHER PEOPLE'S NAMES 

Nothing is easier than to give or, as they say, call other people 
names. That, however, is not the point The possessive alters, 
not to say spoils, the case, as it so often does. Instead of being at 
liberty to give other people names we are limited to the considera- 
tion of those they have. True, if, in the exercise of my individual 
judgment, I give a person a name, tJiat becomes, so far as I am 
concerned, his name. It has been presented to him, a free gift, 
and is therefore his. But it is to be noted that nothing you can 
offer anybody will be rejected with less hesitation ; if, indeed, the 
refusal be not accompanied by obloquy or even more objectionable 
quantities. 

Names thus gratuitously bestowed have, for some obscure 
reason, been named ** nick." They are really, however, surnames, 
just as Brown or Shakespeare are ; names, that is, over and above 
those received at baptism. And surnames are nickname& It is 
remarkable, therefore, that, while people go about complacently 
bearing one nickname, they should yet betray the utmost irritation 
if another be given them. And this seems stranger still when we 
remember that those nick- or sur-names are not really theirs. They 
are Other People's Names, and their proprietors have long ago 
passed into other spheres, or forms, and doubtless been named 
afresh ; as Cesar, for example, who, according to some, is probably 
now known as Bung. 

But, much as we may wonder, it is certain that you will 
hardly secure a person's lifelong enmity more quickly than by 
offering him an improved nickname. You may reason with him ; 
show lum beyond controversion that the other name is much more 
appropriate than that which has drifted upon him from weltering 



126 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

seas of darkness and ignorance, and which really belongs to some 
preposterous ancestor whom, were he to meet him, he would discard 
at sight; but you will convince him of nothing, except of your 
own impudence. Should he be so singularly amiable as to discuss 
the matter, he will tell you that it was his father's before him — ^as 
if that were argument. His forefather may have stood seven or 
eight on his own bare feet, and been fittingly called Big ; but that 
does not justify him in demanding to be so called who never stood 
more than five or so in his tallest hat. He will never agree with 
you ; as well offer him a new nose, which would be putting a slight 
upon the one he has, and, naturally enough, make him angry. 

No ; of names, as of noses, one is enough ; and a man is satis- 
fied, for the most part, to have that he found in the cradle in- 
scribed upon the brass in the cathedral. Except, of course, in 
cases requiring particular consideration; for a considerable con- 
sideration the vast majority are prepared to take on Other People's 
Names — which, after all, is a much more sensible proceeding than 
taking them off. 

All this he will tell you — the man to whom you offer a name. 
But the Woman is another party altogether. The Woman, with 
that utter absence of scruple which gives her her supereminenco, 
will pursue Other People's Names anywhere they like to go. The 
Woman will adopt one or more of them with the utmost alacrity, 
dexterity, and joy. The Woman, so far from rejecting Other 
People's Names with scorn and justifiable — if not homicide — con- 
tumely, will seize upon them as upon a splendid feather, stick 
them in her cap, wave and flaunt them in the eyes of the world. 
The Woman — so far as Other People's Names are concerned, the 
motherly woman will deride, tear off from her daughter the name 
she herself gave her, and label her with that belonging to some 
other motherly woman. There may be some element of self- 
sacrifice in — but we will proceed no further in this business. 

It has already been noted that there is little freedom of speech 
in connexion with Other People's Names individually considered. 
It would be unbecoming, therefore, to direct criticism on any name 
in its particular mass. So doing, we should be hurling stones in 
the dark, not knowing whom we might hurt. But it may be said 



PROSE, 1907 187 

without danger that some names are unhappy, so to speak. And 
with a great deal of time and space and other essentials at our 
disposal we should have been pleased to elaborate a scheme for the 
reform of the present absurd method of nomenclature. The basal 
principle of the scheme would be that boys and girls leaving school 
should be re-sur- or nicked-named according to the general im- 
pression he or she had left (if any) so far, or to any pleasing 
feature or trait After some such reform all persons might speak 
of their names as being really theirs, and of their ''good names" 
and of Other People's good names. At present there is no such 
liberty, inasmuch as their names are not theirs, and very few of 
them good for any — amount. 

We are prevented also from dealing with the signing or writing 
Other People's Names, and from saying anything concerning read- 
ing Other People's Names, whether in the *' Court Circular " or the 
modem "Newgate Calendar." The subject, indeed, spreads out 
like a swamp that would engulf us. 

For between Other People's Names and other people subsists a 
vast and intricate telepathic system, and the same message put on 
all the wires will awaken an infinite variety of emotions. And 
yet, as we have seen, they are not theirs, and, granting that they 
are^ it has been gravely questioned whether there is anything in 
them. It is very puzzling — like all the rest 

p. H. FLINT 



ON OTHER PEOPLE'S NAMES 

There is a theory abroad that Names have an origin in Noises. 
For myself I do not think that Adam was so called because he 
made a noise like an Adam. I remember reading in early days a 
Greek tale of a babe who was isolated, that its parents might study 
Instinctive Language ; but if I recall it rightly, the story had no 
satisfactory conclusion ; and anyhow it was told by Herodotus, 
who was the Father of Lies and Brother of all black spirits, though 
his fantastic admirers may daub him with cheap whitewash. Plato 
pretended in one of his dialogues that the Names of things had a 
serious derivative meaning. But he put this ludicrous theory in the 



/ 



188 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

mouth of a man who believed that you could not dtep into the same 
river once ; and, if a man will believe that, he will believe anything. 

I refrain from quoting the query put by William Shakespeare 
re the content of a Name. 

I fancy I have now made most of the conventional allusions 
and can get to work on my real contribution to literature. Sir 
Thomas Malory said of King Arthur that he '* leaped upon a smaU 
hackney" and rode off. I, like King Arthur, have used these 
small hackneyed remarks as my steeds that on them I may ride off 
into wider fields, or perhaps soar aloft into the empyrean if they 
will take to themselves the wings of a Pegasus. (Vide '' Encyclop. 
Britann.," s,v, Greek Mythology.) 

This Essay is not on My Name nor on Your Name, but on the 
Names of Other People. Thus it will be my first duty to prove 
that there are no Other People. For, if there be any Two Things, 
they must be both like and unlike in being different ; and I gather 
from infallible logicians that such a condition of things is not 
possible. Then plainly there are no Other People; indeed, there 
is only I, and not even You ; for I am certain of Myself, and I 
was never quite sure of You. 

Then what are we to do with our Essay? Why, throw Logic 
overboard and begin again. 

Other People's Names are for a convenience to their friends : 
labels, titles, indices, handles. Useful in fatal accidents if written 
clearly on the shiri-tab or on the back of the collar ; in exhumations 
if stamped indelibly on the occiput or any other clear bone-space. 
There was once a man who had no Name and went to hunt the 
Snark. 

He would answer to Hi ! or to any loud cry, 
Such as Fry me ! or. Fritter my Wig ! 

But it was not a very satisfactory position for himself or for his 
companions. 

In evidence of the truth of my observation note this poem ; for 
a poem will prove the truth of any lie, if it be sufficiently obscure : 

Two Dank Spirits went out for a walk 

Over hills of Coal and hiUs of Chalk. 



PROSE, 1907 1S9 

*'AhAr said the ODe; "I like this Coal; 
Its smutch, it smacks of a siiifal sonl ! " 

** Fool," said his friend, " with your random talk ! 
There are FaedU of Living Things in Chalk/" 

Two Dank Spirits came back from their stroU 
O^er hills of Chalk and hills of Coal. 

** This Chalk," said the one, " it likes not me ; 
Its Whiteness stinks of Purity ! " 

" Fool," said his friend, ** with your random talk ! 
There are FouUe of Living Things in Chalk I " 

When the Moon was new and the Wind was still, 
Two Danknesses crouched on that Chalky hill. 

And one had a spade and the other an axe, 

And they worked till the sweat hissed down their backs. 

They found it at last : it was cold and hard. 
With DiPHiL writ clear on its visiting-card. 

DOUGLAS p. HILL 



FLIES IN THE OINTMENT 

Proverbs are proverbially fallacious. When the Preacher, in 
an endeavour to carve an epigram out of a platitude, wrote, *' Dead 
flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking 
savour," and gave life to a belief which, sealed with the seal of 
Solomon, has come down to us unquestioned and absolute, he, 
unwittingly perhaps, set in motion one more wandering flame to 
join that innumerable array of false lights which float about the 
world for the misleading of mankind. For this principle, taken in 
its obvious application, will not, humanly speaking, stand the test 
of inquiry. It is what is known to Christian Science, I believe, as 
a " ffldse claim." And however painful it must be to us to have to 
differ from so eminent an authority on any point, in the interests 
of tnxth we are compelled to point out the fallacy of this too 
9 



180 THE WESTMINSITR PROBLEMS BOOK 

common faith in the ondeairability of flies in the ointment ; to 
demonstrate that the dead fly not only need not detract from the 
value, commercial or otherwise, of its unfortunate setting, but may 
quite conceivably be regarded as a positive asset 

Briefly stated, the principle underlying its application is the 
impossibility of happiness. However ardently we strive to com- 
pass that combined state of feeling and circumstance of which, 
perhaps, no entirely satisfactory definition yet exists, there is 
always something — yes, there is always something, some trifle, 
insignificant in itself no doubt, but assuming intolerable propor- 
tions in the light of the sense of injury its presence inflames — that 
intruding at the last moment contrives to irritate and disconcert 
what otherwise we fancy would have been that supreme state of 
blessedness of which at rare moments our imagination is dimly 
capable of perceiving. We call it the fly in the ointment, and 
rail indifferently against the fate that set it there, and our own 
impotence in the matter of its removal. 

Now, has it never occurred to even the most sanguine amongst 
us that this last, so far from being, as is fondly imagined, the one 
thing superfluous to our happiness, is in reality the one thing 
essential to it; not the uncalled-for coping that threatens to 
over-topple the whole fabric, but the crowning touch, the apex of 
the pyramid, so to speak t For without that one irritant we 
might never have awakened to the possibilities of happiness that 
are ours already. We rarely understand how blest we are till 
something threatens to disturb our serenity. And by comparison 
only can the full measure of anything be properly gauged. Pro- 
portions are meaningless otherwise. The vastness of the ocean is 
best realised by observing the tiny speck an Atlantic liner makes 
on its expanse. And the spectacle of the dead fly best illustrates 
the immensity of the surrounding ointment. There are people — 
we use the indefinite term advisedly — who hold happiness within 
their reach for years without knowing it» Then, one fine morning, 
they behold the alien body sticking fast, and at once the imagina- 
tion is stimulated and the mind awakened, and with loud lamenta- 
tions they come triumphantly into their own. The apothecary 
might doze among his drugs till Doomsday, totally oblivious of 



PROSE, 1907 ISl 

the predons ointment slowly wasting away on a dusty shelf or in 
some forgotten comer, did not his startled nostrils suddenly recall 
his indignant senses to the possession of his long-neglected treasure. 

To the thoughtful mind, too many iUustrations will doubtless 
present themselves for a catalogue of them here to prove otherwise 
than tedious. One will suffice. We will suppose ourselves look- 
ing forward to a quiet, restful evening, after a hard day. We 
have just settled down with our book or our thoughts, as the case 
may be, when that infernal piano next door starts tinkling. We 
are annoyed. Yet we never quite realised the blessedness of 
silanoe before. We never properly understood its inestimable balm 
while it was ours. The gift of the perfect appreciation is born of 
the lack of the perfect possession. 

Of course it is always understood that the fly retains the 
predse dimensions as set out in the original scheme of Creation. 

B. O. BUCKKRIDOE 

FLIES IN THE OINTMENT 

A fly is but a small thing, and an ointment is a powerful 
sweetness. Let us appreciate the full force of the metaphor. 
That distilled fragrance of Araby the blest was shut in its jar, held 
down with waxed parchment, which, being split off, the Qenie 
sprang forth, and with his ineffable presence filled the whole shop 
of that Pothecary. The customer's little vessel was filled, and the 
parchment carefully replaced, yet the unwary bluebottle had 
slipped inside and was already swooning. And a month later, 
when another veiled figure came seeking ointment of spinkenard, 
and held out in henna-tipped fiugers a little phial, the jar was 
again opened — pah ! what a savour of death ! 

The sweeter the perfume, the more unbearable the fault in it. 
If Desdemona had not been so entire and perfect a chrysolite, the 
suspected flaw would not have appeared so ghastly. Haman 
counted all as nothing — wealth, position, consideration, and a 
seat at the queen's banquet — while Mordecai the Jew stunk in 
his nostrils. English people have proverbially a good nose for the 
fly in the ointment They are not happy unless they can detect 
one. The writer once perambulated a fair country ehurchyard 



i 



188 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

with a fair ooontry girl who apparently possessed in this world all 
that heart could wish, yet she gazed around and said : " I do think 
it is a shame ! Why nhovld these Qrifithses have the pick of the 
churchyard 1 " 

The Qrifithses were quiet enough under their three grassy 
mounds, which nothing particularly distinguished as a place of 
honour ; certainly the fair complainer did not want the place her- 
self, but the grievance was there — 'twas not much, but it served. 

But a little folly in him that is in great reputation — ah, that 
is a stench indeed ! O Solomon, that one weakness in the man 
whose vdsdom was and is the wonder of the world ! Wherefore 
that penchant for veils and henna, great king? We should not 
have remarked it in Behoboam. But Solomon, whose wisdom 
was proof against Sheba ; Solomon, who spake of all things from 
the hyssop to the cedar; Solomon, in all his glory, sitting in 
Lebanon's palace, with pillars of sweet smoke rising around him — 
there was a fly in his ointment, a taint of folly in his wisdom, and 
it availed to cut short his kingdom. O frail human nature, that 
compound of spirit and flesh, of mortal and immortal, soaring 
essence and heavy clog, strength and weakness, divinity and 
creature, life and death, ointment and fly. 

E. M. PABKINSON 

MISS BROWN'S CHRISTMAS 

Miss Brown sat over her sitting-room fire. She had been alone 
in her flat since twelve o'clock, when Jane departed, radiant in a 
pink blouse and an amazing hat, carrying a white box tied up with 
red ribbon, which was Miss Brown's contribution to her Christmas 
dinner. It had rained steadily all day, and in the afternoon a fog 
had crept up, shrouding everything in misery, till Miss Brown had 
lighted the lamps and drawn the curtains. She had read, she had 
worked, she had written letters, fighting against depression till 
eight o'clock, when she went into the kitchen to get her dinner, 
which Jane had left on a tray. The girl had been very grateful 
for her unlooked-for holiday, and had arranged the cold chicken 
very carefully with beetroot and celery, had pat the mince-pies in 
a little glass dish, and added a vase filled with hoUy and mistletoe 



PROSE, 1907 188 

to give a festive appearance ; she had not thought that the vase 
would give the h&st touch of cheerlessness to the funereal meal, and 
that Miss Brown, when she had tried to eat, would throw away 
pretences and let the ghosts of other Christmases creep round her. 

It was no good to tell herself that she was going away on 
Thursday and taking a new ball-dress with her ; no good to say 
that it was only by choice that she was alone, for Mrs. Rankin 
had pressed her to share their Christmas dinner. She remembered 
how in the old days the family had fought against having a 
stranger at Christmas, and she knew that the young Rankins 
would fight in the same way against her. No; loneliness and 
ghosts were better than such hospitality ! 

Her mind went back to the old house in Highgate where they 
had gro¥m up — ^always her idea of home. It was untidy and 
shabby, but they had been happy, and Christmas seemed always 
to have been an unclouded festival — though there was a year when 
the turkey, by some terrible mischance, did not arrive and they 
had had to make their Christmas dinner off cold beef, and one 
when they all had whooping-cough and could eat no sweets, 
because they made the coughs worse. There was a wonderful 
year, very long ago, when they had to wait tUl evening for their 
presents. Then a Christmas-tree, the first they had ever seen, 
burst on their enchanted gaze ! Much later was the year when 
they were too old for trees and stockings, and gave their presents 
at breakfast in grown-up fashion. What children they were ! 

Then came the Christmas when Aunt Mary asked her to Nice, 
and she went and sent back French presents and spring flowers, 
and enjoyed every minute, except for the horrid pang, on Christmas 
Eve, when she heard a middle-aged American say that when one 
of a fttmily was once away at Christmas they never all met again 
for it She had tried to forget, but it had come back again and 
again, and — ^it was true ! The very next year Jim was engaged 
and spent Christmas with Helen's people; after that Marion 
married and went to India ; and this year, when they had hoped 
all to be together again, was the saddest of all, for they knew Uiat 
now it could never be ; so they left the old house, which was too 
large for them, and drifted apart, one by one, tUl she was left 



1S4 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

alone, and could only send toys to the unknown children who 
made new homes for the boys and girls she remembered. It made 
her feel very old and tired. 

At last the bell rang, and when Miss Brown oi)ened the door 
Jane came in, while footsteps grew fainter and fainter as they 
passed downstairs. Jane was flushed and excited, and her arms 
were full of a quaint collection of untidy parcels, cracker-papers, 
and caps. She was evidently panting to show her treasures, so 
Miss Brown went into the little kitchen, and looked — with well- 
feigned admiration — at the presents, all cheap, and nearly all 
useless, while she heard the adventures of the day. She received 
a formal message of thanks from Jane's mother for the box of pre- 
served fruit which she had sent, and also heard the informal com- 
ments which had been made by the family, who had evidently 
admired it She was told at great length of the impudence of a 
strange postman who had passed remarks on the box, but when 
she regretted that she had not wrapped it in brown paper she 
found that Jane had dealt with him and passed on victorious, 
evidently enjoying the encounter. She heard of all they had had 
for dinner — and tea — and supper ; what games they had played ; 
and how the butcher's young man had formed one of the party, 
and then Jane confessed shamefacedly that he had seen her home 
and given her a motto from a cracker : 

You have my heart 
Till death us part, 

and when it was favourably received had produced a white card- 
board box, in which— enshrined in pink cotton-wool — was a gold 
brooch. This was decisive, and Miss Brown gave due congratula- 
tion, for the butcher's young man was not only personable but 
steady, and had £26, 15s. 6d. in the Post Office Savings Bank, 
though Jane explained as she gathered up her treasures that ** it " 
couldn't be for some years yet, tiU he was a foreman. 

Then at last Miss Brown went to bed, and Christmas was 
over. She was half amused, half touched, by the queer little 
romance, and Jane's evident happiness. She wondered dreamily 
what their future would be — and then — ohe had not wanted to 



PROSE, 1907 135 

go to Jane's mother's Christmas party, and she certainly had no 
desire for the batcher's yonng man; and yet it was on their 
aooonnt that she cried herself to sleep. 

AUCE BOWMAN 



TO THE AUTHOR OF "RED POTTAGE" 

Dbab Madam, — Has it ever happened to you, in your 
wanderings in the world of literature, to admire a novel, while 
failing to admire the novelist's admirations t 

The case is quite possible. I admire "Shirley"; but Char- 
lotte Brontg did not think (as I do) that Louis Moore is a hopeless 
ass. "Tom Jones" is a landmark in English literature; but 
Fielding did not think (as I do) that his hero ought to be shot 
at sight "Daniel Deronda" is a magnificent book (I can't 
understand the critics who think otherwise); but George Eliot 
did not think (as I do) that Dan is a walking Y.M.C.A., with 
far too much private property in minor proprieties. Perhaps it 
is the same perversity that makes me object to your point of view 
concerning your own creations. 

I once met the Rev. James Gresley. Some reviewer, I believe, 
said that no such person ever existed. But reviewers are fallible. 
I found him (the Rev. James) a quite endurable human being; 
and — I want to convert you. 

Of course you will say that it is a case of mistaken identity ; 
or perhaps that I am altogether such a one as Archdeacon 
Thursby. Not quite. In fact, it was a theological explosion 
that enabled me to identify my man. An Anarchist in these 
things myself, I happened to remark that "if you are not filled 
with a profound contempt for every organised form of Christian 
teaching, you must be congenitally incapable of Christianity." 
The harmless remark was expressed with some of the ill-bred 
excitability of youth ; but I never dreamed of the explosion that 
was to follow. 

I have seldom enjoyed anything so much as the next three 
hours. What I love best in all the world is what a college friend 
called a "theological free fight." It was perfect^ and my only 




i 



136 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

regret was that the Rev. James did not enjoy it as well as I did. 
To be quite candid, he *' said things." I am a fanatical believer 
in freedom of speech (including freedom to "slate") for other 
people, and I am still alive. After all, his worst wrath fell on 
the unlucky third person, who admitted that I was unanswerable, 
when I tried to prove that he (the Rev. James) was a more 
thorough materialist than Haeckd and Huxley. As we both 
got tired, I even admitted things. After all, we can never be 
quite sure about the Universe. The savage tribe mentioned by 
Herbert Spencer who believe that rain is caused by the spitting 
of the gods upon the earth may be right. So may the Rev. 
James. (He did not seem as grateful for the admission as I 
had expected.) 

So much for the Rev. James. Now for his wife. I have an 
overwhelming admiration (at a distance) for the Mrs. Qresleys 
of the world. In actual conversation I am apt to find them, as 
Leslie Stephen found John Ruskin, ''a highly explosive com- 
pound liable to go off without notice in any direction." No ideas 
of mine on theology, politics, ethics, women, or social order 
quite hit the mark, and I find the interchange of stifled 
antagonisms trying. But this does not alter my admiration of 
the type. They are the real "Pillars of Society" (women who 
can still preserve an unmixed resi)ect for the limitations of a 
very imperfect man are our real safeguards against race suicide). 
And in one vital point I am with Mrs. Qresley heart and soul. 
She was quite right in disliking her sister-in-law. 

The really intolerant and intolerable orthodoxy of our day is 
the orthodoxy not of James, but of Lady Susan Qresley. It has 
a maddening ritual too. (''Dressing extremely well," in your 
vocabulary.) Its "services," I think, are not in the early morn- 
ing, but late at night. There are "worms who go in at back 
doors," too. ("Outsiders" is the technical name, I think, not 
"Dissenters.") You can even find ungrammatical preachments 
of the cult in almost every journal for women written in a 
ghastly euphemistic jargon which is Greek to the mere man. 
(I read a description wherein a lady's garments were suspended 
from her shoulders by a " dream " ! of chiffon, I think.) 



PROSE, 1907 1S7 

Now this other Athanastan Creed, with its terrible list of 
damnatory clauses, is the real accursed thing. It brings not 
peace but a sword, dividing the brother from the sister, and the 
husband from the wife, and (above all) the mother-in-law from 
the daughter-in-law. My compliments, Mrs. Gresley ! — Sincerely 

yours, B. B. CROOKS 



THE USE OF DREAMS 

Give me pork and a nightmare, a good, burly nightmare. 
Not one of your soft, golden-lily dreams, where aU comes right, 
or rattier nothing is ever wrong. These are but idle, enervating 
luxuries, like the Bounteous Isle of Maeldune ; the nightmare it 
is that energises, that shows what is latent in the man (beside 
his supper). Whether one has suddenly found oneself in the 
drawing-room in shirt and socks only, and has to exercise 
unwonted ingenuity in making shift with an antimacassar, or has 
had to brace oneself to face a dimly seen but surely approaching 
Something, of nature unknown but certainly malign; in every 
form the nightmare is the stimulating, soul-developing dream, and 
the night-rider will awake next day ennobled and refreshed in 
spirit, if not in body. 

Look at little Brown, whose " peak " is the office stool when he 
has to get a ledger from the top shelf, and he likes some one to 
give him a hand down. Follow him home ; watch him through 
his supper sausage, and the hunk of cheese thereafter. Then go 
with him through the grey gate, and, lo ! he, the insignificant, 
timorous Brown, of the ten-and-sixpenny trousers, is warily squirm- 
ing his way along a precipitous ledge, that narrows through a dim 
mist to the edge of an unfathomable crevasse. Next day is not 
Brown a better man because he, like Odin, has hung over Niflheim t 
Has he not there, like Odin, learned wisdom before undreamt-of 
(note the phrase, for it is a testimony to the "revealing" in 
dreams, as our Withers also testified), as he gazed down into feet and 
feet and feet of nameless terror, and, finally, O glorious Brown, 
when there was no more path and he could crawl no farther, and 



188 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

still it pressed behind, launched himself unsustained into the view- 
less vapour, and — awoke t 

Or Jones. Yesterday Jones just missed his train. He tried 
to board it, but porters laid hold of him, and his hat was knocked 
off and fell on the platform. While he dusted it they abused him, 
and the crowd left the stricken deer and smiled superciliously two 
yards away. Then Jones was hot and red, and the next train was 
an unconscionable time a-coming. To-day the porters eye him, but 
he jauntily lights his pipe, and quails not. The secret? Why 
last night Jones came to that same station, and finding the gate 
shut, ho flew over it, and chased, yea, and overtook, the retreating 
train, careless of millions of monstrous '* Stand-aways," and dived 
head first through the last carriage-window, safe and sound (though 
the close-fitting dream-tunnel did its utmost to shear off his pro- 
jecting hind-legs). Ah! glorifying nightmare! thou hast set the 
foot of Jones upon the neck of all porterdom for ever. The 
" sweet " dream, too, has its use, but after toil and strife, when 
the nightmare, in Hegelian phrase, has gone over into its Other. 
I mind one dream, wherein I was chased by myriad wolves, and, 
leaping a ravine, with pine-trees and a moon at the head of the 
gorge, and a white torrent sounding far below, I fell short and 
bowered in the thicket, while interminable wolves flew overhead. 
And all at once, as I lay panting, a voice cried thus : 

The Trail came by enchantment, 

By slopes of magic music from the heaven, 

and I lay at peace in a broad, hollow lawn, whose path glimmered 
away into the moon that had become an ineffable glory ; and I 
saw, as I listened to the long poem, the Divine Trail that led 
down from earliest ages through all human history, even to the 
present ; nor could the last line, in a well-marked American accent. 

The Trail ends right here, 

avail to disconcert me. 

But the greatest revelation is given in the '* Ftursichseyendes." 
nightmare, the nightmare that knows itself as such, and ao tran- 
scends itself, bringing the calm, not of indolence, but of an assur- 
edly conquering strife. In this I know that the evil has no more 



PROSE, 1907 189 

power than my own fear allows it ; I make it powerless by calming 
my own apprehension, and the triumph of mind over matter is 
eomplete. Of old, one wolf would have nosed me out, and I should 
have fled from one unavailing shelter to another tUl the daybreak. 
At a later stage I could have wiUed that they should not find me, 
but could not have prevented their return, to cross and recross the 
ravine all night long, while I " strained ** them away from where I 
crouched in an agony beneath them. As it was, with an effort of 
Belf-realising will I created for them a forest and banished them 
therein for ever. 

So, too, I used to flee through thick clay, with leaden boots, 
from tramps, and hide in a drainpipe by the roadside, and there 
crouch till they looked down, and then with all my might, I would 
de^Mrately punch their pulpy faces, and awake shouting " Boo ! " 
But now my nightmares threaten to be as tame as a world of 
miracles ; I knew that I can outwit my tramps, and — they never 
look dawn. 

Yet sometimes, after an extra orgy, the old horror comes, and 
now, the highest lesson of all, I forego my power, and suffer them 
to find me, that I may thrill with fierce suspense, and once again 
nerve myself to punch them. 

Thu^ then, is the use of a dream, to awaken, and prepare 
against the hour of need, that which else in this dull world would 
perish, those dormant faculties of ingenuity, enterprise, endurance, 
which thus from time to time emerge from their torpid stable 
to gallop gaily forth with the nightmare ; so that to the dreamer 
are revealed suspense and strife, strength, victory, and the peace 
of overcoming, which in this " day-life " he may never know. 

It is late ; to one and all, a good nightmare. 

WILFRED HILL 

A MEAL 

" Light " was the adjective used by the Vicar in describing the 
refreshments to be offered at the Choir Social; and lively were 
the speculations raised in the mind of one hearer at least as to 
how much might be expected from this dubious expiesaion. 



i 



140 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

** What do'ee call light t " he inquired of his sister. " Lemonade 
and buns, or blummonge and tarts ? " 

"How do I know?" she retorted. "PVaps plum>cake and 
macrooms." 

"That's aUkiff/' he said. 

During the various items of the programme the Boy was 
occupied in casting surreptitious glances at the tables arranged at 
the side of the room. His mother had forbidden this, remarking 
that it was "an unmannerly trick"; but her son attempted 
obedience with only partial success. 

At last the interval was announced, and the Boy waited on the 
other guests with alacrity. His mind was tranquil, his appetite 
keen — " light " meant not merely macaroons, but also beef-patties 
and sausage-rolls. 

His duties finished, he helped himself to a patty and sank into 
a chair. Gently he pressed the pastry into his cup of tea ; 
thoughtfully he ate the mixture, like soup, with a spoon. Some 
sausage-rolls, treated likewise, proved even more alluring; and 
afterwards followed meringues, macaroons, sponge-fingers, chocolate- 
biscuits, cocoanut-knobbies, and other cakes. 

But the Boy had not yet reached the supreme moment, which 
only came when his crumb-dotted cup was filled with coffee, and a 
wedge of plum-cake stirred into it until it acquired the consis- 
tency of porridge. He leaned back in his chair. He was content. 
He had other things afterwards, but that was the height of bliss. 

The Boy was young. Ten minutes later no voice was lustier 
than his, as he sang of Peter Piper and the picking of his pickled 
pepper. kat 

KINDNESS TO PARENTS 

That it is desirable for my young friends to show Kindness and 
Forbearance to their fathers and mothers, in spite of foolish and 
inconsiderate behaviour on the part of the latter, is shown by the 
following story : — 

Eliza and Gerald Conwell, aged respectively nine and seven, 
were two charming children. Their father and mother were 
singularly harmless^ even attractive, persons; the one absorbed in 



PROSE, 1907 141 

■cientiiic iiiTestigationsY the other in the mano&ctare of gannents 
suitaUa for the wear of our hero and heroine. It will be seen 
that the young Eliza and Qerald were enabled to follow their 
natural instincts for free development with little hindrance from 
their parents. Nevertheless, those parents were not neglected; 
the dnlness of their winter evenings was frequently enlivened with 
the sprightly talk and cheerful converse of the youthful pair. The 
study of Professor Conwell was their favourite resort In his 
crucibles and stills they would concoct delicious toffee with which 
to regale their favoured parents. 

One night as they entered laden with sugar, nuts, butter, and 
treacle, their father displayed some peevishness. "Eliza and 
Gerald," he pleaded, " for this one 'night allow me to pursue my 
researches in solitude." The children paused ; emotions of leniency 
sought their breasts, '*Why not indulge our father for this 
oncef " murmured' the soft-hearted Gerald. But Eliza's sterner 
feminine soul crushed down the tender impulse. " We wish your 
good only, father," she replied, and taking his well-filled crucible 
from the stove she gently but firmly poured its contents into the 
ashes, replacing them by the ingredients for the customary sweet- 
meat, with which in due time the fractious parent was consoled. 
The solace was but temporary, however. Next morning Eliza and 
Gerald learnt to their grief that the rejected decoction was the 
fruit of long investigations approaching completion, the issue of 
which would have brought a fortune to the unlucky children, 
whose father, reduced to despair by the failure of his hopes, 
surrendered the endeavour to discover a new element, and retired 
to the workhouse, leaving to our young hero and heroine the task 
of supporting their bereaved mother. oamel 

TWO NAUGHTY BOYS 

It was Tommy's birthday ; the day was fine and frosty, and he 
and Willie were excitedly expecting a beautiful slide on Uie frozen 
pond. But, after breakfast, their father (who was one of those 
men who anticipate their children's wishes) said : " My sons, the 
ioe is too thin for sliding to-day ; you must occupy yourself in some 



148 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

other manner this afternoon, and I tmst you will find some occupa- 
tion which is useful and agreeable to others." " Tes, father/' re- 
plied Willy and Tommy ; " it is always our pleasure to obey you." 

So that afternoon Tommy and Willy set out on a different road 
from that which led to the pond ; and, making a rapid detour, 
reached it in time to enjoy an hour's sliding with their friends. 
Now, contrary to all precedent, the ice did not break, and the 
disobedient children were not drowned. It was their fortime to 
return home punctually and in safety. 

It happened in the evening that their father found Tommy 
alone in the schoolroom, and, with all the affection of one who has 
enjoyed a good dinner, cried, "Well, my boy, have you had a 
happy birthday?" "Yes, papa," replied Tommy, "for I have 
been good." " Why, where did you go this afternoon ? " asked his 
father. '* Oh, father," cried he, " we plucked and took wild flowers 
to poor old Mrs. Simpkins ; it was a joy at once to see her sad 
face lighten at the fragrance of the blossoms and to know that we 
were unselfish in our pleasures." 

At that moment Willy entered the room, and, seeing his father, 
cried, "Thinking, papa, that our conduct would please you and 
benefit ourselves. Tommy and I stayed at home and endeavoured 
to learn the fifty-first Psalm : the effort was great but valuable." 

" Ah, my sons," replied their father, " I shall now proceed to 
punish you ; partly because it is evident that you have disobeyed 
my wishes, and partly because you have told me falsehood ; but 
more especially because you have been so improvident in neglecting 
to invent a consistent tale." 

To Children : Lie with Caution. 

W. DOUGLAS p. HILL 

DURER'S DANTE 

From a Lbtteb addressed to await Arrival of 

8.8. AT Yokohama 

I am going to risk your doctor's anger; and I'm sure your 
voyage will have pulled you together enough to learn, without 
nerve-excitement, of the most unlooked-for and welcome godsend 
that ever delighted an artist's heart ! — a set of Diirers, come to 



PROSE, 1907 148 

lif^t in an extraordinary manner (I send you some cuttings). They 
are some preparatoiy studies, and more or less finished pen-and-ink 
drawings, designed to illustrate the "Divina Oommedia." Why 
there are only a few I will tell you later (according to my guess). 
No doubt a big work was intended, but Diirer got no farther than 
the Inferno, except for one scene from the Purgatorio, of which 
more presently. They belong, no doubt, to the period of the 
"Green Passion/' the medium of which he copies in this series, 
only his background tint is brown — Dante's special colour. (You 
remember "I'aer bruno," the brown waves, and " bruna-bruna " 
Lethe — not a negation of colour, as Buskin imagines, but a 
genuine Italian brown.) The "Tedesco lurco," or "guzzling 
German," has a happy colour sympathy with the Divine Poet 
Heightened with white body-colour, it is most effective, and gives 
at once the sense of mystery and gloom which Dante's words 
respire. First comes a sketch of Dante weeping at the gate of 
HelL He, with his goide, is just through the dreadful portal 
Virgil's hand-grip is itself a masterpiece. While he looks upward 
and forward, Dante, like a frightened child, looks backward and 
down. The contrast is not too marked, but still pointed. The 
mingling of horror and pity is supremely done ; but where in the 
poem pity predominates, in Diirer the horror which was "as a 
coronal" to Dante's brows is the mastering expression of the 
whole features. Here is one of those divergencies between painter 
and poet which have so deep an interest. The background is filled 
by dim forms of the ever-eddjdng "Lukewarms," driven on by 
clouds of hornets, all minutely figured — perhaps over-minutely. 
Next there is a fine study of Farinata, half-emerging from his fiery 
tomb-— Farinata whose "contemptor animus" could find scorn 
even for the hell where he is tormented. In the same tomb rises, 
crouching, the shadow of Cavalcanti, puzzled and bewildered. 
Dante's gaze is intent upon the proud and contemptuous Ghibel- 
line. The grouping here is admirable, with none of Diirer's over- 
crowding. The next work of importance (though all are of deepest 
interest — did I say that I went post-haste to Vienna to see them f ) 
is a series of studies for Geryon, who seems to have given a lot of 
trouble ! There are several studies for his tail, and the shaggy 



r 



144 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

paws give splendid scope for the minute work shown in the 
''Hare" (no jest intended); the "knots and circlets" on breast 
and flanks remind one of the rhinoceros sketch in the Museum. 
Perhaps the feature which seems to have given Diirer most 
pleasure is the sinuous curves of the monster, which indeed go 
curving out of the picture, and show the delightful charm of 
incompleteness which you get in the " Prodigal Son's " farmyard. 
A magnificent group is given by the scene with the "Barrator" 
Ciampolo, trembling, but cunning, amid the Demons. Dante 
stands apart from his hated escort; Virgil mournfully questions 
the pitch-covered thief; Graffiacane stands glowering over his 
" fresh-speared otter " ; Ciriatto is even now using his cruel tusks ; 
"Dragon-face" and "Hell-hawk" are striking their victim. 
Diirer, you will notice (have you your Dante with youl), groups 
together these successive actions, overriding the necessary limita- 
tions of narrative (see your "Laocoou") and gaining an effect 
striking enough, though I must say that here Dante is better : the 
torturing demons one mangling an arm, one a leg, of the " poor 
mouse fallen among evil cats," give an impression of cumulative 
horror which poetry by its very limitations avoids. A splendid 
nude study is Caiaphas, stretched across the road. Here Diirer 
has really made a proportion-study, though he strangely imbues 
the Hypocrite with just a touch of the chained Prometheus. So far 
the Inferno ; but there is one more picture — on rose-tinted paper 
— of highest interest. Seven studies have been found, as if Diirer 
must needs complete the mystery number before going on to this 
special effort. The subject is Beatrice — Beatrice at length un- 
veiled, turning upon her worshipper the light of her "emerald" 
eyes, and of her " holy and ineffable " smile. There are only the 
two figures ; the " too rapt " look of Dante meets shamefacedly the 
divine glance of Beatrice, a glance filled at once with unspeakable 
piety, and also breathing the sense of angelic aloofness from misery 
and pain. 

lo son ^tta da Dio, sua merce, tale 
Che la vostra miseria non mi tange. 

One would naturally look to compare Beatrice with some of 
Durer's Madonnas, but I see no similarity, and were this an 



PROSE, 1907 146 

cnrigiiial it would be a profound success; but — and it is a big 
"but" — ^he has set himself to paint from Dante, and though my 
instincts are first with the artist, I must confess that Dtirer has 
faUed to present anything like one's idea— from Dante's words — 
of what Beatrice was. 

The interest in these drawings to me is largely artistic, but also 
largely psychological It was a matching of genius against genius. 
Durer set himself not to Illustrate Dante, but to outdo him. This 
last attempt seems to have been acknowledged by its author as a 
ftulure. He did no more — so far as we know— from the ''Corn- 
media." The Apocalypse, Passions, and lives of the \itpn pro- 
vided an easier, if not less inspiring^ theme ; and he seems to have 
put down his pen in the zenith of his career, in the confession that 
the task was beyond even his powers ! VicUti Florentine 1 we can 
hear him saying. For my part, I hold him in no way the lesser 
genius that he failed. e. i. b. 



FRAGMENT OF AN ART CRITICS LETTER 
TO HIS FRIEND 

Rome, August 1, 1907 

Mt dear , — Of course you have heard of the new Diirer 

drawings 1 A poor art student happened to see them among a 
heap of torn and smudged Academy studies — the refuse of the 
Roman art schools — on an old bookstall outside the church of San 
Luigi dei Francesi, and he bought them for twenty centesimi 
That was three days ago. An American offered him some fabulous 
sum for the precious three of them yesterday, but he refused to 
part They say he is waiting for a wire from Pierpont Morgan, 
and certainly he seems to be a young man with a keen eye to the 
main chance. He is charging fifty centesimi admission to his 
dingy studio in the Via Margutta, and he will not let you off 
without an inspection of his own vile daubs. If he is taken up by 
Aesthetic duchesses and lionised, as is most probable, it will not 
take him six months to become a popular portrait-painter. His 
room was fuU of people yesterday morning, and the Prix de Bona 



10 



/ 



146 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

men from the Villa Medici were there en masse. They all think 
the drawings are perfectly genuine, and I am inclined to agree 
with them, although I have not yet been able to look at them 
closely with a glass. 

There are two charcoal sketches and one pen drawing; all 
three are signed A.D., with the small D inside the A, and dated 
1512, and they seem to be illustrations for Dante's "Divina 
Commedia.'* The pen-drawing represents Count Ugolino and his 
sons and nephews in prison. The background is washed in Indian 
ink, and there is a faint suggestion of barred windows. The 
pose of the old man stooping over the boys huddled at his feet 
is very natural and convincing. You know Diirer's exquisite 
finish and his delicate treatment of hair, and fur, and wrinkles ; 
Ugolino wears a fur cape and a gold chain like a German burgher, 
and his long beard is very characteristic of the master's style. 
The snub-nosed, flap^ared children are unfinished, and no Italian 
would have chosen such models ; but, then, no Italian could have 
made them beautiful by sheer force of technique. 

The larger of the two charcoal drawings is evidently intended 
to illustrate the famous line : * 

Quel giomo piu non vi leggemmo avante. 

I think the artist put it aiside as a waster when it was half 
done, as though the figure of the unhappy Francesca is drawn 
carefully and in detail there is no background whatever, and the 
hindquarters of a stout Flemish horse with a plaited tail appear in 
the left-hand corner with some smudges and a meaningless scribble 
of Indian ink. Does not this suggest to you that Diirer made a 
study for one of the centaurs who would appear in an illustration 
for the twelfth canto of the " Inferno " and tried his pen on this 
sheet of paper f The lovers were seated side by side with the large 
book resting on their knees, but only Francesca remains, and 
she is unfortunately ratiier blurred. She is a large, coarse-looking 
woman with a double chin, and she wears an elaborate dress with 
loose hanging sleeves and a chemisette of fine-drawn muslin. 
Bossetti would have shuddered at her, and so would Bumo-Jones, 
but she is admirably well drawn, and the complicated folds of her 



PROSE, 1907 147 

draperies are perfect I can fancy Raskin going into polysyllabic 
raptures over her finger-nails, and D. G. R covering her heavy, 
meaningless face with one slim brown hand that his eyes might 
not be offended by so much as a glimpse of it. I heard a young 
American sculptor sajdng, "eighteen stone if she weighs an 
ounce"; but no one encouraged him in his flippancy. The third 
drawing is a study of an angel on grey paper, shaded in charcoal 
and touched up with white chalk. The spread wings are worked 
in detaQ to the last feather — a miracle of finish — and the draperies 
are DUrer at his best For the rest I say nothing. He could not 
portray a beautiful woman, much less an angel ; the face is hard 
and heavy, with long flaccid cheeks and conmion ears, and the 
ankles and feet are rather those of a tramp, misshapen through 
wearing other people's old boots. I hope to go to Uie studio in 
the Via Margutta again to-morrow early, and I shall take a strong 
glass with me. They may be clever forgeries, and I am not 
going to rush into print on the subject until I have made a few 
more inquiries about their present owner; Old Masters are so 
often faked here — and if pictures, why not sketches? The man 
who keeps the bookstall outside San Luigi should be questioned, 
as he must have bought the drawings at some sale : there are 
wonderful accumulations of old books and papers in the libraries 
of some of these Roman palaces, and if they could be traced back 
even a little way their value would be enormously increased. As 
it is, I doubt if Mr. Morgan will take them without a pedigree of 
some sort, but we shall see . m. d. dalton 

SOLITARY MEALS 

I often wonder what my Bread must think of me ; I am some- 
times inclined to fancy that it despises me ; but I comfort myself 
with the reflection that it is not the same Bread day by day, and 
that its amazement has no time to turn to familiarity and con- 
tempt 

I am its chief excitement ; apart from me it sleeps in the cup- 
board, but in its waking hours my table is its Universe and I its 
Qod. There may be patient times in the morning when the 



/ 



148 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Uniyeree is GkxUess; thoee hours of waiting it consumes in 
thoughtful anticipation ; but at the last there comes a season when 
I dawn upon its world, and the Ritual begins. 

It watches me while I crouch over the fire and stir the 
porridge : it sees me pour it out into a bowl, adorn it with salt 
and milk — ^and the porridge is no more. It gazes fascinated while 
I sip my scalding tea, and trembles with anxiety when I hold aloft 
my knife. 

The Bread is one Whole no more ; it is a mutilated Most and 
a Piece ; and the Piece feels its face growing brown and warm as 
it stares at the fire, impaled on a cruel three-pronged fork. All 
hot, it is deluged with a melting mass of yellow butter. 

The Bread is no more divided ; it is only a mutilated Most ; and 
soon it is put to sleep again in the cupboard, and wakes at noon to 
find its broken side stiff and stale. Four times a day is the Rite 
performed with variations ; and each successive time the Bread has 
more to wonder at and less to wonder with. 

This from the Bread's point of view; for myself, I love 
a Solitary Meal. I have known restless people who are doomed to 
eat in loneliness — they call it doom — and who solace themselves 
with a newspaper at breakfast and a book propped up on the jam- 
pot at tea. This is to neglect the essence of a meal. Ask such 
a one, as he leaves the table, what has been his fare, and he will 
gaze at you blankly and say he does not know ; he has eaten and 
is satisfied ; that is all. I can hear the Bread laughing scornfully 
through its indignant tears. 

Give me no book, no paper ; give me just my Lonely Food ; 
and there will come dreams of fair things fashioned in the sugar, 
visions of pure places carven in the ham; sweet memories will 
ripple to greet me in the milk. 

I revere Jack Homer ; he knew the joy of clasping tight to his 
soul — no vulgar plum — but the pure delights of Solitude in Eating. 
" What a good boy am I ! " Ah ! yes. Jack, you in your comer, 
and I in mine, are better men that we have drawn our golden 
reverie from a Solitary MeaL 

I fancy that in Purgatory the Souls under probation dine at 
a long common table ; and there is ceaseless chatter of an empty 



PROSE, 1907 149 

kind. And I think that the Angels sup each at his separate 

board, curtained from one another's curious gaze. 

So I am far from agreeing with that old Persian poet who 

sang: 

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou 
Beside me singing in the Wilderness, — 
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow ! 

For I can dispense with Thee and Thy song, gladly; and even 
wine is a superfluity. My Paradise is little beside a Loaf of 
Bread, so it be alone. 

Bread, are you leering at me ? Give me a knife that I may 
cleave your Crust ! w. d. p. hill 



SOLITAKY MEALS 

I suppose the most stupendous solitary meal on record is 
that legendary one of the crocodile who gave, indeed, a dinner^parf jf, 
to which he invited many guests, but for which, with wily foresight 
and no Kttle humour, he provided no ''baked meats," though 
accounting for many funerals. For he made such a happy selection 
of predatory members of his visiting-list that the course of the 
feast — tables being found empty — ran thus : The frog became the 
dinner of the duck, the duck of the fox, the fox of the lynx, the 
lynx of the leopard, the leopard of the wolf, and the wolf of the 
lion, so that by the time the host, having thus served his guests to 
their satisfaction, was ready for his own solitary meal upon the 
king of beasts, that monarch had nicely packed inside him, like so 
many graduated Chinese-boxes, the whole of the dinner-party — 
himself excepted ; he, being duly devoured, producing this anomaly 
— which has some suggestion about it of a riddle as well as a 
Chinese puzzle — that the crocodile dined upon his own dinner- 
party ! The question certainly arises whether one could call such 
a meal solitary, accompanied as it would be by the violent pro- 
testation of victims ; but most distinctly the crocodile dined alone 
(as I imagine all predatory creatures prefer to do), unless dining 
upon the living be a matter of " two is company." Three in such 



160 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

case would appear to be considered bad company ; one need only 
watch the early bird and worm threatened with a guest to breakfast 
to be quite sure of that. The suggestion herein involved and 
conclusion to be drawn is, then, that the objection to company at 
Meals only disappears with the predatory habit — viz. when 
civilisation has so far slackened the tension of competition as to 
differentiate between appetite and greed. Whether man and the 
creatures he has domesticated alone have reached this stage one 
dare hardly pronounce ; but I suppose even ants do not sit at table, 
and one bee will oust another from the coveted nectar-well of 
a flower. Even the tamed and half-tamed creatures betray an 
irritable and unsociable frame of mind at meals forced upon them 
in common — vide the bickering concourse of sparrows when crumbs 
are spread and the confidence with which the daintily stepping and 
very exclusive robin will watch his opportunity to feast thereon 
alone. Even so the most ingenious of kittens will prefer a saucer 
to itself, and the cat, compact of wisdom, usually secures one. 
Nor does one expect the horse or ass to share manger or nosebag 
or the exalted dog his bone. Gregarious sheep and kine browse 
together in peace, it is true, under the beneficent rule of plenty, 
which is ever apt to quell enterprise even in quarrelling ; and yet 
what sheep or what cow has not the effect of taking a solitary, 
unsociable meal in its populated pasture-land ? 

I suppose the departure from solitary meals begins essentially 
with the family-party of young requiring to be fed in the nest or 
lair; but that is only episodic in the life of animals tamed or 
untamed, and rather curiously docs not appear to influence their 
prevalent disposition to invite no guest to dinner — even sister, 
aunt, or cousin. 

Apparently only man has taken a hint from the family-party 
necessitated during immaturity, although the hint in his case is less 
obvious than in any other ! And now what he began doubtless 
as a matter of convenience, and continued from prudential and 
economic reasons, he insiBts upon as a matter of course ; or when 
he thinks about it conceives as a condition which may include two 
of three fine arts — e,g. the fine arts of cooking, of conversation, of 
conviviality, of hospitality. (The last should have been firsts since 



PROSE, 1907 161 

it probably came first in order of time, and owes its earliest and 
still its most beautiful practice to the earliest civilisation — of the 
nomad.) 

Now, since these fine arts have accrued for ages to the meal 
sociable, the pertinent question arises whether solitary meals incur 
their utter absence ? Alas ! yes — with one exception ; for only the 
fine art of cooking can survive the restriction of solitude, and the 
solitary meal would seem to suffer the degradation of being at best 
inartistic — unless one could construct and bring it to a climax with 
the consummate fine art of the crocodile. 

EIUAN UUOHSS 



THE TRUTH ABOUT THE ARTISTIC TEMPERAMENT 

Let us begin with a fragment of dialogue from " Some Emo- 
tions and a Moral " : 

" The fact is, the artistic temperament ought not to marry/' said 
Cynthia. 

'^ Geniuses are never practical,'' agreed her aunt. 

De Quincey somewhere remarks on the enormous amount of 
error enshrined in popular antitheses ; he might have added that it 
is the most ineradicable of all types of popular error. Take this 
implied opposition between the ''practical" and the "artistic" 
temperament. The fallacy cdtoays exists at a certain mental 
stratum, and will not uproot The charge of " unpractical," when 
brought against you by people like Cynthia's aunt, may mean three 
things : (a) It may be the immoral person's way of describing a 
higher morality than his own. Any kind of decent civic govern- 
ment is " unpractical " from Mr. Richard Croker's standpoint ; any 
kind of decent artistic conscience is " unpractical," to Cynthia and 
her aunt (6) " Practical " may be the word applied to the un- 
fortunate limitations which spring from too much doing and too 
little thinking. In this sense, to be "practical" is no more 
meritorious than to have a " bicycle back " — ^in fact, it may be 
defined as the ''bicycle back" of certain types of mechanical 
action, (c) Lastly, the word " practical " may be applied to the 



162 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

kind of imagination that enables us to plan things — the gift that 
wins Waterloo or builds the Forth Bridge. 

Now, in this last sense of the word, *' practical " qualities are 
more wanted in literature than in anything else. Let any one who 
doubts this read Stevenson's " Lantern-Bearers," that little miracle 
of accomplishment in the art of presenting a difficult thought. 
The amount of constructive talent and ingenious dovetailing of 
means to ends shown in it would probably furnish all the brains 
manifested on our side in the South African war, and leave a good 
helping over. I doubt if Napoleon had practical ability enough to 
write "The Ring and the Book." Mr. Gladstone certainly had 
not enough to write " Arms and the Man." 

So much for one born of the antithesis. Now for " the artistic 
temperament." I fuUy agree with the Philistine who regards it as 
a nuisance. It is a form of colour-blindness to the Qolden Rule, 
a failure to recognise certain outstanding facts of life, a pathetic 
conviction that our neighbour is not a poet and an artist too. The 
people who suffer from it are sometimes men of genius, as Thomas 
Carlyle and Samuel Coleridge; sometimes very conscientious 
workers, like George Gissing ; sometimes humbugs and good-for- 
nothings, like James Gates Percival and Will Ladislaw. Its 
victims may all be known by certain unchanging articles of their 
creed. They all believe, like Gwendolen Harleth, in their own 
superior sensibility, and that it makes them unintelligible to other 
people ; and they all flatly disbelieve Dr. Johnson's dictum that 
" a man is seldom so innocently employed as when he is making 
money." 

Subjectively considered, I believe the artistic temperament to 
be a ''blind spot," hiding from its possessor the beauty and signi- 
ficance of certain forms of life. Gissing was, in his narrow way, 
a thinker and an artist. But some strange one-sidedness blinded 
him to the fact that the suburban grocer's shop is just as romantic 
a battlefield as the ringing plains of windy Troy. Thomas Carlyle 
was a man of genius, who could not see at short range. For any 
distance short of a century the artistic temperament smoked his 
glass. In short, I agree with Cynthia that the artistic tempera- 
ment ought not to marry. Or rather — lady novelists are too fond 



PROSE, 1907 158 

of earmarking ineligibles, in defiance of notorious statiatica — it 
ought to reform. The proper thing to demand of the artistic 
temperament is Clara Middleton's question : Can it not be cured t 

I believe it can. Let us begin by opening the patient's eyes to 
the fact that his complaint is not unique. Every one has suffered 
once in his life from it. The complaint is .everywhere. The 
timber merchant's clerk wants to go into the Church and become 
a gentleman. That is his form of the artistic temperament. 
Sterne is " nwrtaliter aeger de mea uxore.*' That is Sterne's way 
of catching the disease. The domestic servant stays out till twelve 
o'clock on Sunday night — the artistic temperament again. All 
schoolboys suffer from it— if they are let And there is at least 
one person whose artistic temperament takes the form of an in- 
vincible belief that " the gods have called him " (editors have not), 
and that his unique powers are completely wasted in failing to 
make the schoolboy a lover of the Humanities. We are all alike. 
We all want^ like Lowell, to "wander off into infinite space and 
be free at one stroke from prosaic serfdom to respectability and 
the regular course of things." But it will not do. Some one must 
make boots ; some one must bring round the milk ; some one must 
teach the young idea. A saner civilisation than ours will plant an 
isolation hospital for confirmed victims of the artistic temperament. 

RICHA&D E. CROOKS 



THE CHILDREN'S PARTY 

Tou know, directly the haU-door opens, that from the cakes up 
to the Conjurer and Father Christmas things will all be quite 
different from Everyday. This feeling begins in the nursery when 
you put on unaccustomed silk stockings and white shoes. The 
dark drive in a fly is an adventure to be proud of afterwards, 
though at the time suggestive of " face to the comer till you're 
good." Directly you get to Sybil's house, you hope you may ait 
next to Alice in Wonderland or a Princess at tea ; they are much 
more likely than Conjurers and Father Christmas, anyway. Tou 
meet mother and nurse by accident 

Sybil's house before this always seemed rather daylighty and 



164 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

fall of ladies in bonnets. Now it is glittering with gas, and the 
floor is so slippery that it makes your white shoes seem very self- 
willed. Billy and Qeofifrey, when you speak to them, don't look 
at all like Everyday. Perhaps the Conjurer or a Fairy Godmother 
has been altering them, and they aren't quite finished. How can 
the butler walk about so quietly ? Perhaps he wears goloshes, or 
has furry feet like cook's cat. 

The cakes are pink and sugary, but somehow tea is easier in a 
mug. The Conjurer won't give you the rabbit he found in Sybil's 
father's hat; he just throws it away, as if rabbits were quite 
common. After tea, you have presents off a tree, shiny, and quite 
too beautiful to touch. Before all the others have got their 
presents, your legs have grovm much too short for the chair. 
Sybil's house is too light and glittering ; you see nurse and don't 
mind going home to bed. In the morning you make up a lot more 
about the party, as if it were a fairy tale. 

E. M. GOODMAN 



CONSIDERATIONS ON THE INCONVENIENCES ARIS- 
ING FROM TEETH, TOGETHER WITH SOME OB- 
SERVATIONS ON THE NATURAL HISTORY OF 
DENTISTS 

The word teeth '* surprises by himself " natural teeth and false 
teeth, which may belong to me or to somebody else. Each class 
may be subdivided into '* fixed " and " loose." The inconveniences 
of false teeth, whether loose or fixed, are too obvious to need our 
consideration. Their sole advantage over real teeth is that they 
have a market value when (and if) you have finished with them. 
See advertisements. Animals seldom have false teeth. 

Natural teeth, which usually grow inside the mouth, are only 
useful for eating, smoking, fighting, and tying or untying knots. 
When they grow outside the mouth, as in the case of wild-boars 
and other rodents, they are very inconvenient for smoking or tying 
knots. Hence rodents are better at eating and fighting. 

Your own teeth hurt you when they come, and you let the 
environs know it. Also they " shoot," like the Parthian, as they 



PROSE, 1907 166 

" go," and let you know it. When they are " gone," you have to 
let the dentist know it, and then they are quite gone. Others' 
teeth also can hurt you, in a different way. If you have a 
serpent or a thankless child in the house, you will find that both 
have inconvenient teeth. Children have thrust upon them about 
thirty teeth — more than any other domestic animal — and these 
arrive one by one. Until they are fixtures there is no goodwill 
anywhere. 

Even when natural teeth are done with, they do not cease to 
be inconvenient. I think it was Cadmus who tried sowing teeth 
in the earth ; perhaps he wished to bury them ; but it was no use 
— they sprang up and became armed men. I suppose each armed 
man had thirty-two of his own. Negroes, I have read, fear the 
wrath of Obi if they throw away an old tooth ; and this leads me 
to the story of the Discovery of the Banjo. An old n^gress put 
her loose tooth into the shell of a tortoise, and tied a piece of skin 
over the front to conceal the tooth from Obi. She gave the shell 
to her little son as a rattle. Idly he stretched the loose end of the 
string over the taut skin, and twanged it. One might say the 
negress sowed a tooth and there sprang up nigger-minstrels. The 
inconvenience of that tooth is self-evident. 

But the most inconvenient teeth the world has ever known 
were those of Eve. It is common knowledge that apples require 
biting, and if Eve had had no teeth, what would — well, what 
would Milton have found to do in his blind old age ? I pause for 
a reply ; meanwhUe let us turn to the natural history of dentists. 

There are four species : dentists, American syndicated dentists, 
dental surgeons, and odontological specialists. You can differen- 
tiate them at sight by their clothing, and afterwards by their fees. 
You pay dentists, as you pay photographers, for hurting your 
feelings. An American syndicated dentist will hurt you for 
twenty-four hours for 2s. 6d. ; a photographer seldom charges less 
than 10s., but the harm he does can easily last twenty-four years 
— some even advertise "permanent" carbon-prints. But while 
you have done with the photographer at a sitting the dentist 
always says " Come again." 

Dentists are not gregarious, though I once dined with three of 



166 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

them ; they all had teeth like actresses, and they all chewed like 
Gladstone. Usually you only see one dentist at a time, and even 
then you prefer to shut your eyes as long as possible. 

Like stoats, dentists have one coat for the winter and one for 
the summer, but they do not actually hibernate until they are 
quite at the top of their profession; then they winter on the 
Riviera. Out of professional hours they are kind to their children, 
and take them to the pantomime, because when they smile they 
become advertisements. On these occasions dentists leave their 
cards at the box-office, in case any member of the audience should 
require their services during the performances. A London dentist 
once made a joke. He asked, "Why did not the Ladies' Milet" 
and the answer was, " Because she had a Rotten Row." He would 
try this on his victims, and some of them, who were accustomed 
to ride in Hyde Park, saw the point. He died suddenly, shortly 
after propounding the question to a colonel home on leave from 
India, who had an aching molar. The colonel spent hours in 
prison puzzling out the correct answer. 

Few dentists have made their mark in the history of the world, 
but in Shakespeare's play ** As You Never Can Like It,'' there is 
one called by that common Shakespearian name Valentine. An- 
other character in this play says truly, '* Dentist is an ugly word," 
and calls Valentine an ''ivory-snatcher " and a "gum-architect." 
These are typical examples of Elizabethan humour now happily 
extinct 

Apart from this instance, however, dentists are seldom heard 
of in English literature, until this essay came to be written. 

F. SIDGWICK 



AN OCTOBER HOLIDAY 

Val di Tbebbia, pbbsso Bkttoul, Pabha 
(And 6000 ft. above the sea) 

DsAB Feathbbston, — I hear that your month's holiday is 
fixed for October. Have no hesitation, but come straight here. 
If you have never seen the Apennines in October, you have never 



PROSE, 1907 167 

seen them at all. No difficulty about lodgings, even in this 
"lonely hamlet, which, girt with beech and pine, like an eagle's 
nest, hangs on the crest of purple Apennine," for the peasants 
will do anything for a change. We are variety incarnate, and 
they love us. There is nothing to eat, but you won't mind that. 
Bring a gun of sorts, and you shall have hares and partridges 
when you can hit them, and dine on the best minestra and 
gorgeous fruit when you can't. But the thing you are really 
coming to see is the forests in autumn : the green pine forests and 
rusty-red oak ditto, and to see from the mountain head that 
mighty Eurodydon go tearing down the great red pass, driving 
the leaves in storms before it. Come — it is vintage time, and 
your help will be gratefully accepted in every vineyard; and 
draughts of new wine are not to be despised. And the pine 
forests — they also are connected with eating for the pine forest 
is the home of mushrooms. You shall have a large basket and 
work for your living. You shall start early, when the air is like 
soda-water, and scramble up the stony mountain path, where the 
sun scorches like summer, though the dew is heavy on the grass ; 
and where the grasshoppers whir up underfoot, with wings like 
butterflies, dazzling red and blue ; along the precipice, where you 
look down on the backs of the birds that skim across the abyss — 
and, unless you break your neck previously, we enter the scented 
shade of that beloved forest. 

The mushrooms spawn in ones and twos, but such mushrooms ! 
All over with Claudius Caesar if he saw them. Little golden fans 
pushing through the turf, red oranges with white caps, deformed 
cutlets, and little balls. We will submit the spoil to the inspec- 
tion of old Manenti to-night, lest sudden death lurk in the 
basket, but that possible neighbourhood adds to the savour of 
those weird and exquisite fungi. 

We must lunch on bread, cheese, and salame, but sorrel is 
about U8 in plenty, and wild strawberries, raspberries, and black- 
berries the size of thimbles. 

There are no snow-caps at this time — from the summit you 
look down upon a petrified green sea of mountains, but at the 
end of the month they will be white. 



168 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

The Angelua will caU us down, the Angelua from villages in 
unsuspected folds of the mountains. One bell is cracked, and 
cluck instead of ringing — it is a trifle. Oh, the gentians, dark- 
blue and half -full of tears! The sheets of autumn crocuses! 
And see there, as we come into the warm air of the torrent-bed, 
where all day the sun has heated the broad waste of boulders — 
see, there they are, countless specks of green light, dancing, lapsing, 
and shimmering under the willows, the last fireflies of the year. 

Boast kid is waiting, and Cecilia smiling with hands on hips, 
ready to make an entree of our mushrooms. Oh, consider, you 
can get here for less than a £5 note, and live for less than two 
lire a day I Delay not. There are solitary wolves to be pursued, 
and Genoa within a day's walk over the mountains. — Thine, 

E. M. PARKINSON 



GUIDE TO UNDERGROUND TRAVELLING 

So my guide, who have found me wandering in the Bosco di 
S. Giovanni, led me by devious paths unto a place where was a 
deep ravine, and he made as though he would descend thither. 
Then I said, " O sea of all wisdom, what is this place, and whither 
are we bound 1 " " Know, beloved one," he replied, *' that there 
are four great Ways ; by three Ways go the blessed, some unto 
the Crystal Sea by the Way of the East, some unto the mountains 
by the North, and some, by the Way of the West, unto the Riviera 
Beata. There be also some that go by the South, but they must 
first come unto the Angel that stands at the entrance to that 
Way. But we are bound unto another journey, for thou must 
needs see them that suffer in the midst of the earth, and therefore 
we must go by this Way, which is called the Great Central." 

Then the dear Master brought me unto a deep chasm, the 
mouth wherefore was barred with a gate of iron. Here we 
stood, and he cried aloud upon Otis. Thereupon the gate leaped 
asunder, and he that was called Otis ran upon us, crying for an obol. 
But the Master exclaimed, "Peace, dog, for now we have our 
season." Then, seeing him disconsolate, he added, " Be content, 
wretch, and repine not, for so it is Written in the Regulations." 



PROSE, 1907 169 

Then he that was called Otis (and likewise Elevator) smote the 
wall with a wand of iron, and we fell softly through the chasm. 
And the wall thereof was ribbed, as it had been the ribs of a 
snake that suns itself after a full meal among the paving-stones at 
Tivoli, and we did glide past them like two unchewed and as 
yet undigested guinea-pigs. And when we had fallen about three 
times as far as the dome of St. Peter's rises towards the stars^ 
Otis cried aloud, and, lo ! the gates were rolled away by a hand 
not seen, and we sped along a narrow defile unto a cavern, wherein 
many awaited their Destiny. And therein was written no exit. 
And as we gazed there came forth, with gusts of flame and 
much roaring, that which seemed like unto a boat, and many 
therein. *' Enter," said the Master, " for now thou shalt see those 
who, while they were above, did spurn and trample on their 
fellows. Now they sit rigid and are spurned and trampled on." 
And as he spake I saw certain that smote them that lingered, and 
compelled them to enter the craft. And they that were within 
sat still, and stretched forth their legs, and could in no wise draw 
them in. And they that entered stumbled upon them, and there 
was wrath and much recrimination. For one that sat there cried, 
" Why wilt thou tread on my shins 1 " And he that trampled on 
him said, " If thou hadst not legs like a rickety giraffe — " And 
he of the shanks, "If thou hadst not hoofs like a performing 
hippopotamus ! " And thereupon they smote one another. And 
I, hearing it, rubbed my hands and laughed for joy. But the 
Master, perceiving me thus to rejoice, waxed wroth, and, saying, 
" See tiiat thou be not a toad on wheels," hauled me forth by the 
scruff of my neck. And certain came forth also. Then said I, 
'* O, fount of all illumination, where are we now, and who be 
these 1" And he answered, "This is the Stretta di Bolangero, 
and by this way go we unto the Inner Circle." Now in the 
Inner Circle there was more noise and many more spirits, tiiat 
hastened to enter the boat that was there, though certain would 
have prevented them. And I said to the dear Poet^ " Who, then, 
be these, and wherefore hasten they thus eagerly to their torment t " 
And he replied, " These be they that have earned their living by 
the work of their hands, therefore by their right hands do they 



160 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

swing until they come unto the Capella Bianca, which is the seat 
of all evil, and there most they undergo a grievous transformation, 
for at the word of one of those thou seest there shouting and 
clashing the gates against their will they must all change. And 
that they hasten to enter the vessel, it is because a worse torment 
befalls them that remain. Seest thou those that walk amongst 
themt They are the Malebranche. And if any would shirk his 
torment, or join himself to a class less evil than that assigned to 
him (for they that have worked the hardest are tormented most in 
the Third, which is the lowest Class), they seize him, and smite 
and rend him, and with ignominy drive him to his own place. 
But he who has entered the vessel is safe from the Malebranche, 
for not even they can abide the savour that is within." And 
while he spake I had been listening also, and knew the names of 
the Malebranche — how that two that had a venerable mien were 
called "Abraham" and "Dr. Swete," and another that was hot in 
his rage was called "Zingibero," which is "Ginger." Now I 
could not believe that " Abraham " and " Dr. Swete " were of evil 
disposition, so benevolent were their countenances, till that I 
heard Abraham cry aloud, "First Class only; plenty of room 
behind." Then, indeed, I knew that he was of the Evil One, for 
he spake not the truth. And even so I saw a spirit that had 
escaped into the vessel of the First Class, and he made a nose, and 
cried, " Come inside, Ginger, for there be many of us here." But 
Zingibero smote him, and came not in ; and another clashed the 
gates and shouted. And I beheld them, even as I have seen the 
carcases of sheep and oxen in the market of the Campo del (what's 
the Italian for Smith ?), how they hang and swing close together, 
and are driven through the streets. Even so do these sinners 
hang, in smoke and a foul vapour, by their evil hands, and thus, 
swinging and twirling into thick darkness, they are carried 
away. 

WILFRED HILL 



PROSE, 1907 161 



ON HINTS 

^ In good society, as among the angela in Heaven, is not every- 
thing said indirectly, and not as it befell? " 

So the Sage of Concord, with his normal infallibility. Liieral- 
mindedness is the sin against the Holy Ghost. This may seem a 
cruel verdict, and the recalcitrant reader may object, with a 
recently deceased man of letters, that a sense of humour is not one 
of the cardinal virtues. We think otherwise ; and the easiest way 
to enforce our view-point is to disregard our Burke and draw up 
an indictment against a whole nation. 

What causes (to parody a recent Frenchman's book) the 
inferiority of the Anglo-Saxon ? What is the hidden inferiority of 
the great race that produced a Shakespeare and a Nelson — a race 
whose exploits are known to the Seven Seas, whose pigheadedness 
is made manifest from China to Peru) What is that peculiar 
British weakness which makes Benan gird at the "two thick 
volumes which enchanted the English reverends," which gives 
Heine his two immortal reasons for not living in England, which 
makes Emerson speak of " a Providence that does not treat with 
levity a pound sterling " t The answer can be put into a sentence. 
The true British mind has no antenn» for indirectitudes. This is 
the Alpha and the Omega of civilisation — to hear the JUnts of the 
gods. 

But the Hint does not always come from the Empyrean. 

There is a maddening type of indirectness which does not prevail 

among the angels of Heaven. It prevails among those women 

who can be called angels by courtesy only. Every reader of ''A 

Fearful Responsibility" remembers Mrs. Elmore. I am firmly 

convinced that that gifted lady's methods of introducing a topic 

ought to be a sound cause for divorce. Mr. Howells, with delicious 

irony, pretends that the Professor's melancholy was due to the 

rescue of a girl from matrimonial suicide. But the wise reader 

knows better. The Professor was dying of prolonged endurance 

of Mrs. Elmore's society. 

What to do with the Mrs. Elmores? I believe that diplomatic 
11 



162 THE WESTMINSITER PROBLEMS BOOK 

hinting could be trained out of people if they were caught young. 
At least five out of every ten people could learn not to acquire 
"that exasperating quality known as tact" The thing is well 
enough in Mr. Meredith's novels ; in real life it does nothing but 
shorten the temper. I have said that women are the chief sinners ; 
and perhaps feminine education ought to include the art of saying 
a plain thing in a plain way. Scarecrow specimens could be 
collected for viva voce correction, until an automatic habit of 
getting to the point was acquired. The worst of it is that small 
books on Getting on in the World, and kindred subjects, are 
distinctly given to the encouragement of "Tact." One little 
manual of savoir-faire recommends the example of the hostess who 
explained to the superfluous lady that they were "a gentleman 
short" I suppose Dr. Johnson's remark to the author of a 
translation, " I do not say that it might not be made a very good 
translation," ought to take the medal among observations of this 
kind. 

In brief. The Hint, like the Ghost, is common to the two 
ends of human society. Indirectness is the supreme virtue of the 
saint and the incurable vice of the semi-savage. Read your 
Thucydides on the diplomacy that preceded the Peloponnesian 
War, and you are irresistibly reminded of the Bryce and Dunsey 
scene in " Silas Mamer." Read your Euripides^ and the Higher 
Indirectness dimples on every page. The " Alcestis ** is one long 
wink. And this leads to one more relevant aphorism. The Hint 
is the supreme achievement of Literature. Can you put a wink 
on paper 1 Then you are of the world's Inmiortals. Shakespeare 
could do it. Browning could do it Plato, Thackeray, Ibsen, 
Meredith — aU have this in common, if they have nothing else — 
this knack of instantaneous freemasonry with the reader, the dodge 
of the atmospheric Hint. The stiletto of the scoundrel, the 
avowed tool of the fool, the window towards Heaven of the saint, 
the Giotto's circle of the man of letters — such is the Hint. 

B. B. CBOOKX 



PROSE, 1907 168 



ON HINTS 

If it be trae, as Socrates says, that " the wrong ruse of words 
begets a great evil in the soul," then with regard to this word 
" hint " some of us are indeed in evil case. For while — to speak 
for myself — when I hear it I am filled with the same mysterious 
thrills and the same pleasing sensation of alarm at I know not 
what tiiat I feel at the words '* conspiracy," " secret passage," or 
" subterranean " — ^yet I cannot find that it is of the same import 
to many, or indeed to any, of those around me. Can it be that I 
am wholly wrong and am thus harbouring an evil in my soull 
For here I hold in my hand a plain and cheerful book entitled 
" A Hundred Hints to Housewives ; or. How to Make the Home 
Happy," and I find within its pages neither cryptic utterances nor 
Sphinx-like suggestions, but straightforward paragraphs to teach 
me "How to boil potatoes," "How to remove ink-stains from 
furniture," and so forth. 

And when I have hardly recovered from my surprise, I am 
asked, it may be, by my family to '' give the cook a hint to put 
less salt in the soup ! " 

A hint ! To the cook ! Am I to wrap my desire in such con- 
cealing words that only a mind sensitive to the subtlety of a hint 
can understand ? What effect could that have on the soup ? But 
tiiat is what these words express to me. 

It is clear, then, that on this point I am at variance with the 
rest of my fellows, and, arrogant as it may seem, I prefer to hope 
that somehow I am right and they are wrong. So to me this 
word will ever bring thoughts of what is elusive and delicate, and 
I shall leave the grosser forms of hints to others. 

A hint! — too fine it almost seems to be for translation into 
words — a flutter of the eyelid — % lurking and evasive smile or 
frown — and the hint is given. This is the work of an artist and 
not to be lightly undertaken by the most of us. Yet to achieve 
such a masterpiece, this were to have not lived in vain. 

But a horrid fear seizes me at times, and I ask myself, *' Doe 
the rare soul exist that could take so fine and dimly breathed a 



164 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

hintl" I fear, indeed, that this work of exquisite rarity would 
but make one more noble failure. 

And, indeed, there are moments when I wonder if it be not all 
waste labour to fashion hints at all (even of the commoner sort 
that all men will allow to be hints), and worse waste to give them 
to any man ! For he who can take a hint, wrought by one of 
average skill and subtlety, he, it seems to me, must stand in no 
need of any such help ; for he must surely have a mind acute and 
sympathetic enough to perceive his friend's desire or policy without 
an aid of this sort. And, again, to throw away the delicate 
mechanism of a hint on any one of denser wit is to try to goad a 
hippopotamus with a hair. 

So in this matter of hints it seems I have no practical advice 
to give. It is quickening, no doubt, to the intellect to strive to 
weave this almost impalpable fabric ; yet it is hard to see how it 
can be used in the brisk and matter-of-fact encounters and passages 
of our life. And it may be that, for all useful and marketable 
purposes, it is best for the most of us to keep to such simple 
thoughts as my " Housewives' Hints ** supply. 

And only in some dim comer of my heart will I cherish the 
hope that somewhere my ideal hint exists. 

M. y. HILL 



VERSE, 1904 

WORDS FOR A SONG 
Bkowkib Sono 

TTTITH threads of finest gossamer 

▼ ▼ To string his fairy lyre, 
The brownie, chanting low of her 
Will lead you — ay, speed you 
To the Land of Heart's Desire. 

Through rosy mists of reverie 
Soft from the elfin choir, 

Float silver potes of harmony, 
£nthral you, and caU you 
To the Land of 'Heart's Desire. 

Well follow, then, on eager feet 
Gay host that cannot tire ; 

To that far country, primrose-sweet, 
Oh, sing us ! oh, wing us 
To the Land of Heart's Denre ! 



'AVIS' 



NoON OF THB SpBINO 

Little Brown Bee on the wing, when will you tirel 
'* Not at the Noon of the Spring flushed with rose fire ! 
Look at the harvest of flowers waiting my kiss, 
Who would be counting the hours feasting like this ? " 

Little Grey Bird full in tune, when will you nestt 
" Not whilst the knowledge of June giveth me rest ! 
Look at the sun-dowered dale waiting my note, 
Who of his carols would fail, glad at the throat?" 

166 



166 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Little Still Butterfly white, when will yon pause ? 
" Not till the fall of the night ^veth me cause ! 
Let me be gone on the wing, loving my way, 
Lo ! it is Noon of the Spring, but for To-day ! " 

FLORENCE GERTRUDE ATTBNBOROUGH 



A SESTINA OF MEMORIES 

When you were nine, and I was six years old, 
Do you remember how we wandered forth. 
Two small explorers, through the summer fields, 
With apple turnovers provisioned well, 
And trampled down the farmer's mowing grass. 
In haste to pluck the little red-stemmed rose ? 

And how the farmer in his fury rose 
With hot red face, as ogres wore of old. 
And eyeing angrily his battered grass. 
With wingM words he drove the culprits forth. 
And swore a whipping would be theirs as well 
The next time they profaned his sacred fields ? 

Regretfully we left those sunny fields 

(For there alone it grew, our longed-for rose), 

And sate us down beside a little well 

That bubbled up 'midst stonework grey and old. 

And watched the slow soft runlets spouting forth, 

To lose themselves amidst the spongy grass. 

Long time we lay upon the kindly grass. 

Until the cows from out their distant fields 

In solenm, slow procession issued forth. 

With stiff and lagging movements then we rose. 

Our little bones aweary felt, and old 

(For all the ground was damp beside the well). 

Long weary weeks passed by ere we were well : 
Long aching weeks; by then the fturmer's grass 
Had turned to hay, and our offence was old. 



VERSE, 1904 167 

Again we entered those forbidden fields, 

But found no more our creamy-petalled rose, 

Thorns, only thorns, the straggling hedge brought forth. 

Sadly we turned, and sadly trotted forth. 
Our flowers were gone, and all our hopes as well ; 
Though some, consoling, said, " Tour little rose 
Will bloom again : and, not to hurt the grass, 
You might go skirting round the farmer's fields — 
His hand is mortal heavy, though he's old." 

Still to the sunlit fields Hope speeds us forth : 
Prone on the grass, we dream that all is well : 
And so wax old, and never grasp our rose. 



J. B. BALL 



NEW NURSERY RHYMES 
The Wilunq Molb 

How steadily the wiUing mole 

Works underneath the lawn. 
Raising his tiny mountain peaks 

To greet our eyes at dawn. 
How modestly he shrinks from praise 

Amid the clay and earth ; 
Oh ! modest mole, you beat the bee 

In unassuming worth. 

"FoosoMB, Smutsome" 

Fogsome, Smutsome ! London docks 
Is not the place to wear clean frocks. 
Fogsome, Smutsome ! In the Strand 
You should hold your daddy's hand. 

Fogsome, Smutsome ! London town 
Is where mummy buys a gown. 
Fogsome, Smutsome ! Toyshops too 
Are there, and they are for you. 



168 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Thb Swan 

Hany and £[atie 
And Jennie and John 

Went to the river to look at the swan. 
Jennie and Johnnie 
And Harry and £[ate 

Got to the river a little too late. 

The Rider 

I heard a horseman 
Ride over the hill. 
The moon shone bright, 
And the night was still. 
His crest was silver, 
And pale was he, 
And the horse he rode 
Was of Ivory. 

The Bridge of By-and-By 

The World is taming upside down. 

The Years have gone awry. 

The Months have turned to Frying Pans 

With no more fish to fry. 

The Weeks have turned to Sealing Wax, 

The Days to Apple Pie : 

Said the Old Man to the Baby, 

On the Bridge of By-and-By. 

Oh the silly days and foolish 

On the Bridge of By-and-By ! 

Eating 

Niminy, Nominy, 

What shall we eat t 
The Cat has the custard, 

The Dog has the meat 



VERSE, 1904 169 

We could eat bread — 

But the Qoat has devoured it. 
We could drink milk — 

But the thunder has soured it. 

We could catch fish — 

But the river is dry. 
We could have plums — 

But they're all in the pie. 
We could have pie — 

But it's burnt to a cinder. 
We could have pears — 

But the Farmer would hinder. 

Niminy, Nominy, 

What can we eati 
What but the Dewberries 

Ripe at our feet. 

The Nusssrt Cat 

Chink-a-chink chink, 

What do you think ? 
The cat in the nursery has nothing to drink ; 

Fiddle-de-dee, 

Don't talk to me! 
I saw her go down to the kitchen to tea. 

Pebformino Dogs 

I know a dog called Carlo, 

Who lives with Mr. Day, 
But when his master says " Come here 1 " 

He always runs away. 

I know a dog called Pompey 

Who lives with Mr. Clark, 
So lazy, he must alwajrs lean 

Agvnst the wall to bark. 



170 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

I know a dog caUed Jacob, 

The best of all the three, 
Who goes on trust for bits of cake, 

And he belongs to me. 

New Clothes 

Apples and pears, apples and pears. 

This is the overcoat Gregory wears. 

Chestnuts and grapes, chestnuts and grapes. 

Real grown-up pockets and three coachman's capes. 

Peaches and plums, peaches and plums, 
He will have gaiters when winter-time comes. 
Medlars and quince, medlars and quince ; 
Qregory knows that he's dressed like a Prince. 

An Accident 

Esmeralda and little Ann 

Broke their mother's ivory fan. 

Hullabaloo ! Hullabaloo ! 

Oh ! they didn't know what to do. 

Esmeralda and little Ann 

Thought it would be an excellent plan 

To tell their mother — and so would you. 

Lullabaloo ! Hullabaloo ! 



Tommy 

Eggy-peggy, eggy-peggy, 
Tommy's got a wooden leggy, 
Once he was a soldier Johnny, 
Now he'll have to beggy-weggy. 

Henny-benny, henny-benny, 
He shall have my silver penny. 
Pve got lots and lots of money 
Poor old Tommy hasn't any. 



I 



VERSE, 1904 171 

Tba-tims Talk 
Qreen trees, green trees, 
Qladys, pass the batter, please, 
Qreen grass, green grass. 
There's no batter left to pass ! 

Blae sky, blae sky, 
Ynm y oa kindly tell me why ? 
White snow, white snow. 
Why, yon ate it long ago ! 

b. c. brereton 

The Cat and the King 

For the Coronation 

Passy came to town, 

In a velvet bonnet 

And a forry gown, 

« Cats may look at kings," said she ; 

'' This appears a chance for me." 

Seated on a house-top 
As the King passed by, 
She observed him coldly 
With her cool green eye. 
Then she trotted off to see 
If there were a moose for tea. 

Merbt Peter 

Peter Pattisson popped a pin 

Into the arm of his nezt^f-kin ; 

And then he laoghed, and he laughed again. 

For he was the merriest of men. 

Sarah 

" Fie ! " said ICamma, "you must not pout 
And slop your milk and bread about ; 
Dday will only make it cold, 



172 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Sarah sat primly in her place, 
A happy simper on her face. 
"Indeed, mamma," she said, "I feel 
So grateful for this wholesome meal 

" And if there comes a naughty wish 

For some forbidden, richer dish, 

I always set my mind at rest 

By thinking, ' My mamma knows best.' " 

Now Sarah bridled as she said it. 
And clearly thought it did her credit ; 
But she was not so good, I fear, 
As she attempted to appear. 

A Nonsense Rhyme 

An elderly man in a pew 

Sat still and said nothing but " Mew ! " 

When the Beadle said '< Now ! 

None of that I " he said " Meow I " 

Which, he fancied, was something quite new. 

The Rewabd of Qreed 

Dorothy Dunn, she purchased a bun. 

Which she hid in a secret nook, 

" For then it will be entirely for me," 

She said with a greedy look. 

But a plump little mouse, in his snug little bouse. 

He laughed "Ah ha! Oh ho!" 

And alas and alack ! when she came back 

The bun-had-contrived-to-go ! 

Teottino Tommy 

Jingledy jing ! Hear the bells ring ! 
Tommy is going to visit the King ! 
First up in London, then down at Windsor. 
Tom asks the footman, ''Is the Kingin, surf 



VERSE, 1904 178 

Then home to sapper, partridge and cake ; 
After hifl trot he will want a lot^ 
So 111 begin to bake. 

O. M. OSOBOS 



GOLF RONDEAUX 

BONDBAU DE RbMOKTKANCE 

There is no need for you to cry 
That " Golf is dull " ; just go and try : 
Don't say you " fail to see the fun, 
But play ; and when you've once begun, 
Then if you can its claims deny. 

Start with a cleek ; just keep your eye 
Upon the ball, and it will fly ; 
At first don't have more clubs than one — 
There is no need. 

Only a week, and how you sigh 
(Or swear) at " bunker " and " bad He," 
Keenly discuss ^* the best you've done," 
And quite forget your horse and gun. 
Need I repeat my eulogy ? 

There is no need. 



ADAM FOX 



Hints to Bboinnebs 

Address the ball, and firmly stand, 
With temper even, aspect bland ; 
Watch, with a mind inured to B.'s 
Low jests about your hands or knees. 
The Haskell on its mound of sand. 

With all the skill at your command 
Bent to the matter next at hand, 
And not to iramingr^iartees, 
AddreMthebaU! 






174 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

But should its flight across the land 
Be otherwise than as you planned, 

Do not ascribe it to the breeze ; 

Nor yet, in language of bargees, 
Which is by well-bred players banned, 
Address the ball ! 

GILBERT WBSTIMAN 

FOUR-LINE EPIGRAMS 
Beauty 

He mated man and beast ; the soul alone 
Ck>uld find no kindred thing to call her own. 
And, seeing that she wandered thus forlorn, 
He pity took — ^and so was Beauty born. 

mabiak edwabdes 

Good Taste 

Merit acquired in incarnations past. 

And now by the unconscious self held fast ; 

So the hand strikes the right chord, in the dark, 
And, codeless, runs the right flag to the msLst, 

PHILIP 0A8TLE 
BOBES 

Thore are two kinds ; monopolists of time 
The poorer artists are content to be ; 

The higher types to greater glory dimb 
And are encroachers on eternity. 

c. simpson 

Success 

The gods have one great gift at random ^ven ; 

They measure genius, wit^ and wisdom out, 
But^ careless flung, success falls out of heaven. 

And any fool may find it in the rout. 

WILLIAM OUNN 



VERSE, 1904 176 

DiSOOMFOBT 

It's partly temper and it's partly pain. 

His case is partly one of wounded pride 
Whose summer suit is ruined by the rain, 

Who travels homeward eight or nine a side. 

" PSOTAOORAS " 

APHKODITE IN THE CLOISTER 

All night the hurtling storm assailed 
The convent walls, and when it failed 

About daybreak, the rain began. 
" A dreary dawn," as she unshuttered 
The rusty grille, the portress muttered ; 

" No day for a wayfaring man." 

But who lies here upon the stones I 

And is she dead ? Sweet saints, she moans I 

Ah, lay her by the fire, bring wine. 
There, her lips tremble, her cheek flushes : 
How beautiful the hair she brushes 

From those grey eyes with hands so fine. 

Sad-faced and travel-stained was she, 
The stranger, but so fair to see : 

Perfect in rest, perfect astir, 
So richly rounded, yet so slender, 
So vigorous and yet so tender. 

It was a feast to look on her. 

But when the Abbess asked her name. 
Whither she journeyed, whence she came. 

She answered nothing ; but her face, 
Mutely upturned in wistful pleading, 
Her vesture torn, her feet all bleeding. 

Gained her a shelter for a space. 

So there she sojourned while the spring 
Waxed with green bud and homeward wing, 
And from a hidden girdle drew 



176 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

MarvellouB jewels in repayment 
Of convent fare and convent raiment ; 
And with the spring her beauty grew, 

Till, as she moved by herb and bough, 
The leaves stretched out to touch her brow, 

The grass was loth to loose her feet ; 
And round her head flew many a swallow, 
And still a choir of birds would follow, 

And all their song was " Sweet, sweet, sweet." 

The dovecote shrined her with its doves. 
The wryneck piped her through the groves. 

The rose bloomed earlier that year. 
And now her sad looks turned to smiling, 
And, with soft outland songs beguiling 

All hearts, she lured the summer near. 

The sun, most royal to behold, 
Melted the air to fluid gold : 

The stranger, with unquiet breast 
About the orchard-closes straying. 
With garlands of wet leaves allaying 

Her temples, seemed to take no rest. 

Then, on one hot moon-flooded night. 
The end came swiftly — (Ah, delight 

Of antique days, where art thou now ?) — 
From the still garden leapt a crying 
Of " Aphrodite ! " and she lying 

Sleepless, looked out where brow by brow 

Stood one wide-mouthed, homed, shaggy-thighed. 
One bright-haired with a lyre beside, 

Calling to her athwart Uie breeze ; 
And she, the queen of lovelinesses, 
Threw down her robe, cast loose her tresses, 

And vanished, white-limbed, through the trees. 

BIBNABD PITT 



VERSE, 1904 177 

ROBERT BROWNING SOLILOQXJISES 

I scarcely know yet if I slept or woke 
When, from the yellow fog that chilled to the bone, 
The slush, the street-lamps blinking like bleared eyes, 
I tamed through a hospitably gaping door, 
Found white walls, maps, gas flaring thro' the murk, 
And people, young and old, ranged round on forms, 
Discussing — art) theology? medicine? law? 
Music ? — no ! Robert Browning, if you please, 
What he meant, what he thought, why he wrote this. 
Why, whence and wherefore used that argument. 
This metaphor, — till, tail between my legs. 
Wet boots and all, I shuffled out abashed. 

'• 

So now I put it squarely to myself : 
"These books, these writings, which the world thinks You, 
What are they ? " — Firsts I never sang, as birds 
Sing; just for joy, for feel o' the warm sun, 
Smell of brown earth, — ^nor yet, one lyric throb 
Of pulsing passion, poured out half my soul 
In amorous raptures, — rather, thought and thought. 
And as I thought, the rough blocks ground themselves 
(By some strange freak in the stuff whereof I am made) 
Into the rugged seeming of a song. 

Second, I never took a single thought. 
Cast and recast^ moulded, rubbed, scraped, and filed, 
And framed the thing clear as a cameo, set 
In words calm, cold as marble ; — rather, say. 
Half hewed my figures out of the sheer rode, 
Left them in raw, half-starting into life, 
Half-sheathed in virgin granite. 

Third and last, 
I never took my stand, like the dumsy oaf 
That pulls on Punch's strings, bids Tobj bark, 
Sets Jack Ketch toppling — ^rather, let mo say. 
Took one tense moment in ^e life of a man. 
12 



A 



178 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Analysed, searched, dissected, tested, proved. 
Just that one moment : tried, if you will, to live, 
Feel, be the man I figured — show you his heart, 
And all the marvellous good and had of him, 
And all the strife and struggling of his soul 
In that one motion of the wheel of Time. 
I grant, these bones, this flesh, this bodily self. 
Are always Browning, — but I'd have men hear 
Throb in my very breast^ the wild heart-bounds 
Of wrung Ixion, — the slow, regular, calm, 
Too-learnM beat of Cleon's pulses, — more, 
I would step out of Robert Browning's clay, 
Thrust an intruding nose, like a keen hound, — 
Dwell in the chambers of another's mind, 
Walk out again, and set down as I may 
The nakedness or fulness of the land. 

Good people, of your kindness let him be 
This man, this Browning ! — here's your peepshow, look ! 

There they go, Lippo, Andrea, and the rest. 

While I just stand at back and call their names ! 

The masque's name ? " Human Nature " and no more ! 

CICELY FOX SMITH 



A NEW INGOLDSBY LEGEND 
The Legend of Sib Cabnaby Jenks 

Sir Camaby Jenks, in the matter of rhino. 
Was happy-go-lucky as any that I know. 

(Thrice blest is that person who prudently suits his 
Expenditure to his resources at Coutts's, 
And never gets dnnn'd, sued, writted, or summon'd, 
But pays all his bills with a few lines to Drommond ; 
And if these old-fashioned establishments you shun. 
And fancy the modem '' joint-stock " institution, 



VERSE, 1904 179 

It matters not where yon your wealth may be hoarding, 
If only your costume be fashioned according 
To just the right size that your cloth is affording. 
Your pardon, dear reader, while thus I disgress ; 
This dictum's uncommonly sound, and unless 
You obey it youll get in a deuce of a mess !) 

To return to Sir Camaby Jenks, of the Blues, 

Who's been to the Jews, And tried every ruse. 
But though he may promise, cajole, or abuse. 
There's never an Israelite of them renews. 
In his time, as he said, he'd got into some stews. 
But never so thoroughly into the blues ! 

It happened just then that he'd been with some cronies 

To see the performance of Miss Taglioni's 

And so it befell That night in Pall Mall, 
As he stood at his door with his hand on the bell. 
While the dock at St. James's rang out like a knell 
(It sounds rather harsh when you're not very well). 
That he suddenly noticed a singular smell. 
It was pungent, and strong, and distinctly sulphureous, 
And though not inclined, as a rule, to be curious, 
He said : <* My apartments might well be Old Scratch's ; 
Some person's been burning these new-fangled matches." 

And turned to survey His rez-de-chaustd^ 
When a touch on his arm made him look t'other way. 
And there at his back Was a stranger in black. 
With the air and aplomb of a travelling quack ; 
And a tremor ran down Sir Camaby's spine. 
The reason for which he could scarcely define. 
" One moment^ I pray," said this weird apparition, 
'' Myself I present as a man of condition. 

With fabulous rents In the New Three per Cents ; 
I'm a very good friend to unfortunate gents. 
My income is more than you'd easily reckon, 
I've thousands of servants to come when I beckon ; 



180 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

The world ia to me but a vast pantomime, 

And I'm alwajrs assured of a deuce of a time ! " 

" A week with your money would right me, and Fd as 

Immense a sensation create as did Midas ; 

Indeed," said Sir Camaby Jenks, of the Blues, 

" I should very much like to step into your shoes." 

" Say no more," said the Stranger, '* if those are your views, 

Tou won't find that I am the sort to refuse. 

So send for the Jews And tell them the news. 
Take up your acceptances, pay all your dues ; 

With ike wealth that ensues Step into my shoes, 
And farewell, Sir Camaby Jenks, of the Blues ! " 

Sir Carnaby entered his rez-de-^Jiauu^e 

And found on the table a letter to say 

That a distant relation, at Faversham Hunt, 

Had broken his neck, and bequeathed him his " blunt." 

Regret and relief filled Sir C, of the Blues, 

As he sat in the arm-chair to pull off his shoes. 

But his terrible language I haste to disown. 
They woyldtCt come off^ nor were they hU own ! 
As he tried to unfasten the diamond buckles, 
And only succeeded in bruising his knuckles. 
He heard a succession of sinister chuckles ! 

While every fresh twist That he gave with Us wrist 
The tighter they grew, till he had to desist. 

The ** Globe " and the " Heraldj" the " Times " and the " News," 

All '' learned that Sir Carnaby Jenks, of the Blues, 

Inherited, through the regretted demise 

Of a relative, sums in the Oovemment Threes, 

That enhanced his position to one of great wealth " ; 

They " regretted to say that the state of his health 

Was such, through the shock of his relative's doom, 

As to keep him at present confined to his room." 

But his cronies M'Fuze And lieutenant Tregooie, 
Who begged leave to doubt the last half of this uewii 



VERSE, 1904 181 

When they called on him couldn't think why he should choose 
While sobeVf to lie abed, — wearing his shoes ! 
And they thought any man might his troubles surmount 
Who could claim as his own such a banking account ! 

Confined to his elegant resHie-ehaussSe 

For seven clear days Sir Camaby " lay 

A-thjrnkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge," all day 

Of the sinister Stranger, until, at the end 

Of the longest of weeks that he ever did spend, 

His valet awoke him, to vow and declare 

That the shoes he'd been wearing — the diamond pair — 

Had suddenly vanished, he couldn't say where ! 

And he says, '* May his dinner desthroy hb digestion 
If Sir Camaby asked him so much as a question ! " 

Moral 

A moral this legend undoubted profiers : 
Don't seek to replenish impoverished coffers 
By closing with Strangws' extravagant offers. 

When you deal with a man of Sir Camaby's inches, 

Don't be in a hurry to laugh if he flinches — 

It's the wiabkb aloke that knows whxrb the shoe pinches. 

OILBBBT WHITElfAN 

A CHRISTMAS CAROL 
Tune : «' Come^ ye lofty " 

'* Simple shepherds, I would follow 

This same Lord whom ye proclaim : 
By what service, by what sorrow 

Did ye win to learn His name Y " 
'* Not by fasting, not by vij^ 

Not l^ rich oblation poured : 
While we wrought our daily calling 

^'FeU the tidings of our Lord." 



188 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

" Wanderers from the land of morning, 

Searchers of the starry skies, 
Say what skill of art or learning 

Loosed the secret where He lies?" 
" Not by rite of dark divining, 

Nor in mystic vision sweet : 
Still our wonted quest pursuing 

We were guided to His feet." 



** Ox and ass beside the manger, 

Worthy by your Lord to bend, 
Doubtless each to toil a stranger. 

Ye the temple's need attend ? " 
" Nay, to yoke and goad submissive, 

Aye we serve man's thankless race : 
Weary with our patient labour 

Looking up we saw His face." 



He, who thus for our salvation 

Left His wondrous throne afar, 
Asks no pomp of preparation, 

Bids us seek Him as we are. 
Faithful to our daily duty 

In the busy world abroad, 
Rich and leamM, poor and lowly, 

Come we all and find our Lord. 

MUBIEL KENNY 



BUSHIDO : A SONG OF JAPANESE HONOUR 

Since the sword spake, song is silent on the sweet-stringed samisen, 
But Manchuria makes music for a myriad marching men ; 
Forth they fare from frowning Figi, forth from flowery, far Fukai, 
Danger-daring, death-despLring, desperate to do and die. 



VERSE, 1904 183 

High in heaven a host of heroes, holiest held of hand and heart, 
Praised with pride and prayer perpetual, for the patriot's peerless 

part* 
Watch and ward our worthy warriors, wafted wide by wind and 

wave, 
Qrimly glad to grasp great guerdons from the glory-granting grave. 

Conquering cannons of Kuroki on some captured crag-camp's crown, 
Tireless troops, that toil and triumph, tramping on from town to 

town. 
Bring back blessings bom of battle to the bravest and the best : 
Rich revenge on routed Russia, rescued realms and righteous rest. 

OSMAN EDWARDS 



THE SNAKE 

Swift through the grass she slips, rustling and swaying ; 

Flashes of silver light glance from her scales ; 
Fiercely her steely eyes, stern-set on slaying, 

Light on a shuddering shrew — his strength fails ! 

Slowly and steady her shining head rises. 

Crowning the swelling neck, lissom and strong ; 

Only her sliding tongue stillness despises — 
Hush ! through the silence soft hisses her song ! 

Mazed by the spell of unceasing sensation. 
Dazzled by sight, he still lists to the hiss ; 

Soothed by the strength of his kite's fascination^ 
Sudden, he's slain 1 He has suffered death's kiss ! 

" SYBIL " 



A ROUNDEL OF RAIN 

With gems of rain heaven's vital forces bring 
To little, cherished seeds that long have lain 

Dim in their dreams a sweet awakening — 
With gems of rain. 



184 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Pearls are they? Tears of childhood's passing pain 
As on her mother's breast the wayward Spring 

Showers sudden drops ; then kissed and soothed again, 

Dewily smiles, and hastens far to fling 
Arch-wise her scarf across the misty plain — 

Qirdle of myriad haes soft quivering 
With gems of rain. 

THE WEDDING 

(After Spenser) 

Ye Bridborome 

A fearefttll Knight was sitting in the traine, 

Ycladd in goodly rayment, richly dight, 

Withoutten spot or speck ; him seemd full fayne 

To hide his sad aspect from mortall sight ; 

Speechlesse he sate, as one in parlous plight, 

And inly grond, as he the toothache had ; 

Ne buckd he upp, his henchman's charge despight, 

But ever hore a visage solemn-sad, 

For gratelie did he dread, that ever was ydrad. 

Yk Brydb 
A comely Mayd was prinking att her glas. 
And mauie damzells hoverd at her side 
With faces sore distraught. Quoth one, ** Alas, 
Thy robe, perdie, is fashiond worlds too wide ; 
Needs must that it be chaungM." Straight she plyd 
Her cunning needle ere the Mayd was ware. 
Vainly the yreful Mayd their zeal doth chide ; 
Wotteth she wel how she of tsoones must fare 
Untill Saint George his Kirk, in that hymeneal Square. 

Yb Ritb 
Anon in that &ir Kirk they twaine doe meet, 
A goodly buildings bravely gamishM : 



VERSE, 1904 186 

Poor craven Knight I for hym is no retreat ; 
And evermore he earns the thinge were sped, 
Or els that hee himselfe were safely ded, 
And by these dismall rites distorbd no more. 
Full gingerlie he steps, with dayntie tread. 
For that the flowing garments that she wore 
Did coyl about his leggs, and him encombred sore. 

Ye Reoepciouni 

Anon, the deed being done, sweet musick's playd 
Whiles to a statelie hall they pas forthright, 
Wherein are divers small confections layd 
That scarce could provender one hongry wight ; 
Some tarry here, but more take speedie flight 
(Postponing camall thoughts till bye-and-bye). 
Their sev'rall gifts if haply they may sight. 
An hundred Muffs their muffineers espye. 
And twice two hundred toast-racks neatly ranged lye. 

Ye Pabtinob 

Forspent the spouses stand, a wearie while, 
What time their clamorous kinsfolk them surround ; 
As wave succeedeth wave, so smile on smile 
Obedient comes. Anon with dolorous sound 
The griesly yron car comes whizzing round. 
Wherein right joyously they step to shore, 
As having, after storm, safe harbourage found. 
(Straunge charet theirs, that streweth evermore 
Such eviU smells behind, and dire dismay before). 

J. E. BALL 



AN UP-TO-DATE FABLE 

Poor Mouse ! 'twas his ambitious wife- 
He loved her as he loved his life, 
And she would talk and shake her head— 
'< We live too much apart^" she said, 



i 



186 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

" We ought — you must agree with me — 

To cultivate society. 

We can't — ^you must admit we can't — 

Pass over Mrs. Elephant. 

She's sweet ! and he — such striking features I 

They're both the most delightful creatures." 

" Just as you like," he smiled. She wrote. 

Next week, responsive to her note, 

The genial neighbours came to tea ; 

And all went very well tiU he — 

Dear, blind old Mr. Elephant — 

Contrived short-sightedly to plant 

His foot upon his luckless host, 

Who straightaway gave up the ghost 

His widow, common talk attests. 

Lives now by taking Pajring Quests. 

Moral : If you aspire to be 
A leader in Society, 
'Twill probably at first be wise 
To keep to friends about your size. 

"PABTURIUNT MONTES ' 



THE VEGETARIAN'S SOLILOQUY 

Faddist? 
And you, my portly friend, that talked so glib ? 
Your beefsteak's too substantial for a fad ; 
Yours ia the general usage, mine the whim. 
But long prescription ne'er changed bad to good. 
Besides, I too might talk of ancient use. 
Had you forgot the captive Hebrew youths 
Who did eschew the portion of the King 
For meagre pulse, yet fairer did appear, 
More fat in flesh, than they all who partook? 
You, Sir, that batten on rich cates, and clog 



VERSE, 1904 187 

Tour brain with meat, and still together scrape 

Your paltry hoard, and then call that success, 

Good luck, but ware the Dog-star I NoVs the time 

When lean men thriye. Doubtless the greedy mole, 

Shunning the light, thinks his the higher life, 

And mocks the frugal, tuneful, careless lark. 

" But why the rule ? There lies the fad," cries one. 

Forgetting that we're all the slaves of wont. 

I eat no meat ; he eats it every day. 

Besides, I make no rule but for myself ; 

I do not stuff my lentils down his throat. 

And then» your faddist always knows ; I don't. 

How do they err who think, from bondage freed 

I never cast a wistful look behind 

To where we left the flesh-pots — and the scourge ; 

Nor ever long, when evening incense sweet 

From some domestic altar rising up 

Invades my nostrils, once again to share 

The genial unregenerate ways of men ! 

''bsetsatxb" 



THE VEGETARIAN'S SOLILOQUY 

Others may joy, with frenzied knife and fork, 

To carve the flesh horn fellow-creatures' bones ; 

To shut the noisy blackbird in a pie ; 

To catch the yawning oyster by the beard ; 

To wrest the limpet from his native rock ; 

Or with forc'd fingers rude— or eke with pins — 

To drive the winkle from his humble home. 

But mine it is to foUow in the train 

Of those who guileless walk the turnip-fields 

And see not further than their noseft' length. 

No bloody butcher wields for me his knife ; 

No dusky lobster blushes for my lust ; 

At me no dying turtle mocks. My meals 

Are purely green, as those of brother Ass. 



188 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

And, as I crop the yielding herbs, I dream 
Of some Elysium, soon to be, where pigs 
Shall revel endlessly in clover-fields, 
Dogs in the manger lie, and every cat 
Escape the sausage vendor and live out 
His charmM lives to the full tale of nine. 
Within the waves that lave these happy shores 
The silver sardine, unconfined, shall swim. 
Nor dream of tins. The lobster — ^if he likes — 
Shall lie beside the sprat, while round and round 
The rapid whiting, tail in mouth, shall whirl 
In ever-widening rings. O happy land ! 
I cull my cabbage-leaves and dream of thee, 
WhUe, all around, the onion censers fling 
Their strong insistent savours to the wind — 
The wind that whistles through my empty head, 
In at the one— out of the other ear ! 

'* CATERPILLAR * 



NONSENSE RHYMES 

He thought he saw a bumble-bee 

That sank into a doze ; 
He looked again and saw it was 

The source of all his woes. 
And oh ! " Alas ! that Spring," he sighed, 

" Should vanish with the rose ! " 

MAT LORD 



He thought he saw the vasty deep 

Pinned to an ironing-board ; 
He looked again and found it was 

Quite of its own accord. 
" And do you think the pen," he said, 

" Is mightier than the sword t " 

"froth' 



VERSE, 1904 189 

He thon^t he saw a breakfast egg 

Of most uncertain date ; 
He looked again and saw it was 

His education rate. 
" They also serve," he said, and groaned, 

" Who only stand and wait." 



J. B. BALL 






He thought he saw a macaroon 

Expound the Rule of Three ; 
He looked again and found it was 

To be or not to be. 
"Verb, sap.," he said, and " Quantum suff.' 

"And also . . . Q. K D." 



K. T. B. 



* * 

He thought he saw a motor-car 

Take lemon in its tea ; 
He looked again and saw it was 

"The gorgeous East in fee." 
"A rose by any other name 

Would smeJl as sweet," said he. 
♦ 

He thought he saw a centipede 

That drove a motor-car ; 
He looked again and saw it was 

A message from the Czar. 
" Malbrouck s'en va-t-en guerre," he said, 

"Ne sais quand reviendra." 

♦ 

♦ ♦ 

He thought he saw a giddy goat 
Advance by three and three ; 

He looked again, and saw it was 
A brilliant repartee. 

" How doth — ^how surely doth," he said, 
"The little busy bee," 



190 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

He thought he saw a mountain's brow 

Its devious way pursue. 
He looked again and found it was 

A link 'twixt me and you. 
** To-night I'U come again/' said he, 

" With comrades brave and true." 
♦ 

He thought he saw a thunderstorm 
That gazed on him and smiled 

He looked again and saw it was 
A weary way beguiled. 

" Meet nurse methinks thou art," he cried, 
" For a poetic child." 



T 



VERSE, 1905 

TO AN ASH-TREE AT MOONRISE 
Sicilian Octave 
10 thee, between the sunset and that blest^ 



Thrice blest, outshining of the moon, dear tree, 
With tender fronds a-flicker against the west, 

And happy thrills through every branch of thee, 
And stretchings of each twig, in the pure zest 

Of that clear silver glance now dawning, be 
My friendship, since thus from its evening rest 

My soul moves at my love's look, yearningly. 

BEBNABD PITT 

THE FORBIDDEN LAND 

Rest for a little while, 

Lay down the tool, 
Accept, Beloved, the pitying twilight cool — 
Letting remembered peace our hearts beguile. 
The solace we have gathered from the past. 
When Dusk in Eden yielded us at last 

The stillness of her smile. 

This is our chosen space — 

We, who have trod 
Diviner paths, and tilled immortal sod, 
Here work the grudging soil with downcast face 
Swept with fierce winds, from naked sun athirst, 
Tangled with stubborn weeds — ^bare^ scorched, accurst — 

This is our garden place. 

101 



192 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

And here through parching days 

We smile and weep, 
And tired eyes to shades and pastures deep 

Of our forbidden Paradise we raise — 
Where far away, drawn from eternal hills, 
Some secret source profound for ever fills 

Her gracious waterways. 

But when, all undefiled. 

Some poor, sweet bloom 
Rewards pur toil, what lightening of the gloom ! 
We clasp our treasure, glad and reconciled ! 
Yonder no joy is lost and found again, 
In Eden fields no rapture after pain, 

In Paradise, no child ! 

So, should some Angel say, 

" Lo, you have dreamed I 
No sin you sinned, and exile only seemed. 
Return ! your kingdom calls for you to^y ! " 
Beloved, I turn to where our sorrows are ; 
Though every bud in Eden were a star. 

Here would my spirit stay ! 

needless Sword aflame ! 
Though wide the gate, 

1 would not leave the garden of my fate. 
Nor let Perfection put my toil to shame. 

Love ! O Sorrow ! hold me safely here ; 

1 choose the love by sorrow's self made clear. 
The stony ground I claim ! 

My wayward soul resigns 

The perfect ways — 
In Death, in Pain, in dark laborious days 
Some wide and starry destiny divines. 
Far from the flicker of the Sword of Fire, 
Beyond all sin, all parting, all desire, 

A fairer Eden shines. 



VERSE, 1905 198 

So, till that place be known, 

Take solace sweet ; 
Here, children, there are daisies for your f eet^ 
Through scanty leaves a wand'ring wind is thrown. 
Beloved, though hearts must weep, thou^ hands must toil, 
Last night — ^the tempest swept the bitter soil ; 

To-day — a rose is blown. 

S. GRAHAM 

THE FORBIDDEN LAND 

" Come away," he whispered, " Come away, 

Loved-too-late, while still the flowers are springing, 
Ere yet the birds have made an end of singing, 

Ere yet our lives have seen the last of May, 
My dear, my dear ! 

In this unlighted land where spring lies dead 
Why should we miss the sweetness of the year ? 
The gate stands wide, the shadowed path is clear 
To Love's fair country where we dare not tread." 

" Night and day," she answered, " Night and day 

1 hear the elfln voices calling, calling ; 

By sunrise, and by noon, and at dew-falling 
I hear the birds about that shadowed way 
Far louder than the voice that bids me stay. 
O pity me, for every breeze that blows 
Is faint with the intolerable sweet 
Of violets that never kissed my feet 
Or passion's heart in some ungathered rose. 
O pity me ! " she wept. And hand in hand 
They twain passed up to the Forbidden Land. 

O once, and once alone, and nevermore 

Shines any sun as by those singing streams 

And silent meres with liUes clustered o'er ; 

And meadows veUed in flowers as in a mist 

New painted with the subtle hues of dreams : 

The forest flashed all day with iris wings, 
13 



/ 



194 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

And flitting wraiths of rose and amethyst 
Mad with the music of a thousand springa 
At sunrise, and at noon, until dew-falling 
They heard the elfin voices calling, calling, 
Down-dying with the dying of the day. 
Then "Come away," he whispered, "Come away, 
O Loved-too-late, the gold is all turned grey, 
And gone the glamour of the sun's enthralling.'* 
On the lone summit of the songless hill 
About them blew a bitter wind and chiU. 
So down they hurried to the wicket-gate, 
Where the last voice cried mockingly " Too late ! " 
And o'er the locked bars leaning, hand-in-hand 
They gazed sad-eyed on the Forbidden Land. 

E. M. WALKER 

THE FORBIDDEN LAND 

Are we sorry or glad, dear heart, that our travelling draws to a 
closet 
With Friendship and Fortune to bear us, has all of our voyage 
been sadt 
Look, where the sun goes down in a glory of gold and rose, 
And think of the days gone by, and say — are we sorry or glad t 

For we twain weighed anchor together, and sailed from the port of 
Youth; 
We have found the country of Mirth, we have crossed the desert 
of F^; 
And side by side we have fared through the garden of Knowledge 
and Truth, 
And touched at the Isles of Life, and trod them together, we 
twain. 

And of all the lands we have sought, all over our homely world, 
At one little isle alone we dared not touch or stay ; 

For we sighted the Ftouonate Isle, and I bade the sails be.forled. 
But you laid your hand on the helm, and pointed our oourae 
away. 



VERSE, 1905 196 

Tet I went to the stem and gazed, and over our whitening wake 
I saw the cool wave lipping the beach of the Ptodonate lale, 

And I heard the cataract fall, and the brown bird fdng in the brake. 
And I longed to enter the woods, and rest in the shade awhile. 

For methought if we walked together, dear heart, in the quiet 
woods, 

With the mystic twilight round us, the silver moon above, 
We should find the spirit of peace that over the island broods. 

And hear in the fragrant night the unknown whisper of Lova 

But you shook your head and smiled, and a warm wind filled the 
sail 

And carried us on and away beneath the starry night ; 
The moon rode over the billows, and evening dropped her veil, 

And over our whitening wake the island sank from sight. 

But Sorrow went down with the dark, and Despair with the stars 
was set^ 
And Hope sprang up from the sea in a glory of gold and rose ; 
We forgot the Passionate Isle, remembering to forget — 
Are we sorry or glad, dear hearty that our voyage is come to a 
closet 



THE FORBIDDEN LAND 

Here, on the difiTs sheer-jutting farthest spur. 

Among the heather's bells at ease I lie. 
And seaward dream into the purple blur 

Of sun-scorched air, where meet the sea and sky. 
And as I dream, fade cliff and sky and sea, 

Nay, I myself, while 'mid the swooning haze 
Two forms uprise ; the one I know for thee. 

The other, him who lieth here agaze. 
What though a ban hath sundered each from each, 

And left me yearning for my equal mate, 
The Sony mark of those who cant and preach. 

The sport of fortune and the toy of fatet 



f 



196 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

This clay I spurn, and far in fancy's realms 

I shout defiance, safe from all alarms, 
While all my soul a brimming bliss o'erwhelms, 

As to thy heart-beats pulse my enfolding arms. 
• ••••• 

The vision passes ; faint to me above 

Is borne the plash of wavelets on the strand. 
But dreaming have I communed with my love, 

And scathless trodden the forbidden land. 

H. s. M. 

TWO VILLANELLES OF PACKING 



Out across the Moorland tracking — 

Through the heather, 'neath the pine — 
What have I to do with Packing! 

When, my simple meal attacking. 

From the spring I draw my wine — 
Out across the Moorland tracking — 

Tou your clothes in heaps are stacking : 

On my back I carry mine ! 
What have I to do with Packingt 

Cease your cupboard shelves ransacking. 

Worship now at Nature's shrine-^ 
Out across the Moorland tracking. 

Why should you your brain be racking— 

Why should you these joys decline t 
What have I to do with P^^cking? 

Little's needed, nothing's lacking 

In this life so free, so fine — 
What have I to do with Packing, 
Out across the Moorland tracking t 

M. A. BIBD 



VERSE, 1906 197 



Much and long as I have tried, 
Tried to get the creatore in, 
Still my toothbrosh is outside. 

Boots and waistcoats calm abide, 

But that brush is bound to win, 
Much and long as I have tried. 

Broad my bag's mouth grows, and wide ; 

Pale my face becomes, and thin ; 
Still my toothbrush is outside. 

No ! I can't its bristles hide 

In its tomb-shaped case of tin, 
Much and long as I have tried. 

Though for hours I've thought that Fd 

Catch the four-fifteen for Lynn, 
Still my toothbrush is outside. 

By four-thirly 111 have died 

Uttering scarlet words of sin. 
Much and long as I have tried, 
Still my toothbrush is outside. 

IDA WILD 



A SONG OF REVOLUTION 

There's smoke on the horizon, so they say — say they. 

The rulers in the palace are asleep or at their play ; 

One bade them 'ware the fire, but they laughed, lauded they, 

"'Tis a mist will soon disperse when we turn that way." 

" Do ye see the smoke-wreaths curling, are ye blind, deaf, dumb t" 
"Hsh — we see the smoke-wreaths cuilinj^ and we oome, come, 



I 



198 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

There's fire on the border, and they've slain brave hearts and true ; 
They're laughing at the weeping, for 'twas what they meant to do. 
" Well teach them how to make a fire, we'll teach them how to 

rue!" 
But the fire bums more fiercely for those gallant hearts and true. 

" Do ye hear the fire burning? are ye blind, deaf, dumb? " 
*' Yea ! we hear the fire burning, and we come, come, come." 

There's a blaze o'er all the country, and they cry, cry they, 
" We'll quench the fire with water, for the fuel's still to pay." 
But tears are dry with weeping and a chance has passed away : 
There's an end to bondage sometime, and the end may come to-day. 

** Do ye greet the fire bumingt are ye blind, deaf, dumb! " 

" Damn 1 We greet the fire burning, and we come, come, come ! " 

There's a fiery flame in every heart and fiery work to do. 
Not for rulers now, but leaders, yea, for men and women too ! 
They've stifled us, they've trampled, we will live our lives anew, 
" With Freedom and with Liberty to show us what to do — ^Aye ! 
To show us what to do ! " 

'* Have ye felt the fire burning? were ye blind, deaf, dumb?" 
'* ilTo / we felt the fire burning, and have come, come, come ! " 

K. T. 

A SONG OF REVOLUTION 

Thou who hast Buffered dumbly 

Yfiih sword and scourge oppressed. 
How long wUt thou thus humbly 

Obey a Czar's behest? 

Bed flame of wrong bums in thee. 
Bed blood has stained the snow ; 

Bise up — ^let Freedom win thee 
To answer blow for Uow ! 



VERSE, 1905 199 

The priests of Clurist unfailing 

Tell how He suffered loss, 
And in His name are nailing 

The people to the cross. 

Red flame, &c. 

Earth has no salve to give thee, 

Thy wounds are of the soul ; 
Thy Czars forsooth forgive thee 

For asking to be whole ! 

Red flame of wrong boms in thee, 
Red blood has stained the snow ; 

Rise up — ^let Freedom win thee 
To answer blow for blow ! 

WM. BOWBT 



LOVE'S HAZARD 

For many years along your way, 

With nothing to divide, 
From night to night, from day to day, 

So closely by your side, 

I walked with you, and all along. 
From every plant and tree, 

Tou plucked some little flower of song 
And gave them all to me. 

And vervain sweet I gathered you. 
Lest love should go astray ; 

Then, as the fairies softly cbrew 
Throng golden nets tiie day. 

We spoke together, you and I, 
Of brave and secret things; 

We built love's fortress to the sky, 
And gave his warriors wings. • . . 



«00 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

O lost adventures, loved too well — 
O petals doomed to shame ! 

echoing, empty citadel 

That proudly bears your name ! 

WILFRID L. RAKDSLL 

AMORIS FLOSCULI 

For many years along your way, 

With nothing to divide, 
From night to night, from day to day. 

So closely by your side, 

1 walked with you, and all along, 

From every plant and tree, 
Tou plucked some little flower of song 

And gave them all to me. 
And 'twizt the leaves of Memory's book, 

Wherein I fondly keep 
Note of your voice, your touch, your look, 

All of your flowerets sleep. 
Till, like the Paestan rose of old, 

As Roman poets sing. 
Your little flowers shall each unfold 

In second blossoming — 

Tet fairer, tenderer every one 

Than in the earthly years, 
Because my love has been their sun, 

Their rain, my daily tears. 

WM. BOWBT 

LUBES 

Voices, voices, voices within and without. 

And most of them cry " Give in ! " 

But a few of them cry " Hold out ! " 

So we hold, hold, hold, hold, 

Till the brazen world shall be tamed to gold. 

And the angek come with a shout I 

"KIT* 



VERSE, 1905 aoi 

SONG OF PROSPER THE KING 

Sweet, like the smell of the wine in a fishing city, 

— (A small stone city, set roiind a blue-washed bay) — 

Keen, like the breath of the sea over wide peat-bog land, 
Toung, like the odorous blowing of winds in May, 

Brave, like the birth of a poet's most high desiring, 
My lady Tvaine, sang Prosper, did pass this way. 

B. BOSS MAOAULAT 

••SI JEUNESSE SAVAIT" 

Ah, Love, if youth but knew 

The limitless fair kingdom it might sway : 

The perilous cloud-peak and the sea-beach lone, 

The dim-lit forest and the meadow way. 

What worth has knowledge, dear, for me and you t 

Ah, Love, had youth but known. 

B. A. B. 

LE JARDIN DE PEUR 

Cest la Peur qui nous donne k chacun le courage, 
Et nous Taut d'affironter les incessants combats ; 
Cest elle qui fomente et nous souffle ici-bas 
La haine vengeresse en r^ponse k Toutrage. 

Cest I'ange protecteur du marin dans Forage 
On quand vient k sonner Theure du branle-bas ; 
Cest la d^esse auguste entratnant sur ses pas 
Lli^roume vainqueur dans un sanglant mirage. 

Cest Taiguillon du Iftche et le f rein du vaillant ; 
Et c'est la conseilldre au sein fldtri, tremblant, 
Comme rinspiratrice inlassable et f^nde. 

Mattresae universelle aux yeox hagards et f ous^ 
Dont le bras nous ^treint et pourtant nous seconde. 
Tons nous te oonnaissons et tn nous oonoais toos, 

O Peur, dont le jaidin, le domainei eit le moodal 




808 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



JANUS— A RIDDLE OF TIME 

At the gate of the year 

I gaze each way ; 
To-morrow lies here, 

There yesterday. 
These come, those fly : 
And I at the gate— what am I ? 

OUT KKKDALL 



THREE EPIGRAMS 

Here lieth one who took the gauge of life, 
Whatever that school or this other saith, 

Who won the radiance of a star to wife 
And has obtained the dignities of death. 

The Sculptor has fair marble at his feet. 

The Painter has the miracles of Tyre, 
The Poet has the soiled words of the street. 

And robes them with imperishable fire. 

I sought for Loveliness when I was young, 
Singing I followed her from place to place. 

But lately have the shades of sorrow clung 
About me, and I shall behold her face. 

HSNBT BERNARD 



CITY RAIN 

Rain on the roof-tops — ^yes, I hear — rain, rain. 
And tell me, will you ever cease againt 

Tour voice is of the woodland, silver-dear ; 
And tell me, will you wash the city's stain 
Out of my heart for ever, rain — ^raint 

Q. M. FAULDINO 



VERSE, 1905 a08 

SING A SONG OF SIXPENCE 

Thb Sonq op thb Tannkb 

{After Rudyard Kipling) 
When the rye rune over the pockety 

Ab the oont of a hcuar-htl^ 
Give ear, my people, and listen 

To the tiary the people tell: 
The Song of Sixpence the Tanner 

A eong thai ye knowfuU teeU. 

Nine are the Laws of the Hedgerow 

That Mavis, the Song Thrnsh, wrote ; 
For blackbirds baked in a pie-crust 

This is the law they quote : 
That the blackbird nearest the egg^mp 

Is the one that must give the note. 

The soul of the King was hungered, 

And out he spake in his wrath : 
"Te have searched to the East for blackbirds, 

Go, search ye again to the North. 
Go, search till ye find two dozen." 

. . . And the Word of the King went forth. 

Twenty and four were the blackbirds — 

Somebody cut the crust ; 
And out of the thick'ning gravy 

Each little beak was thrust 
Twenty and four were the voices . . . 

And the soul of the King was dust / 

▲. A. MHiNS 

SING A SONG OP SIXPENCE 

{Chaucerian) 

Lordinges, I wd you mngen of a grote^ 
And of a pouohe of reye also by rote, 
And eek of tweye doaeyn birdeB blake, 
That weron in a pastee wel y-bake: 



a04 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

So 8one thilke pastee corven was, 
Tho foules al gan singen in that cas : 
Me thinketh this so delicat it is ; 
A 1 kinges mowen ete of it, ywis ! 
The kinge to his countour-hoos is goon, 
To rekene of his penyes everichoon ; 
With-in hir propre hour the quene sete, 
Of breed with hony spradde for to etd ; 
And in the gardin was the lavender ^ f ressh'e ; 
Ther-in she hangeth clothes new y-wesshe, 
Til sodeynly doun fleigh a papejay, 
And plukked of hir nose, weylaway ! 

F. SIDGWIOK 

SING A SONG OF SIXPENCE 
{Long After Byron) 
I want no hero — quite a common want — 

But " Sing a Song of Sixpence," not a new one, 
And " pocketful of rye," but really can't 

Try to persuade you that the tale's a true one. 
In nursery rh3rmes our childhood use to vaunt 
That, ere his Sacred Majesty could chew one, 
Twenty-four blackbirds all began to sing, 
Tho' baked in dainty dish to please the King. 
Further, that chronicle, time-honoured, told 

How in his counting-house the King was lurking, 
Counting his treasure — coppers, sUver, gold — 

His Queen the while — alas ! there is no burking 
The bald, plain truth — within the pantry roU'd 
New bread in honey, oft her elbow jerking 
Up to her mouth, and often, on the sly, 
Sucking her fingers when no maid was by. 
And now the climax, how we longed to cry ? 
One maid was in the garden, and her duty 
Was to hang out the royal wash to diy : 
Shirts, nightgowns, stockings, some few things of beauty, 

^ Lawender is disfyUmbios" laondresB." 



VERSE, 1905 »06 

And many into which we will not pry. 

Her lips no donbt looked Inadons, ripe, and fruity. 
And as she patiently hung out the clothes, 
A wanton blackbird snapt away her nose. 

H. B. H. 



PARSON'S NAG 
(Somertet) 

O P^son's Nag ! O Parson's Nag ! 

What makes 'ee graw zo fat? 
Whoy? feeding in the Parson's stall ; 

Tis main good feeding that ! 
Zo well as he loves sarmon time, 

He loveth dinner bell ! 
But he al'ays zees my manger vnll 

Afore he dines himzell ! 

O Person's Nag ! O Person's Nag ! 

Whut makes 'ee go zo slow t 
Whoy ! him as carries Parson Biggs 

Man vair and softly go. 
For if I tries a trot^ thee zees, 

Vair overhead he goes ! 
And who be I, 'oald loike to know, 

To vlutten Parson's nose? 

O Parson's Nag ! O Parson's Nag ! 

What makes 'ee get zo gray? 
Whoy ! zame as grizzles Parson's hair : 

The fret of every day ! 
The horse or man as does his work. 

My measter oft has said, 
Wold Time will lay a zilver crown 

Of hoaoar on his head. 

B. S. TTLSI 



I 



906 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



WINDS OF ALL THE WEST 

" What in all the wurld are ye sa3dn' in yere whispere, 
Moidherin' my Colleen, ye winds from over there ? 

Whisht, be quite an' aisy ! Is there anny sinse in whisp'rin' ? 
Who geT ye the right to go curlin' up her hair ? 

" Arrah, thin, be aff ! She can't listen to me spakin' . . . 

Faiz ! 'tis quite a power I come this night to say ! 
Gk> an' toss the reeds beyant^ rustlin' there an' laughin'. . . . 

Och ! they keeps on whisp'rin' jes' the same ould way ! " 

" Whisha, Shawn, be ai^ ! 'Tis the winds I do be heedin'. 

Sure, ov all the stories 'tis theirs is always best. 
Long as winds is blowin' I'd scruple to be listenin' 

To anny other thing than winds from all the west ! 

" I've no time fur coortin' whin thim same waves is whisp'rin', 
Beck'nin' up the white waves all along the shore. . . . 

Sorra thing but listens — eVn the tallest tree-tops 
Turn to hear such stories they niver heard afore ! 

*' All the little grass-stems, fillin' up the medda, 

EVry blade o' bent, the sand-hills all along. 
Turns the way the wind blows. . . . Turn an' listen too, Shawn ! 

Mortial man can't make the like o' their sweet song.'' 

" Is it listen — me ? Long as you are wid me. 
You are all I hear, avick, an' you are all I see ! 

Break my heart you will if you never look atowards me, 
Core ov all my heart, acushla, gramachree ! 

'* Och ! what can I do agin the winds o' heaven ! 

Hadn't ye the waves there raoin' fast and whitel 
Wasn't all the wide say enough fur ye to play wid, 

But ye must come moidherin' my Colleen-Oge to-night t 



VERSE, 1906 807 

" Quick, go on to England ! Tis there they're coinin' money. 

Tom the way ye come : go back f Americay ! 
Only hungry hills ia here, only heth an' bogland . . . 

Steppin'-atones the moonll make across the deep green say. 

''Couldn't clouds contint ye, flying fast as swallows t 
If ye'd only stop wance, blowin' from the west ! — 

Nary time shell listen, long as winds is playin', 

Whisp'rin' to Ould Ireland from Islands o' the Blest !" 

M. A. BALUOL 

THREE POEMS IN SIX LINES 
I 

One lived on happy dreams and was content, 
The other fought and wrestled, sweating sore. 

Each dutiful to Nature's kindly bent^ 
Each drawing nurture from her varied store ; 

This fiercely earnest, that serenely cool. 
Each thinks the other more than half a fool. 

& D. 8T0NB 

II 
Vksta — A Riddle of the City 
I lit the hearths which heavenward breathe at mom. 

Though these at midnight shall be quenched and cold. 
Ephemeral fire is theirs, each day new-bom, 

Tet I was never new, nor shall be old. 
All are of me : all me their parent call. 
Myself not any one, nor each, nor all ! 

GUT KENDALL 

ni 
Two chambers hath the heart 

Wherein apart 
Dwell Joy and Pain. 
O Joy, thy song restrain 

Lest thou shouldst keep 
Fain from her sleep. 

WK. BOWBT 



r 



SOS THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



THE WICKED GIFT 

The bride she sat in the sunlight sheen 

Kaimin* her yellow hair : 
It glimmered gowd on hor kirtle green, 

I wat that she was fair. 
She knotted it under the silken snood 

That she shall need nae mair. 

Then by there cam' a gangrel wife, 

Of wrinkled eld was she — 
"And will ye buy brooch or siller knife, 

My winsome lady free t 
There's muckle luck wi' a' I sell, 

And there's mair wi' a' I gie ! " 

She has chosen gems, she has chosen lace, 

And paid wi' the heavy gold. 
'' Now, blessings be on your bonnie face. 

And guid wi' what I hae sold ! 
But here's a ring for your lily hand 

Worth a' the rest, thrice-told ! " 

The red stone sparkled, the red stone darkled. 

And leapt and glowed like fire 
On her lily hand the golden band. 

Was to wonder at and admire. 
The wife was gane : and she rose alane 

To seek her grey-haired sire. 

She rose up lightly, she went sae brightly, 

A maiden fair and free. 
But ere she came to her father's side, 

Sae pale and wan was she. 
She strove to tell — but there she fell 

A corpse at her father's knee ! ! 



u 



VERSE, 1905 S09 

Ride home 1 ride home 1 thou bdd bridegroom I 

Ride home faU heavily ! 
No lovely fere in her blnshiQg bloom, 

Shall plight her troth to-day. 
They abroad her limbs for the lonely tomb, 

And the cold halls of the clay ! 

Heavily, heavily o'er the moor, 

Rides home the mourning groom — 
When he was aware of a woman there 

Beside a bush of broom. 
" Is it tfaoo, my foe, hath wrought this woe 

And a harmless maiden's doom ? " 

" I gave the fairest of all the land 

A fine nng bought fuU dear ! 
I took that ring from my daughtei^s hand. 

As she lay on her bier — 
Full fit it was that thy gift, good lord, 

Should deck thy lady clear ! ! ! ** 

AONSB 8. FALOONBR 

THE LAST HOPE 
C' Ballade,'^ on the Chaucman Modd) 

A ladye sat aneath a tree, 

A wilwe tree soe grene and gay, 
Ful oft she sighed right pitously 

And weping seyde : Ah wel4t-day. 

My love fro me is hente away : 
I slept, and dremed to him I flew, 

As dreming still of me he lay. 

OtUie our dremes are trew. 

Briddes that maken melodie, 

Be silent now, I do you pray : 
Tou hertes bold in woodland free, 

No more to you your does shal stray. 



i 



«10 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

O wilwe tree with lev68 grey 
Orant me a while to wepe with you, 
Til filepe ageyn my wound allay. 

Onlie our dremes are irew. 

But, cmel Slepe, thou mockest me, 

Sin with him I may never stay, 
O Slepe, I will han non of thee ; 

To gentil Deth I wend my way, 

For onlie he can sorwes slay. 
Our dayes are yvel, many or few, 

Ne linger I ne wolde ne may. 

Ofdie oivr dremes are trew, 

Dere Deth, who takest tendirly, 

Lyk litel babes forspent with play, 
Us men, who come ful redily, 
Thy face shal never me affray ; 
Who dost upon our wrecched clay 
Unending dremes like roses starew. 
They swetest slepe who slepe alway. 
Onlte our dremes are trew. 

B. sn>owiOK 

DIE LEUTE 

Es tuschelt die Klatschsucht, es raunet der Ndd, 
Es lastem die giftigen Zungen ; 
Sie treiben ihr Werk in der Dunkelheit, 
Sie rasten nicht, bis es gelungen. 
Und f ragt ihr, was all das bedeute : 
" So sagen die Leute." 

Der Jiing^ing, er starebt nach dem goldenen fim^ 
Er macht seine Nftchte zu Tagen, 
Und endlich belohnt sich der eiseme Fldss, 
Die Briider sind alle geschlagen. 
Warum wohl der Sieg ihn so freute? 
*' Pa staunen die Leute ! " 



VERSE, 1905 «11 

Es lockt des Versuchers achm^chelndes Wort, 
Wie klingen so siiss seine Tone ; 
" Znm Stelldichein komm am verschwiegenen Ort ! ** 
Doch standhaf t versagt sich die Schone. 
Was war es, wovor sie sich scheute ? 
''Essehen'sdieLeute!'' 



Und woUt ihr sie scbaun, die gefurchtete Macht» 
Der zahlloee Seelen sich neigen, 
So wandelt zom einsamen Friedhofe sacht^ 
Wo die Or&ber trauem and — schweigen. 
Hierher tr&gt der Tod seine Beute— 
" Da liegen die Leute." 

MABDB SXBYliBB 



BALLADE OF DEATHLESS DREAM 

Morning, and hearts like flame ! 

Sunrise on moor and dale ! 
Failure a far-off name ! 

Bugles, and gleaming mail ! 

Life — just a winging sail 
Under Ood's cloudless blue ! 

Ah, the wild night of gale ! 
Only our dreams are true ! 

Dreams thro' all storms the same, 

Dreams that no use can stale, 
Dreams that nor age, nor shame, 

Neither death's darts assaQ. 

How did our toil avail? 
Where the high hopes we knew ? 

Friends — ^yea, our own selves fail, 
Only our dreams are true. 



818 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Fortune's a wanton dame, 

Love's but a jester fndl : 
Empty earth's loud acclaim — 

So goes the world-old tale. 

Shadows that weep and wail 
Wander the world's pomp throng : 

Under the sacred veil 
Only our dreams are true. 

BNVOY 

Prince, how earth's splendours pale ! 

Laurels are twined with rue. 
Farg^ows the mystic Qrail ! 

Always our dreams are true ! 

O. FOX SMITH 



DIE LEUTE 

Mir waer'b schon recht. Aueh dir, und ihm, und Allen, 
Und dennoch geht es nicht. Wie soil ich's deuten, 
Dass jedem Einzelnen es wuerd gef alien, 
Nur nicht dem anonymen Volk, den " Leuten " t 

Gem legt' ich ab — doch mindestens den Kragen — 
Im heissen Sommer; huellte mein Oeeicht 
Bei Wind in Schleier, einen Muff wuerd' tragen 
Wenn's kalt ist Doch die ** Leute " leiden's nicht ! 

Und wenn mit meinem Lieb nach laeng'rem Zwiste 
Auf freier Strass' ich endlich werd' versoehnt : — 
Wie gem umfing ich sie, wie gerne kuesste 
Ich sie. Doch von den " Leuten " wird's verpoehnt ! 

Wenn's nur 'ne Einzahl gaeb— mir wuerd' nicht bangen 
Ein Ende macht' ich bald der lyrannei ; 
Waer's auch ein Heer von hundert-koepfgen Schlangen, 
Ich schluege jeder jedes Haupt entswei. 



VERSE, 1905 S18 

Die " Leate ! " — Stimmo[i aind'a ja nor die floestern, 
Und aelbflt-eniannte Loeser nicht'ger Fragen ; 
Schwatzhafte Unheilstif ter, stets im Duestern ; 
Nicht weias man wer sie und, nor was sie aagen ! 



Und wenn's dereinat ein End' nimmt mit der Erden, 
Folgte man meinem Bat, wuerd' es befohlen : 
" Bin jedes Menachenkind soil aelig werden, 
Jedoch die < Leute '— aoU der Teufel holen ! " 

JOHN COSNEUUS 



"THE DULLEST BOOK" 
{After TennysovCB '* You ask me why^ tho* iU at ease ") 

You aak me why, tho' ill at eaae, 
I read this volume I deapiae, 
Wboae lettera awim before my eyea 

And whoae dull aentenoea diapleaae 1 

It is the book that maatera praiae, 
And paint in dull acholaatic tinta ; 
The book (though girt with jollier printa) 

A boy muat read in holidaya. 

A book a achoolboy can't endure ; 

A book of men who gained renown. 

I grind the pagea alowly down 
And long for lighter literature. 

Where boys were seldom tSte4-tSte 
In brutal, low, o&naive atrife. 
But showed their birth to nobler life 

By scratching writings on a slate. 



814 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Should banded masters use the cane 
And on this theme — their fav'rita— dote 
That we may torn ont '' men of note " 

And in the " School Prospectus " reign ! 

Oh, seat me in a cosy nook, 
Oh, pnt a box of chocolates nigh, 
And I will read with ecstasy 

A brighter, less '' improving " book. 

w. B. FISH {Aged 15) 



A BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS 

It was about the deep of nighty 

And still was earth and sky, 
When 'neath the moonlight dazzling bright, 

Three ghosts came riding by. 

Beyond the sea, beyond the sea, 

lie kingdoms for them aU : 
I wot their steeds trod wearily — 

The journey was not small. 

By rock and desert, sand and stream, 

They footsore late did go : 
Now like a sweet and blesskl dream 

Their path was deep with snow. 

Shining like hoar-frost, rode they on, 

Three ghosts in earth's array : 
It was about the hour when wan 

Night turns at hint of day. 

Oh, but their hearts with woe distraught 

Hailed not the wane of night» 
Only for Jesu still they sought 

To wash them clean and white. 



VERSE, 1905 215 

For bloody was each hand, and dark 

With, death each orbleas eye ; — 
It was three Traitors mute and stark 

Came riding silent by. 



Silver their raiment and their spurs, 

And silver-shod their feet. 
And silver-pale each face that stares 

Into the moonlight sweet. 

And he upon the left that rode 

Was Pilate, Prince of Rome, 
Whose journey once lay far abroad, 

And now was nearing home. 

And he upon the right that rode 

Herod of Salem sate, 
Whose mantle dipped in children's blood 

Shone clear as Heaven's gate. 

And he these twain betwixt that rode 

Was clad as white as wool. 
Dyed in the Mercy of his God 

White was he crown to sole. 

Throned mid a myriad Saints in bliss 

Rise shall the Babe of Heaven 
To shine on these three ghosts, I wis, 

Smit thro' with sorrows seven. 

Babe of the BlessM Trinity 

Shall smile their steeds to see : 
Herod and Pilate riding by. 

And Judas one of three. 

WALTIB DB L4 KABS 



816 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



BALLADE OF THE SUPERIOR PERSON 

He glanceB not to lef t, nor yet to rights 
Bnt gazes sternly very straight ahead ; 

And if one points him ont a cart in sight 
(Being oneself replete with nervous dread) 
He flinches not, nor pales, nor flashes red, 

Nor tighter clutches at the steering bar ; 
He smiles a little scornful smile instead — 

He*$ uted^ Sir^ to a very different car. 

Lying upon his back, he says one might 

Well use a spaiidng-plug more lately bred ; 
His eye gleams up with a contemptuous light — 

That make of carburettor's long been dead ! 

He asks, with pity, what o'clock you said 
You wanted to reach home ? . . . Well, as things are, 

You'll not do that ; the creature must be led — 
H^8 used^ Sir, to a very different ear. 

You wish him at the inn a shy good-night 

When he emerges from the motor-shed ; 
You hope he's comfortable — Yes, Sir, quite. 

But, may he say, a touch dispirited ; 

He's just been putting the machine to bed, 
And may he ask. Sir, if you're going far 

To-morrow . . . but at that point you have fled — 
He^s uaed. Sir, to a very different car, 

ENVOY 

Prince, how this gentleman does proudly tread ! 

As crushed worms we, and he a most high Czar ; 
Of self-respect he strips us, shred by shred — 

He*B uied, Sir, to a very different car, 

E. B. HAOAULAY 



VERSE, 1906 

SOUR GRAPES 
(A Teuton to a Kelt) 

FRESH as the yean when Earth was new, 
Yet aad and strange as moonlit seas, 
Thou, changeful, dost with fire pursue 
All things in turn, that chance to please. 

Poets and heroes and wild kings 
Gave thee thy nature full of charm, 

The soul of thee, that dreams and sings, 
A potent anger, swift to arm. 

My golden idols are the food 

For thy keen laughter — ^yea, thou hast 
Gleams 6f a spiritual mood. 

And thoughts that wander in the Vast ! 

Fickle and voyaging aa the wind. 
Of tears and mirth and vision blent. 

Then need'st the slower Teuton mind 
To hold thee to a firm intent ! 



But, Dreamer ! thou of dreamers bom. 
Thou art not worth my heart's regret. 

For thou hast laughed my love to scorn ; 
Thou art a futile thing — and yet ! 

ALICX BDWABDBS 

217 



218 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

SOUR GRAPES 

Fame ! I ask it not| my brother ! 

'Tifl a hollow bubble blown, 
Wherein one fool sees another — 

His own self distended shown. 

Though I can outsing the Syrens, 

Though my wit is razor-keen ; 
Puff your pornographic Byrons, 

Qive me solitude serene. 

Emeralds in the sunlight basking 

See my poems^ each a gem ! 
Fame ! it b not worth the asking 

While I feast my eyes on them. 

Let the rhymers print in papers 

Crudities the crowd applaud, 
Coppers may reward their capers, 

I am not by envy gnawed. 

Let their photos deck the windows, 
Let their " fame " affront the skies, 

Qaudy-grand as gods of Hindoos 
Me they will not vulgarise ! 

In log-rolling rough-and-tumble 

I, too sensitive to mix, 
Wait the wreath that crowns the humble 

On the other side of Styx. 

"POKTA IGNOTUB' 

BALTHAZAR'S FEAST 
{Completion of Two Verses hy M, E, Coleridge) 

We were young^ we were merry ^ we toere very^ very wise, 

And the door stood open at our feast. 
When there passed us a woman mth the West in her eyes. 

And a man with his back to the East, 



VERSE, 1906 5819 

Behind lay the dawn with ita mystery and balm, 

And the springs and the watershed, 
But before us was the sea with its buoyancy and calm 

Where the beacons were burning red. 

'' Where the dead men lie, 'tis for you to say good-bye " 

(The door is open for the feast), 
And the Shepherds have gone past, and the Kings are dead at last^ 

And darkness has covered the East 

" By the ships, by the ocean, a new morning will arise, 

For the town where the lights burn red." 
And we followed the woman with the West in her eyes, 

And we left our unburied dead. 

And the clouds closed again round the starlit mountain fane 

(The door is open for the feast). 
And beneath upon the plain lay the bodies of the slain 

In the dusk of the ancient East. 

A golden day rose high in a majesty of sky. 

And we drank of the laughter of life, 
And the children passed us by with their song and minstrelsy. 

And men with their dreams and strife. 

We were young, we were merry, we were very, very wise. 

But the dead lay thick behind. 
And, like a bird that cries o'er the moorland as it flies. 

Came the burden and the sough of the wind. 

One by one as they heard it would the men and women rise 

(The door stood open for each guest). 
But our eyes as they passed us could not fathom their eyes 

Nor see if they turned to the West. 

And the wind blew again from the distant stariit plain 

As we sat midst the broken meats, 
And the prophecies were past, and the seers dead at last, 

And around us empty seats. 



S20 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Now let me lie where the dead dog lies^ 

Ere I iitme down again at afead 
Where there paeees a woman wWi the Weet in her eyee^ 

And a man tvith hie back to the East, 

A. F. T. 

A BALLAD OF LONDON TOWN 

** Mother, what is yon clond I see, 
That hangs so dark and low ? " 
" That is the sign of Wilderness, 
My boy, where you must go ; 
(God grant the years be slow ! )" 

Five years and five years, 

Till he was nigh a man. 
He played about his father's fields 

And thro' the woods he ran. 

His father took his hand one day 

And said, '^ My lad, now go 
And take your part in yonder town 

Where the cloud hangs dark and low.'' 
When the lad reached London Town 

The lights were all aglow. 

" This is not Wilderness," he said, 

'^ And no dark cloud I see ; 
Sure this is fairyland and bright 

With stir and gaiety." 

He saw the towers and palaces, 

In gold and marble white ; 
The great ships passing up and down ; 

And many a wondrous sight. 

He heard the songs and dances, 

He took his part with glee ; 
'* 'Twas yonder was the WIdemess, 

And tills is Life ! " said he. 



VERSE, 1906 2Sl 

He saw the chariota rolling — 

With lords and ladies grand ; 
And maidens in their fine array 

Qo by on either hand. 

Ohy welcome was each morning, 

And welcome was each night, 
And welcome aU the livelong day 

When everything was bri^t. 

But, few jrears, and few years — 

The glow began to fade. 
The music tamed to jangling ; 

He went, as half afraid, 
The cloud his mother used to see 

Had gathered overhead. 

And grim the streets were grown ; 

The lights bum dim and cold, 
And lichens on the marble crept, 

And mildew on the gold. 

How harsh the noises were I 

And thicker still and dank 
The cloud seemed close above him 

Until his spirit sank. 

He thought upon the pleasant fields 

YThere he had used to roam. 
The meadows and the woodlands 

Around the house at home. 



And still the cloud fell lower — 

Till he arose one day 
And said, " Fll to my father's house 

Where I was used to play.** 



2SS THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Alas, for him, that it should be ! 

— Alas, for me, to say — 
So thick the cloud that compassed him 

— ^He never found the way. 

J. H. HUNT 

A BALLAD OF LONDON TOWN 

Sing I of London Town, 
Country folk, lass and clown, 
Giles, Patty, sit ye down. 

List to my lay. 
Ill tell you why I loTe 
London all else above. 
E'en though in Westboume-grove 

I'm doomed to stay. 

Be it the winter-time. 
Snow on the trees or rime 
Then there's the pantomime 

At Drury Lane. 
Thither in motor-'bus 
Ride we with little fuss, 
Yes, it just does for us. 

Me and my Jane. 

Be it a rainy spring. 
Country louts shivering. 
Birds all too wet to sing, 

Mist, fog, and haze : 
We do not mind a bit, 
We can just laugh and sit 
There in the good old pit 

At mating. 

And when in blazing heat 
Haymakers toil and sweat. 
We take a summer treat 
In Richmond Park ; 



VERSE, 1906 223 

loe-cream is cheaply bought, 
EaaUy swimming's taught^ 
Boating with joy is fraught ; 
Ain't it a lark? 



While under heayy sheaves 

Poor Hodge, he groans and heaves, 

Trudging 'mid fallen leaves 

Dirty and brown, 
I go and gaily watch 
Socker or Rugby match ; 
Country? It ain't a patch 

On London Town. 

Give me the sparkling Strand, 
Looking by night so grand. 
Give me a Sousa's band, 

In shine or rain ; 
Lunch at the A. B. C. 
Steamboats and L. C. C. 
Country folk envy me. 

Me and my Jane. 

You grope in some dark lane. 
Trusting to Charles' Wain, 
Gas makes our way quite plain 

In darkest night. 
Slow you in wagons creeps 
Drivers always asleep, 
Enou^ to make one weep, 

Us trams delight 

Then, oh ! how much I'd hate 
Hearing the news so late, 
Drearily to await 
My^'DaOylfail"! 



SS4 THE WESTftONSFER PROBljlpI BOOK 

Theii^ monangi noon, mtidfill^^ - 
Pde green and pink Mid ^Hi^ 
F^pen are aD in flif^t — 
They never &il. 

Friends, come and have yoor ting^ 
Catch eight of everytiiing : 
You'll see perhaps the King, 

Joe and C. B., 
G. B. S., G. K C, 
Oen'ral Booth, Beerbohm Tree, 
And, yes, you're sure to see 

My Jane and me. ' 

Come, then, from hill and dale, 
Come, leave the grassy vale ; 
Speed o'er the iron rail 

In London train. 
If I've said what's not true. 
Shame's to me, not to you ; 
Come for a day and view 

Me and my Jane. 

"koknke" 



NIGHT 

Hast ease for me. 

Mother of sleep and dream ! Children of thine 
From idle hours, from pain. 
From toil of eager hand and brain. 

Turn to thee now and crave the Lethe-wine. 

To me the toil 

Filling the day was welcome ; sweeter yet 
The talk of friends, the smile 
Of sunny looks. Tet now beguile 

Weary unrest of heart : let me f<Nrget. 



VERSE, 1906 225 

Thy temple shrine — 
Where shall I find it! Is it ronnd me now 9 

This dusky-shining veil 

That shuts me in with barrier frail — 
Is it the raven tresses of thy brow ! 

Ah, draw thine arm 
Closer about me — closer yet : the prize 

Of uttermost content 

Is thine to give, if thou consent 
Once to reveal the secret of thine eyes. ' 

Love-light is there, 
Deeper than aught of love we think to know ; 

And wisdom's silent way, 

Unknown to toilers of the day — 
Treasures of life thou dost alone bestow. 

Teach me to love ; 
Teach me a wiser way than I have known : 

So, when the dawn at length 

Recalls me, I shall know my strength 
Equal to aU my days, content alone. 



STORM-SUNSET ON A WESTERN COAST 

[N.B,—The claim of (his gtanea to originality depmds on the regvlair 
e€Bsura in the 4^ foot of line 3, accompanied by a break in the eeneey 
and on the refftdar '' weak ending " to Une 4 : both being featuree 
absent from the stanza of '' Tears^ Idle Tears^ which falls regfdarly 
into 4 Hnes -h 1 UneJ] 

One golden bar along the clouded west ; 
Thereunder, cold grey levels of the sea 
Ribbed with its pale reflection ; and a thread 
Of vivid gold, where the last wave-retreating 
Has burnished all the borders of the sand. 
IS 



5826 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Is this the goal whereto the stately dawn 
Was destined, she that flecked with rosy clond 
The brown heads of the mountains ! and the noon 
That o'er a pale sea, paler than the turquoise. 
Trailed her blue mantle, edged with russet mists! 

The rankM peaks, that through the day's decline. 
Like purple-vested monarchs languorously 
Leaned back against the heaven, now amid 
The blended gloom of cloud and sea and valley 
Baffle the eyes and sink into the night. 

There is no stirring breeze enough to swing 

The bramble's long lean aims one inch aside 

From their true pole of being ; right and left 

Spreads such a strand that each spent ripple's heart-break 

Thereon should sound but as a tear that fell : 

Yet one long moan possesses all the dark — 
The eldest child of Nature murmuring 
Against a changeful mother : Hush ! the Sea 
Dreams of to-day's irrevocable beauty. 
Dreams of to-morrow dim with pitiless rain. 

E. A. BXniROUQHS 

AN EASTER SONG 

Deep in my heart I made 
A tomb, and there my dear dead Christ I laid. 

Forlorn despair 
Swathed Him in linen fine with spices rare. 

While that unsleeping watcher. Doubt, 
Rolled a great stone secure and set a guard without. 

Why faint, my soul ? Why fear? 
Dare through the dimness of the mom to peer 

And empty find 
That tomb where Doubt his vigil hath resigned, 

While Hope and Love in white array 
Point to the folded bands, the great stone rolled away. 

GUT KKNDALL 



VERSE, 1906 287 



AN EASTER SONG 

" Joy ! " shout the Seraphim ; " Joy ! " reply the Cherubim, 
Circling with triumphant hymn the great white throne ; 
" Burst are all the prison-bars, love resumes his crown of stars, 
Pain no more his visage mars, night has flown ! " 

"Joy ! " shout the martyr throng ; " sing aloud a glad new song 
Love as death and hell is strong, fierce as flame " ; 
" Joy ) " reply the captives ireod ; ^' this our God is God indeed, 
Pity bared His breast to bleed for man's shame." 

Rise, O saints whose blood has run, freely in the fight you won, 
Round your re-ascended Sun circling soar ! 
Warrior-like your ranks unclose, till ye shape the Mystic Rose, 
Whose dilated beauty glows, evermore ! 

c. nsLD 



DAS MARCHEN 

Weisst Du es noch — vor vielen hundert Jahren 
Warst Du der Konig, ich die Konigin. 
Ein schmaler, goldner Reif in meinen Haaren, 
Um meine Schultern schwerer Hermelin. 

Weisst Du, wie wir durch schwarze Widder ritten— 
Nachts wenn der Mond durch wirre Zweige schien. 
Und seine wunderlichen Strahlen glitten 
Bleich iiber Deiner Rustung Silber hin. 

Wir ritten bis an unsers Reiches Grenzen, 
Und nahte sich der Morgen, lag die Welt 
So jung vor uns, in goldnen Rosenkr&nzen 
Von wolkenlosor Sonne Licht erhellt. 



58«8 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Die Welt ward alt — ^ond hinter starken Toren 
Yerborgen schlammert die Yergangenheit, 
Dort liegt das Konigreich das wir verloren 
Und nnsrer Liebe bunte M&rchenzeit. 

Nun ziehn wir miide durch den Staub der Strassen, 
Und manchmal nur erwacht in unsrem Sinn 
Ein Schimmer jener Zeit die wir vergassen : 
Da warst der Konig, ich die Konigin. 

OAKEN LBSSINO 



DAS MARCHEN 

Yom Mond gekiisst singt ihre siissen Lieder 
Die Silberquelle durch die hehre Nacbt, 
Yom ewig jungen Leben, das der Lenz gebracht^ 
Im duff gen Tale hallt es heimlich wieder. 

Und an der Quelle stillem ems'gem Weben 
Da h&lt ein Felsblock aus der Urzeit Wacht 
Auf seiner MocNsbank in der Ebrfurcht Macht 
Thront eine Frau von lichtem Schein umgeben. 

Zu ihren Fiissen, andachtsvoll gekauert^ 
Schmiegt traumversunken sich ein lauschend Kind, 
Sein Auge h&ngt an ihrem Mund, dem lind 
Der Sang entstromt, der es durchschauert. 

Der Sang von alten, von uralten Sagen, 
Die ewig jung die Frau dem Einde singt, 
Der durch die Mondnacht zauberhaf t erklingt^ 
Bald freudvoU bald in stillen Wehmuts EJagen. 

Kennst du die Frau aus deiner Kindheit Tagent 
Es ist das M&rchen, das auch dir gesungen 
Die alten Weisen, die nie ausgeklongen ! 

AUGUST PAIJI 



VERSE, 1906 SS» 

RONDEAUX TO THE OLD AND NEW YEAR 

I 

When you are old, I may regret your going 
With the dead years, in silence, dark and cold, 

Reyond the sound of Time's swift river flowing, 
When you are old. 

Tou may have gifts undreamt of for bestowing, 
Hidden beneath your mantle's glittering fold, 
Quick-springing seeds of Fame and Fortune's sowing. 

Tet still is Trust a slow plant at the growing, 

Tet still what glitters is not always gold. 
I yet may learn to love you — there's no knowing — 

When you are old ! 

J. A. HACNAIB 

II 

A fiddler comes — twelve tunes his all 
To keep us dancing at life's ball ; 

To one sure beat he plays them through ; 

Every dancer will find them new ; 
Some — failing to keep step — will fall. 

" Hay faster, sir ; we do but crawl I " 
" Nay, slower ! " others then will bawl — 
But not to heed that noisy crew 

The fiddler comes ! 

Unmoved he plays, then leaves the hall. 

And hears nor plaudits nor recall. 

His tunes once done — ihey are but few — 
He plays no more. New Tear, 'tis you 

Who to the chief musician's stall 

A fiddler comes ! 

MABOABIT BOBBBTB 



880 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

ni 

The old sea-ways send up their tide ; 

The battered ships to harbour ride. 
In the deep seas beyond the bar, 
Where the great winds and waters are, 

The drifting ships have dropped their pride. 

When for the morning seas they plied, 
Who but young Hope should be their guide, 
To steer them through the rocks that scar 
The old sea-ways? 

Into the port they reel and slide. 

So for a little space abide. 

Waiting the gleam of the Dawn-Star 
To seek new waters, strange and far. 

But no more shall their keels divide 
The old sea-ways. 



B. B. 



AT MIDNIGHT 



A footfall in the dripping avenue. 
Light garments brushed the threshold, and I knew 
You climbed my stair and, in the vaulted gloom. 
Paused at the closkl doorway of my room. 

On that one moment hung our coming years. 
Did you remember blame and scorn and tears ? 
Or in the stillness, did you half divine 
The breathless silence of your lips on mine t 
Eternal Moment ! As its sand grains fell. 
Time was no more — but only Heaven and Hell. 

Was it forgiveness? Was it yea or nayt 
Tou turned and. slowly — slowly passed away. 

Faint footfalls far and farther 1 And again 
The steady hush — hush— of the Autumn rain. 

AUOB KDWABDl 



VERSE, 1906 2S1 



AN HOUR-GLASS 

There are no nights, no nights like the deep nights of Spring ! 

See how Qod drops at last, like some rich violet, 

Gathered at dawn from cloud-banks of the skies, 

The shattered purple of this fading day, 

Fringed by all tender stars that bring 

The sleep of every flow'ring thing — 

Of all that blooms, and dies. 

And we forget 

With May! 

On roses curled 

In buds and dreams 

On garden walls 

The darkness falls 

Soft, from the under-wing 

Of Spring . . . 

And in a world 

Of stars and streams 

The nightingales 

Watch, till night fails. 

Forlorn in lonely vales 

And sing . . . 

Dawn . . . dawn! 

And winds astir 

Among a million flowers 

Come breathing, sighing, murmuring. 

Till all the green woods rock, and fling 

Up to the sun, from golden clouds withdrawn, 

Wet boughs of willow, beech, and brave dark fir! 

O Dawn, that turns the Glass to number newborn hours. 

There are no days, no days like the blue days of Spring! 



9Si THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

SEVEN ENCORE RECITATIONS 

I 

The Parable op the Butterfly 

Hidden beneath the petals of a rose 

He lay; 
But when the flower her tired leaves must close 

He flew away. 

The parable is this : the rose was Youth, 

And he, they say, 
Was Love — I know not if they speak the truth — 

They may. 

STELLA CALLAOHAN 
II 

The House of Peter Pan 

Who built that house for Peter Pan ? 
That like a little ship of light 
Upon a whispering sea of summer leaves 
Is anchored in the forest-night? 

Who built that house for Peter Pan t 

That house among the nightingales, 
With golden windows all athrill 
To midnight melody in tree-tops there 
Where woodA below are dense and still — 
Who built it ? Not the nightingales ? 

The architect was Joy, I think, 
Who built a house so near the sky 
That even nightingales forget their grief 
And leave out of their song the sigh ; 

The architect was Joy, I think. 

BILIAN HUOHIB 



VERSE, 1906 233 

III 
A story would you have? Well, let us try : 
" Once on a time there lived — " (you can supply 
The leading characters to suit your taste) — 
" And he and she " (with no unseemly haste, 
But after some preparatory prose) 
" Met ; and there followed — " what you'd all suppose. 
'* And then " (to complicate the interest) 
" There came Another on the scenes, in quest 
Of — " N or M, you know. (Now plan a lot 
Of incidents developing the plot). 
** And after many brilliant conversations, 
Hairbreadth escapes and telling situations " 
(Fill in the details of their long distress) 
'' She found herself the happy bride of — " Quess ! 
/ don't intend to straighten out the mess. 

B. M. WHITE 
IV 

Aftermath 

The people crowded from far and wide, 

With tribute of blossoms, to lay at each side 

Of the new-made grave — when the rich man died. 

And it chanced beside him a poor man slept, 

With never a flow'r — but a dog had crept 

To his feet, and a women knelt there, and wept. 

At midnight an Angel passed by who said : 

" I am gathering gems for the Crowns of the Dead. 

. . . Earth's tears in Heaven are jewels instead." 

And oh ! what wonders of shining store 
From the poor, plain grave her white hands bore ; 
Then she came to the other and stooped once more. 
And 'midst the rich blossoms which formed the pall 
The Angel plucked — ^what she first let &11 — 
One pearl of j^ity ! and that was all. 

MABOEBT VBLLOWS 



884 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



The Prodigal Rbtorns 

'UUo, Faver, 'ullo, Muvver, 
Stow that gab, don't pall sich ficea, 

Iv'ry dy, aome one or uwer 
'As ter git put thro' 'is pices. 

'Otstuff gittin' lagged fer nuffin' 
When yer've 'ardly touched the swag, 

Korl thet Inglish Jestice f Stuffin' ! 
Two munse 'ard aint much ter brag. 

Fer my feather-bed I'm achin'. 

Beady for some grubt Not *arff 
Liver — s'welp me bob ! iviv bakin, 

Sing, what ho I the fatted calf ! 

HILDA NEWMAN 
VI 

[To be rendered with slight exaggeration of each conventional 
inflection familiar to the hearers.] 

The Boy stiU stands on the burning deck, and the Hetperua sails 

the sea; 
Three Fishers go forth and the cattle come home across the Sands 

of Dee; 
The light Brigade goes onward still, and the Lady of Shalott si^^ ; 
The Good News gallops from Ghent to Aix and the Ratisbon hero 

dies. 

Lorraine stiU rides \lndictive, and the Sleeping Beauty's kissed ; 
No curfew rings and still one comes with gyves upon his wrist ; 
And still we hear the Bells — Sweet Bells — and the Pied Piper play ; 
And the Little Revenge stiU holds her own and I'm to be Queen 

o' the May. 
And still we go to Carcassonne and still he is tired to-night ; 
And Boom is made for the Leper and Ezcalibur gleameth bright ; 
The Old Sedan Chair is waitings and Sussex is by the Sea; 
And if you are not contented, how critical you must be 1 

8. CUNNINCnKm. 



VERSE, 1906 886 

vn 

When I was young and spring was there, 

And you among the violets came, 
I thought that spring was everywhere. 
That yon were sweet beyond compare. 
That pain had vanished into air, 
That singing birds would always pair, 
And I be brave and you be fair. 
That I could fight and kill despair : — 

And now I think the same. 

FOUR-LINE PARODIES 

Qrape-Nuts will not a dinner make. 

Nor Shredded Wheat a feast ; 
Men innocent of lunch must take 

A mutton chop at least. 

* 
* * 

Tinkle, tinkle, telephone ! 

How I wonder why I own 

Such a thing as you at all, 

Like an ear-ache in the hall ! 

To AN Eabwio which the Poet met in ▲ Strawbbrbt 

Wee sleekit, creepin', crawlin' beastie, 
I've met thee at an evil feastie ; 
To spare thee now is not the leastie 
In my intent ! 

Lines written in a Cohmonflaoe Book of "Original" 
Designs 

Be sane, young man ; because you are not clever 
Stick to the rules, not break them all day long ; 

Tou'ie not a genius, 'tis no use whatever — 
These things are wrong. 



886 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Welcome t No, North-easter ; don't ask that from me ; 
I keep odes for zephjrrs — only oaths for thee ; 
Go and have your frolic over land and tide, 
But, while you're about it, I'll remain inside. 

J. A. HUNT 

* * 

I hate the dreadful hollow beyond the seventh hole ; 

All day in the sand below the niblicks hurtle and flash ; 
The tortured air is hot with the breathings of some lost soul ; 

And the breezes there, whenever they blow from it^ whisper — 
"Dash!" 

B. M. GRIFFITHS 

Then out spake Birrell-Bannerman, a Minister of State, 
"To every boy in England school cometh sure as Fate ; 
And what can boy do better than discriminate the odds 
'Twizt the wishes of his father and the Cowper-Temple goda t " 

" BABIKOTON " 

* * 

I caught an '^ Arrow '* passing the Square, 
It seemed to go — well, anywhere ; 
But, though swiftly it flew, the smell 
Somehow followed it fairly well I 

W. HODGSON BUBHBT 



EIGHT LINES OF DESCRIPTIVE VERSE 
The Cloud 

Into the sl^ I saw a cloudlet stray, 
A little flake scarce patent to the view, 
A pausing whiteness islanded in blue. 

All airy as the Cytherean spray — 



VERSE, 1906 887 

It seemed to wait a moment on its way, 
And whiter still, and still more brilliant grew, 
Then faded into Nothing whence it drew. 

And Life once more was lit by common day. 



Desolation 

An ashen sea whose white waves gleam 

Like flaws upon a dingy glass ; 
A bitter wind with raucous scream, 

And shuddering leagues of rust^ grass : 
No other sound, no other sight, 

But ever wild and wearily 
My own voice praying day and night 

For Death who will not come to me. 



Her Qabdsn 

Tis three feet long and one foot wide. 

Outlined with oyster-shells ; 
A pennyworth of London Pride 

In seed remotely dwells 
Beneath its strangely brick-like soil 

Wherefrom a table-spoon. 
Rusted and bent with rain and toil, 

Looks wistful on the moon. 

Night 

Night — ^like some woman when her beauty pales^ 

Tired with long dancing to the magic bars 
Of music sweeter than all nightingales 

Breaking their hearts for love beneath the stars ; 
And wearied, too, at last of her own charms — 

Binds up her cloudy hair some careless way, 
Slides all her opals down her shining arms. 

And o'er her head draws the blue hood of day. 



J88 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



The Fibst F&obt 

Would I had gather*d thee, rose 1 Yesterday f^ on thy tree — 
Crimson the afternoon's close vied in her glory with thee ! 
light, such as snmmer not knowing, left thee alone to behold — 
Thou wert all blushing and glowing mid autumn's kingdom of 
gold. 

White-hooded stole out the night — first of her sisterhood chill — 
Stepp'd, in the moon's silver light, over the ridge of the hill. 
Then to the valley — mist steaming — secretly came for a kiss, 
Found thee in loveliness dreaming, kissed Uiee — and left thee like 
this! 

THE COUNTERFEIT 

Qorse in the hollows, gorse aslant the leas 

A flaming glory, gold against the green, 

And blackthorn blossom striking silver sheen 
Amid the purple of the budding trees, 
A field of daisies rippling in the breeze, 

Fair silver feathers showing gold between, 

And at thy feet the golden celandine. 
O Man, what riches hast thou like to these ? 

For here's the very currency of Spring, 
The first exchange she draws upon the sod 

Honoured in golden coinage of the King, 
And met in silver from the mint of Qod. 

O Son of Man, confess thy self-deceit^ 

Here's the true coin, and thine's the counterfeit. 

WM. BOWBT 

THE COUNTERFEIT 

One stood within the covert of the wood — 

Love, whose fair face shone whiter than the dead 
Red garlanded like flame, his wrapping red — 

Holding the cup of Love's red wine, he stood ; 



VERSE, 1906 JW9 

Deep was the silence of that solitude 
And glorious the draught. While yet unshed 
The white lake lilies drooped each scented head 

In dreaming dalliance of sweet maidenhood. 

I cast the wine-cup wide upon the wold, 
Crying in scornful splendour of my pride, 
^ Now am I lord of Life " — but that hope died. 
I saw no rose-red Love, but worn and old 
With empty cup that mocked the sunset-gold 

The dark-browed Death looked on me, steadfast-eyed. 

BTHKL TALBOT 

THE COUNTERFEIT 

Within our cushioned pews we squat to prayer : 
— They knelt upon the flagstones hard and cold, 
The simple, sturdy worshippers of old — 

So tender are we grown, we cannot bear 

Hard chunks of doctrine for our Sabbath fare. 
The dose must be diluted, gently doled 
To these enfeebled weaklings of the fold. 

That so they may absorb it unaware. 

We deck ourselves in fair and dainty trim 
To serve our Qod the better, and thereby 

Deter the meanly clad from serving Him ; 
For how shall such poor weeds presume to sit 

Beside the flowers, that lift their heads so high ? 
— Is this true worship, or its counterfeit? 

" GRASSHOPPER " 

THE COUNTERFEIT 

Fancy encroaches when remembrance ebbs 
From your dear self rose-misted with ronuwce, 

And through the long years I have woven webs 
Of elfin beauty round your countenance. 



S40 THE WESTMINSlTiR PROBLEMS BOOK 

But when I chanced upon yon jester eve 

I knew some disenchantment, some dismay, 
For that you were not like the dream I weave 

To cheer my heart while you are far away. 
Ah ! life is ruinous of the crumbling hopes 

That were so incommunicably sweet, 
And when the dreamer climbs the airy slopes 

He finds the clouded hill-top counterfeit : 
Tet since my heart is mirrored in your eyes 
I do not heed the image in the skies. 

OHRISTOPHSB STONE 

THE COUNTERFEIT 

Not to your eyes would I be counterfeit — 
As against others in mine own defence 
Building a bulwark of high consequence, 

Words and soft airs that draw men while they cheat. 

Worse than I am and better by deceit 
I seem : this young, alluring innocence, 
This shallow waywardness is all pretence, 

And guards the soul of me in sure retreat. 

That soul is yours. Go, search in every part 

The dose-barred house ; here are the keys for you ; 
Qo with this lighted torch and wander through ; 

Unveil the treasures of my secret heart. 

Hold me then fast or leave me ; though we part, 
To your clear eyes alone would I be true. 

O. M. FAULDIKQ 

DEFINITIONS 

The Fool 

This man hath compassed all his heart's desire^ 
PuUed down his bams that he might build them higher, 
Gained all men covet — riches, honour, rule : 
And lo ! Heaven's final verdict is : Thou fool ! 



VERSE, 1906 S41 



SHAKESPEARIAN SONNET 

When I consider how the mountains keep 

Their fiery secrets under purest snow, 
And with what false similitude of sleep 

In earth's deep womb their clinkered ashes glow ; 
When on the peaceful face of dawn I muse 

In that still hour which scarce outlasts the moon, 
And think how all her sweet distilled dews 

Will nowise quench the parchM thirst of noon — 
Then do I understand why love is like 

A snowy furnace and a sleep of fire, 
And how beneath its morning calm we strike 

The hot beginnings of a world's desire, 
And I perceive that love doth play a part 
In the still vexbd frontiers of my heart. 

Wlf. BOWST 



SHAKESPEARIAN SONNET 

When I consider, in the noon of night. 

The stars that fret the lattice of high heaven. 
Or watch in the Occident the laggard light 

Creep o'er the shoulder of the world at even. 
With insufficiency my heart is stilled, 

That I, so dull a wight and impotent, 
Should, like a braggart, walk the green earth, filled 

With fear, that makes faint war upon content. 
But when, Prometheus-like, I grasp heaven's fire. 

Immure the impetuous flood at my command, 
And charter winds and waves to my desire, 

Lord of the universe, erect I stand. 
Thus Nature in one substance stiU presents 
Strong feebleness and frail onmipotence. 

JOHN KYLS 

IQ 



242 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



SHAKESPEARIAN SONNET 

When I consider Life, the sum of it 
I do perceive inscribed in plainest fashion 
Upon men's faces, who thereon have writ 
Unhappiness, despair, and wounded passion. 
Nay, those of gentlest heart, the young and fair, 
Do sign their brows with grief, and discontent 
Sits sour on lovely lips, whose chiefest care 
Seemeth to shape themselves for sad lament. 
Until I too grow vexed, and could complain 
To mine own heart, *' This life's a sorry thing ! " 
But that I think of thee, and swift again 
Have joy and taste th' eternal sweets of Spring ! 
For thou, dear love, art queen o'er Life's mischance, 
Tet for thy crown hast all sad circumstance. 

MURIEL F. WAT80N 



DEFINITIONS 
A Saint 

He docs not scorn the world Qod made. 

Only — his wants are few. 
Purging his soul, he strives to reach 

The angels' point of view. 

K. ▲. R. 

A Fool 

He has looked on the heavens and felt no fear ; 
He has walked the earth and found no peer ; 
His sight is darkened, his brow is brassi 
He sees but himself in the world's wide gli«. 




VERSE, 1906 



24S 



THE QUEEN OF HEARTS 

Intbblude after Shakbspbabe 

Enter two Serving-men^ meeting 

\8t Serving-man. How now, good Andrew? Sootb, an* you are 
merry! 

2nd Serving-man, I thought I should ha' died o' choked-up 
laughing. 
Why, you must know, the Queen hath took a whimsy 
To make herself a dish o' marchpane cates. 
Some bully-rook hath made away wi' them. 

\st Serving-man. I warrant ye that's Peter. 

2nd Serving-man, By r* lakin, 

I ne'er heard yet such garboils as they made. 
The Queen sat turning up her pretty eyes 
Like a duck i' a thunderstorm ; and so the King 
Angerly scratch'd his poll, and looked bemused. 
Then burst the rabble in, that had the man — 
And, as I live, he laid about him so 
The King took heart, and gave 'en such a buffet 
As stretched 'en flat ; and he began to howl, 
Forsooth, and beg for mercy ; and i' fecks 
With the red flustered King, this gloadng rogue, 
And all the ladies mammering wi' fright — 
I laugh'd so sore that I was fain for mirth 
To get me hence, and ease my sides in peace. 

Alarums, Excursions, 
Ut Serving-man. They've not left chasing 'en. Aroint thee ! 
On ! [ExeuM 

BTHXL TALBOT 



THE QUEEN OF HEARTS 
{Afier MiUon) 
Not olliflrwiaa tJie bUad Knave of old. 

Bent to uuhoiird t\m aiUts of tU' ftmoroua Qtieeni 
In at the window clomb, or o*er tb^ tiles. 
And (heavy peculation i) stole the tarts^ 




J 



244 THE WESl^INSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Confection choice, witk which her skill was wont 

To recreate her sated lord, and tempt 

Nice appetite anew ; not otherwise 

The baffled King inflicted penance meet 

Of restitution, chastisement^ remorse ; 

Full restitution, chastisement condign, 

Remorse unqualified. 

K. K. 

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS 
{After Browning) 
Do you see this pack o' cards I toss i' the air I 
(Fifty and two, Jacynth her mark on each — 
Orease o' the dishes, polish o' the stove. . . . 
Ftttience hath reached the kitchen, maids have thumbs, 
And thumbs have thumbo'graphs.) I catch and twirl 
My Lady o' the Sorrows, Queen of Hearts. 
(The prettiest trick, i' faith !) List ! there's a tale 
Who will may hear. (Were I Methuselah 
I'd make the actors speak, a book apieca) 

The Queen of Hearts made tarts (thus runs — I read 
— The ancient chronicle) — " Not," sighed the King, 
'' Like mother made '' — i' the mid o' the month o' June. 
Then, for the reek o' the cookery rose i' the nose 
O' the Knave, how Knave of Hearts with tarts departs. 
Next for a touch o* the law, the voice o' the court — 
Rex et Justitia — writ of delivery : how 
Back tastes rod-thwack ; how Knave returns the tarts. 
(" Jam satis — jam enough — I'll steal no more.") 

Thus far the chronicler ; the moral mine 
" Honesty '' . . . Bah ! Go, search the copy-books ! 

HENBY B. WILKBS 

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS 

Stolbn Swbbts — The Knave's Traqedt 

{After Mr. Stephen FhiUtps) 

In the long sultry day of blue and gold, 

The Queen of Hearts in flour thought^ and lard ; 



VERSE, 1906 «45 

Jam, too, was in her musings — thence sprang tarts. 
And from them — mischief. Oh, ingratitude ! 
The full-fed Knave of Hearts came creeping by 
And took them for the sweetness that they held, 
And the warm scent of the enclosing paste. 

*' The joy of eating, I have heard men say, 

Is doubted when men hunger '' — thus the King, 

Agog for tarts, unto the tartless Queen. 

Then, weeping, she—" I will not baulk thy rage, 

No ! Let thy fury spend itself upon 

The thievish Knave, until he yields his prey.'' 

The famished King strode forth — 

Soon with wild cries 
And bitter lamentation of sore bones, 
The Knave limped back, laden with tarts, and vowed 
To purge him henceforth of dishonesty. 

C. M. VKBflOHOTUB 

DEFINITIONS 

A Qenius 

A man who dares, with empty packj 

The ways none other man has trod, 
And from his lonely quest brings back 
New coins from the Mint of God. 

An Anarchist 
The Ego and the Cosmos form a problem 

Which, in and out of season, he will strive 
To settle, by demolishing the latter 

In order that the former may survive. 

GILBERT WHITBHAN 

A Fool 

A fool life's golden chance may see, 

Although he's never known to make it — 

He'll boast of it to you and me. 
But totaUy omit to take it 



246 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

CHANT ROYAL OF AUGUST 

Purple with heather the great down rolls wide : 
Rolls dim with haze and bloom to the highway 
Drawn brown across the shimmering hillside, 
Rolls down and breaks precipitous to the bay ; 
And all above the champaign the tense air 
Burnt into worship, smitten into prayer, 
Urges its viewless wings in eager throes, 
Quivers in a tumultuous repose, 
And leaps beneath the fiery-footed tread 
Of that strong sun that ever stronger glows 
While royal August lives in lordlihed. 

The noon is hushed. No, there a moor-bird cried ; 

Far in the glen I hear a lone hart bray ; 

And the bee hums across the summertide, 

As the grand rhythm of this imperial day 

Poises upon the heights and pauses there : 

And all the earth and all the sea lie bare 

To the sheer sun and catch the gold he sows 

On cliff and city, gulf and orchard-close. 

Magnificently scattered and dispread. 

As that great almoner his alms bestows 

While royal August lives in lordlihed. 

Ah, do I dream ? I heard a pebble slide 
Down the sere channel where the brook in May 
Spilt its fresh silver with a spendthrift pride. 
And now is beggared beyond hope of pay. 
Ah, do I dream, or does that perilous stair 
Sound to the feet of travellers that fare 
Up through the oak-shocks in their yellow rows, 
Up where the old folk at their doorways doze 
And the gray steeple guards the quiet dead. 
Up where the highest garden-blossom grows. 
While royal August lives in lordlihed ? 



VERSE, 1906 «47 

Oh, who are these in garments richly dyed, 
Qlorioos in their fantastical array, 
Orange and red and purple streaked and pied ? 
Are they some wandering masquers gone astray. 
Drawn like bright senseless moths by the keen glare 
To this burnt height where gorse and heather flare ? 
These bearing sickles in brown hands and those 
Planting a banner as the pageant slows, 
A banner blazoned August in gold thread. 
When in deep song the jolly burden goes — 
" While royal August lives in lordlihed." 

Then as the song swells, with a princely stride 
Comes their bluff lord with plumed crest a-sway. 
And right and left he glances, jovial-eyed. 
Serene, imperious, debonair and gay. 
Tall, ruddy, swart, with dusky-golden hair. 
And out and up the sky his trumpets blare, 
And full the jewelled oriflamme outflows. 
When he, the scorner of the frosts and snows. 
Smiles as he sees how men, well warmed and fed 
Under his reign of gold, forsake their woes 
While royal August lives in lordlihed. 

l'envoi 

Emperor ! who shall chant thy feeble foes ? 
For thee the flower of verse more brightly blows ; 
To thee be praises ever sung and said ; 
And noblest numbers may we still compose 
While royal August lives in lordlihed. 

H. L. D. 

CHANT ROYAL OF AUGUST 

Queen, thou art found in toiling — where the wheat 

Qrows ruddy-ripe and golden in the ear, 
Where scarlet poppies fall and faint with heat^ 

Where no late lark is left to call or hear. 



248 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

He sang, and sings not ; for the golden haze 

Of languorous August folds him in amaze 
Fain to surcease of song ; and he must bend 
To the Noon-Queen's high hestidg ; he must lend 

His myriad music to the murmurous bee. 
Sole singer he who doth all songs transcend 

The cool white wind of healing from the sea. 

like a drift-snow in summer, wide wings beat. 

Whiter than cups of lilies, near and near 
Come the strong ships of August, winging fleet — 

The wandering birds that all the North holds dear. 
O stormy sharp sea-wind that smites and slays, 
Blow soft and sighing on their white arrays 

That they come safe before thee to the end, 

Through perilous places where no songs ascend. 
And shake from out the flowing hair of thee, 

O golden Queen, so thou thy hosts defend 
The cool white wind of healing from the sea. 

In the deep woodland thou hast place and seat 
Soft eyes like flowers, sweet and shy with fear, 

Come laughing round thee ; and thou dost entreat 
The wild-eyed water-kelpie from the mere. 

Till all thy court of dryads and of fays 

Cry fond farewell upon the summer days 
That fade like flowers whom no bees attend, 
Full days, and nights of beauty ; hither wend 

The weary loves that wander ceaselessly. 

Having dead hearts for comfort, and their friend 

The cool white wind of healing from the sea. 

Thy two fair hands are filled with largesse meet^ 
With purple grapes, and radiant apples clear ; 

With golden glowing sunflowers, good to greet 
As thou art, fair and changing : for the tear 



VERSE, 1906 249 

Wars with thy lovely laughter as it plays 

From thy deep eyes, and bright brows crowned with bays 
To thy most radiant mouth ; wherein they blend 
In storm or sunshine as thy heart forefend. 

And in thy light hair Ijdng royally 

Waits, till on field or flower thou shall it spend 

The cool white wind of healing from the sea. 

Thou standest in the orchards with quick feet 
When mellow apples from old boughs and sere 

Hang tremulous ; that ripen ere the peat 
A fljdng flame of purple on the year — 

Grows grey for burning in the heather ways 

When children watch for windfalls and estrays. 
When the great winds are gathering to rend 
In hideous wrath and ruin none shall mend. 

But yet Queen August is not bond, but free — 
And blowing yet, though hitherward tempests trend 

The cool white wind of healing from the sea. 

l'bnvoi 
Queen August, we in street and city penned 
Where dreamless nights and dolorous days offend 

In summer's aftermath, cry wearily 
Be pitiful to hear us, and to send 

The cool white wind of healing from the sea. 

BTHSL TALBOT 

THE VIOLIN 

" Is it not strange," I said with Benedick, 

" That this taut gut and fiddle-bow should hale 
Men's souls from out their bodies — as out of jail 

Kings have been rescued by a harper's trick t " 

And as I spake, behold the air was thick 
With opulent music falling like a veil, 
Heavy with perfumes I must needs inhale. 

And lifeless lie — ^yet sentient as the quick. 



860 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Then was it as if life had re-begun — 

My soul went forth like vapour from my throat — 

Flaming with sunlight, airily afloat 

Twixt sea and sky and vastness, and as one 

That lightly speeds toward some pole remote 
Where sea and sky are drawn into the sun. 

THE VIOLIN 

The Violin, all good musicians say, 
While yet in babyhood you must begin ; 
And so, beneath my little rounded chin, 
'Twas promptly tucked, and I began to play 
The Violin. 

No ear had I, nor skill ; but Discipline 
Recked not of that ; and so I sawed away. 

And rent the air with Purgatorial din ; 

Pondering the while, profoundly, day by day. 
Of dark recesses, secret nooks, wherein 

I might (with Providential aid) mislay 
The Violin. 

J. B. BALL 

THE VIOLIN 

O long-drawn sigh I 
Born in the looking back 
Of Orpheus on the vacant track, 
How dost thou swell, how ghost-like dost thou die ! 

O sparkling wave ! 
Art thou not from the beach 
Whose sand ia gold from reach to reach, 
Where Tritons sporty and sea-nymphs haunt the cavef 

O solemn tone ! 
Dissolving earthly bars^ 
Leading the soul triumphant to the stars. 
Where crowned it sits and speaks with thee alone i 



VERSE, 1906 261 

O vast accord 
O grief ! O sea ! O sky ! 
What thing is man, whose harmony 
Thns seeks thee out, and makes itself thy lord f 

G. M. FAULDINO 

THE VIOLIN 

A senseless stock was I but late ; 

Helpless, and blind, and dumb, I lay — 
Void, pulseless, and inanimate — 

Who am my maker's lord today I 

This much I owe him — till he came 

I knew not Qod, nor Love, nor Sin : 
He laid his finger on my frame, 

And, at that touch, my soul came in. 

(What Destiny my soul awoke 1 

Out of what Evil came this Good ? 
That day an ancient law Man broke 

And made God's image from the wood.) 

I am his lord. By me alone 
His highest thoughts in speech are drost. 

His every secret is my own, 
VTho lie submissive on his breast ! 

From me his sin he cannot hide ; 

I know his secret prayers and tears : 
I fling the spirit's doorways wide, 

And lo ! his inmost Self appears. 



Now, of the secrets hid in Fate, 
But one thing would I ask of God : 

What is our end — who came so late, 
I from the wood, he from the sod ? 

^'PKBSIS' 



252 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

THE FLIRT'S VILLANELLE 

Bind me with a cobweb spell 

That a smile shall mend or make ; 
Love me little, praise me well. 

Love's red roses drooped and fell ; 

Hold me now, for dead Love's sake ; 
Bind me— with a cobweb spelL 

I will hear the tales you tell — 

Nay, beware, for Joy's the stake, 
Love me little, praise me well. 

Sing me rondeau, villanelle. 

Nor the sonnet's grandeur wake, 
Bind me with a cobweb spell. 

Say my ear's a pearly shell. 

Say your heart is mine to take — 
Love me little, praise me weU. 

Let no silver marriage-bell 

Ring our joyous hearts to break : 
Bind me with a cobweb spell — 
Love me little, praise me well. 

STHXL TALBOT 

DEFINITIONS 

The Saint and the Anarchist compared 

The saint sees wickedness abound ; 
Few but himself seem safe and sound ; 
O'er others' fates he sadly sighs, 
And patiently expects the skies. 

The Anarchist, with bomb in hand. 
Is altruistically bland : 
Let others skiey mansions find, 
But he will try to stay behind. 



VERSE, 1906 868 

THE MODERN MYSTIC 

Days dawn and sink ; moons wax to wane again, 

And year fades into year, and all is past 

Time wanders on ; before him is a veU, 

And at his back the traversed landscape smiles. 

Like the imagined painting of a dream — 

A land of tender shades — untouched by sorrow ! 

Where all is finished, and yet nothing dies, 

And the broad sum of nights and days, that were, 

Melts in a golden twilight of the gods ! 

Ah me ! The weary age ! The petty toil ! 

The ordered traffic, tracked about the land, 

To gild men's gluttony ! The pallid spirits. 

That seek God's jewels in the closured years. 

In faintness from a present apathy I 

Ay, I am faint Faith withers in a gloom. 

Where neither whisper grows, nor ghosts are pale, 

And temples falter down before the stars. 

Qive me the vision ! Lift me from the dust ! 

Great Lord, have I not watched, apart from men. 

For glimpses of Thy splendour 7 Pity me. 

Starved by this desert of the multitudes, 

Of wrangling creeds, and bloody, smoking wars. 

And the cold march of knowledge. ... I blaspheme ! 

Is not Thy voice still sweet beside the waters t 

Still dost Thou ride the uncaged tempest. Still 

There come rare moments in the range of time. 

When men are sleeping, and the winds are low. 

And all the silent wonders of the world — 

The stars, the seas, the forests, and the moon — 

Weave nameless mysteries, 'til this firm earth 

Is but a cloud, beaten by angels' wings. 

And though the spell be broken, and the dawn 

Light on the spires, and flood along the vales. 

That woke to see a thousand yesterdays, 

I know, I have not dreamed. ... I am a fool. 



264 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Qod hath His meanings in His silences, 
As in His thunders. Haply, I have tarried 
O'er-long in quiet valleys, courting visions, 
While heaven hath waited in the market-place. 
With that lost music, trembling into measures. 
To thread each stray and passionate discord up 
Into a clear melody. . . The unknown city 
Waits. If it mock, why, I am blessdd still. 
The love that scourged the saints shall be my peace. 
Behold, oh God, I come. . . . How the world roars. 

E. HUGH HIERBKRT 

FOUR SONGS 
I 
Just to be stiU a little space, 

A little while hold back 
The feet from pressing on the race 
Along the heavy track ; 

Just to be holy for an hour, 

Just to behold the blue ; 
To reach the beauty of a dower, 

And to the dream be true ; 

Just to believe the ages press 

Toward beauty, though so marr'd ; 

Just to believe in holiness, 
Just for a day — how hard ! 

EDOAB VINB HALL 

n 
As love grows stronger and more deep, 

More seldom do I see your face ; 
Tea, even in the land of sleep. 

More rarely doth your form have place. 

As love grows greater and more true. 

More perfect in its every part, 
As of tener I think of you, 

More seldom heart beats nigh to heart. 



VERSE, 1906 S66 

How strange if at the intensest hour 

Of love's inevitable sway, 
When most I feel its splendid power, 

Ton should be then most far away ! 

BDOAB VINE HALL 
III 

Beyond the borderland of sleep 

She flies to me, she flies to me ; 
And what the lips imprisoned keep 

Is murmured of her eyes to me. 

They fade — alas ! the dream is done — 
The dream which had no guile for me ; 

And now the moon and stars and sun 
Are shadows of her smile for me. 

HEN&Y BXRNABD 
IV 

Not for a scanty, cautious love, spread o'er 

Long, weary years, 
I'd pray, but that ere dying I might know, 

If mortal may. 
The bliss of love unstinted, even though 

But for a day. 
And pain, despair, and hate should go before, 

And after — tears. 

DAYID HKWES. 

THE BROKEN LYRE 

How brave a thing it was to be 

A poet, when the world was young 
And every good spontaneously 

Trembled or rippled into song ! 

Alas ! the world is old — or I. 

These twenty years no line I've writ 
That bared my heart ; but satire sly, 

Irony, parasitic wit. 



266 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

I've learned to write with alien pen ; 

The mask a part of me is grown ; 
You bid me be myself again 

When all my self with youth is flown. 

If, irony discouraging, 

A heartfelt lyric you require. 
This only song is left to sing — 

The Lyric of the Broken Lyre. 

" PHILOPSBUDES " 

CRY OF THE LITTLE PEOPLE 

The bells ring wild and clashing in the steeple, 

We drowse them sweet no more ; 
No more ye hear the light-foot Little People 

Come tripping at your door. 

No more ye hear the siren-voices crying 

Sweet-lipped along the sand ; 
In shadows of the darkling rocks low-lying 

And luring to the land. 

Your children set their stranger-songs above us, 

Forgotten utterly ; 
We may not stay where there are none to love us, 

We fly far oversea. 

Your fathers loved our fairy-bells, set ringing 

At nights about your door ; 
But ye shall hear the Little People singing 

No more — O never more. 

ETHEL TALBOT 

WASTED DAYS 

O gleaming day, which might be mine. 
If flesh could set its prisoner free> 

Whose beams for all creation shine. 
But not for me ; ah ! not for me. 



VERSE, 1906 S57 

The yaponrs of the morn arise 

Distilled from thy ambrosial breath ; 
Art thou so like to that which dies 

That in their cooling comes thy deatht 

Ah no ! Methinks with that which yearns 
The yearned for hath a something kin. 

And one same fire eternal bums 
In that without and this within. 

Maybe the soul when disentwined 

From this dull sense of loss and steife 
Those dear lost suns shall joy to find 

Still gleaming in the larger life. 

OUT UNDALL 



HEART OF THE FOPFY 

Red poppy, that art fiower of shame, 
Whoso shall know thy passion's breath 
To the dark heart of thee drink deep, 
Maketh his soul a burning flama 

When the noon-wind with his hot breath 
Sears the still meadow like a flame, 
Thou hast the secret of the Sleep, 
The strange sweet sleep that giveth death. 

The shades of those untimely dead. 
Sweet lovers that have died for scorn. 
Cry out upon thee, night and day, 
That flamest of their hearts' blood red. 

The soul of thee is dark of scorn, 
Of their young hearts thy robe is red ; 
No murmurous bees about thee stray, 
By noon or night thou art forlorn. 

STHSL TALBOT 

17 



268 THE WESITMLINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

A SONG 

When Love came firsts the door was wide ; 

I took him in and bade him rest^ 

I laid his head npon my breast^ 
Forgot the world, and truth, and pride. 
Ah ! foolish trusty bemocked, beguiled ! 

He kissed — then stabbed me as I slept, 
And waking, though my lips still smiled, 

My heart wept, my heart wept ! 

When Love came next, I tamed away, 

I would not hearken to his call, 

I locked my senses from his thrall. 
My eager spirit from his sway. 
Yet silently, unseen, unheard. 

Some hidden hope to being sprang, 
And deep within me, like a bird, 

My heart sang, my heart sang ! 

HELBH B. WILLIAIIS 

RONDEAUS REDOUBUfe 
Attkb Long Sicknbss 

Little white thoughts, and innocent memories, 
Now the long darkness lifts from off my brain. 

Come winging back across the troubled seas 
Like homing doves that flutter and complain. 

Half-fearfuUy finding themselves again 

At home, and strange where once they moved at ease ; 
Weeping the difficult ways that once were plain ; 

Little white thoughts, and innocent memories. 

So much is changed. The well-remembered trees 
No longer shade the windings of the lane : 

FamOiar landmarks show by slow degrees, 
Now the long darkness lifts from off my brain. 



VERSE, 1906 269 



Yet, eyery moment, la my heart more fain 
To sing the old contented harmonies ; 

While happy minda, fragrant of sun and rain, 
Ck>me winging back across the troubled 



I seem to kneel, a child, at kindly knees : 

Kind faces smile ; kind hands put off my pain ; 
While yet my thoughts fear their old place to seize, 
. like homing doves that flutter and complain. 



The glad reality grows, sweet and sane, 
Out of the mist of doubts and fantasies ; 

And all my sad, sick fancies weary and wane. 
As you gain strength and grow to certainties, 
Little White Thoughts ! 

IF THAT BE LOVE 

If that be love which alters with the moon, 
From all its shallow waterways I flee, 

As divers leave the profltless lagoon 
To seek for pearls in some pvof ounder sea. 

If that be love which scorns the leafless tree 
When chill December reigns in place of June, 

I here renounce it — 'tis not love for me, 
If that be love which alters with the moon. 

If that be love — to spend the pride of noon 
On shallow streams in fond frivolity 

That flags and fails through all the afternoon. 
From all its shallow waterways I flee. 



If that be love which always is to 

The quest of youth and slippered pantaloon, 
Its mocking shoals I quit undoubtingly. 

As divers leave the profitless lagoon. 



860 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

If that be love which bids me read its rune 
In liquid looks or sorfaoe sympathy, 

With blind intent I pass its proffered boon 
To seek for pearls in some profoonder sea. 

Bat if love is the queen of constancy, 
Whose throne from out the eternal rock is hewn^ 

Then am I of her service— bond or free ; 

Then am I love's long lover — late and soon — 
If that be love ! 

WM. BO¥nEtT 



LITTLE WILLIE RHYMES 

William Tell, the second one, 
Missed the apple, shot his son. 
'' Bring the twins ! " he cried, repeating, 
" Art is long, but life is fleeting." 

HSNRT B. WILKSS 

Willie, with a frightful curse, 
Flung the coffee-mill at nurse, 
As it caught her on the nose. 
Father said, <* How straight he throws." 

"BBOS" 

Mary, in a fit of blues, 
Put the baby up the flues. 
Mother said, '* Oh, what a bore ! 
Now the kitchen fire won't draw." 

"coballina" 

Tommy, in his football jersey. 
Fell into the river Mersey. 
" Ring us up from Birkenhead, 
If you get there," father said. 

"WFTH villain" 



VERSE, 1906 «61 

ALLITERATIVE VERSE ON "OCTOBER" 

Shade your eyes to see the skirts of Summer, for she's leaving us ; 

Wave good-bye to Summer (the sands begin to sink). 
Now the woof is wearing of the web that she's been weaving us ; 

Scattered are the petals of the poppy and the pink. 
Bowing in the Autumn breeze, each brown and blue chrysanthemum 

Nods good-bye to Summer (the wine is on the lees) ; 
And feebly, with a faint farewell, the tardy bees their anthem 
hum, 

And poise with laggard pinions o'er the pink and purple peas. 
Low on every laurel bush the little birds that linger 

Are singing their doxology (the silver cord is slack) ; 
While Summer o'er her shoulder calls, and waves a rosy finger, 

" O biting breeze and bitter, occupy till I come back ! " 

JOHN KTLB 



Strong the prince's hands are, yet wondrous in tenderness ; 

Strong to drag their souls from the trees, 
To boom among the pines and make their waters musical, 

As the humming moan of windy seas ; 
Strong to stir to harshness the sibilant hoarse whispering 

Wherewith the raucous oaks complain. 
To set the light-foot aspens dancing and chattering. 

And pattering, like glancing rain. 
Tender his hands are : they take from hb crucible 

The year's tears and hopes turned to gold ; 
Gkntly he drops them, the grave old memories^ 

And Earth shall them for always hold. 

■. R. MAOAULAT 

This is St. Martin's month, when moons and median are mellow ; 

Mushrooms abound in the meads, snoeolent morsels for men : 
Lol where the lingering loaves of the linden are changing to 
yellow. 

Late in the long lush reeds loiters a quemlons wren. 



S62 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Now at the far faint sound of the firing the fonn of the pheasant 

Shows o'er the fir-tree's top, foolishly flying for life : 
Now in pursuit of the fox, dear foe to the peer and the peasant^ 

Fast thro' the fallow fields follows the world and his wife. 
Soon, as the sun sinks low, will the land lie solemn and sober, 

Silent and still to the ear, silver and grey to the sight ; 
Orey is the land ; but the glorious skies that glow in October 

Qladden the painter's soul, gravel the gentry who write. 

" BV0CATU8 " 



October 

Opals for October — 

Never for November 

Or December or September 

Or any other month except October — 

Opals for October ! 

You were bom (and I) in October, 

Wet and windy, weird and wild October, 

Sere and sad and sober ; 

You were bom (and I) in October — 

Ah, how many years ago ! 

Opals, fading faintly, for October ; 

Fading from October to October. 



"pleura" 



October 

I dye the forest's sombre hue 
To gorgeous reds and yellows ; 

And nectar in their veins I brew 
That pear and apple mellows. 

I spread a carpet underneath 

The canopy of beeches ; 
I twine a clambering crimson wreath 

That round the cottage reaches. 



VERSE, 1906 S6S 

The promise made when April wept, 

That glorious June repeated. 
Have I, their elder sister, kept, 

And faithfully completed. 

" ACOBN " 
OCTOBBR 

Father of fogs, beneath whose tread 
The winding mid-wood walks have laid 

A carpet, where the leafy dead 

Lie strown along the soaking glade, 

October, whom thine own grand gloom 

Payilions with a pomp as proud 
As any April can assume, 

Mantled with mist, and clad with cloud, 

To thy sad state and calm command 

Hermes the harbinger, the lithe, 
Yields homage with uplifted hand. 

Around whose rod the serpents writhe. 

B. J. THOMPSON 

DEFINITIONS 

A Genius 

Beings who walk the earth at times crowned with an inward glory, 

And give the world their walk's results in science, art» and story ; 

Who do and say supremely well what other men can't utter^ 

like other men are hard to suit in wives and bread and butter. 

* 
« « 

Inspired, he rushes to the fray. 

To fight a losing fight — and win it ; 
While men of sense look on and say, 

" We'll patent this — ^there's money in it." 



t64 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

THREE VILLANELLES OF VANITIES 
I 
Time fingers at her rosary — 

At corals, necklaced on a string, 
The proud parade of vanity. 

Her prayers are carved in ebony, 

And gilded like a dragon's wing. 
Time fingers at her rosary. 

She intertwines them cunningly. 

The coralled toy and holy thing. 
The proud parade of vanity. 

Ah, vain it is that falteringly 

We tell our beads, the censer swing. 
Time fingers at her rosary. 

Toys, jewels, prayers, all will flee. 

And Hope 7 — the fading flowers we Ining 
The proud parade of vanity. 

Life, Love, and Hate cease utterly ; 

Most vain is Death, the pallid King. 
Time fingers at her rosary. 
The proud parade of vanity. 

II 
If the sure end of all is vanity 

And sore vexation, and if rest be sweet, 
Te gods and little fish, what fools we be ! 

What fools — to toil day-long unceasingly. 

Straining in vain to make two short ends meet ; 
If the sure end of all is vanity. 

To radiate culture, lest the rest should see 

This — ^which we publish with each printed sheet 
(Te gods and little fish!)— what fools we bel 



VERSE, 1906 S65 

Why muBt the simple life be thrast on me ? 

Lentils and proteids, wherefore should I eat, 
If the sore end of all is — vanity ? 

Yea, cranks, and Christian Science, £ s. d., 

Bridge and the like, these lead our questing feet : 
Te gods and little fish, what fools we be 1 

While wisdom, friendship, love abide, these three. 

Which found, could aught else found prove more complete 
If the sure end of all is vanity ? 



Ye gods and litUe fish, what fools we be 1 

FFRIDA WOLFB 
III 

When a man is really vain 

So, at least, it seems to me — 
He's amusing in the main. 

Though to others he b plain. 
To himself he'll never be. 
When a man is really vain. 

Casties that exist in Spain 

Are his only property. 
He's amusing in the main. 

Out of what he calls his '' brain " 

Hell evoke a pedigree. 
When a man is really vain. 

Let him talk of Lady Jane, 

And <<my friend the Duke of D ' 

He's amusing — in the main. 



S66 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Though contempt one can't restrain 

For his vanity per m, 
When a man is really vain 
He's amusing — in the main ! 

W. HODGSON BUBHST 



LAWN-TENNIS 
(After KipUng) 

By sharp-cut chalk lines, sheer and dean 

About the tight-drawn net, 
Clear-marked upon the level green 

Our boundaries are set. 
With arms of gut and willow-wood 

And shot of rubber trim 
We stand in pride and hardihood 

To lift the tennis hymn : 

" Gods of the green and level sward 
Whereon the net is strung^ 

Qraut us this day the game to play 
That never poet sung." 

Not ours the futile pitter-pat 

Bom in a party's flux 
Between the maid in picture-hat 

— The curate in his ducks : 
The Balham garden, cool, inert. 

Claims its own denizen, 
But clear the court of fool and flirt 

That men may strive with men. 

Not ours the pomp and circumstance 

Of cricket's dull parade. 
The slow-piled score, the long advance, 

The issue still delayed : 



VERSE, 1906 267 

Bat eyery second fraught with fate 

May watch our batUe sway, 
And one short hour shall arbitrate 

The fortune of the day. 

In the long swoop of curling serves 

That trick the watchful eye^ 
In the swift cut that dips and swerves 

As evening swaUows fly : 
In the slow lob that tempts the foe 

And calls on him to kill, 
The hunter's craft and wile we show, 

The warrior's dauntless will. 

By subtle trick and deft finesse 

The rallies shift and sway, 
And inch by inch we strive to clinch 

In the fierce volley-play : 
Till, when the fated hour arrives 

The smash comes hard and true, 
Or far-compelling forehand drives 

Streak, like the lightning, through. 

By the cool head and wary hand 

That waits the final blow. 
By the strong heart that can withstand 

The fierceness of the foe. 
By the lit soul and kindled rage 

And lust for close-set war. 
We show our nation's heritage. 

Whom no mean mother bore. 

Then, ere the hours of age draw on, 
While yet the world is young. 

Stand up in might to fight the fight 
That never poet sung. 

'^NUOXMT BOiLIVILLB'* 



868 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

SICILIAN OCTAVES 

Praz 

Old Winter sent his herald in the night 

And from the laden pine-bougha, gem on gem. 
With myriad fires from the cold, glittering white 

Slip jewels that shall stud no diadem 
Bat lose themselves adown the shafts of li^t ; 
And pleasant is the plashing sound of them. 
And far below the blue lake-waters shine 
And the still Rhone goes creeping serpentine. 

DULCE DOHUM 

When the long labour of the day is o'er, 

Where shall the measure of my peace abide ? 
Not in the laden meadow's richest store. 

Nor in the green-laid forest's stately pride ; 
Nor in the wide-flung plain, the rock-bound shore, 

The gentle stream, the full and sweeping tide. 
Nay, dreaming heart, but higher — ^heavenward more— - 

In the far stillness of the mountain side. 

Adieu to Suhmeb 

The wheat is garnered and the grape is pressed. 

And life draws inward like a snail to shell, 
The frost is here, as weatherwise have guessed 

Or some late swallow lingered to foretell. 
Adieu, sweet summer ; not for me the quest 

That takes you to the fields of asphodel. 
Here I must stay, and deem myself most blest 

Again to bid you welcome and farewell 



VERSE, 1906 Se9 

Akaobxon in Samos 

He sang the deep cnp rich with purple wine, 

He sang of love that lightly comes and goes, 
He sang the grasshopper, the tender vine. 

The bee, the early swallow, and the rose. 
He sang of loosened curls, of eyes that shine. 

And all the beauties that a lover knows. 
O dear old singer in that isle of thine, 

Was life so full of joys, so free from woes? 

"klpbnoe" 

Inyiolatb 

Fear not, my friend, for yet inviolate 

Your shrine remains, wherein for one heart-beat 
You brought me softly, through a long-closed gate, 

And by a silent, all un-trodden street, 
Ah ! think not that a step unconsecrate 

Has marred the whiteness of that place so sweet, 
I knew it holy ground, and whispered " Wait ! " 

Then, stooping, took the shoes from off my feet. 

MABOSBT FBLLOWS 



RONDEAU OF ALL FOOLS' DAY— April 19 

(OriginaUy Celebrated April 1) 

April, the first of all the months to fling 
Sweet flowery offerings at the feet of Spring, 
Growing impatient once upon a day 
That IVoserpine her gifts should so delay. 
Appealed to Pluto for a reckoning. 

*'See how she comes," he said, "a phantom thing- 
A shivering ghost, a vain imagining 
Who, if I grasp, cries as she slips away : 
•AprU the First!'" 



870 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

So Pluto, being in a mood to bring 
Poor Motley's feast to times more favouring^ 
Decreed that all his Knights should come to-day 
(With Dames for dalliance in the primrose way) 
And reinstate him Lord of Fools, and King 
April the First ! 

WM. BO¥nEtT 

HALF-KNOWLEDGE 

Since this^ I said, the Sagei ask^ 
To know myself shall be my task. 
With weight and measure, rule and line> 
I went about this house of mine. 
No hidden cranny unexplored, 
No piece of useless lumber stored. 
Forgotten long on dusty shelf. 
But came into the light of day. 
Till I could fold my arms and say — 
My task is done, I know myself. 

And then you came : than bolt and bar 
Your Sesame I was stronger far ; 
Twas sullen winter, yet, meseemed, 
Through every window sunshine streamed. 
You laid your hand against the wall, 
Another door ! A pillared hall ! 
And through the pillars I could see 
Fair rooms and large on either side. 
Wherein a king might walk with pride. 
My own, yet all unknown to me. 

Grown wiser now, I will not say 
I know, even yet, this house of clay, 
For, dearest, oft I seem to hear 
Another footstep drawing near ; 



VERSE, 1906 871 

And if this Tisitant should be 
The Lord who holda the land in fee, 
May I dare to hope and tmst 

That He who built the houae may show 

Still other rooms than those I know, 
Before it falls into the dust 7 

a PXN 

HALF-KNOWLEDGE 

A thought came to you — half, maybe, in scorn 

And half in vague regret — 
Once, as we went knee-deep i' the purple heather ; 

How strange and how forlorn 
That we, who so long time have lived together, 
Thro' shadow-days, and laughter, and the grip 
Of work and poverty — that we should yet 

(Whom very love might surely teach) 
Have but obscure half -knowledge each of each 

For all our comradeship. 

This, in such halting speech as friends may bring 

For friends to understand, 
Your dear voice uttered. Then, as I remember, 

You walked on wondering — 
Fanning perchance to flame some hidden ember 
Of new-found, glowing thought, while angel-wise 
The sunset clouds foregathered, and the land 
Was bathed in light and majesty. 
Then, turning from it aU, you smiled at me, 

But with such wistful eyes. 

How were we wrapped about in solitude 

Tho' heart to heart was near I 
You knew not of the things whereon I pondered. 

Nor how, by dreams pursued. 
Lone, in the wake of lone desire I wandered ; 



272 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Nor how (not in mere sadness, but in awe. 
In ghosUy triumph) I ooold baffle fear. 

I knew not of the eager stress 
Wherewith you struggled, haply, nor mif^t gueas 

The glory that you saw. 

For, if we will, we see the outward things, 

Know strangely of a man 
If he be sad, or wise, or grave, or tender; 

The simple happenings 
That bring him joy, and the wide, sunny splendour 
Of honest acts — these know we, and the laugh 
That is as light as foam ; and if we can 

The dark waves' depth in part we know 
And love the salt and silver spray they throw — 

But this is only half. 

There is a chamber in the soul of all — 

Profound, where twilight is. 
And round it spreads the silent void of being. 

And to this vasty hall 
If clear-eyed trust of friends shall come, unseeing 
It smiles and wanders back ; and visions pass 
Veiled, thro' that cavernous haunt of mysteries ; 

Only man's brooding self, 'twould seem. 
May catch at whiles some solitary gleam 

Darkly, as in a glass. 



G. H. FAULDINa 



PANTOUM 
"0/ the Fog** 

An exile from old London town, 
I sigh in these November days ; 

I sadly wander up and down 
My sunlit and prosaic ways. 



VERSE, 1906 S78 

I sigh in these NoYember days : 

Oh ! could I leave, but for a spell, 
My sunlit and prosaic ways, 

And smell the scents I love so well. 

Oh ! could I leave, but for a spell, 

The country's cloying tame delights, 
And smell the scents I love so well. 

And see the gleaming London lights. 

The country's cloying tame delights; 

What are they? Oh, I long to go 
And see the gleaming London lights ; 

The throngs that eddy to and fro. 

What are they ? Oh, I long to go 

To seek adventure 'mid the press 
— The throngs that eddy to and fro — 

To leave this savage wilderness. 

To seek adventure 'mid the press, 

Half hid in London's mystic pall ; 
To leave this savage wilderness ; 

Could I but answer London's call ! 

EEalf hid in London's mystic pall ; 

Half hid in fog, could I be lost ; 
Could I but answer London's caU, 

I would not stay to count the cost 

Half hid in fog, could I be lost ; 

Could I but see the link-boy's flare ; 
I would not stay to count the cost, 

For wild romance is hidden there. 

Could I but see the link-boy's flare, 

I'd almost hug the gay young dog ; 
For wild romance is hidden there. 

In London when she's veiled in fog. 
18 



274 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

I'd almost hug the gay young dog. 

With him for wise and knowing guide. 
In London when she's veiled in fog, 

I'd look for thrills along Chei^de. 



With him for wise and knowing goide, 

A flaming torch within his hand, 
I'd look for thrills along Cheapeide, 

For mysteries about the Strand. 

A flaming torch within his hand, 

We'd prick and pry, like knights of old. 

For mysteries about the Strand, 
The Strand once paved, they say, with gold. 

We'd prick and pry, like knights of old t 
Alas ! But dreams ! And not for me 

The Strand, once paved, they say, with gold ; 
I've done with London's mystery. 

Alas ! But dreams ! And not for me, 

I sadly wander up and down. 
I've done with London's mystery ; 

An exile from old London town. 

F. G. LATTOH 

MACARONIC VERSES 

{From the Bankolidaid, Lib. I.) 

Charmer virumque I sing. Jack plumigeramque Arabellam. 

Costermonger erat Jack Jones, asinumque agitabat; 

In Covent Garden holus, sprouts vendidit asparagomque. 

Vendidit in Circo to the toffs Arabella the donah, 

Qua Piccadilly propinquat to Shaftesbury Avenue, flores. 



VERSE, 1906 275 

Jam Whitmonday adest ; ex Newington Caaaeway the costers 

Enunpont multi celebrare their annual beano ; 

Qnisque snum billycock habaere, et donah ferentes, 

Impositique rotis, popolaria carmina singing, 
10 Happy with ale omnes — exceptis excipiendis. 

Gloomily drives Jack Jones, inconsolabilis heros ; 

No companion habet, solos sine virgine coster. 

Per Boro', per Fleet Street, per Strand, sic itur ad " Empire " ; 

mine Coventry Street peragunt in a merry procession, 
15 Qua Piccadilly propinquat to Shaftesbury Avenue tandem 

Gloomily Jack vehitur. Sed amet qui never amavit ! 

En ! subito fugiunt dark thoughts ; Arabella videtur. 
Quum subit illius pulcherrima bloomin' imago, 
Corde juvat Jack Jones ; exclamat loudly ** What oh, there ! " 
20 Maiden ait " Deus, ecce deus ! " floresque relinquit 

Post asinum sedet ilia ; petunt Welsh Harp prope Hendon. 

O fons Brent Reservoir ! recubans sub t^gmine brolli, 
Brachia complexus (yum yum !) Jack kissed Arabella ; 
'* Gam " ait ilia rubens, et '* Garn " reboatur ab Echo ; 
25 Propositique tenax Jack ''Swelp me lummy, I loves yer." 
Hinc illae lacrimae ; '* Jest one ! " et " Saucy, give over." 

Tempora jam mutantur, et hats ; caligine cinctus 
Oscula Jones iterat, mokoque immittit habenas. 
Concertina manu sixteen discrimina vocum 
30 Obloquitnr; cantant (ne saevi, magne policeman) 

Noctem in Old Kent Road. Sic transit gloria Monday. 

F. 8IDGWI0K 

NoTBS.— -BeminlBoences of Virgil in lines 1, 8, 9, 13, 20, 22, 28, 29, 
30; of Horace, linet 21, 22,25; of Ovid, line 18 ; of Terence, line 26 ; and 
of the PtrvigHium Venerii, line 16. 

Line 1 : plumigeraMj bedecked with feathers. Line 25 : PropoiiH tenax, 
impertarbably proposing. 



876 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



Carmen Qryllicum^ — a.u.c. dxxxvh 

Romani superbi olim to Carthage miserunt praeconem 

Carefully instmctum to deliver sequentem sermonem : 

" Nob Romani volumufl to challenge the Poenos at cricket ; 

Libenter igitur choose at Carthage vel Romae the wicket." 

Statim respondent Poeni, " Accipimos vestrum challengem ; 

Sunt vobis nunc cineres, sed cito we hope to avenge 'em." 

'' Sit oertamen apud vos, pix nostra is covered with water, 

Ibimus vere to you — the journey through Spain is the shorter." 

Qreatly gaudent Romani, et commencebant sine mora 

Bonum undecim to choose, and added thereunto a scorer. 

Tandem dies aderat, Romani were all in a flutter, 

Totum coelum fulgebat, for days there had not been a gutta 

Imbris, Zephyrus flavabat, promittunt omnia portam ' 

Ingentem, praecipue since Romani had just won the sortem ; 

NonnuUi dicebant that Caesar had tossed with a nummus 

Capita duo ferens, sed hoc est faciliter summus 

Libel that ever was heard, nam Caesar et uxor Caesaris 

Supra suspicion ' erant, and famous for all that quite fair is. 

The Romans elected to bat et Balbus primum cepit ictum, 

Simul inivit Nero portans battum ut gladium strictum. 

Adortum aperuit Hanno qui terti& pilft abscidit 

Baculum Neronis medium — he suffered for playing outside it 

Jungit Balbum Cicero, well known as a lapidis murus ; * 

Hodie nevertheless nunquam videbatur securus. 

Septem vigintavit ^ tantum, misjudged and was puncto arreptus ; 

Proximus mox sequitur, magna arte Hannonis deoeptus. 

Clades trudebatur clade till maxima pars Romanorum 

Exierant^ and the rest were dismayed at the prospect before 'em. 

Nihilominus Caesar bene lusit with care and precision ; 

" Crufl ante " ^ dabatur tandem, arbitri a most doubtful decision. 

Omnes Romani tandem were out for a hundred and twenty, 

^ Gryllass a cricket. * Gate = money taken for admission. 

> Plutarch's Life qf Ccuar, chap. z. * Stonewaller. 

* Scored. Viginti= 20= score. * L.b.w. : fc "bacolmn." 



VERSE, 1906 



«77 



Pauper viginti ^ quidem, tho' the bowlers Romani thought plenty. 
Nesciebant vero quantum Poeni had improved since the last time 
Manus conjunxerant in hoc incertissimo pastime. 
Every bowler was tried — celeres, tardi, et adunci ; * 
Puniebantur omnes and the score mounted up like a monkey. 
Ad vesperem tandem Hannibal shouted loudly ** Jam satis, 
Ineundum ^ claudo — nobis non refert what the gate is ; 
Claudimus nunc primum, as last match clausistis secundum ; " 
(Etiquette wasn't so strict when none scored his runs till he'd 

runned 'em ;) 
'* Romani ad malum duocentii" so shouted the scorer. 
Fabius cepit primus, and opened his score with a fourer. 
Successit scabies ; ^ the next three men made anates.^ 
Vociferant Poeni — implorant Romani Penates. 
Marcus amittit nervum and spoons up a catch to the bowler ; 
Tum discedit Galba cruentus et linquens a molar. 
Stationem brevem ^ the cauda was making till Flaocus 
Was cleverly caught in the slips et mansit invictus brave Qracchus. 
Maesti Romani ululant et exeunt omnes moerentes ; 
Domum rediverunt Poeni, elati cineresque ferentes. 

▼. W. DOWELL 



* A poor score. ■ " Curly " bowers. 

^ I close the innings : **ineandam " gemnd of " ineo.' 



* "Rot" set in. 



• ••Ducks." 



• *• A short stand." 



VERSE, 1907 
RHYMED LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS 

■pLOWER of the Pear : 

Here is a posy for my Lady fair. 

Flower of the Pink : 
She is the Mirror Venus used, I think, 

Flower of the Sun : 
My Heart take courage till my Lady's won. 

Flower of the Dwale : 
Her voice enthrals the raptur'd nightingale. 

Flower of the Ling : 
And here's my posy, tied with silver string. 

Flower of the Rose : 
That's Constancy, as every lover knows. 

Flower of the Fern : 
Tells that she's ever first where'er she turn. 

Flower of the Broom : 
Means that in her the rarest graces bloom : 

Flower of the May : 
Love and Eternity were born one day. 

Flower of the Rice : 
My Lady's charms are Pearls beyond all price. 

Flower of the Mace : 
Tells of the sweetness of my Lady's face. 

Flower of the Gorse : 
Means Easses are in season now, of course. 

Flower of the Rue : 
Whispers that sweetest eyes are Blue, Blue, Blua 

Flower of the Lime : 
The boat of Love floats down the stream of Tima 

S78 



VERSE, 1907 879 

Flower of the Mint : 
Her Dimple is a Veniifl' Finger-print 

Flower of the Rush : 
Nay, speak not ; yon might make my Lady blush. 

Flower of the Yew : 
Methinks that Love's like Flowers bedeck'd with dew. 

Flower of the Bay : 
That means a Crown : and she's my Queen alway. 

HABOLD A. BARNIS 

RHYMED LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS 

Orchids when flaunted on a silk lapelle 
Bid you behold a scintillating swell. 

Dead violets, worn by workmen, may or not 
Tell of a " mute and uncomplaining lot." 

Snowdrops to affluent aunts (who can't see far) 
Show what a blameless sort of youth you are. 

Hydrangea hanging on your sister's hat 
Speaks of the hours it took to purchase that. 

A box of lilies from a country friend 
Offers a visit for the next week-end. 

Unto your neighbours to present sweet peas 
Means to imply they can't grow ones like these. 

A bunch of daffodils brought fresh from town 
Informs your wife you're going to golf with Brown. 

Proffered judiciously, a spray of mint 
Will give a lamb-like girl a piquant hint. 

Ivy unto the minx of witching charms 
Breathes the desire of your prehensile arms. 

Malmaison bouquets rigged with maiden-hair 
Reveal what heaps of cash you've got to spare. 



880 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

(Bat hawked " narcisse " to her you mean to *' axe " 
Announces you're exempt from income-tax.) 

Forget-me-nots will very often speak 
Things you are sorry for the following week. 

While roses are the " token flowers that tell " 
What Ananias never did so well. 

Lastly, for those who nurse the eternal flame 
All flowers (when out of season) will proclaim 
Love — and the market value of the same. 

A. O. MAOKKNZIX 

RHYMED LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS 

I give you, ** None-so-pretty," my " Lad's-love," fresh and true. 
Must my requital ever be but " Bitter-sweet * and " Rue " t 
I send you just a country bunch, so sweet to sight and smeU. 
There, though I dare not write it, my message you may spell. 

It begs you to come home, love, from the city's seething hive 
Where *' Adder's-tongue " and '* Nightshade " are all the flowers 

that thrive. 
Where *' Pick-pockets '' run ram^mnt, and where they whisper 

" Hush ! " 
" Love-in-a-mist " misleads one to the '' Devil-in-a-bush ! " 

What boots your " Prince's Feather," whilst " Love-lies-bleeding " 

there 1 
And never a spray of ** Heart's-ease '' lights up your bed of care t 
Where True Love scarcely troubles to shoot forth his "Cupid's 

Darts," 
For well he knows they're blunted on your cruel " Frozen Hearts." 

Bring home your " Maiden Blushes," but leave your " London 

Pride," 
The modest flower is famed most of all the country-side. 
Is not the humble "Traveller's Joy," the "Blessed Virgin's 

Bower t" 
Is not the frail wood-sorrel the " AUeligah Flower " f 



VERSE, 1907 «81 

What though no " Crown Imperial " may deck your comely head, 
The " Bridal Wreath " I'm rearing beseems you in its stead. 
Though all my '* Ready Money's " '* Moon Shillings " round and 

white, 
With " Thyme," and " Thrift," and " Honesty," we soon will set 

that right. 

There's " Kiss-me-at-the-garden-gate " to greet you as you come, 
And o'er the doorway, bright as gold, there blossoms '* Welcome 

Home ! " 
With many a clump of Rosemary the border's set for you 
To tell my mistress when she weds she shall be " Master too." 

When blooms the " Farewell Summer " in the waning of the year, 
We'll turn us to our fireside all bright with " Winter cheer." 
A glance out to the moorland will lighten winter's gloom, 
For ** Kissing's out of season when the gorse is out of bloom." 

B. B. 

THE APPLE TREE 

What have you said where the light wind stirs, 

Apple tree laden with snow of bloom ? 
Through the shaken silver and green of fires 

What are you saying in wizard gloom t 
I will not hear that her brow was white. 

And her cheek rose-hued — that she dawned on me 
As you dawn in the woodland upon my sight ; 

For my heart is broken, O Druid tree. 

I heard the yellow Flag by the pool 

Say, " Thus she carried her golden head " ; 
But the Nenuphar moaned in the waters cool, 

" I cradled your loved one cold and dead." 
The Meadow-sweet breathed from the moon-pale grass 

" A dream, a perfume, a foam was she ; " 
But the Thyme on her grave was a sigh, alas ! 

From the gate of Tears and of Memory. 



98St THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

The Hellebore, with pale-emerald bells, 
The Nightshade flame in a purple round, 

Whose poison lurks in their crystal cells. 

Spake, ** We are as Death in a love-wreath bound.'' 

The Sunflower drooped in an autumn mist 

With heavy fringes of burning gold, 
The Aster carved in pure amethyst. 

The Rose dispetalled on moss and mould ; 
These seemed as ore of a delvM nune 

And rainbow jewels that had no worth ; 
They could not buy me a thing divine, 

One Hour with Her on the old brown Earth. 

But the Spring is here and the wild birds brood, 

O gnarlM Apple-tree, what have you said — 
That in olden days from the apple wood 

Crosses were made for the lowly dead. 
Death-coffers too from your sturdy bark ? 

Ah ! one word yet — that your blossoms gleam 
(White coronals sprung from the cold and dark, 

A foam from the Sea by the Shores of Dream) 
To whisper, where in Despair I grope, 

Of the fairest Promise in all the world ; 
Yea, speak to me of the World's Great Hope, 

O drift of petals and buds unfurled. 

ALIOS EDWARDES 

THE THRESHOLD 

" My door stands wide." " If every secret place 
Be open thus, lead thou me to mine own ! " 

'* Nay, love, I come not with thee. Pass alone 

Under the lintel, that no fleeting grace 

Of mine, nor any fear upon my face, 

Nor brave words uttered in too piteous tone 
Hinder thy search." Is't then so strange, unknown. 

Thy house where fancies flit in shadowy chase t" 



VERSE, 1907 288 

" £y'n to myself unknown. Thou, my soul's lord, 
For Love's dear sake, and Truth's, entering, shalt see 

The dark, veiled thoughts, and the dim treasure hoard." 
** I saw long since. Love lent his master-key, 

Led me through echoing archways unexplored 
To where thy white soul dwelt mysteriously." 

O. M. FAULDINO 



PEACE AND THE BUILDER 

" If I should build a house of ivory. 

Carved all of cedar wood, smelling of myrrh, 

Wouldst thou come in to dwell, oh wanderer f " 

" Nay ; the long winds swing singing from the sea ; 

And the^night holds no house for thee and me. 

Out of the wreck of the wind-riven years. 

The shattered ways, the old dust dark with tears, 

I come ; night holds no house for me and thee." 

'* If I should gather from the shattered ways 

The bitter dust, the broken stones of hope 

(They shine like fallen stars in the moon's blaze). 

And build my house of these on the dim slope, 

Wouldst come, pale wanderer ? The gate stands wide." 

'* I come ; the winds sleep on the hill's long side." 

B. B. MACAULAT 

VOICES HEARD IN THE FOG 

Tbllus (loquitur): 

Why fall no more thy vivifying rays. 

Bright-haired Apollo, on this hapless breast. 

Where, the long summer, 'twas thy joy to rest. 
Forgetful of thy steeds' impatient neighs! 

Now rolling mists my pleasant fields bedim, 
My towns are wrapped in pestilential haze ; 

Hasten thy laggard chariot-lamps to trim, 
And let me see once more their cheerful blaze. 



S84 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Phcbbus {re9pondet) : 
Tellos ! prolific one, the fault my own is ; 

I would not stint your comfort an iota, 
But — truth to say — I've sold my classic ponies, 

And bought an Airship, " Martian," worked by motor ; 
Just now its out of gear, and being mended, 
Ton must have fogs until the job is ended ! 

M. J. T. 



RHYMES WITHOUT REASON 
Sonnet 

The hour is past : Night with her shroud of stars, 
And ways ungarlanded of mortal hand. 
Thronging in silence to the moon's command 

Awaits her secret messenger from Mars. 

\Miy do I linger ? Lo, the ethereal cars. 
The divine presences that never stand 
Flame-robed for passage to the Evening Land, 

Gleam through dim ruins of terrestrial bars. 

So mused Aconstantreda. Blind with tears 
The night- wind echoed, radiantly bright : 

Then, raising eyes that strove 'twixt hopes and fears, 
Looked up to where, clear beyond earthly sight, 
'Mid flooding splendours of the gathering light 

Night loomed upon the margin of the spheres. 

" BRABSIDB •' 

Sonnet 
To feel the fern-seed in the hair ; to feel. 

Freed from its boot, the chilblain pant and throb, 

To watch the kettle scheming on tiie hob 
Fond futile dreams to start a driving-wheel. 
To spy a stranger at the evening meal, 

While oysters moan and sardines softly sob ; 

With Bacon-Shakespeare-Rutland to hobnob 
And carve the capers with Carnegie's steel. 



VERSE, 1907 S86 

My lot forbids — the Banna? Aye, there's the rub, 
For with the rubber what wild dreams arise 

Of Leopold — knave, king, and spade, and dnb. 
Hearts are not in it Seven is my size : 

Seven stars. Seven Sisters ! Heptarchy ! The chub 
Is a coarse fish but eatable in pies. 

" BVAOABOD " 



The Song op thb Balloonatic 
SoENB. — Boxing-night in London Street 

See 'im in 'is night-gown dancin' down the street ! 
Ten to one in shillin's if they ever meet ! 
Thinks 'isself a motor ! (That is why 'e skids !) 
Ain't 'e just a nightmare, fit to scare the kids t 



All right, Mr. Bobby ! we're agoin' 'ome, 
Back to dear old daddy, never more to roam ! 
'Ave you seen a turnip tumin' in the sky 
All among the starlets? Crikey! Nor ain't I! 

Now, then ! *Oo're yer 'ittin' ? Ain't we got the right? 
(Shove 'im in 'b talk-trap if 'e wants to fight !) 
Loose the 'angin' anchor ! Off we go ! 'Ooray ! 
That's about the ticket ! That's the time o' day ! 

Well, good-bye, old pally ! we ain't time to stop ! 
Steer 'er by tJie starboard ; mind that chimbley top ! 
See the clouds arscuddin' on the bloomin' blast? 
Seems to me, my sonny, we're agoin' fast ! 

All the way to Richmond ! Change at Shepherd's Bush ! 
(When she starts to wobble you get out and push !) 
'And me out the vinegar ; oil 'er sparkin' plug ! 
" We're above speed limit ? " Shut yer ugly mug ! 



286 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

'Go's agoin' to stop us? 'Oo'll lay 'aiids on ost 
Think we're just a Daimler or a blasted bus? 
'Itch a ruddy comet to a shootin' star, 
Add a bit of cordite ; that is what we are ! 

Fljrin' o'er the Channel ! 'Ow I love the sea ! 
What ! you'd 'ave a tunnel ? Don't you talk to me ! 
Never swallowed med'cine, never took no pill ; 
All I ask's a crossin' that ull make me ill ! 

Cheer, my shipwrecked brothers ! What ho ! There's a sail ! 
(Shan't we get a fortune from the Daily Mail t) 
Now uncork the sardines, lay 'em on their side ; 
They ain't got no 'eads on, they ain't got no pride ! 

" EngUind, O my England 1 " (give 'er one cheer more !) 
See the niggers standin' on 'er sad seashore ! 
" 'Ome of all the peoples ! " — ^Ain't no 'ome for me ! 
I'm a bloomin' outcast of soc-i-et-ee ! 

I ain't got no wices — never 'ad no wits ! 
What's that? << Work ! " Now don't yer frighten me to fits ! 
Stow it, can't yer, kiddin' ? Where's yer livin' wage? 
Where's yer little pension in yer 'oary age? 



See that cloud a-comin ? Wallop ! in we go ! 
Ain't it nice and coolin' ? Golly ! Why, it's snow ! . . . 
" What am I a-doin' ? " Well, I ask you that ! 
Where's my umberella, where's my hopera 'at ? 

Ho, yus ! " So yer know me? Think yer've seed my face ? ' 

Seems to me you coppers 'avon't learnt yer place ! 

Can't old Father Chrismas waller in the snow 

But yer come and kick 'im ? All right ! There, 111 go ! 

** DUE MTNTDD " 



VERSE, 1907 887 

A Ballad of Antique Sonos 

Dark days, and a vestnre of sorrow : 

Blown seas, and a garment of grief, 
To be tossed in the tide of to-morrow. 

As the lily is rent from the leaf. 
On the diff by the edge of the coppice. 

Where the wet winds wander and weep, 
Lo, Isidores pasture of poppies — 
The Garden of Sleep. 

Who shall smell the sweet smoke of oar censers — 

Soft spices and savours of hard) 
Who shaJl save from the thirst that torments us 

When the Gates of Enchantment are barred 1 
Till the day-time be tamed to the night-time. 

Till nights in the sammer increase. 
To fulfil our Desire of the right time 
We must Ask the Police. 

I am come to the end of my tether — 

Spent leavings of foam and of brine : 
Grown sick of the seas and the weather. 

And waters unmingled with wine. 
So, comrades, come round to my revels — 

We will paint the town crimson to-night ; 
I've some really good wh - - ky (ye div - Is !) — 
And / am all right 

"braisidb" 

Ths Cbnotaph 

The Cenotaph from out his vault 
Strode with his curfew and his banner. 

Saw the Venetian blind, bade *' Halt ! " 
And whisper'd in Socratic manner : 



288 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

'* The scaly Flagal cadence drove 
A coach and four-in-hand of nightmaree 

In high condition, for they throve 

On cheese-straws and electric-light shares ; 

" He clasp'd the absent hand of Bliss, 
And, tho' he drew the Choral number, 

That sanctified Periphrasis 

Castled his kmg and pawn*d his lumber. 

" Ecstatic cosmic consciousness 
Abounding in the moony dimple, 

How great the glory ! » Were it less 
If Commonsense were subtly simple! 

" Old Ocean dying in his bed. 
Wiping his eye with his first barrel, 

Kiss'd the sweet Accolade who fled 
From Suffragettes in loud appareL 

" Voluptuous exactitude, 

Emancipating ev'ry voter : 
But so it is, tho' it be rude, 

And doubly rude to them that motor. 

" As one that taketh forty winks 
And sippeth sermons in a journal, 

So at the bedside of the L3mz 

His Uncle's language was infernal. 

** Strange, is it not, that Something now 
Insistent in the Dome of Sorrow 

Catches the Hare that drives the plough, 
And overcooks it on the morrow : 

'* And stranger still It did not try, 
Speaking of Counterpoint, to mention 

That ' Trusts ' keep best hung high and dry 
Like Haman, nicer for suspension f 



VERSE, 1907 S89 

'' The diplomatic Platitude 

Holding the Thesis by the handle, 
Toeing the heel of gratitude, 

Poulticed the Patience of the Scandal. 

"Call not the Destiny of Life 

* Negation of Primordial Duty ' : 
Carve but the Abstract with a knife 

And Concrete is the Soul of Beauty." 

The eloquent Venetian Blind 

Drew himself up at this last notion : 
He left the Vote of Thanks behind 

But carried off the Previous Motion. 

HABOLD A. BA&NIS 

"GRANTED" 

He wandered through the luscious hill, 

And past the radiant melody ; 
And his the morning, his the skill. 

And his the carpet of the sky ; 
Yet when he met entrancing guile 
It seemed to him not worth the while. 

She came from homes of yesterday, 

So pale, so pink, so inly grand. 
That every hillock on the way 

Fell upward like enchanted land ; 
And when they met they knew that strife 
Was but the threnody of life. 

Oh, let no man suppose that he 

Can stem Time's exquisite redress, 
Or shun the gorgeous Fkst to be, 

Or quit the Future looming less; 
All Nature bids us hasten slow. 
Or pain of echoing long and low. 
19 



290 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Therefore these two with floweiy fame 

Held out a haply feverish eye, 
Wherein there lingered mystic flame 

Which hinted love and rage gone by : 
And finally on violent lawn 
They hailed the unregenerate dawn. 

'Twas thus they met ; the hour was nought, 
And all the setting moons were new, 

While from the neighbouring sun was brought 
One darkling drop of solid dew ; 

They would have smiled, but none was near 

To mark the evaporating tear. 

'Twas thus they parted ; Earth's dull shriek 
Rang through each never-ending heart ; 

Only the poet dares to speak 

Of those who meet and those who part ; 

But why they parted, why they met. 

No man can guess it or forget. 

" MOSLWYN ' 

EMPHATICS 

Ho ! Miss Perkins, ring the clarion. 

Call the lodgers home to tea. 
Hark, the telephone is ringing. 

Bow the head and bend the knee. 

Lemonade and soda water. 

Gramophones all painted new 
In the rocking-chair are waiting 

For their turn at Irish stew. 

On the wings of evening wafting, 
Cupboards play at hide and seek, 

Wardrobes in their narrow setting 
Hide a turnip and a leek. 



VERSE, 1907 891 

Pins and needles clutch a thimble, 

In a basin stamps are wet ; 
From a musty brown potato 

Voices tell us not to fret 

On a low and drooping willow 

Water cans all bathed in dew 
Sing in weak and trembling accents 

Metaphors to me and you. 

Soap and suds all wildly clamouring 

Wash the flannel on its nose, 
While the elephant and weasel 

Qive the shoelift half a rose. 

Paperweights complain and whimper 

To a top-hat standing by ; 
And a bluebottle of learning 

Shows a tadpole how to fly. 

Motor-cars with perforation 

Chase a mangle round a bed. 
One small hen encased in marble 

Wraps a doyley round her head. 

Ha ! Miss Perkins, stay thy clanging. 

On the stair the lodgers kneel, 
WhOe in dainty linen jerseys 

Calves' heads dine on tripe and heel. 

" SLBOTROPLATB " 



CYMON AND IPHIQENIA 
A Picture from Boccaccio (*' Decameron,** Day F., Novd I,) 

Never in story did Endymion 

Pillow on softer moss his trancM head 

Nightly to catch the fleeting benison 
Of his divine enchantress : cooler bed 



292 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

And fragranter, by silver dewdrops fed, 
He knew not then, than now Iphigenie 

Presses with delicate fonn, to slumber wed, 
EmbowerM from the noon's high brilliancy : 
While by her grassy couch melodiously 

Flashes a spring of crystal forth to flow 
Down banks of verdure to the distant sea. 

Sleep ever thus, fair maid ! Twere better so 
Than stir Galeso's ^ heart to life and love, 
Watcher more moveless than the shadowing grove. 

Blest Cymon ! For a moment blest as none, 
Propt on thy shepherd-crook in strange amaze, 

Square-shouldered, strong, bareheaded to the sun, 
Who never till this hour has loved to gaze 
On beauty — now thy sluggard wit obeys 

The unwonted passion that thine heart reveals, 
And marvels at the old insensate days — 

Heal'd as the sorrower whom a kindness heals. 

He sees the filmy mantle that conceals 
And not conceals the glory of her frame ; 

The silken quilt that exquisitely steals 

From breast to foot : and, as he sees, the flame 

Bums warmer in his rude uncivil breast, 

" What beauteous thing is this that takes its rest I " 

A dart of sweetness from her waking eyes, 

A tender mouth that bids the watcher go^ 
Half-veiled admiring and a coy surprise — 

These are the instruments that fashion woe ! 

Yet knows she not and Cymon doth not know 
That bitterness is in the ruddiest fruit : 

Slowly she rises, and with step as slow 
Cymon — whom mocking Cyprus surnamed Brute — 
Cymon will not begone, but strives to suit 

His stride to hers : and so in silent wise— 

^ Cymon's real name. 



VERSE, 1907 JWS 

Ah ! there are times when Love is blind and mute- 
He leads her home. His eyes are on her eyes. 
So mns the tale : pity, who list to me, 
The love of Cymon and Iphigenie. 

DOUGLAS p. HILL 

SONG 
Love hath me in a tower 

Set in the sea, 
He calls my prison his bower. 

Ah me ! Ah me ! 

He holds me in safe keeping, 

My gaoler he, 
And smiles to see me weeping, 

Ah me ! Ah me ! 

Nor can the ships beneath us 

My signals see, 
A rose-mist doth enwreath us. 

Ah me ! Ah me ! 

" The wide world holds us only," 

He whispers me, 
"Yet who, with Love, is lonely?" 

Ah me ! Ah me ! 

HILDA NSWMAN 

THE STREET-SINGER'S SONQi 

There's small profit in pedlin', and nuthink in flowers 
(Kin* Friends, please assist us to make both ends meet). 

We've dodged the perlice, and 'ave tramped it fer hours — 
No, it ain't werry pleasant ter sing in the street ! 

'Ere's Maggie and Bobby we borrered, both 'owling, 

An' Liza 'as got sich a cold on 'er chest, 
We can't mike ourselves 'eard wiv these road-'ogs a-growling, 

An' 'ud gladly give you an' our voices a rest. 

^ We believe this rapplies a long-felt want. 



As I was riding ,|,n,ugh the 

W.th.u the dn-pping hawt 

But could not call my thoug 

I^ng, long agi 

As I was riding through the . 

I saw the roses by the gate 
ifiere it was she answered me 

I^ng, long ago 

A« I was riding by the churcl 

Surely," I aaid, "the strif. 

I could not find her grave to b 

Still, from the c 



LOVE 

In and out of the gan 

(Hear the waves, tl 

The lovers walked in 

(Love, let me | 



VERSE, 1907 «96 

" There are havens eastward and havens west 

(Hear the waves, the tide is full), 
"But havens none for my heart to rest" 
(Love, let me go !). 

LUCY LYTTBLTON 



SONG OF THE MAD LOVER 

A hundred times I kissed the lips 

Of my young love and true ; 
Now over her mouth the slow tide slips, 
And where went down a hundred ships 

Went down my kisses too. 

A hundred times I called her back 

With a cry full long and sore. 
But the mad sea mist is on her track, 
And lost is she if she dare the wrack 

And win her to the shore. 

So am I mocked of the joy of her. 

And sport of the sea's disdain. 
For nevermore shall her spirit stir, 
And never up from the wild water 

Comes my young love again. 

ETHEL TINDAL ATKINSON 



THE PANACEA 

When pain and care oppress my soul 
My physic is the sparkling bowl : 
Gaily I pour the tonic down, 
For Sorrow's heavy, and will drown. 

But when my heart from care is free, 
In this same course no harm I see : 
One difference I gladly note. 
That Joy is light, and so wiU float. 

" DEIRA ' 



296 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



SON O* THE WINDS 

WbeD the storm- voice calls from the deep^ 

When my windows with spray are wet, 
Seaward gaze I unto the west, 

The wild west whither your sails were set. 
Sunset furnaces, burning low. 

Flamed farewell in the passionate sky ; 
The red tide drew you. Son o' the Winds, 

And not my heart when we said good-bye. 



I watch the wheeling wings of the gulls ; 

So the wings of your desire 
One day out of the west shall turn. 

Beating back to a shoreward fire. 
Have no fear that I will weep. 

Cling to your neck, and bid you stay ; 
I would not hold you. Son o' the Winds, 

One moment when your heart said Nay. 

B. M. WALKKB 



TWENTY NURSERY RHYMES 



Weaver, will you weave for me 

Whiskers for my face t 
Father's gone a-soldiering — 

I must take his place. 
Mother's in the happy land. 

Brother's on the sea ; 
No one left to fend for us, 

Only little me. 

J. H. QORINa 



VERSE, 1907 297 

II 

The Grateful Hen 

Nibble and Nobble and Nancy Lee 
Wanted an egg for their Sunday tea ; 
Squeezed the hen, but the hen was dry ; 
Took her and shook her and made her cry ; 
Stroked her and coaxed her and made her a speech, 
And the grateful hen laid an egg for each. 

J. H. oosmo 
III 

Apple-tree, Cherry-tree, Pear-tree, Plum, 
Tell me when will my sweetheart come. 
Come with a carriage and horses to carry me ; 
Come with the ring in his pocket to marry me ; 
Come with the key of a cottage to house me in ; 
Come with a bonnie silk gownie to spouse me in ; 
Come with a pension or come with a penny, 
He shall be welcome, more welcome than any. 
Apple-tree, Cherry-tree, Pear-tree, Plum, 
Tell him to pack up his heart, and come. 

J. H. OORINO 

IV 

There was an old lady who lived in a hut, 

And she had an old goat that was nearly all butt ; 

The capers it cut in that poor little hut 

Were such as to make the old lady say " Tut ! " 

So she put it outside, and the windows she shut, 

And the poor goat was starved, that is, nearly — all but 1 

W. HODGSON BUBNSr 
V 

O come with me and see ! 
My mother keeps a bee ! 
She can't contrive to get a hive 
Or she might keep two, or three ! 

O. M. OlOBOS 



898 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

VI 

Chitter-ghatteb 

Chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, 

Like a little jay, 
Chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, 

Chattered night and day. 
Chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, 

When she was quite young, 
Chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, 

Wore away her tongue. 

Chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, 

Now she's growing old, 
Chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, 

— So the story's told — 
Chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, 

(Isn't it absurd?), 
Chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter. 

Cannot say a word. 

VII 



c. E, 



Tommy was naughty on Sunday ; 

Tommy on Monday was worse, 
Tuesday he said, '* I will NOT go to bed "; 

Wednesday he quarrelled with Nurse. 
Thursday, when Mother went off to the Stores 

Naughty-Boy Pills to obtain, 
Tommy turned wise, and by way of surprise 

Never was naughty again. 
Friday and Saturday— every day since — 

Tommy has been good as gold : 
Nurse took the pills to protect her from chiUs, 

Being a martyr to cold. 

" ANOGSON " 



VERSE, 1907 299 

vin 
A Wonder World 

I wonder if the Milky Way 

Is ever skimmed for cream ; 
I wonder if a Nightmare 

Has ever met a Dream. 

I wonder why the Eainbow 

Hasn't got an arrow ; 
I wonder why a Broad Bean 

Is really very narrow. 

I wonder why a weathercock 

Should sit ui>on a steeple ; 
I wonder what a puzzle is, 

And why it puzzles people. 

MARGARET SVANS 
IX 

Up the road to Babylon, 

Down the road to Rome, 
The King has gone a-riding out 

All the way from home. 

There were all the folks singing. 
And the church-bells ringing. 
When the King rode out to Babylon, 
Down the road to Rome. 

Down the road from Babylon, 

Up the road from Rome, 
The King came slowly back 

All the way back home. 

There were all the folk weeping, 
And the church-bells sleepin^^ 
When the King rode back from Babylon, 
When the King came home. 

BUPKRT BROOKS 



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XUI 



IfooB, MoUier Moon, 
Oh! did "^ 

Flekiiop, 



's a stir in the water, 
fidlf 

dan^ter. 




VERSE, 1907 801 

Earth, Mother Earth, there's a tree in the water, 

Oh ! how can it grow upside down t 
Qo and see, go and see, my pretty wee daughter, 

Why it stands on its head like a clown. 

Look, Mother, look, there's a path on the water. 

Oh ! does it lead up to the sky t 
Run along, run along, my pretty wee daughter, 

For how can you tell till you try ? 

No, Mother, no, it's so wet in the water. 

Oh ! surely you must understand 1 
Very true, very true, uiy pretty wee daughter. 
It's wiser to stay on the land. 

o. R. 
XIV 

Mistress Mary, quite contrary, 

Soon is the Summer done, 
Your Silver-bells and Cockle-shells 

Have all forgot the sun. 
Tour pretty maids with hanging heads 

Are kneeling in a row, 
A Silver bell has rung their knell, 

Their laps are filled with snow. 

ICABOARET SVAN8 
XV 

Thk Orange Cat 

The orange cat from Fairyland, from Fairyland, from Fairyland, 
All the way from Fairyland 
Once brought a box for me. 

A black bean, a blue bag, a white stone from Fairyland, 
A remnant of a rainbow, and the twinkle of a star 

Were in the box from Fairyland, from Fairyland, from Fairyland, 
" To show you," said the orange cat, *' how nice we think yoa 
are." 



802 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Wasps were in the blue bag, the blue bag from Fairyhmd, 
The twinkle wouldn't twinkle, and the remnant tamed to rain, 

So, with the bean, the black bean, to Fairylandi to Fairyland 
— Fdd and packed most carefully — I sent them back again. 

But I still have the white stone from Fairyland, from Fairyland, 

Hidden in my pocket, for it isn't much to see ; 
Still it marks the day an orange cat from Fairyland, from Fairy- 
land, 

All the way from Fairyland, once brought a box for me. 

FFBIDA WOLFB 
XVI 

A Child's Night-thought 

I woke before the night had gone. 

And in the great black sky, 
Silver and round and all alone. 

The Moon was riding high. 

I wondered why she grew so fast, 

For — just the other night — 
I woke and watched her sailing past, 

A little slip of white ! 

Nurse said she was a baby-moon 

Such a short time ago ! 
Then how has she grown up so soon, 

That's what I'd like to knowt 

Man in the Moon — is it green cheese 

She eats to make her growt 
Oh, tell me truly, if you please, 

I should 90 like to know. 

L. NICHOLBOH 



VERSE, 1907 803 



xvn 
The Blackthobn Rhymb 

Oh, my Lady Blackthorn's a-flirting with the Spring ! 

Sing hey-ho and sing heigho, there'll be no luck in May ! 
I've heard th' Cuckoo cuckoo, but I've heard th' Robin sing — 

Apple Blossom won't be set till past Saint Dunstan's Day. 

Qet your basket, Margaret^ and get your basket, Mary, 
There won't be any roses till Cuckoo's out of tune ; 

111 sail out to Spanish seas and buy a gold canary. 
So we'll be all a-smiling before the end of June ! 

EMILY M. BUTHEBFOBD 
XVIII 

RnviiE OF THE Meadow 

The daisy is a lady, a lady, a lady. 
The daisy is a lady, and wears a ruby crown. 
The clover is her grannie, her grannie, her grannie, 
The clover is her grannie, all in a purple gown. 

The buttercup's her lover, her lover, her lover. 
The buttercup's her lover, in armour all of gold ; 
And he will slay the thistle, the thistle, the thistle, 
And he will slay the thistle, for all his prickles bold. 

The ladysmocks are bridesmaids, are bridesmaids, are bridesmaidSi 
The ladysmocks are bridesmaids, in kirtles silver white. 
The mullens tall are tapers, are tapers, are tapers, 
The mullens tall are tapers, to give the ladies light. 

The orchis is the jester, the jester, the jester, 

The orchis is the jester, to make the ladies gay. 

The hyacinths are church bells, are church bells, are church bells, 

The hyacinths are church bells, to ring the wedding day. 

D. T. 



Ill, 

ij; 804 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

! 

Ill "^ 

! j The China Cat 

I have a golden puasy cat, her eyes are very green, 
She aits npon the mantel-shelf and always may be seen. 
She never moves her folded tail, nor ever shuts an eye, 
While I eat up my soup so quick and every one is by. 

I may not touch my pussy cat^ for she is my best toy, 

I She only may be looked at now — I'm such a little boy. 

I I But when I'm gone to bed at last I just lie there and wait 
Until there isn't any light and it is very late. 

B And then from off the mantel-shelf my pussy comes to me, 

Her tail is all unfolded and she walks purringly ; 
She patters all across the floor, she jumps upon my bed. 
She rubs herself against my face, her tail waves on my head 

And then I go to sleep at once, for she lies down to stay 
> Until the whole of night has gone and she must creep away 

And when I eat my porridge, then I look at her and think- 
/ know she can unfold her tail and walk and purr and blin] 

** BIDDT ** 
XX 

ToDuny came to London on a motor-^bus, 
} He stuck in Oxford-circus 

Just the same as us. 

Tommy came to London ; he went to see the Zoo ; 
He rode upon the elephant 

Just the same as you. 

j Peter Fto amazed him when he saw him* fly ; 

! He tried to imitate him — 

So did you and L 

Tommy travelled home again tired as could be ; 
He wants to go another day. 

The same as you and me. 

"MOBBiaaii" 



VERSE, 1907 806 



CHILDE ROLAND: Paet II. 

The next was nought. They say when Death draws near 
The Past stands all reveal'd in sudden light, 
Even as longest vision of the night 
(The Dream of Love and Hope, or Dread or Fear) 
Fills but a moment's space. / could but hear 
The echo of that blast from ev'ry height. 

And then I knew the blind, brown wall — my hand 
Press'd to it without grasp, and (strange) but all 
My force of thought seemed hammered to that wall : 
Tho' hideous forms of Death around might stand, 
I only wonder'd Who had made and plann'd 
A thing so horribly symmetrical. 

How wrought he without ledge or crevice ? So 
Some slimy worm up-crawling from the ground 
Might leave its track all circled round and round. 
Finding no hold at last would drop below — 
Down-— down ! And so my sliding hand would go— 
It slipped to ev'ry echo of that sound. 

Long, long ago it seem'd I, moving free, 

Came to that dreadful spot and heard that bell 
Tolling a clanging, ghastly, fun'ral knell. 
That round brown turret wall now seem'd to be 
A thing which had for years been part of me — 
As a doom'd soul may feel a part of Hell. 

I dare not turn my head, that dauntless breath 
With which I blew the blast had pass'd away, 
As all the Ptot had pass'd — and Yesterday, 

Whose only Morrow was the Dawn of Death. 

Darkness was all around and space beneath, 
Yet horror nor yet fear held greatest sway. 



20 



806 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

But blank intense desire to feel some creek 
Or crevice — not my bartered life to save — 
(Better the end than dangle o'er that grave) 
But in that damn'd Rotundity some leak 
To find. That horrible design some break 
(If wrought by God-made man) must surely have. 

BMILT M. RUTHSBFORI 

[Pari IL of " ChUde Roland " m occupied with the con 
and ends with the following verses,^ 



Foiled ! And the hills, as of the oft-acted scene 
Full weary, to their age-long feud repair. 
With sadly chanted requiems through the air 
Repeated : nothing is but what hath been 
And shall be — such at least it seems to mean, 
Bidding the world go on and me despair. 

Despair of what ? What hoped for ? Just a long 
Life-time in searching for the Unknown spent, 
Just a short death-time left me to repent ; 
— So many dumb years, then the last swan-song. 
And that gnarled cripple's pointing now proved wrong 
Malico and mockery his sole intent? 

Despair ? When that dark champion in my shield 
Had left his sting ? Once entered no regress, 
The foeinan's death, the loss of life no less 
To his assailant — may no more be healed, 
One-weaponed as the bee no second wield, 
And wrongs himself his own right to redress. 

But while the venom works its will, what waste, 
Methinks, against the unlovely swarming hive 
To hurl such wealth of war, whence none alive 
Returns : on either side now champions haste 
To take the field, none nearer comes to taste 
The cell-hid honey, howsoe'er they strive. 



VERSE, 1907 807 

Tet some day there's an end to the tale. (Why else 
Come one by one the champions 1 Were their store 
So inexhaustible, some dozen or score 
How well spared !) No : such parsimony tells 
That never lance on shield loud clangs but knells 
Toward that dark tower's downfall one stroke more. 



So passes all our knighthood. The tower still 
Stands : never one in the combat vaunts to daim 
Full victory — stands but yet stands not the same 

(For one day see the last mailed champion fill 

Yon narrow port), since not alone for ill 

XJnlanced Childe Rolando to the dark tower came. 

OUT KSNDALL 



SIX SONGS OF AUTOLYCUS 
I 

When hedgerow oaks are tipped with red, 
With hey ! the hollyhock tops the wall, 

When seven rings the sun to bed 
And yellow leaves do singly fall ; 

When eve with fog doth cloke the sedge, 

With hey 1 for the round moon ripe and gold ; 

On those must sleep beside the hedge 
The autumn dewdrops trickle cold. 



When parson prays to spare the rain, 
With hey ! for harvest and fellowship ; 

And reapers drink beside the wain, 
'Tis hard, but I may get a sip. 

LUCY LYTTKLTON 



308 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

n 
Mt lord rides forth with hawk and hound. 

My lady ridea in purple stufi^ 
While knave and fool who jaunt around 
Make idle chatter, as the chough 
That heeds no sour " Enough, enough ! " 
Hey ! let who will a courtier be, 
The merry wise life o' the road for me ! 
Who rides on horseback cannot spy 
The timid violet under the thorn ; 
Who wears fine clothes can never cry 
Such wares of snowy fleece new-shorn 
As I, that was not daintily bom ! 
Hey ! let who will a lordling be, 
The merry rogue's life o' the road for me ! 
My learned doctor takes the road 
In scarlet hood and tippet grey, 
His lean shanks smarting with the goad, 
For he must home ere envious day 
Hath reft his rheumy sight away ! 
Hey ! let who will a scholar be, 
The merry free life o' the road for me ! 

MICHAXL HVBKI 



III 
. . . of unconsidered trifles. 
For 'tis shrewd necessity 

Of heavenly kinship with a star, 
That we are all compelled to be 

The fools or villains that we are. 
For every fox will have his goose, 

Whatever the poulter's pang-a, 
And lover's knot is lover's noose, 

So let the world go hang-a ! 
. . . with die and drab, . . . 



WM. BOWl 



VERSE, 1907 809 

IV 

Perdita. Happy be you ! 

All that you speak shows fair. 
AuTOLTOUB (nngs), I was walking in the wood, 

WoUaday! 
And I thought the day was good, 

All the way. 
With the kisses of the wind, 
Came a longing on my mind, 
That my fortune I should find, 

If I may. 

We shall never sport again, 

Welladay ! 
While there's kindness left in men, 

All the way. 
On the way we went before 
There were sunbeams in the straw, 
I shall never find it more, 

Though I may. 

M. 8N0W 



Lasses, do you seek a charm 

Which would guard your lads from harm ; 

Which will keep you blithe and gay. 

Blithe and gay, every day ? 
Come with me, and I will show 
Where the little love-charms gfow. 

They are hidden in the grass. 
Where the cattle dare not pass ; 
For the cattle understand. 
Understand the stem command. 
They must ever keep away 
From the rings where fairies play. 




810 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

In the fairy rings, at night, 
With the moon to give them light, 
Tricksy fairies weave the spell, 
Weave the spell, and none can tell. 

How they make the love-charms spring 

From the grass within the ring. 

F. O. LATTON 



VI 

. . . and my revenue is the silly cheai. 

Open wide blue eyes and black, 
See what hideth in my pack ! 
All the gew-gaws ye may lack. 
Cherries for the saucy lasses, 
Comfits out of Venice glasses ; 
Murrey slippers for my lady, 
Ruffs and roses for a gay day ! 
ril no more drink penny ale 
When I sell this farthingale. 
Where I go doth follow after 
Purses light and knavish laughter. 
Wimples dight of ciclatune, 
Broidered all with eglantine. 
Here's for every lover ! 
Clover for the country maid, 
Shepherd's purse for light-tongued jade, 
I'm a merry rover ! 
But my poses from the hedges 
Steal away poor Chloe's wages, 
Hey and welladay O ! * 

M. N. T. GRAY 

^ Some German critics have discerned in the three last lines the ^ 
of an inferior hand. Malone is of opinion that this song is misplaoi 
Scene III., and should be restored to Scene IV. 



VERSE, 1907 311 

TWO TRANSLATIONS 

Lbs Mains 

(From the French of Henry Spiess) 

The hands I see in dreamland 

My destiny allure, 
Have offered me frail roses 

And far-off lilies pure. 

The hands I fain would capture 

For these strange ministerings, 
Upon their taper fingers 

Are hung with antique rings. 

The hands to cool the fever 

Of my poor lips and eyes 
Are softer, more caressing 

Than dreams of Paradise. 

Whene'er I think I've met them. 

My soul in doubt has been ; 
Ah ! can it be that never 

Those hands in life were seen ? 

And yet, since once in dreamland 

They did my fancy fill, 
I never have forgotten — 

I wait, I wait them still. 

LORD CUEZON 
RUINES DU CoilUR 

(Frofn the French of Francois Coppde) 

Long ago my heart was like a Roman palace 

Built of choice granites, decked with marbles rare ; 

Soon came the passions, like a horde barbarian. 
Came and invaded it, with axe and torch aflare. 

Then it was a ruin. Not a human sound there, 
Only owls and vipers — wastes of creeping flowers. 

Porphyry, Carrara, everywhere lay broken ; 
Brambles had effaced the road between the bowers. 



312 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Long time alone I gazed on my disaster i 

Many a sunless noontide^ many a atarleas night 

Paised, and I lived there ds^js hegirt with horror, 
Till thou appear eilatf white in the light ; 

Bravely then, to find a roof -tree for our two loves, 
From the palace stonea I set my hut upright. 

liORD CURZOJ 

FKAGMENTS COMPLETED 

What of the imyoge {the (frmmer saith) f 
Hour shall the brave »hip go f 

Bounding fmter^ to lift ht7' ked^ 

WinoU thai foUofc mth favouring breaih — 
Shall ahe mnie to lier harltour *o / 

Up the »h%mmenng iidefpay deal 
As a dove hasteneth ? 

(Hoah thee, dreamer, for none may know,) 

What of the voyage (the dreamer saith) T 
How Bhall the good ship fare 1 

Cold at midnight the pitiless wave, 

Winds that batter her, carrying death — 
Must ehe shudder in anguish there, 

Cry in the darkness for one to save. 
As a cbUd sorroweth? 

(Hush thee, dreamer, and fall to prayer,) 

o, H. q: 

What of the vot^€ {the Drmmer saith) f 

How shall tht bratK Ship go f 
Bowndmg waters to lift her heel^ 
Winds that foUow idth favouring brmth — 
Shall $ht conu to her harbour so t 
I Up th€ shimming tideway steal 

t To the fljring flags, and the bells a-peal, 

i And the crowds that welcome her home from Deatl 

And the harbour lights aglow 1 



VERSE, 1907 318 

What at the end of her seafaring, 

What will her tidings be 1 
Lands in the light of an unknmon star f 
Midnight loaves, and the winds thai bring 

Scents of the day to be f 
Lost little islands in seas afar, 
Where dreams and shadowy waters are, 
And the winds are kindly, and maidens sing. 

To the throb of an idle sea f 

What of the voyage (the Dreamer saith) ? 

How hath the good Ship come ? 
(They answered.) The Sea is stronger than Dreams, 
And what are your Lau^ter and Hope and Faith 

To the fury of wind and foam ? — 
Wreckage of sail, and shattered beams. 
An empty hvlk upon silent streams. 
By the Tides of night to the Harbour of Death, 

So hath your Ship come Home, 

RUPBBT BROOKS 



Hither to me, my Faithful, for the sheep 
Are folded, and thy happy labour done ; 

Slowly the purple shadows upward creep, 
And day hath yet her wistful hour to run, 
While she remembers the departed sun, 

Unready for the stars and dewy sleep. 



Here for a space together let us lie 

To watch the moon rise, and the singing trees 
Weave and unweave their webs across the sky 

As keeping time to ^eir own melodies. 

Lay thy dear head in comfort on my knees : 
We never dreamed of parting, thou and I. 













314 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

The fairy torch of April's wiUow-gold 
Shodd light us twain (m ran onr happy dream) 

Here in the npland pastures, as of old ; 
And where the wind-swept ruBhes fringe the stream 
October find ua^ and the willing team 

Hear both our voices in tlte dawning cold. 

Nay, friend of mine, not so our fate ia writ : 
And waking, thou muat look for me in ¥ain» 

Nor know I with what heart tiiou wilt submit 
To a strange band's caressing — what dumb pain 
Shall driv^ thee questing o'er the empty platD, 

Or keep thee wakeful when the stars are Ut* 

And I, far 00", in treasured freedom brief 
Turning in heart to greet thy loneliness^ 

For mine own iiurt shall find a dear relief, 

Musing on thee : and yet thou canst not guess 
How thy remembered love; skill save and bless 

The friend who can but leave thee to thy grief. 

a. B. GHEV 



CROSS PURPOSES 

When morning dawned on the lonely ah ore, 
The deep gave up its plundered stare, 
And there an the sunlit sands unrolled 
Lay thifUfi thiit glittered ftut um^t not g^dd / 

When pitiless noontide's bhmng heat 
Poured fiercely down on the narrow street, 
AJl over the hill and the waving wood 
An iU teindpiaijed that hlt^^ nohodt^good! 

IVhon the blood-red sun had gpne burning down. 
And the lights were lit in the little town 
Outside, in the gloom of the twilight grey, 
The Uttle dog died when he^d had his day. 



VERSE, 1907 815 

Yet much that glitters is gold, I wis : 
And an iU winds blow bringing untold bliss. 
And small dogs perish without a groan 
Who*d never a day to call their oum / 

o. H. POWKLL 

THE LITTLE DOG'S DAY 

All in Hie town were still asleep. 

When the tun came up with a shout and leap. 

In the lonely streets unseen by man, 

A little dog danced. And the day began. 

All his life he'd been good, as far as he could. 

And the poor little beast had done all that he should. 

But this morning he swore, by Odin and Thor 
And the Canine Valhalla — he'd stand it no more ! 

So his prayer he got granted — to do just what he wanted, 
Prevented by none, for the space of one day. 

" Jam incipiebo,^ seder e facebo" 2 
In dog-Latin he quoth, ** Euge I sophos I hurray I " 

He fought with the he-dogs, and winked at the she-dogs, 
A thing that had never been heard of before. 

'* For the stigma of gluttony, I care not a button ! " he 
Cried, and ate all he could swallow — and more. 

He took sinewy lumps from the shins of old frumps, 
And mangled the errand-boys — when he could get 'em. 

He shammed furious rabies,* and bit all the babies,' 
And followed the cats up the trees, and then eat *em ! 

They thought 'twas the devil was holding a revel. 
And sent for the parson to drive him away. 

For the town never knew such a hullabaloo 

As that little dog raised — till the end of that day. 

* Now we're oflf. « ru make them sit up, 

> Pronounce either to suit rhyme. 



S16 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

When the hlood^red smt had <^mte burmng down^ 
And the lights uvre lit in the little toitniy 
Outside t in the glocmi of the iwiligM ^ve^^ 
The liilit dog died when fu\i had Au da^^ 

RUFERT BKOOKB 



SESTINA OF THE SEASHORE 

A wet shorCj gieaming with the wan drowned colour 

Of Bhrunken oranges, ^ung freights of galleons 

That pass far off. These, found with joyful crying, 

Grew for the golden orchard of the castle ; 

Shells graced the walhf and s^aweod waved for pennon, 

Thaae the child mmght and found, and held for treasure. 

Glad Waves flinging in spray their jewelled treasure^ 
Glory of youth, drunk with earth's gold wlneHColour, 
Steeds riding to the atars^ with light^flung pennon. 
Ad van taring ships of ho^^, and prosperous galleons 
Laden with marble for a glorious castle. , . . 
These the youth found, his soul in music crying. 

From sad grey aejis and the gulls' ceaaekfts crying 
(They uioarn for Imttle^s loat^ and old spilt treasure) 
Came sullen strength to hold a shattered castle, 
Came pride to face the sea's wan hopeless colour. 
Courage to sail, nor weep the dear wrecked galleons. 
These the man found, and raised a tattered pennon. 

The paring clouds, eacli a rent flying pennon, 

Ua wrapped the golden west ; the small waves^ (trying 

Softly on earth's dear breast, seemed tiny galleons, 

Peace-laden, bearing quiet delightful treasure 

To their wrecked son, and all Rweet evening colour. 

This found he, smiling from his ruined castle. 



VERSE, 1907 817 

Night endeth war. He sure might leave the castle, 
Unbar some sally port, and sink the pennon. 
Oh, the moon's silver way, the twilight colour 
Of wide still waters ! He leaned to them, crying 
" The unbarred way," and took it, seeking treasure. 
This found he, and forgot his sunken galleons. 

Thus did he lie, the captain now of galleons. 
The prince, haply, of some far radiant castle. 
The lord of all his shore's sea-driven treasure. 
Above him the dawn bore a pale young pennon ; 
About him the sea-birds made quiet crying ; 
The waves' first blue lapped him in lucid colour. 

Oh, seek ye colour, or the pride of galleons. 
Griefs sad sweet crying, or death's spacious castle, 
By the sea's pennon ye shall find your treasure. 

E. R. MACAULAT 



BALLADE OF RED TAPE 

A Double Refrain 

O judge not of judicial wit 

By puisne samples you have seen, 
But think what fields were freed to it 
If lawyers' tape were only green. 
For ne'er could nitro-glycerine 

Blast such dim tunnels through the head 
As judges' jokes could creep between 
If lawyers' tape were really red. 

O soon would legal humour split 

The weary suitor's silly spleen, 
And rarely biters would be bit 

If lawyers' tape were only green. 




818 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

But naught saire blnahful Hippocrene 
Conld mollify the riew, 'tia said. 

Of Law within it» own demeaiie 
If lawyers* tape were really red, 

grant the gods may give ua grit 
So to forestall the unforeaeoa 

As DO avoid the furtive writ 

If lawyers' tape were only green ! 
grant the gods may in terrene 

And keep the ootoor pink instead. 
In fear of what might superrene 

If lawyers* tape were really red* 

ENVOY 

1 wonder what the world had heen 
If lawyers* tape were only green. 
And whither fancy would have fled 
If lawyera* tape were really red! 



ON AN OMNIBUS 

Beside the sea we plighted troth ; 

Across a twilight tender 
One large pale planet watched us both^ 

And saw the mute surrender. 

That star shines now the roofs above 
This mild night of September ; 

It was a night, our night of love, 
Like this onep you remember. 

Then, in the dark, unquiet plain, 
The lights of ships shone doubled ; 

Nowj streets and pavements wet with rain 
Reflect a radiance troubled. 



VERSE, 1907 819 

The city's roaring thoroughfare 

And all its ways frequented, 
Replace that star-illumined air 

And silence seaweed-scented. 

Yes, things have changed as years advance ; 

But if I get downhearted 
Through poverty and unromance 

(Like mists the sun has parted). 

This wonder strikes a ray divine, 

This golden thought, to save me, 
That I should dare to call you mine. 

And you should care to have me. 

And sitting in the evening gloom 

I watch young couples straying. 
Nor envy them their joy to come. 

No better fortune praying. 

Then, mounted on this friendly 'bus 

With you to be benighted. 
Oh, unwed lovers, envy us 

Who keep the troth we plighted ! 

ON AN OMNIBUS 

She seemed a haven of delight 
When first she loomed upon my sight, 
A vehicle divinely sent 
To one whose vital force was spent. 
Her wheels and sides of verdant green 
Recalled each pleasant country scene 
Tho' all things else about her spoke 
Of cities and of city smoke. 
A bulky shape, an image gay. 
To jolt, to rattle, and delay. 



S20 THE WESTMINSl^a PROBLEMS BOOK 

I found her, upon nearer view, 
A carriage^ ^ct a wagon too. 
Her rattling movementg slow to see 
And atepa of ponderous induatry. 
Within her democratic breast 
Both rich and poor pay pence to reflt. 
A carriage not too bright or gpod 
For hungry mortals furtive food, 
VoxatiouB losses, thievbh wiJea^ 
Quarrels, infection, jeers^ and smiles. 

And now I wait with pulse serene 
The world- worn p ramshackle machine, 
The horses breathing stertorous breath. 
The gasping travellers squeezed to death. 
The cushions hard, the comfort nil. 
The churlish driver surly still. 
A massive coach, securely built, 
Slow, sure, not easy to be spilt. 
A rumbling vehicle, not light 
But welcome to the weary wight, 

ON AK OMNIBUS 

How often I have marked it, where, 

Within its crowded lair, 

It stood ^' as idle as a painted ship 

Upon a painted ocisan." 

How often I have climbed its winding stair, 

Aud marked how cumbrouely it then would slip 

With slow uncertain motion 

From these safe moorings to the doubtful tide, 

Which with incessant beat, 

From street to street, 

Rolls timelessly along 

Chanting its sullen ceaseless soog 

With murmured burdon of unending strife. 

Then from my seat on high^ 



VERSE, 1907 8«1 

On every side, 

I saw below me all the weltering crowd 

Of London traffic and of London life. 

The giddy hanaom and the lumbering dray, 

The blatant motor (which if law allowed 

Would run amok among the slower fry), 

And trams which held their fixed undeviating way. 

More rarely I would mark 

Beside my galleon huge a tiny skiff. 

Some temerarious cyclist who had nerve 

To steer his fragile bark 

With nicely calculated swerve 

Through every shoal. 

Or if 

He neared them, dexterous to avoid 

Those islands small, on each of which would stand 

In ignominious fellowship a band 

Of timid wights who wished themselves across 

Tet dared not start — when, lo ! a way was made I 

An Arm was lifted ! and that mighty stream was stayed ! 

Long live ! Long last ! Constabular Control ! 

None dared revolt. 

At once I felt the pleasant jolt, 

Which bore me onwards, cease. Though at the loss 

Of precious time, some few annoyed 

Seated in cabs bewailed and cursed their fate. 

Babbling of trains for which already they were late. 

At length the Arm was dropped, and on once more, 

With comfortable roll, 

To that far off suburban shore, 

My journey's end ! 

Which having reached, well pleased I would descend, 

A thought more stiffly than I scrambled up, 

And hurry home to share the social cup, 

While the bluff driver whom I counted friend 

Would through the evening air a cheery greeting send. 

My omnibus is gone. Alas ! its day 
21 



Sm THE WESTMINSlTiR PROBLEMS BOOK 

Is long siaee done. 

I tHnk they found it did not imy» 

And so — it ceased to ran. 

Futtt I sadly say, 

And watch the Vanguards hurtling on tidr way. 



THE SENSES' MDDLE 

Which IB the happiest hour of life I 
The hearing hour, when far withdrawn 

Night faints in silence from the strife 
Before the trumpets of the Dawn t 

Or is the hour of viaion beat 

When through the midnight deep and far 
The G^udhead is made manifest 

In the trans] ucence of a star? 

Or is that called the happiest hour 
When earth m sweet with Eden spioe. 

And through the perfume of a Oower 
We live again in Paradise t 

Or when with infinite desire 

Young love is ripe in eyes and lips, 
And burgeons into flowers of fire 

At touching of the finger-tips t 

O hours we tremble to recall > 
O flimsy joys, O fleeting breath I 

Perhape the happiest hour of all 

Ib when we taste the drink of death* 



WM. &01 



THE QUEST 



The rose I seek in no man's garden grows^ 
Nor any wayside hedge its hope displays ; 
Tet| all unwearied, down the world's highway 

I seek the Rose. 



VERSE, 1907 888 

Maybe in yonder darkling wood it blowa, 
Or where those shining mountains dimb the skies t 
Even now, perchance, before my longing eyes. 

Its promise shows. 

Perhaps beyond the dawn its beauty glows? 
Or blossoms bright behind the sunset's fire 
The wonderful Wild Rose of my desire t 

Ah ; no man knows ! 

E. L. DABTON 

••THE WONDER-HOUSE" 
(Reply to •• The Quest") 

I fled along the lily-path, beyond the shadows and the stars — 

Ah, but in the long-ago — with little spirit-feet ; 
Swallow-flights and windy wings went rushing by the cedar bars, 

Love-mists were about me blinding-sweet. 
(When shall he overtake,' dear my maidens 

Patience and Unforgetfulness, 
Reaching his hand to touch the milk-white robe 

And the shining tress ?) 

I hid me in the wonder-house, I locked it with a key of fire ; 

My beloved seeks ine yet across the world-wide floor, 
Parching for the ages' dust and famished with the old desire 

When shall I bring him thro' the door ? 
(Knead me the honey-cakes, dear my maidens 

Patience and Unforgetfulness, 
Cast purple bunches from the loaded vine 

To the flowing press.) 

His singing wastes in bitterness, like silver brooks that run to 
drouth. 

His pearls are scattered like the seed upon the fruitless lands, 
But mine is my beloved's, and his song of songs is in my mouth. 

His treasure gathered in my hands. 




■I'' 



WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOI 

(Silence the throbbing lute, dear my maidens 

Patience and Unforgetf olnefls, 
Surely his step is on the lily-path 

With a clearer stress.) 



Grown him now with amaranth, and kiss in me the Ui 
Rose, 

We the ageless lovers passing onward to our feast ; 
Now in the pauses of delight the song hath found a perfect 

The dawn-flower shimmers in the east 
(Draw the thread from the loom, dear my maidens 

F&tience and Unforgetfulness, 
Deck me for my bridal with the milk-white robe 

And the braided tress.) 

DOROTHY KKMl 



URBS BEATA 

As when the sunset smites upon the vanes 
Of some far city, and a hundred fires 
Flicker and flash above its imminent spires 

And red gleams waken in the window-panes. 

Even so Love's valedictory splendour stains 
With what sad sunset of denied desires 
The town of healing that my heart requires. 

That pearl-clear city of the blessed plains. 



Ah, the late pilgrim finds the beaten track. 
And kindly folk to guide him to the shrine. 
And respite from his journey and his load ; 
But I may neither travel on nor back, 
Nor never shall I reach that rest of mine ; 
The sun is dead, and no man knows the road. 

BSRNABD n 



VERSE, 1907 886 

MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB 
{After Ben Jonwn) 

Shepherdess of one fair sheep, 

Who, beside thee still abiding, 
Heeds not ways both long and steep. 

Scholar's laughter, teacher's chiding ; 
Say, what magic spell doth keep 
By thy side thy one fair sheep t 

Leave unbarrM stall and fold, 

Love requireth no constraining. 
Bring nor crook nor sheep-dog bold, 

Love, all servile aids disdaining, 
At thy side will ever keep, 
Shepherdess, thy one fair sheep. 

bupbbt bbooke 

The Scrape op the Lamb 

{After Pope) 

Mary (of whom the Bard and Skve I am) 

Was Mistress of a tender snow-white Lamb. 

One Master Passion glowed within his breast. 

He loved the maid, and followed her with zest. 

Did Mary smile, then all the world was gay, 

But wept she, drooped her little friend that day. 

Let Mary pet him, let her wield the rod. 

To him all one, since Mary was his god. 

To follow her to school he set his mind. 

Where tender Twigs are bent by Trees unkind ; 

There he, unconscious, by his sportive style. 

Annoyed the Leam'd, and made the unleamid smDe — 

Until Authority, upholding Law, 

Expelled the Intruder by the open door. 

He lingered near, with thrilling hope possessed, 

By Mary's reappearance to be blest 

" OOLQUHOUN " 



Sm THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOl 

{After Pope) 

Sing, constant Mtise 1 and celebrate the bond 
'Twixt two bright creaturefi, fair as they are fond* 
RoamB Mary o'er tho hill, or by the shore, 
Her lamb or strays behind or frisks before ; 
Attendant still, calmly he glides unasked 
'Mong Uttla learner s with long lesBons tasked : 
The timid smile, the bolder plnck his tail, 
And Laugh ter^s rippling breeze h wells to a gale. 
Their feruled tyrant wakes \ the lamVa expelled, 
Tom Hurley's homespun dusted, chaos quelled. 
Pensive the outcast waits (nor wastes the hour — 
Close-cropping cv'ry academic flowV) 
Till Mary comes — with smiling, weeping orbs, 
"Whose glittVing showers hia milk-white fleece absorb 
For aye their namea are twined : sure none may mua 
On little Mary — and forget hia dues. 



(After Calvaiey) 

Lamb with snowy fieeee, who wander 
With your Mary every day, 

Tell me, do you ever ponder 

On the things youVe made me say ! 

When you dared to go to schoolj and 

Rile the teacher, I was glad ; 
For I hoi>ed you'd play the fool, and 
Show aomo signs of being bad. 



Not a bit of it ; the peda- 

Gogue said you disturbed the class ; 
Turned you out ; and yet you led a 

Blameless life U|>on the grasa. 



VERSE, 1907 327 

Tou awaited Mary, gazing 

Mildly at the distant view. 
Lamb, I think that so amazing 

Fool as yon I never knew. 

F. O. LAYTON 

TO A LOOKING-GLASS 
I 
Afar — its polished surface shines, 
And many things therein I see ; 
Mayhap the sun — the moon — the stars — 

It frames in fairy fantasy : 
But when I venture very near, 
Behold ! it mirrors only Me. 

A. B. J0NS8 

II 
Some one loves me — though you lie — 
When you say I'm fair or youthful. 
Count the wrinkles — what care I ? 

Here at least you must be truthful. 
Sometimes cruel and sometimes kind, 

Naught you ever tell me moves me ; 
Here I meet myself and find 

Some one loves me ! 

" NARCISSUS " 

III 
Shall I not hide thee where the shadows fall. 

Who wert my lady's ere she went away, 
That thou mayst also know the night is all 

To those who lose the colour of the day ? 

I cannot touch thee yet, because her face 

Was ever for the sun, in open skies ; 
One may not dream her in a darkened place, 

Nor miss, with thee, some vision of her eyes. 

ETIIBIL TINDAL ATKINSON 



3«8 THE ^VESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

IT 

Far from the mists of aU our pageantry 

— (The marcliing of sad hopes aod passionate alms, 

Blain dreama^ and wan, live shames, 
Travail of those who bate, because they aee 
Overhead the broken floor of circumstance, 
Wherethrough they feU, the ataylcsB sons of chance)^ 

Shines his still mimicry. 

He, a pure opal targe, 
Qtints with a secret smile from marge to marge, 
Becaujse he knows that rocks in a white morn 
Prick sharp to heayeni spraying like winter thorn. 

Becaase, when Light is born, 
She leans to him the splendour of her breaa^ 

Till, at her last behest. 

The porter of the Temple of the West 

Flings gold gates wide and shows 
The Altar of the Ro«e, 
Blooming for him, for him ; and well he knows 
That in him now his holy of hoJiea glows. 

Hei a blue darkness, staring at the moon, 

Shakes, with delightful fear, 
Her round wheel^ tnrntng, hums in him so near* 
The stars slide down to him, and he may hear 
Their tinkle of strange laughter in his ear : 

He ripples to the tune. 

Bend to him now, and surely shalt thou be 
One with the heaven he so smil^ to hold. 
Lean to his breast, and haply shalt thou see 
The secret petals of his rose unfold. 
Trust to his arms ; the sleep he gives to tliee 
Holds dreams of a deep laughter yet untold. 
The heart of peace, an opal purity. 
Young as the dawn» old as the stars are old. 



VERSE, 1907 8189 



Seen from the side a simple oraament, 
To thee full many a stolen glance is bent 
By them that sit in front. The roving gaze 
Before thee pauses ; having paused, it stays. 
In thee men view their nearest hopes and fears, 
Her lovely eyes, his huge, misshapen ears. 
The actor conning o'er his latest part 
Moulds thy grimaces to perfect his art. 
Here Beauty finds her riches, all she's got ; 
And Riches seeking Beauty finds it not. 
Love scans the features which her swain delight. 
Shame sees itself, and trembles at the sight. 
Ambition notes the marks of sure success ; 
Conceit finds all it sought — ^nor more nor less. 
To fools thou showest treasures of the mind 
Deep hidden ; cowards latent courage find. 
Who could resist the charms of coquetry 
Seen by her own complacent glance in thee t 
One sees Apollo, one an hideous elf ; 
But who of all that view thee sees himself t 

H. W. MOG6BIDOE 



VI 

Two hundred Summers is it since you swung 
First in this silver frame of wreathid Loves? 

Dim Mirror ! You reflected, where you hung. 
Bosky Italian gardens, founts and doves. 

Ay, and much passionate Romance unsung. 

For in your tarnished deep I see the Shades 
Of dear, vain Women ; bosoms leaned to you. 

Veiled in the patterned gold of stiff brocades, 
And dark eyes questioned of thia gem, that hue, 

Before the amorous hour of Masquerades. 



330 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

I know yon loiagcd the red, poiBoned Eoee, 
I know you caught the dagger's jewelled fire, 

Ijove was Lr jtc then ; and further yon disclose 
Art, in least works, consamed with high Desire^ 

For perfect^ in your wreath, each Cupid shows. 

ALICS EOWABBS 



TO MIRANDA'S MTHROR 

Thy mirror is a silver gate 

To gardens of remembered youth, 

Wheret rose by rose, the Past appears. 
Bedewed by none but April tears ; 
There joys run, innocent as trutbj 
And Hope plays bide-atid-seek with Fate. 

Tliy mirror is a watchful youth j 
Who, when at last the foe appears^ 
Stands^ noting all that near the gate ; 
He warda each stroke of time or fate, 
Wlioae faithful eyes guard thine from teafs, 
And steel thy sonl to gaze on truth. 

Thy mirror like that lake appears, 
Wherein town -wall and temple-gate 

Are drowned with all their pride of youth ; 
There follies He submerged by truth, 
And o'er old ruins of dim fate 
Flow reoent wares of gentler tears. 



BALLADE OF BEAUTIFUL NAMES 

Beautiful names, what tales are told 

Of your dreams and visions and fantadeo ] 

Cities whose streets are paved with gold, 
Whose walls are jasper and sardonys, 



VERSE, 1907 881 

Cobbled streets where the watcher sees 
Qay processions of knights and dames, 

Cities of palaces, cities of trees 
Live again in beautiful names. 

Nombre de Dios, where Drake was bold ; 

Names that are stately melodies, 
Seville, Namancoe, Bayona's hold, 

Nineveh, Susa, Persepolis ; 
Cecily city's of harmonies, 

Carthage in ruins and Troy in flames. 
These and a thousand more than these 

Live again in beautiful names. 

Bethlehem of the sacred fold ; 

Home, stern guardian of Peter's keys ; 
Astolat, where the knights enrolled ; 

Venice, bride of the hungry seas ; 
Athens, glory of Pericles ; 

Glastonbury of sacred claims : 
All your wonderful histories 

Live again in beautiful names. 

ENVOY 

Cities of old ! In the centuries 

Buried and dead are your fears and shames ; 
Only your glorious memories 

Live again in beautiful names ! 

E. L. DARTON 

BALLADE OF BEAUTIFUL NAMES 

O fair and comely West Country towns, 
Your names fidl pleasantly on the ear, 

Where steep Tintagel's ruin frowns, 
From Bideford brave to Kentisbere ; 



332 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Never a rival need Tmro fear, 
Bich are the orchards round Appledorei, 

The red stag harbours by Porlock Weir, 
And Widocombe ne^tleg on Bartymoor. 

Boseaatle bells the Atlantic drowns ; 

By Hartlaiid light the fishermen steer ; 
Launceaton * was staunch in the strife for crowns ; 

And heather flourishes far and near 

Where Tavistock lies by marsh and mere* 
Morwenstow stands whore the surges roar, 

Mortehoc'a rocks are cool and drear. 
But Wideeombe uestlofl on Dartymoor. 

St, Keverue stands on GoonhiUy Downs ; 

Ermington'fl name as its be) la rings clear ; 
Honiton telleth of bridal gowns ; 

St, Just-in-Rosoland blooms all the yearj 

Falmouth harbour hath Fowey for peer, 
QaUant and famous in days of yore ; 

But best of all are tho uplands she^r 
Where Wideeombe neHtles on Dartymoor I 

good West Country 1 I love to hear 
Your musical names — a noble store — 

But there la the a]>ot I hold most doar, 
Where Wideeombe nestles on Dartymoor I 

''JIM" 



THE LITTLE WINDS 

Lo ! night came down and curtained half the world, 
And all the tired young winds went wandering 
Among the hills for rest^ and found it not. 
For earth was all in dreams^ and Nature's arms 
Too full of sleeping things <^uld hold no more^ — 

1 Pronoanced " LaoQston.*' 



VERSE, 1907 383 

The yalleys all their slumbering pearls of mist, 
The plains their long-winged shadows, and the hills 
On their warm breasts the snows unconscions held. 
And everywhere the sigh of sighs went forth : 
" No room ! No room ! " 

Then tamed they to the skies 
In tears — the little winds — the fair-curled South, 
The brown-haired East, the West with ruddy locks, 
And the dark little North with serious eyes — 
All in their tears of utter weariness — 
And winged their drowsy flight up the steep blue. 
And found the pitiful stars with outstretched arms, 
And into them crept to be comforted, 
And hid their faces in their shining laps. 
And sobbed themselves to sleep in God's dear heaven. 

MURIEL F. WATSON 

THE LAST JUDGMENT 

Thus I figure to myself the Critic, 

Wise, temperate, just, who somewhere beyond ken 

Reads o'er the stories of the Universe 

And passes final Judgment : so, at last 

He takes Our Own, and though a little weary 

Of infinite perusal, the same care 

Bestows upon it he has given before 

Unto (lef s see ! five planets to a page 

Per week : a Sun at times demands more space. 

That to eternity : work out the sum yourself), 

Marks a good passage here ; there, stops, corrects 

A comma ; reads the Last Chapter over twice. 

Then (yawning) writes, " It is the usual story 

Of mere adventure, disconnected, jerky : 

The wasted talent, nowadays so common." 

And in his wisdom thinks the Hero, Man. 

'* A wretched creature ; all his talk mere blague 



•*,*4<j^^ — 



334 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

(One wanddTs where he picked it tip) of aentliDeot^ 

Imposaible dialect, unknown to Nature, — 

And then tbe style, tbe dreadful alipabod style 1 " , * 

With thb he shuts ub up (*' the cover's rather good ! 

Now, who on earth designed it ? ") and reaches out^ 

IndiSerentlj, a protty book of songs 

Writ by the Morning Star ... as for Our Novel, 

Our wondorful story meant to astonlah Heaven ! . . , 

What of it ? . . . I own reluctantly I think 

Down there . . . you note the bend of my finger t . 

Down there, 1 say, 1 think it probable 

The WormSj uncritical, wiD like it greatly 

And eagerly take up the whole edition. 



TO A MUTTON CHOP 

Oh, unpretentious in desigu. 

Thy features can discloao 
No seniblancQ of the blush divine 

On Daphne's cheek that glows, 
Nought like the brief, bewildering line 

Of her delicious noac. 

Yet though no beauty thou dost bear 
That outward eyes may scan. 

When iihot reluctant from thy lair 
Within the torrid pan, 

Thou art unutterably fair 
Unto the inner man. 



How doth the thought of thee beguile 

The toiler, as he dips 
His weary pen, how fond the amOe 

That plays about his lips 
Each day at blissful noon, the while 

He orders " chop and chijm " ! 



VERSE, 1907 886 

And when at length inborne by some 

Demure, attendant sprite, 
Thou liest unresisting, dumb, 

Before his eager sight, 
How can imagination plumb 

The depth of his delight 1 



Tet not for me to bolt thee here 

Amid the vulgar throng, 
Enveloped in an atmosphere 

Superlatively strong ; 
Such hasty swallowings appear. 

To those who love thee, wrong. 

Nay, rather, when the fretful fuss 
That marks the day hath end. 

And from the homeward-bounding 'bus 
Rejoicing I descend, 

Let me in solitude discuss 
Thy merits, O my friend. 



Ah, sweet, when shadows soft invade 

The world at set of sun. 
To find thee on a dish displayed 

Before me, nicely done ; 
Sweet, sweet to watch thee slowly fade 

Away, till we are one ! 



Then let no cloud of jealous gloom 

Thy secret soul oppress. 
For it is but a transient bloom 

That Daphne doth possess ; 
Anon shall hurrying years consume 

Her rosy loTeUness. 



836 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOC 

But in that hour when moseea creep 
Athwart the dwindliog moUDd, 

Whero ahe and all her felloi^^ sleep 
The ailent aaasons roaod, 

Thou Btill, O Prodttct of the Sheep, 
Immortal shalt be found. 

E. D, 



TO THE NOR*-NOR^-EAST 

Wind that btowest round the corner, 

Ck>mers change, but thou not ao ! 
Houaes, like the men they shelter. 
Come and Taniah helter-akelter, 

Born and burled — oE they go : 

Nay ! the very ground is buried 

That was trod by older men — 

Thou alone, unchanging, boldest 

Still thy poat as London^s oldest 

Citizen ! 

Here by daylight didst thou bellow, 
Here at midnight didst thou howl, 
When the Dinoeaur would joatlo 
Giant Elks, ere both were foaail, 

And the wolf was on the prowL 
Here you roared above the forest, 

Whilst the lion roared inside. 
Here you eet ^e Mammoth aneedng, 
Whilst the Cave-bear from your freezing 
Breath did hide. 



From the bitter Glaeial Epoch 

Here you gained an eiLtra chill. 
And I cannot but eurmise it 
That you sometimes advertise it 
By some glacial samples still. 



22 



VERSE, 1907 887 

Here you nipped the Druids' noses 

Till, to hide their bluish hue, 
By a plan which somewhat odd is 
They had their entire bodies 
Pointed blue. 

Here you blew the Roman soldier 

Well-nigh off the City wall, 
Till in classical orations, 
Decked with solemn imprecations, 

On thy head his wrath would f aU : 
" Magnus Scotus ! What a ventus 

Round Londinium's murus blows ! 
How these tempests occidental 
Rudely tweak my ornamental 
Roman nose ! ** 

Here, within his new-built Tower, 

Didst the Conqueror thou scare. 
Fill his ears with warnings hollow, 
Pinch his nose and make him swallow 

All thine icy draughts of air. 
Qreat Eliza's nifis you ruffled 

— ^And her temi)er — by your swoops. 
From her cheeks the powder scooping, 
Tugging at her wig, and whooping 
Round her hoops. 

Here, about the Swan of Avon, 

Didst thou boldly whirl and spin ; 
Round his forehead didst thou hover. 
As though trying to discover 

What was going on within. 
** Wind, you've cracked my lips ! " he'd mutter, 

" Blow, then, till you crack your cheek ! 
— Orack your cheek t Gadzooks ! Beshrew me ! 
'Twere a fitting phrase for gloomy 
Lear to speak I " 



888 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOO] 

On Ell&f kindly Fktron* 
8aint of all who dnve the quill, 

Didst tliou oft with wild embraces 

Ruah from unexpected placesj 
As he strolled along GomliilL 

Little cared be ! Frolic fanciee 
Round him danced an airj jig — 

Dreamland children, sweet and slender, 

Or, perchancej a tiny, tender 
Sucking-pig I 

Wiad that bio west round the corner^ 

Blow iiway ! It matters not. 
Here to-day and gone to-morrow 
StiH is human joy and sorrow, 

Change is still our changeless lot 
Past, avaunt !— Be silent^ Future I 

Preaeiit I Take me as I am. 
As for buiTets — all muat share 'em^ 
And I'll do my best to bear 'em 
Like a Lame. 



FLIE8 IN THE OINTMENT 

My friend X'a prowess shames 
That of all my friends at games. 
He golfs and boats^ and, as for cricket^ 
He only once bas lost a wicket ; 
And yet this life does not his soul attract ; 
He cannot act 

Y can draw like Heaven knows what, 
Bwnt like Titian, write like Scott 
In the twin worlds of arts and letters 
He has but few, if any, betters ; 
And yet his life is not a happy thing : 
He cannot aing. 



VERSE, 1907 889 

Z's writing is a waste of time ; 
His painting's worse — it is a crime ; 
At games he is a hopeless duffer ; 
He cannot sing lest others suffer ; 
Tet of the three Z is the happiest man : 
He thinks he can. 

J. A. D. 



A STRAY FROM SOMERSET 

A thrash came down our court to-day ; 

And oh ! zo sweetly a did zing, 
That when at length a flew away 

She bore my heart upon her wing. 
Westward she flew from London's gloom, 

And long I watched her flying free, 
Vor I thought she came from Kinder Combe 

Beside the golden Severn sea. 

There are the windy downs, and there 

Climbs the long, winding country ro^. 
Where the girt tipsy wains do bear 

In haying time their nodding lo&d. 
Crushing the grass of either edge, 

Zo close the chiking wheels 'ould go, 
The close-piled trusses brushed the hedge 

Where pink an* white the rases blow. 

There once I worked in Darnel's vield. 

The stuggiest lad on Mendip side ; 
And 'Mandy Gay^ the farrier s cheeld, 

'Ould share my toil at haying tide. 
With me to pitch and her to rake, 

How soon the slippery straths were clear ! 
And how the jetty curls did shake 

In tender 'oris about her ear ! 



340 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

Ah ! birdie ! is her step xo light t 

And are her cotIb 2so wilful yet t 
And would she know me, if to-night 

I could win back to Zommersett 
Ah, no ! My Umbs are thin and bent^ 

The chakes are pale that were so brown. 
When drawn by smarmy lies I went 

To try my luck in London Town. 

Fly westward, westward, pratty bird ! 

Down the long sunset roftd you come ; 
But never tell whose voice you heard 

A-dying in a London slum. 
Zoon, asoon, 1*11 leave this stifling room, 

And swift I'll follow, flying free ; 
Till I fold my wings in Kinder Combe 

Beside the golden Severn sea. 

■. 8. TYLKB 



THE BARGEMAN'S CHANTY 

Spend yer time erlomg the towparth, fer it's better than the brine^ 
With no darn food but brittle cikes, old rum, an' salted swine, 
From the Indies where the wind is 
To the wharves on Tyne. 

Spend yer time erlomg the towparth, fer yer'll never lack fer time 
Ter blow yer gas an' lip yer lass, an' 'ear the ripples rhyme 
Thro' the lilies wur the mill is 

An' the low winds chime. 

There's the miller at the malt-'ouse, an' 'is daughter's at the door ; 
She's a lusty wench an' willin, I'll be barned, altho' yer poor 
Show yer mettle an' she'll nettle 
Till yer've mide yer score. 



VERSE, 1907 341 

'Es a tidy pile put by 'im, twenty 'omers in 'is lorft, 
Four rown cows ter grize 'is medder, an' a bit o' hidle crorft 
Full o' lush room fer the mushroom 
Wen the mould is sorft 

An' in summer wen it's sunny an' the lorng wheat biller rolls, 
Then it's good ter wartch the swallers, an' the fawn gry filly foals 
RoUin' hover hin the clover 

Rarnd the 'igh-looped poles, 

Filin' far erlorng the towparth with a murmur as is sweet, 
Parst the barley an' the beetroot an' the lorfty piles o' peat. 
With a ditty ter the city 

Wur the mad wheels beat. 

Then I think o' strainin' ausers, an' the top-sUes o' the ships 
All arflutter, syrens 'ootin', crippled liners in the slips, 
Qulls as flitter in the litter 
As the slow wive lips. 

Bat at sea there's little comfort, little frolic, little sleep, 
Orl's a misty midnight gemble, nothin' sure an' life is cheap. 
Life is stiller at my tiUer 

An' the toides orl neap. 

So I've turned mi back hon silin*, said good-bye ter ships at sea. 
Tike my tip an' do the sime, boy, live an' die a land bargee. 
'Ark ! she crushes, thro' the rushes 
Ter the malt-'ouse quay. 

ROLAND 8UBOE 

THE PARABLE OF THE MOUNTAIN, THE 
MOTOR BICYCLE, AND THE BOY 

Upon a mighty mountain slope. 
Inspired with heat and dust and hope. 

There stood a youth of eight ; 
He said, " You reckon you're a hilll 
I guess you ain't much more'n a pill ; 



342 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

An' I kinder calculate 
Upon this thousand^ollar toy 
I'll find yer peak, and not employ 

Old Time to stand an* wait," 



With that he seized a weird macliine 
Wliicb leant with anarchiatie mien 

Against a towering tree ; 
Bat as he touched ita handle-bar 
A wild exidoBion sont him far 

Beyond the verb ** to be," 
O reader dear ! that mountain -side 
In life ; that motor-'* byke " is Pride ; 
That boy is you or me — 
Is I—but what ia grammar, f riendB, 
Beside the tone a mora) lends ? 



THE BATTLE SONG 

Kow, the rules to observe in a martitii song, 
Which keeping you cannot go very far wrong. 
Are to always remember you're mareliing along ; 
That your arm or your heart or both must be strong. 
Though the day and the way to thc> battle be long. 

Make it clear from the start that you fear no foe, 
That you've only to meet him to lay him low. 
That you die for your country {you love her so), 
At frequent intervaU (30ft Iiere and alow), 
Then (louder) the chorus like this, I trow : 

Do we fear, boya^ fear ? 
(The metre changes here) 
Shall we flyi boys^ fly ? 
No, we'll conquerp boys, or die 



VERSE, 1907 S43 

Don't fail to refer at times to the drum 
On occasions like these, its loud brum-brum, 
Blent with blast on Ihe bugle, should never be dumb ; 
And, although to their fire you may shortly succumb, 
Don't omit the gun's roar and the bullet's hum. 

Do wo fear, «fec. 

A passing allusion, too, should be made 

To the home you left and the girl who stayed. 

And her probable feelings should be portrayed 

When you in a Soldier's Qrave are laid 

(At loss for a rhyme? hark, your charger neighed !). 

Do we fear, ^. 

All this IB assuming you fight on sliore — 
If afloat, just alter the cannon's roar 
To the billows, and change your field of gore 
To a hero's bed 'neath the watery floor. 
And if such a death doesn't win an encore 
May you never rise from it, nor I write more 1 

Do we fear, &c. 

A BATTLE SONO 

(jwhich may be sung to ihe tune " Cloist^s") 
(Befdrk the Battle of Salamis, 480 b.c.) 
Then sang the Athenians fnym t/ieir tear ships : 

Fight, sons of Athens, fight for life and freedom ! 
Yea, by your wasted hearths and ruin'd homesteads, 
Tea, by the love of free-born wives and children. 
Forward, and s^iarc not ! 

Hear us, we pray, Athene, Queen of Athens ! 
Yea, by the flashing of thy bronze-bound asgis, 
Yea, by the shaking of thy awful war-spear, 
Hear us and help us ! 



344 THE WESTMINSTER PEOBLEMS BOOK 

Thm did the other Hdlenta with one voice nng : 

Fight^ fiOQs of Hellas, fight for life and freedom ! 
Yea, by the proud foot of the base harbarian 
Trampling the aacred bosom of our countTjj 
Forward, and spare not 1 

Hear us, we pray, ye holy godi of Hella^f 
Yea, by your shattered shrines and broken ftltan, 
Yea, by the iinpioug onset of tho Ferdaa, 
Hear ub and help us I 
And the gods heark^ntd and senti victory ai Salami^* 



BATTLE SONG OF THE FLEET 

This ia the aong of the Fleet at sea, 
Battleship, cruiserj and T.B.D. 
All of US ready as shipt» can be 

For a sight of the Enemy's yangoard I 

First in the battle, bearing the brunt. 

This is the aong of tbe T.B.D. 
Built to chivy and chase and hunt, 

Wriggle a way throu^ the rolling Bea, 

Slip through the water silently \ 
Little black devil, get in front f 
Way for the T.B.D, ! 

This is the aong, &c. 

Cutting the waters, swift as the wind, 

This is tho song of the Eyes of the Fleet, 
Long and narrow, for s|iccd designed, 

Hounds of the ocean, trim and neat, 

Scour thii ocean, divide and meet. 
God help the cruLaer that's left behind ♦ 
Way for the Eyes of the Fleet ! 

This is the song, kt. 



VERSE, 1907 846 

Strength of the Navy, strong in her pride, 

This is the song of the Battleship, 
Wind and breaker and foe defied. 

Built for power and strength and grip, 

See her bows in the water dip 
Thundering war from her deadly side. 
Way for the Battleship ! 

This is the song of the Fleet at sea, 
Battleship, cruiser, and T.B.D. 
All of us ready as ships can be 

For a sight of the Enemy's vanguard ! 



MODERN MINNESONGS 

Some day I shall rise and leave my friends, 

And seek you again through the world's far ends ; 

You whom I found so fair 

(Touch of your hands and smell of your hair !) 

My only Ood in the days that were. 

My eager feet shaU find you again, 

Though the sullen years and the mark of pain 

Have changed you wholly : but I shall know 

(How could I forget, having loved you so ?) 

In the sad half-light of evening 

The face that was all my sun-rising. 

So then at the ends of the earth I'll stand. 

And hold you fiercely by either hand ; 

And, seeing your age and ashen hair, 

I'll curse the thing that once you were. 

Because it is changed, and pale, and old, 

(Lips that were scarlet, hair that was gold !) 

And I loved you before you were grey and wise, 

When the flame of youth was strong in your eyes, 

— And my heart is sick with memories. 

RUPSBT BROOKK 



846 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

My life in wintry darkness doth decline 

Since that my sun no warming grace bestows, 
Or if for one brief moment thou dost shine, 

Thy countenance with reddening anger glows ; 

I lie buried 'neath congealing snows 
That wrap about me like a winding-sheet 

In frigid foldings of the last repose, 
Or melted only where my heart doth beat. 
Perchance 'twere best to freeze — ^perchance 'twere meet 

To suck such calour from thy frownings forth 
As might thro' stealthy husbandry of heat 

Release me from the rigours of thy North. 
O let me choose to cheat thee of thy fire 
And thaw thy frosts through warmth of my desire ! 

So if I choose how better shaU I speed, 

If fire from fire should thus subtracted be. 
In my poor body some new hope to breed 

To overcome that Arctic lethargy ? 

For every spark that I should steal from thee 
Would leave thee colder like a withering moon. 

The sun's frail substitute, and foist on me 
A burnished midnight when I bid for noon 
Nay, it were better I should seek the boon 

Nepenthe's juice can bring the planet-crost 
And sink into some sweet oblivious swoon 

That knows no more of either fire or frost. 
So would I slink from hell and shrink from Heaven 
To lie in Limbo with the Unforgiven. 

Yet were it all unworthy of my love 

In that deep potion to engulf its shame, 
To flee from chills yet be afraid to prove 

What healing virtue liveth in thy flame. 

Here I will raise an altar in thy name 
And bring my body for thy wrath to burn. 

And thro' that ardent sacrifice reclaim 



VERSE, 1907 847 

The liberty for which my soul doth yearn. 
O let thy fires leap up to heaven and spurn 

The niggard clay that keeps me prison-pent 
Till dust to dust and fire to fire return, 

And I a flame rejoin my element, 
Free-winged to float o'er summer fields afar, 
By day thy sunbeam and by night thy star. 

WM. BOWBY 

»% 

Now every tree a chauntry is ; 

Love, hearken how the blackbird sings. 
And on the shadowy green, I wis. 
The maidens dance round fairy ringa 
I have quite put away 
The thought that saddened many a yesterday. 
Weave for thy spring-time wreath 
The small blue flowers that star the heath. 
Well dance and sing till evening red 
Calls us to bed. 
Yet a fresh sorrow's smart 
Doth rise within my heart ; 
And the new grief is still the old — 

That thou must die. 
Must, withering, droop unto the mould 

As blossoms lie. 
Cease, as a song sung, as a sweet tale told. 

ALICE EDWAEDES 

When She smiles 
The world grows full of sunshine. 
The darkest night, the dullest day. 
Are warm and glad and bright and gay. 
The world grows full of sunshine 
When She smiles. 



48 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 

When She frowns, 
What cheer or hope is left you t 
The very bravest soul might fear, 
And deem his conscience far from clear ; 
What cheer or hope is left you 
When She frowns? 

When She cries 
The world becomes a desert. 
And Joy itself must borrow 
The right to share Her sorrow. 
The world becomes a desert 
When She cries. 

When She laughs, 
The birds all fall to singing. 
The buds unfold, although it freeze, 
And summer tempers winter's iH^eze. 
The birds all fall to singing 
When She laughs. 

"JIM" 



Into a world of sun and snow. 
With silver hyacinths all ablow, 
And gold cups falling open wide 
To show their little stars inside. 
O'er creamy plains of primroses 
My love and I came thro' the trees. 

Both sun and moon I wished I were — 
The sun, to gaze on her all day ; 
The moon, to guard her as she lay — 
Both sun and moon — too far away 
To bring her harm, but oh ! too near 
To fail to bless my Dear, my Dear ! 



VERSE, 1907 

There, on that floor of primroses, 
There, where green branches made a shrine 
For Love, and chaliced flowers the wine 
Of Love held up below the trees, 
With music given of birds and bees. 
Our loves were plighted — hers and mine. 



349 



But now — where two in days of yore 

Trod rapturous that golden floor ; 

Where two hearts Love's high heaven did bring 

To the green sanctuaries of spring — 

One only, thro' all blossoming 

Gone lone and loveless evermore. 

MURIEL F. WATSON 



ki^ 



H 



'II 

IIS 



■i 



T] 



INDEX 



Friend^ wh^n you next go out to dine^ 
Ififer the walnuts and the wine 
You recollect my happUst line. 

Pray qucte it. 
Only remember while you shine 
IVith borrowed light, the thing is mine ; 
We bards for recognition pine. 

So — let them hnow who wrote it I 

I.— PROSE 



K. T. S. 



Anonymous 



••ApUOculus". 

Bainks, C. E. . 
Bayly- Jones, Jane 
Bowman, Alice . 

i» 
Brooke, Rupert . 
Brown, Kenneth P. 
Btvn,L, V. 
Buckeridge, E. G. 

"Camel" 
Clarke, Kate 
Crippa, A. R. . 
Crooke, Richard E. 



Cropper, Eleanor 



A True Story 30 

<* And the Moral of that is " . 39. 40 
Epijrrams . . 2, 9, 12, 29, 103, III 

Herbert Spencer's probable Defini- 
tion of a Comedy . ... 16 
A Defense of Palmistric . • i? 



•' Confessions " ... 

The Goose-girl and the Gander 
In Praise of Procrastination 
Miss Brown's Christmas . 
Prose Parody .... 
" And the Moral of that is " . 
Letters from the Shade of Beethoven 
Flies in the Ointment 

Kindness to Parents 

" And the Moral of that is " . 

Letters from the Shade of Beethoven 

On Hints .... 

Swearing and Strange Oaths . 

The Truth about the Artistic Tern 

perament .... 

To the Author of" Red Pottage " 

On the Borrowing of Books 
3ul 



51 
37 
97 
132 
117 
40 
121 
129 

140 

40 

"3 

161 

78 

"35 
86 



868 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



Dalton» M. D. 
Denman, R. D. . 



Ego . 

Falconer, Agnbs S. 
Fellows, Margery 
Flint, F. H. 



Goodman, E. M. 
Head, Hbnry . 

Helps, F. C. . 



) 



Hill, Douglas P. 



Hill. M. V. 



HiU, Wilfred 

»» 
Hughes, Eilian 

" Ichabod " 

"Kay" . 
Keynes, M. N. 
Kirby, Dorothy 

Lister, Rupert 
Lowry, H. D. . 

LycU P. C. 



Maas, Wm. H. 
Maccoll, E. 
Malaprop^ Martha 



Fragment of an Art Critic's Letter 
to his Friend .... 
The Ape that Ignored the Past 

Mahomet 



The Dusty Miller .... 

A Picture 

On other People's Names 

Prose Parodies .... 

The Children's Party 

Story of a Psychical Phenomenon in 
the Style of Daniel Defoe . 

Sentences containing all the Letters 
of the Alphabet and all the Parts 
of Speech .... 

On other People's Names 

Solitary Meals 

The Fortunate Isles 

Two Naughty Boys . 

On Going Your Own Way 

On Hints .... 

The Gollywog as a Symbol of onr 
National Decadence 

The Vice of Consistency . 

Guide to Underground Travelling 

The Use of Dreams 

Solitary Meals 

How the Daddy got his Long Legy 

A Meal 

Howlers 

Reflections of a Guy 

A Journey to the Seaside 
Thoughts on Looking Oat of \ 

Window .... 
" Eulalie ; or, The Elms at R^can- 

villiers" .... 



MS 
8i 

112 
100 

55 

I2S 

ii6 
153 



67 



36 

127 

147 
"3 
141 
94 
163 

114 
102 
15S 
137 
149 



«39 
46 



25 

10 
no 



Of Fiscal Policie . . . . i 

That Books are the Best Friends . 106 
Letter from Mrs. Malaprop to Lydia 

Languish ..... 14 



INDEX 



858 



"Mallard" 
Marbley, Henry 

Marsh, Mabel A. 
Merriman, F. Boyd 

More, James le . 

Nbwman, Hilda 

Oragb, a. R. . 

Parkinson, E. M. 
Partridge, M. . 



An Up-to-date Fable 

A Catastrophe .... 

A Misunderstanding 

A Plain Tale .... 

Betsy Prig and Mrs. Harris : Speech 

for the Motion 
An Entanglement . 

The Clothes and the Men 



Coincidences 



"PetoAltiora" 
Piper, Peter 

R., E. I. . 
Rotten, Violet 



Scott, Danibl . 
Sidgwick, A. H. 



An October Holiday 

Flies in the Ointment 

Sentences containing all the Letters 
of the Alphabet and all the Parts 
of Speech .... 

The Discriminator . 

On Calling a Spade a Spade . 



DUrer's Dante .... 
Thoughts on Looking Out of 
Window .... 



Sidgwick, F. 



Stephenson, K. T. 



23 



The New and the Old 

Aspects of Determinism . 

Borrowing Books 

Coincidences .... 

In Defence of Punning 

Rudyard Kipling as a Disciple of 

Wordsworth 
Additional chapter to ** Alice through 

the Looking-glass " 
The Compleat Vagabond 
The Inconveniences of Teeth . 

A Sulk 

Descriptive Passage without Adjec- 

tives 

Interventions .... 
Jane Eyre's Diary . 
The Superstitions of Daily Life 
The Tinted Glass: A Review . 



13 

77 

77 

6 

3 

77 

81 

75 

156 
131 



36 

19 

119 

142 
II 

21 

35 
88 
72 
69 

59 

95 
108 

154 
77 

27 
32 
41 
53 
104 



864 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



Stobart, J. C. 



Talbot, Ethel 
Tate, HalUm 



W., R. K. . 
Wade, E. C. 
White, E. M. 



Given the Character of Polonins, 
Laertes, and Ophelia to find the 
Character of Mrs. Polonius . 

Grimalkin and Little Edith 

In Praise of Cats .... 

Letter from Louisa Harrington to 
her Sister Caroline Strike describing 
the Count de Saldar's Courtship . 

" Scapho-Scaphegony " . 

The Philatelist .... 



64 
So 
82 



56 

118 

48 



Whiteman, Gilbert 
Wilkes, D. J. . 

Williams, E. Banmer 



Popularity 102 

Letters from the Shade of Beethoven 124 

Fable : The Robin and the Sparrow 13 
Mrs. Polonius ... -65 
Definitions of Envy, Hatred, and all 

Uncharitableness . . . •63 
Sentences containing all the Letters 

of the Alphabet and all the Parts 

of Speech 63 

In Praise of Cats .... 84 
Betsy Prig and Mrs. Harris : Speech 

against the Motion ... 4 

Expostulation with a Parent . . 93 



"Acorn". 
"Anogeon" 
Anonymous 



\ 



II.— VERSE 




. Alliterative Verse on "October*' . 262 


A Nursery Rhyme . 
. A Roundel of Rain . 


. . . 298 
. . 183 


. An Hour-Glass 


. 231 


. Ballade of Red Tape 
. BatUe Song of the Fleet 
. Definition : A Fool . 


. 317 

• . 344 

. 245 


. Definitions 

. Eight Lines of Descriptive 

. Encore Recitation . 


. 240,252,263 

i Verse . 236 

• «3S 


. Four-Line Parodies 


• ^35 


. New Nursery Rhymes 
. Night . . . 


167. I7i» 17a 

. 224 



INDEX 



855 



Anonymous 



PAOB 

Nonsense Rhymes . .189, 190 

. On an Omnibus . . 318,319 

Parody: Lines written in a Common- 
place Book of *' Original " Designs 235 
. Parody: To an Earwig which the 

Poet met in a Strawberry . -235 
. Rondeaus Redouble . 258 

Sicilian Octaves .... 268 
. The Battle Song .... 342 
. The Last Judgment • * • 333 

. The Violin ..... 249 
. To the Nor*-Nor'-East . . .336 
. Villanelle of Vanities . . . 264 
. Song of the Mad Lover . . 295 

. To a Looking-Glass . . . 327 
Attenborough, Florence Gertrude Words for a Song: Noon of the 

Spring 165 

"Avis" Words for a Song : Brownie Song . 165 



Atkinson, Ethel Tindal 



B.,B. 

R, K. 

B., R. 

" Babii 

BaU,J 
99 
»• 

Balliol, 
Barnes 

"Beeft 
Bemar 

" Bidd 
Bird, N 
Bowry 

i> 

1 

1 

f 


A. . 
T. . 

igton ** . 
E. . . 

M.A. . 
, Harold A. . 

i> 
sater" . . 
d, Henry 
»» 

y" . . 

f. A. 
,Wm. . 







<*Si JeunesseSavait" ... 201 

Nonsense Rhyme .... 189 

Rhymed Language of Flowers . . 280 

Parody 236 

A Sestina of Memories 166 

Nonsense Rhyme .... 189 

The Violin 250 

The Wedding 184 



China Cat 



Winds ofall the West 
Rhyme without Reason : The Ceno- 
taph 

Rhymed Language of Flowers . 

The Vegetarian's Soliloquy 

A Song . 

Three Epigrams 

A Nursery Rhyme : The 

A Villanelle of Packing 

A Modem Minnesong 

A Poem in Six Lines 

A Song of Autolycus 

A Song of Revolution 

Amoris Flosculi 

If that be Love 

Rondeau of All Fools* Day 



206 



278 
186 

202 

304 
196 
346 
207 
308 

198 
200 
259 
269 



866 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



i 







FACE 


Bowry, Wm. 


. Shakespearian Sonnet 


*4i 


*> . . . 


. The Counterfeit .... 


238 


*i . . . 


. The Senses' Riddle . 


32a 


"Bracside" 


. Rhyme without Reason : A BalUd of 






Antique Songs .... 


278 


i» . . . 


Rhyme without Reason : Sonnet 


284 


Brereton, E. C. . 


. New Nursery Rhyme : Tea-time 






Talk 


171 


Brooke, Rupert . 


. A Modem Minnesong 


345 


t> . . . 


. A Nursery Rhyme .... 


299 


ti . . . 


Fragment Completed 


3« 


»» . . . 


Mary had a little Lamb . 


3*5 


»» . . . 


. The Little D<^s Day . 


315 


Burnet, W. Hodgson 


. A Nursery Rhyme .... 


nr 


i» 


. Parody 


236 


i» 


. VillanelleofVaniUes 


a65 


Burroughs, E. A. 


. Storm-Sunset on a Western Coast . 


225 


Callaghan, Stella 


. Encore Recitation: The Parable of 






the Butterfly . . . . 


23a 


Castle, Philip . 


. Four-line Epigram : Good Taste . 


174 


"Caterpillar" . 


. The Vegetarian's Soliloquy . 


187 


"Colquhoun" . 


. Mary had a little Lamb : The Scrape 






of the Lamb .... 


325 


Connan, Elsie B. 


. The Parable of the Mountain, the 






Motor Bicycle, and the Boy 


341 


"Corallina" . 


. Little Willie Rhyme 


260 


Cornelius, John . 


. Die Leute 


312 


Cunnington, S. . 


. Encore Recitation .... 


•34 


Curzon, Lord 


. Translation : Les Mains . 


3" 


>f 


. Translation : Ruines du Coeor . 


3" 


D., H. L. . 


. Chant Royal of August . 


S46 


D..J.A. . . . 


. Flies in the Ointment 


33S 


D.,R. 


. To a Mutton Chop .... 


334 


Darton, E. L. . 


. Ballade of Beautiful Names . 


330 


ti 


. The Quest 


3M 


"Deira" . 


. The Panacea 


«95 


DoweU.V. W. . 


Macaronic Verse : Carmen Gryllicum 


276 


"DurMynydd" 


. Rhyme without Reason : The Song 






of the Balloonatic .... 


258 


Edwardbs, Alicb 


. A Modem Minnesong 


347 


ft 


. At Midnight 


«30 



INDEX 



S67 



Edwardes, Alice 



Edwardes, Marian 
Edwards, Osman 

«« Egbert Belleville' 
"Electroplate" 
"Elpenor" 
"Eros" . 
"Evacarod" 
Evans, Margaret 



"Evocatus" 

Falconer, Agnbs S. 
Faulding, G. M. 



Fellows, Margery 

Field, c' . 
"Fifth Villain" 
Fish, W. B. 
Fox, Adam 

"Froth" . 

GlOFFROY, AdRIBN 

George, G. M. . 



Ghey, G. H. 
Goring, J. H. 



Graham, E. 
*< Grasshopper". 
Gray, M. N. T. . 
Griffiths, E. M. . 
Gann, William . 
24 



Sour Grapes .... 

The Apple Tree 

To a Looking-Glass 

Four-line Epigram : Beauty . 

Bnshido : A Song of Japanese Honour 

To Miranda's Mirror 

The Forbidden Land 

Emphatics .... 

Sicilian Octave 

Little Willie Rhyme 

Rhyme without Reason : Sonnet 

A Nursery Rhyme . 

A Nursery Rhyme : A Wonder 

World 

Alliterative Verse on " October" 

The Wicked Gift 

City Rain .... 

Half.Knowledge . 

The Counterfeit 

The Threshold 

The Violin .... 

Encore Recitation : Aftermath 

Sicilian Octave 

An Easter Song 

Little Willie Rhyme 

"The Dullest Book" . 

Golf Rondeau : Rondeau de Remon 

trance 

Nonsense Rhyme 



PAOB 

217 
281 
329 
174 
183 

330 
194 
290 
268 
260 
284 
301 

299 
261 

208 
202 
271 
240 
282 
250 

233 
269 
227 
260 
"3 

173 
188 



Le Jardin de Peur .... 201 
A Nursery Rhyme .... 297 
New Nursery Rhyme: Trotting 

Tommy 172 

Fragments Completed . 312, 313 

Nursery Rhymes . 296, 297 

A Nursery Rhyme: The Grateful 

Hen 297 

The Forbidden Land .191 

The Counterfeit .... 239 
A Song of Atttolycus .310 

Parody 236 

Four-line Epigram : Success . •174 



868 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



H., H. B. . 
H., R. 

Hall, Edgar Vine 
Herbert, E. Hugh 
Heseldne, Michael 
Hewes, David 
Hill, Douglas P. 
Hill, M. V. 
Hughes, Eilian 

Hunt, J. A. 
Hunt, J. H. 

"Jim" 

If • • 
Jones, A. E. 

Kempe, Dorothy 
Kendall, Guy 



Kenny, Muriel 
"Kit" 
"Koknee" 
Kyle, John 



Layton, F. G. 



Lessing, Caren 
Lord, May 
Lyttelton, Lucy 



M., H. S. . 
MacauUy, E. R. 




Sing a Song of Sixpence 

A Nursery Rhyme . 

Two Songs 

The Modem Mystic 

A Song of Autolycus 

A Song . 

Cymon and Iphigenia 

A Battle Song 

Encore Recitation: The 

Peter Pan . 
Parody . 
A Ballad of London Town 



A Modem Minnesong 
Ballade of Beautiful Names 
To a Looking-Glass 

The Queen of HearU 

"TheWonder-House" . 

A Poem in Six Lines: Vesta — A 

Riddle of the Gty 
An Easter Song 
Childe Roland : Part II. . 
Janus — ^A Riddle of Time 
Wasted Days .... 
A Christmas Carol . 

Lures 

A Ballad of London Town 
Alliterative Verse on ** October " 
Shakespearian Sonnet 



A Nursery Rhyme . 
A Song of Autolycus 
Mary had a little Lamb 
Pantoum . 
Das Marchen . 
Nonsense Rhyme . 
A Riding Song 
A Song of Autolycus 
Love's Going . 



The Forbidden Land 
Alliterative Verse on " October ' 
Ballade of the Superior Person 



300 

as* 

a53 

308 

291 
343 

^36 



347 

33t 
3*7 

m 

226 
Jo6 

202 
256 
iSl 
200 
222 
261 

«4I 

300 
309 
326 
272 
M7 

188 
aw 
307 
a?* 

X95 
261 
216 



Macaulay, E. R. 



Mackenzie, A. C. 
Macnair, J. A. . 
Mare, Walter de la 
Milne, A. A. 
"Moelwyn" 
Moggridge, H. W. 
"Morrison" . 

•• Narcissus " . 
Newman, Hilda . 



Nicholson, L. . 
<< Nugent BeUeTiUe" 

Palm, August . 
••ParturiuntMontes" 
Pen, B. . 
"Persis" . 
"Philopseudes" 
Pitt, Bernard . 



"Pleura" . 
"PoeU Ignotus" 
PoweU, G. H. . 

•* Protagoras " 

R., E. 
R., G. . 

Randell, Wilfrid L. 
Roberts, Margaret 
Rutherford, Emily M 



INDEX 869 

FAOB 

Peace and the Builder ... 283 
Sestina of the Seashore . . .316 
Song of Prosper the King . 201 

. To a Looking-Glass ... 328 

Rhymed Language of Flowers . . 279 
Rondeau to the Old and New Year . 229 
A Ballad of Christmas . . .214 
Sing a Song of Sixpence . . . 203 

"Granted" 289 

To a Looking-Glass ... 329 

A Nursery lUiyme .... 304 

. To a Looking-Glass . -327 

, A Nursery Rhyme .... 300 
Encore Recitation : The Prodigal 

Returns 324 

Song 293 

The Street-Singer's Song . . 293 
A Nursery Rhyme : A Child's Night- 
thought 302 

Lawn Tennis 266 

Das Miirchen 228 

An Up-to-date Fable . .185 

Half-Knowledge .... 270 

The Violin 251 

The Broken Lyre . . - ^SS 

Aphrodite in the Cloister . -175 
To an Ash-tree at Moonrise .191 

Urbs Beata 324 

Alliterative Verse on *• October " . 262 

Sour Grapes 218 

Cross Purposes .... 314 
Definition : A Fool .... 242 
Four-line Epigram : Discomfort 175 

Rondeau to the Old and New Year • 320 

A Nursery Rhyme .... 300 

Definition : A Saint . . 242 
Love's Hazard -199 

Rondeau to the Old and New Year . 229 
A Nursery Rhyme : The Blackthorn 

Rhyme 303 

Childe Roland : Part H. . . . 305 



860 THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK 



S.,C. E. . 
Service, Marie 
Sidgwick, F. 



Sidgwick, R. 
Simpson, C. 
Smith, Cicely Fox 



Snow, M. . 
Stephenson, K. T. 
Stone, Christopher 
Stone, £. D. . 
Soige, Roland . 
"SybU" . 



T, 


A,F. . 


T., 


D. . 


T. 


K. . 


T. 


M.J. . 


Talbot, Ethel 



Thompson, E. 
Tripp, W. J. 
Tylee, E. S. 



Vbrschoylk, C. M. 

Walkbr, E. M. 
Watson, Muriel F. 



White, E. M. . 
Whiteman. Gilbert 



A Nursery Rhyme : Chitter-chatter 

DieLeute 

Macaronic Verse 

Sing a Song of Sixpence . 

The I^ast Hope 

Four-line Epigram : Bores 

Ballade of Deathless Dream 

Robert Browning Soliloquises 

A Song of Autolyctts 

On an Onmibus 

The Counterfeit 

A Poem in Six Lines 

The Bargeman's Chanty . 

The Snake 



Balthazar's Feast . 

A Nursery Rhyme : Rhyme of the 

Meadow 
A Song of Revolution 
Voices heard in the Fog . 
Chant Royal of August . 
Cry of the Little People . 
Heart of the Poppy . 
The Counterfeit 
The Flirt's ViUanelle 
The Queen of HearU 
Alliterative Verse on " October" 
Mary had a little Lamb . 
A Stray from Somerset . 
Parson's Nag . 

The Queen of HearU 

The Forbidden Land 

Son o' the Winds . 

A Modern Minnesong 

Shakespearian Sonnet 

The Little Winds . 

Encore Recitation . 

A New Ingoldsby Legend 

Definitions 

Golf Rondeau: Hints to Beginners 



MOB 

398 
aio 

909 

174 
an 

177 
309 
3» 
a39 
ao7 
340 
183 

218 

dm 

a83 
247 
256 

257 
*38 
aP 
a43 
263 
326 

339 
205 

MA 



«93 
296 
348 
242 

33> 
a33 
ITS 
MS 
173 



INDEX 



861 



WUd, Ida . . 
Wilkes, Henry E. 

»t 

Williams, Helen B. 
Wolfe, Ffrida . 



rAGB 

A Villanelle of Packing . . .197 
Little Willie Rhyme ... 260 
The Queen of Hearts . . 244 

A Song 258 

A Nursery Rhyme : The Orange Cat 301 
Villanelle of Vanities ... 265 



Printed by Ballarttn:^ Hansom ^ Co. 
Edinburgh ^ London 



11:, 



i 1 



r A 



'■ I 



• ' ■ » I 

11 



Messrs. Methuen's Complete 
List of Educational and a 
Selection of Gift Books . . 

CONTENTS 



crrizBNSHip . • 

COMMBRCS • 

DtVIKITV . « 

DOMKSTIC 8C1BNCB • 

ENGLISH 

FKBNCH 

GBinUtAl. INFOUfATION 

GBOGKAPHV 



GRBBK . 
HISTORY 
LATIN . 
MATHBHATICS . 



TBCHNOLOGV 



'3 
i6 
•8 

34 



SBRIBS or BDUCATIONAL WORKS 
GIPT ROOKS AND PRUSS 



Messrs. Methukn will be glad to send their 
COMPLETE Illustrated Catalogue or Par- 
ticulars OF THEIR Books on any subject to 
ANY Address, Post Free, on application 



METHUEN & CO. LTD., 36 ESSEX STREET, W.C. 

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October 19 10 



4 MESSRS. METHUEN'S 

Pracii WHtinff And OSLc% CoiraspondeBoeL By S. E. Whitfuld, 
M.A. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s. [C^mmsrdmi Series, 

The subjecu dealt with here are Business Correspondeooe in General, 
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Firr etker te^ m Commerce, see mho wmdtr ** Frtmeh^" ''Germmn^** 
** Getgrmpky," "Nisfory," ** Mmikemmtus," 



Divinity 



Thm First Book of Kings. Edited by A. E Rubix, D.D., Head- 
masief of Eltham College. With 4 Mapi. Crown 8vo, 2s. 

{Jmmmr Sckod Bcoks. 

The Gospel according to St. lUrk. Edited by A. £. Rubib, D.D. 
With 3 Maps. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. {JumUr Sekmi Bmks, 

The Acts of the Apostles. Edited by A. E Rdbix, D.D. l^th 3 
Maps. Crown 8to, bs. [funier Sc hoo l Books. 

The "Oospel secording to St. Matthew. Edited by E. W. South, 
M.A. With 3 Maps. Crown 8to, is. 6d. [funior School Books. 

The Oospel according to St. Luke. With an Introduction and Notes 
by VSC WlLUAMSON, B.A. With 3 Maps. Crown 8to, 2s. 

{Jumor School Books, 
These editions are designed primarily for those preparing for ianior ex- 
aminations such as the Junior Locals, and those of the joint Board. At the 
same time they will also prove useful for those prep a ring for higher ciamlnar 
tioQS, such as the Higher Certificate. The editors have tried to make the 
introduction and notes as stimulating as possibteb and to avoid mere " cfmm.** 

A Primer of the Bible. By W. H. Bbnnxtt, M.A., Pro£essor of Old 
Testament Exegesis at New and Hackney Colleges, London. With a 
concise Bibliography. Fifth Edition. Crown 8to, 2s. 6d. 

This Primer sketches the history of the books which make up the Bible in 
the light of recent criticism. It gives an account of their character, origin, 
and composition, as far as possible in chronological order, with special 
reference to their relations to one another, and to the history of Israel and 
the Church. 

Old Testament History for Use in Schools. Bv W. F. Bubnszdb, 
M.A., Headmaster of Sl Edmund's School, Canterbniy. . Fourth 
Edition, down 8to, 3s. 6d. 

A Fifth Form textbook written in the belief that it is possible with all 
reverence to tradition to make the Old Testament a real living Ibrot fai 
religious education. 

The Student's Prayer Book. The Text of Morning and Evening 
Prayer and Litany. By W. H. Flecker, M.A., D.C.L., Head- 
master of the Dean Qote School, CheltenEham. With an Imro- 
duction and Notes. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 

An edition arranged for the Local Examinations. The Notes are at the foot 
of the page, and so arranged that they are on the same page as the text to which 
they refer, thus avoiding the necessity of constantly turning over the pages. 

An iCwgHMii cxharoh Mistory for Children. By Mary E. Shiplbt. 
With a Prefiioe by William E Coluns, D.D., Bishop of Gibraltar. 
Two Volumes, crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. net each. Vol. I., A.D. 597~lo66, 
xvi 4- 253 pp., with 12 Illustrations and 3 Maps; Vol. II., A.D. \i366- 
i$oo, XI + 351 pp., with 12 Illustrations and i Map. 

"This instructive little book is very well written, and furnished with a 
good index, and rendered attractive by beautiful ilhistrations." — ReeorA, 

"We almost live in a past age as we read chapter afterehapter of this 
excellent boak."--Cib<fvA BtlU, 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS $ 

Junior Soriptur« Bzamination Papers: Old Testament. By 
W. Williamson, B.A. Fcap. 8vo, is. [Junior Exammaiifin Papers. 
A Series of Examination Aipers oo the books of the Old Testament, 
usually prescribed for the "Local" and other Examinations. There are 
sewenty-two Papers (each of ten questions) covering the whcde ground, and 
fiaduated in difficolty. The easier papers would be suited to the Pre- 
liminary Local Examination, while the more difficult would meet the 
requranents of any school examination in the subject. 

Junior Scripture Xzaminations : Vew Testament. By W. 
WiLUAMSON, B.A. Fcap. Svo, is. [/unUr ExamimatUm Aptrs, 

A Series of Examination Papers on the Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles, 
and certain of the Epistles, designed to meet the requirements of the 
"Local** Kraminarions, and of the periodical revision of the subject in 
schooL There are seventy-two papers (each of ten questions), so arranged 
as to cover the whole ground and as far as possible on a scale of increasmg 
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The easier Papers would be suitable for the Preliminary Local Elxamina- 
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in the subject 

Stories from the Old Testament. By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton, 
F.R.HistS. Crown 8to, is. 6d. [B^ginmr's Bc^ks. 

These stories have been told in the simpla and dignified words of the Bible, 
with brief ex pl a natio ns where necessary, and selected so as to show the con- 
tinuity of the Divine dealings with the Hebrew people in preparation for the 
revdation of the New Testament 

An attempt has been made to avoid the chief difficulty met with in teaching 
the Old Testament to children, by basing these stories on the firm founda- 
tion of spiritual rather than literal inspiration. It is hoped that by showing 
that they are concerned rather with v€duu than with supernatural history, 
they may never have to be unlearnt or unduly modified in later years. 

Stories from the Vew Testament. By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton, 
F.R.HistS. Crown Svo, is. 6d. [Beginmr^i Books, 

Arranged in the fonn of consecutive stories, with brief explanations and 
connecting links where necessary, this volume forms a complete life of 
Christ, together with an account of the Early Church and the life of St 
Paul The stories are told almost entirely in the words of the Bible, and 
form a companion volume to "Stories from the Old Testament" by the 
same author. 

Domestic Science 

Millinery, Theoretical and PracticaL By Clarb Hill. Fifth 

Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s. [ToxOooks ^ Toehn^iogy, 

A treatise, concise and simple, containing all required for the Qty and 

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Instruction in Cookery. By A. P. Thompson, Instructress to the 
London County CoundL With lo Illustrations. Crown 8vo» 2s. 6d. 

\T€xtbooks of Technology, 
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How to make a Dress. By J. A. E. Wood. Fourth Edition. 
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A short textbook based on the syllabus of the City and Guilds of London 
Institute Examination. 



MESSRS. METHUEN'S 



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This is the second of two volumes of selections that have been prepared 
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The period covered is 1700 to the present day. The extracts from proee, 
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Ballads of th« Braves Poems of Chivalry, Enterprise, Conrtge, and 
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In this new edition Canon Langbridge has replaced all outworn matter by 
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A Short Story of Wngliah Literature. By Emma S. Mbllows. 
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IftngHeh Literature. By F. J. Rahtz, M.A., B.Se., Senior Lecturer 
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the general characteristics of each period and the external influences 
bearing upon it are carefully explained. The work and style of the greater 
authors are discussed in some detail, and brief illustrative extracts from 
their works are given; lesser authors are treated in due proportion. 
Questions, many of whkh are suggestive and require further thought and 
study, are appended to each chapter. 

The book will be found useful for such examinations as the Cambridge 
Senior Local and London Matriculation, and ¥rill form an excellent 
foundation for more advanced examinations. 

Selections from English Literature. Vol. I. (1350-1700). By F. J. 
Rahtz, M.A., B.Sc, Senior Lecturer in English at the Merchant 
Venturers' Technical College, Bristol. Crown 8vo, 2s. 

It is important for the student to have a first hand acquaintance with 
the authors themselves beyond what may be obtained from the brief 



8 MESSRS. METHUEN'S 

estracu given in the English Literature above deKribed. For tliit pmpoit 
two volumes of Selections, uniform with the *' Eiifi[lish Litcnture," have 
been prepared. The present volume covers the peruxl from 1350 to 170& 
Extracts are given from prose, poetry, and the drama. In dealiag with 
verse, complete poems have been given where space would permit; and 
iu the case of the drama, prose, and longer poems, the extracts are such 
as should be intelligible bj themselves or with the aid of brief prefatory notes. 
As a rule, the space devoted to an author is in proportion to nb importance. 
Junior Enffliah Xaunination Fftp«n. 1^ W. Williamson, EA., 
Fcap. 8vo, IS. Ur"^ EMm m n ma tU m Stria, 

This book contains Seventy-two Papen of Ten Qnertftooa each, and will 



be found to meet the requirements of all the Enmiaatiom in BngUih osually 
talcen in Schoob up to the " Senior Locals.** 

A OlaM-Book of Dietation PttMagM. By W. WiLUAMsoiTy &A. 
Fifteenth Edition. Crown 8to, is. 6d. [/wti^r ScA0§i Smks. 

160 pasmges chosen from a wide field of modem Btemture on aoooom of 
the large number of words they contain. 

A Junior EngliBh Ghrammar. By W. Williamson, B.A. With 
numerous passages for IHtrsiBg and Analysis, and a chapter on Esny 
Writing. Fourth Edition, Crown 8vo» 2s. Umtimr Sek^ Bmks. 

In this book the author, while foUowfaig the lines usually adcmied, restates 
many of the £>eftnitions, reducing their number as far as poaible. He en- 
deavours to simplify the dassincation of the parts of speech, and pays 
considerable attention to the Gerund. To |pve freshness and a sense of 
reality to the subject, the examples in illustration of rules are taken from the 
everyday life of young people. 

Easy Dictation and Spelling. By W. Williamson, B.A. Eighth 
Edition. Fcap. 8vo, is. \Be^nmi^s Books 

This book contains many interesting passages from English chmsiaB chosen 
on account of the large number of everyday words which they contain. 

An Easy Poetry Book. Selected and Arranged by W. Williamson, 

B.A. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, is. [Begitmor^s Books. 

A little book for pupils of twelve or thereabouts. It Is l)eUeved that all 

the selections are good as poetry, healthy and Invigorating fai thooght, and 

suited to the capacity of beginners. 

Readers 

The Baringr-Gk>uld Seleotion Seader. By S. Bakino-Goold, M. A 

Arranged by G. H. RoSB. With 15 Illustrations and a Map. Crown 

8vo, is. 6d. 
The Barin^-Oould Oontinuoua Beader. By S. Baking-Gould. 

M.A. Arranged by G. H. Ross. With 5 Illustiations and a Map. 

Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 

Two readers for Upper Standards, from the novels and topogimphkal 

works of Mr. Baring-Gould. 
Stories from Dickena. By Joyce Cobb. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 
Btoxiee from Italian Itomanoe. By Susan Cunington. Crown 

Svo, IS. 6d. 
Stories f^m Bunyan. By E. L. Elias. Crown 8to, is. 6d. 

A London Beader for Yoim^ Oitiaens. By F. W. G. Foat, 
D.Litt., M.A.p Lecturer in Histoiy and English at the City of London 
College, Assistant Master at the Citv of London SchooL With Plans 
and Illustrations. Crown Svo, is. 6a. 

In fifty short sections, each forming a complete "lesson." the story of 
London is told. The treatment is that of the interesting class-lecture, not 
that of the formal history. 



UST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 



A Health And Tsmpcnnoe B— dar. B^ H. Major, B.A» B.Se., 
Inspector to the Leicester Education Committee. Crown 8to, ii. 

In diction and style smtable for diOdren in Standards V., VI., and VII. 
in Elementarj Schools. 
The Bom Beador. Bj Edward Rosb. With nvmeioiis lUnstiations, 
some of which are Coionred. Crown 8^ as. 6d. And in Fonr Parts. 
FkrU I. and II., 6d. each ; Fart IIL, 8d. ; Fit IV., lod. Introduction 
for the Teacher separately, 6d. 

A reader on a new and original plan. The distinctive feature of tUs book is the 
entire avoidance of irregularly-spelt words until the pupil has mastered reading. 
Tommy fitaiitli'fl Animalp. By Edmund Sblous. With 8 Illus- 
trations by G. W. Ord. Eleventh Edition. Fcap. 8vo, is. 6d. 

This new and charming continuous reader, besiaes inculcating kindness 
to animals, conveys much natural history information. The animah dealt 
with are— frog, toad, rook, rat, hare, grass-snake, adder, peewit, mole, 
woodpigeon, squiiTel, bam-owL 

This book is on the L.CC Requisitkm IMm. 

An edition in a superior binding, suitable for prises, is also issued at asL 6d. 
Tommy Smith's Oinar Animals By Edmund Sblous. With la 
Ulnstiations by Augusta Gubst. Fifth Edition. Fcap. 8vo, is. 6d. 

Uniform wiih the above. The animals dealt with are— rabbit, nightjar, 
weaad, blackbird, thrush, hedgehog, dabchick, moorhen, woodpecker, loz, 
cuckoo, watervole. 

This book is on the L.C.C Requisition Ustt. 

An edition in a superior Unding, suitable for prises, is also issued at as. 6d. 
Xothuesi's Health Beadora. VoL I., Introductoxr. By C. J. Thomas, 
M.B., B.Sc., D.P.H., University Scholar in Medicine, Member of the 
F.Tamining Board of the Royal Sanitary Institute. Crown 8vo, Zs. 6d. 

This is the first volume of a new series of Health Readers written in 
accordance with the recommendations of the Board of Educatfon. It treats 
the subject in a simple way as a part of Nature Study, and deals with 
questions of health from the point of view of the natural interests of the 
child in his surroundings. 
XethuMi'fl Health tfeadera. Vol. IL, Intermediate. By C. J. 
Thomas, M.B., B.Sc., D.P.H. Crown 8to, is. 6d. 

This is the second volume of the series. VoL I. deab with the simple 
rules of healthy Uving. The intermediate volume treats in fuller detail with 
the mechanisms of life and gives a rational basis for the laws of health which 
have already been presented 
Stories from Old French Bomanoe. By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton. 
Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 

MesMTt. M€tkM4H issui a sefaraU Catalog cf Rtaden wkuk mmy ke 
gitatned 9h appticatiom* 

French 

Grammars, etc. 

Nouvelle Gramxnaire Frangaiae, k Tusage des ^colet Angkises. By 
J. G. Anderson, B.A., Examiner to London University. Cr. 8to, as. 
A textbook for Middle and Higher Forms, written in French, with the 
exception of a long introduction on Phonetics. Emphasis is laid on points 
where English and French difier. The conjugation of the verb is simidified, 
and thete are many other special features. 

Szercicea de Grainmaixe Fran^aise. By J. G. Andbkson, B.A., 
Examiner to London University. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 

This book of exercises is pnmarily intended as a companion volume to 
the " NouveUe Grammaire Fran9aise/' but there is no reason why it should 
not be used in conjunction with any gnuamar. These books tont all the 
ground for the London Matriculation. 



lo MESSRS. METHUEN'S 

Fr«noli Oomm«reaal OonespondraiMw Bf S. E. Baixt. With 
Vocabulary. Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo, as. ICmmmmviml Soio. 

This book provides the student with materials for Flroieh eonespondeDot, 
Almost eveiy paragraph has been taken from actual IcClen. 

A Trench Ctommflreud Header. By S. E. Bally. With VocabolMy. 

Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s. [C^mmttrnmi Siria, 

A series of extracts chosen from the best soniees, coetafntng an anasaaUj 

large number of business terms. 

French Proee Oompoeition. By R. R. N. Barom, M.A., Modem 
Language Master at Cheltenham Grammar Sdiool. Third Edhioii. 
Crown 5VO, 2s. 6d. Key, 3s. net. 

A collection of passages from standard Enriiih anthocs for oompositkm 
in Upper Forms and by Army Candidates ; Motes and Vocabularici are 
pronded. 

A Junior French Froee. By R. R. N. Baron, M.A.9 Modem 
Language Master at Cheltenham Grammar School. Fooith Edition. 
Crown 8to, 2s. \JmUar Sekool Booh. 

This book has been written for papOs begfaming continaoas French lYose. 
It contains : (i) Examples and Rules in Syntax. These are not profe ss edly 
exhaustive, but deal rather with points in which the two languages are seen 
to differ ; and, as they deal with such points occurring in ofer & hundred 
passages and exercises, it is hoped they may be found sufficiency eomplete 
for the general purposes at which the book aims. * (a) Exerdaei Ui ttmy- 
dmy language t illustrative of the rules. (3) Graduated continnons ] 



French and English FeralleU. By F. R. M. Fursdon. Fcapi 
8vo, 3s. 6d. net 

The first part of this volume consists of a selection of Ftench and EngUsh 
idiomatical phrases and idioms, and the second of over a thousand examplei 
of French and English metaphors. The third section is an interwoven 
sequence of ideas, expressed by means of some of the most beantilid UMxims 
and proverbs of both languages. 

Junior Ftench Examination Papers, in Miscellaneous Gimnunnr and 

Idioms. By F. Jacob, M.A., Assistant Master at Felsted School 

Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo, is. \Jumar ExamimatMn Stria. 

A collection of 7a papers of ten questions each suitable for class teaching 

and revision work for the Local and similar Examinations. 

A Junior French Grammar. By L. A. Sornst and M. J. Acatoc 

Modem Language Masters at King Edward's School, Birmingham. 
Third Edition, Revised. Crown 8vo, 2s. {Junior Sekod Books. 

This book comprises a complete course of French Graooraar. with 
Exercises and Ejcamination Papers suitable for candidates preparin|r for the 
Oxford and Cambridge Local and College of Preceptors' Examinations. It 
also includes numerous Vocabularies and materials for Conversation T 



Steps to French. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. Ninth Edition. 
iSmo, 8d. 

One of the easiest French books in existence. Contains both gnunmar 
and exercises. 

First French Lessons. By A. M. M. Stedm an, M. A. Tenth Edition. 
Crown 8vo, is. 

A short course for beginners written to make a boy's knowledge of Latin 
help his French. 

French Passages for Unseen Translations. By A. M. M. 
Stbdman, M.A. Sixth Edition. Fcap. 8vo, is. 6d. 

Many of the passages have been actually set at the Local, Public SchooL 
and Naval and Military F.Taminations Some of the most charming Fk«ach 
lyrics are inclnded. 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS ii 

Basy French Exeroiaes on Elementary Syntax. By A. M. M. 

Stbdman, If.A. With Vocabulmry. Fourth Edition. Crown Sto, 

3s. 6d. EJey;; 3s. net. 

These exercises are for pupils who ha^e mastered their accidence and 

reauire a more advanced book to accompany their Syntax. . 
Frenon Vooabulariea for Bepetition: Arranged according to Sub- 

jects. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. Fourteenth Edition. Fcap. 

8to» is. 

A collection of upwards of aooo words arranged in sets of la each, accord- 

ine to the subject. 
9k«n(Ui Bzamination Papeni in Bdacellaneona Grammar and 

Zdioma. ^ A. M. M. Stbdham, M.A. Fifteenth Edition. Crown 

8to, as. 6d. Key (Fifth Edition), issued to Tutors and Private Students 

only, 6s. net 

These Papers have been'oompiled for those who have passed beyond the 

Elementary Stagts of Qrammar. They cover the whole of the ground 

OBuaily taught. 

Texts 

Baay French Bhjpnea. By Henri Blodbt. Illustrated. Second 
Edition. Fcap. 8vo, is. [Begumet^s B^oks. 

This little book, containing the time-honoured English nursery rhymes 
translated into French rhjrme, will supply children with a fairly eztoisive 
and easily ac(juired vocabulary of French words. The English and French 
versions are given on opposite Pfges. 

L*Equipage ae la Belle-NiTemaiee. By Alphonsb Daudbt. 
Adapted from "La Belle-Nivemaise," by T. R. N. Crofis, M. A., Modem 
Language Master at Merchant Taylors* School, London. Second Edition. 
Fcap. 8vo, IS. {Simplified Frenck Tsxts, 

I/Hiatoire de Pierre et Oamille. By Alfred db Mussbt. Adapted 
from "Pierre et Camille," by J. B. Pattbrson, M.A., Modem 
Language Master at Merchant Taylors' School, London. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[Simplijied French Ttxis, 

KAmoiree de Cadichon. By Madamb db SAgur. Adapted from 
" M6moires d'un Ane," by J. F. Rhoadbs, Modem Language Master at 
Fettes College, Edinburgh. Fcap. 8vo, is. [SimpliJUd French Texts, 

L*HiBtoiie d'une Tulipe. By Albxandrb Dumas. Adapted from 
"La Tulipe Noire," by T. R. N. Crofts, M.A Second Edition. 
Fcap. 8vo, IS. [Simplified French Texts, 

La Bouillie au Miel. By Albxandrb Dumas. Adapted from "La 
Bouillie de la Comtesse Berthe," by P. B. Ingham, B.A., Modem 
Language Master at Merchant Taylors' School, London. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[Simplified French Texts, 

Edmond Dant^ By Alexandrb Dumas. Adapted from " Monte 
Christo," by M. Cbppi, Head Modem Language Master at King's 
College School, Wimbledon. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[Simplified French Texts. 

lyAJacoio k Saint H^l^ne. By Albxandrb Dumas. Adapted from 
" Napoleon," by F. W. M. Draper, Modern Language Master, City of 
London School. Fcap. is. [Simplified French Texts, 

K. de Beaufort k Vincexmes. By Albxandrb Dumas. Adapted 
iirom " Vingt Ans Apr^" by P. B. Ingham, B. A Fcap. is. 

[Simplified French Texts, 

Le Docteur Math^iia. By Erckmann-Chatrian. Adapted from 
" L'lllustre Docteur Math^us,*' by W. P. Fuller, M.A., Headmaster 
of the Holbom Estate Grammar School, London. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[Simplified French Texts, 



II MESSRS. METHUEN'S 

lit Ckmsorit de 1818. By Erckmann-Chatrian. Adapted from 
"L'Histoiie d'un Consent," by H. Ribu, M.A., Modem Luguge 
Master at Merchant Taylors' School, London. Fcap. 8to, ii. 

[Simplifiid Frmuk Ttxts. 

La Bataille da Waterloo. By Erckmann-Chatuan. A Sequel to 
the above. Adapted from "Waterloo," by G. H. EVANS» M.A., 
Modem Language Master at Oundle School Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[SimpliJUd Frmuk Texts. 

Jean Valjean. By Victor Hugo. Adapted from <'Les Miatebtes," 
by F. W. M. b&APBE, M.A., Modem Language Maater at King*i 
College School, Wimbledon. Fcap. 8to, is. [Simfii/kd FrmeJk Texts, 

Abdallan. By Edouard Laboulayb. Adapted from "Abdallah, ee 
le ithfit k qaatre feuilles," by Mrs. J. A. Wilson. Fcap. 8to, is. 

[Simplifiul Frtmk Texts. 

Denz Coniea. Adapted from P. MBBRiMia's "Mateo Falcone* and 
"Tamango," by J. F. Rhoadbs, Modem Lai^uage Master at Fettes 
College, Edinburgh. 

La Ohanson de Roland. By Roland. Adapted by H. Ribu, M.A. 
Second Edition. Fcap. 8to, is. [Siw^HfUd Frtnch Tkxts, 

Le Oheviier Bemy. By E. Souvbstrb. Adapted from " Le Chevrier 
de Lorraine," by £. C. Chottin, B.-es-L., Modem Language Master at 
St Laurence College, Ramsgate. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[Simplified French Texts. 

This series provides pupils who have been studying French about two or 

three years with simple translation books which they can understand, and 

are at the same time complete stones, instead of a succession of little anecdotes. 

Vocabularies hare been added, in which the diief idioms are explained. 

General Information 

Junior Qeneral Information Papers. By W. S. Bbard. Fcap. 

8to, is. Key, 3s. 6d. net. {Junicr Examinaiien Series. 

An easier book on the same lines as Stedman's "General Knowledge 

Ezunination Papers." It will be found suitable for the Junior Examinations 

and Candidates for County Scholarships. 
Oeneral Knowled^ ^camination Papers. By A. M. M. 

Stbdman, M.A. Seventh Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. Revised to 

1907. Key (Fifth Edition), issued to Tutors and Private Students 

only, 7s. net. School FxamituUion Series. 

Compiled to furnish practice for those who are preparing for Scholarships 

at the Public Schools and at the Universities. This edition has been care. 

fully revised and brought up to date by Mr. C. G. Botting, B.A, and a 

number of new questions have been added. 



Geography 



Junior Geography SKamination Papers. By W. G. Baxbb, M.A. 
Fcap. 8vo, IS. [JttHier Examination Series. 

7a Papers each containing xo questions, covering all branches of the 
subject required by pupils of la to x6 years. By an ingenious arrangement 
the papers can be used either as general papers or to test some particular 
part of the subject. 
▲ Commercial Geography of Foreign Nations. By F. C. Boom» 
B.A., Assistant Master at Dulwich Collie. Cro¥m 8vo, 2s. 

[Commercial Series, 
A oomnanion volume to Prof. L. W, Lyde's *' Commercial Geography of 
the British Empire" (f.v.y. 



applia 
tekesf 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS ij 

A Historioal O^ognphy of th« Brituth XmnixA. By Hbkkfokd 
B. Gborgb, M.A., Fellow of New College, GAord. Fourth Edition, 
Reposed. Crown ivo, 31. 6d. 

The purpoie of thb work is twofold— to describe in outline the British 
Empire, with its oomponent paru so grouped as to show forth the diversity 
of their relations to the mother country— and to point out the nature of the 
relations between the geography and the history of the British Islands, 
from the beginning, and from the time of their heroming British in the case 
of the other pooessions. 
A OommmeiaX Oeogntphy of the Britiah Empire. By L. W. 
Ltdb» M.A, Professor of Economic Geography at University College, 
London. Eighth Edition. Cr. 8vo, 2s. [Cmmpm^vm/ Series. 

The first section gives the general prind^es of the sdenoe and their 
plication to the larger areas of the British Empire. The second section 
Des each of the Colonies and considers its surroundings, fisheries, harbours, 
surfiue, agriculture, and minerals separately. 

The Domizdon of Kan. By E. Peothbeob. With 36 Illustratioiis. 
Second Edition. Crown Svo, 2s. 

A bright and readable geographical textbook for teachers and upper 
classes, dealing mainly with the way in which life is affected br its surround- 
ings and conditions. Many interesting particulars are given ot manufactures 
and industries. It contains thirty-two full-page Illustrations beaotiftilly 
printed in double tone ink. 

A Histoxieal and Xodem Atlas of tlia Bxitiflh Empire. By 
C Gkant Robertson and J. G. Bartholomew, F.R.S.E., F.R.G.S. 
Demy Quarto, 4s. 6d. net 

The Atlas contains 64 Maps, with numerous inserts, Historical Tables 
and Notes, an Introduction, a Historical Gaxetteer, a Bibliographv, and an 
Index. The combination of modem maps on physical geograpny, trade, 
industry, etc., with the special and extensive historical maps of the Empire 
as a whole and of each part of it (tf..f. India, Canada, etc.), give the Atlas a 
character and completeness not hitherto offered by any other Atlas. 

Histoiry and Geography Eyaminatioii Papers. Bv C. H. Spemcb, 

M. A., Assistant Master at Clifton College. Third Editioo. Crown Svo, 

2S. 6d. [.StAm/ EsmmtnatioH Series, 

The present edMon was practically rewritten and a lazge number of new 

questions added. 

A Systematio Geography of the British Ulea. By G. W. Weeb, 
B. A., Master at Owen's School, Islington. With Maps and Diagrams. 
Crown Svo, is. \Nem Geographical Series, 

This book — one of a new geographical series — provides for a study of 
Geography of the British Isles on logical lines as recommended by the Board 
of Education. It is intended for those who have passed beyond the 
elementaiy stages of the subject and wish to acc^uire a more dettifled and 
advanced knowledge of their own land. Emphasis is placed on the distinc- 
tive character of Uie natural regions by a consideration of the geological 
structure of the islands, and its bearing on the physical features, and again 
constant reference is made to the causal connection between the facts of 
ph3rsical and political geography. 

A SyBtematio Geography of Europe. By G. W. Webb, B.A., 
Assistant Master at Owen's School, Islington, ^th 5 Maps. Crown 
Svo, IS. [New Geagrapideml Series, 

This is the second of the five volumes that wiU together constitute "A 
Systematic Geography of the Worid.** It is written on the same Haes as 
" A Systematic Geography of the British Isles," by the same Author. An 
effort has been made to follow the middle course between the old method of 
treating the Mbfect as a collection of disconnected details and the extremes 
to which the modem revolt agaiost this has been carried. 



14 MESSRS. METHUEN'S 

A Systemaiio Geography of Asia. By G. W. Wm, B.A. Willi 

5 Maps. Cro¥m 8vo, is. 

This is the third volume in the New Geographical Series, and is imtten 

on the same lines as the first two volumes, viz. "Systematie Geograi^y of 

the British Isles," and *' Systematic Geography of Europe." 

By Road and Biver. Bv £. M. Wilmot-Buxton, F.R.IliatS. 

A DescriptiT^ Geography ot the British Isles. With 12 Maps. Cr. 8vo, as. 

Suiuble for children m the Lower Forms of all grades of schools. It aims 
at making them familiar with the scenery and most striking features, political, 
hbtorical, and literary, of their land by the natural and interttting process of 
makmg imaginanr journeys through the different districts of ttwse islands. 
Physiad geography has been closely connected with political aspects, and 
thitMighout an appeal has been made to the common sense as well as to the 
imagination of the child. Interesting questions are set at end of each 
chapter, and the taxt is fully illustrated by photographs and ovtlme 1 



German 

GnunmarSi etc* 

A Qerman Ctomxneroial Header. By S. E. Bally. With Vocabiiluy. 
Crown 8vo, 2s. [Commercial Striss, 

The object of this manual is not only to offer the student material for 
translation, but to bring to his notice some practical hints on oomoieroe^ 
industry, and ooramercial history and geography. Roman type and the aew 
spelling have been adopted in this booL 
Gtormaa Ooxnmeroial Ck>rre8pondenoe. By S. E. Bally. With 
Vocabulary. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. [Co mmtnu U Serin, 
The specimen letters which illustrate the chapters are preceded by 
analyses and followed by numerous exercises, each containing in a few 
German words the gist of the letter to be composed. Roman type and the 
new spelling have been adopted in this book. 
German Paaeagee fSor Unseen Tranelation. B^r E. IfQuBBw 
Gray. Crown 8to, as. 6d. 

A sdection of passages from standard authors for the ase of Ifiddle and 

Upper Forms. No notes or vocabulariet are included. 

German Examination Papers. By R. J. Morich, late of CUfton 

College. Seventh Edition. Crowe 8vo, as. 6d. Key, Third 

Edition, 68. net [ScJkaei ExammaiioH Series, 

A series of Advanced Papers eompiled — (x) to avoid the tediousness and 

length of constant grammar rmetitioii, and (a) to make the student 

acquainted with soaae, at least, ot the endless nvmber of German idiomatic 

phrases. 

Junior German Grammar. Bjy H. C Secklxr, Senior Gennan 

Master, Owen's School, E.C. Crown Svo, as. 6d. [Junior Sckeel Seeks, 

This book is for the Middle Forms of schools, and meets the leuiiiivnwMts 

of the Oxford and Cambridge Jmiior Local and the College of Perceptors 

Examinations. It consists of gramn>ar and exercises, aad a particular 

feature is the co-ordination of acddenee and S3mtaz. It aims throughout 

at training pupils to use their knowledge for composition. The dedeasioaa 

^ of noons and adjectives, the "bugbear** of the GenaaB langeage, are 

explained in a natural, simple, and effec ti ve manner. Papib preparing for 

examinatioas will find eonsiderable help in the latter part of the book, whieh 

gives various examination papers, with some uselel model sofaitioaa. 

Junior German •RramiTiation Papers. By A. Voi6run, lf.A., 

Modesa Laogaage Master at St Paul's SchooL Fcm». 8vo, is. 

[Junier Sxam inai ie m Series^ 
An etisier book, on the same lines as the above. 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 15 

▼ooabnlariw for Bepetltioii. By Sophib Wright. Fcap. 
8to, If. 6d. 

A collection of useful Qermaii words arranfed under subjectsi 

Texts 

D«r KUler am BImIb. By C. Brbntano. Adapted from '*Von 
dem Rhdn und dem Mtiller Radlauf/' by Miss A. F. Ryan, Modern 
Language Mistress at the High School, Derby. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[SimpHJUd German Tistts, 

Bfo GeMhichte von Peter Schlemihl. By A. yon Chamisso. 
Adapted from " Peter Schlemihl's Wundersame Geschichte," by R. 
C Pbrry, M.A., Modem language Master at Merchant Tinrlors* 
School, London. Fcap. 8yo, is. [SimpliM Cknmam tkxts, 

Uindine und Huldbrand. By Da La Mottb FouQui. Adapted from 
<* Undine," bj T. R. N. Crofts, M. A., Modem Lai^uage Master 
at Merchant Taylors' School, London. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[Simplified Gtrmam Texts, 

Die Vothellbr. By W. H. Ribhl. Adapted from "Die Vierzehn 
Nothelfer," by P. B. Ingham, B.A., Modem Language Master at 
Merchant Taylors' School, London. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[Simplified German Texts, 
The aim of this series is to i>rovide pupils who ha^e been studjring German 
about two or three years with simple translation books which they can under- 
stand, and which at the same tmie provide complete stories, mstead of a 
succession of little anecdotes. Vocabularies have been added, in which the 
chief idioms are explained. 

Greek 

Grammars, Exercises, etc. 

Bm7 Greek Bxercieee. By C G. Botting, B.A., Asiistint Master 
at St. Paul's School. Crown 8vo, 2s. 

These exercises have been compiled to accompany Stedman's "Shorter 
Greek Primer." from which the rules have, by permission. t)een for the most 
part taken. 

P ee eag ee for Uneeen Translation. By A. M. Cook, M. A., Assbtant 
Master at St Paul's School, and E. C. Marchant, M. A., Tutor of Lincoln 
College, Oxford. Selected from Latin and Greek Literature. Fourth 
Edition. Crown 8to, 3s. 6d. 

Two hundred Latin and two hundred Greek passages, arranged hi order 
of increasing diflBculty. The book has been carefully compiled to meet the 
wants of VT and VI. Form boys at the Public Schools, and is also well 
adapted for the use of honoursmen at the Universities. Prose and verse 
alternate throughout. 

The Ghreek View of Life. By G. Lowes Dickinson, M.A., FeUow 
of King's College, Cambridge. Seventh and Revised Edition. Crown 
8vo, 2S. 6d. net. 

A revised edition, reset in new type, of this admirable book, which is a 
general introduction to Greek literature and thought Among the subjects 
dealt with are the Greek View of Religion, the State and its relation to the 
Citizen, Law, Artisans and Slaves, Sparta, Athens, Manual Labour and 
Trade, Athletics, Pleasure, Greek view of Women, Frioidahip, Art, 
Sculpture, Painting, Music, etc. 



i6 MESSRS. METHUEN'S 

NotM on Oreek and Latin S^tax. By G. Bdoclahd Gamr, 

M.A., Assistant Master at Edinburgh Andemy. Second Edttioii, 
Revised. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

The book discusses and explains the chief difficulties of Greek and Latin 
Syntax, so as to afford a preparation for the higher rJairiral ezaminatioiis. 
The treatment throughout is comparative. There are chapten on the cases, 
tenaei, moods, and their uses, on Homeric pecnlivitiet, the article, dc. ; 
and, besides the examples quoted in illustration of the test, muBeroin pas- 
sages are added, by working through which the student may obtain ptactiee 
in dealing with points of syntax. 
Bzamination Papers in Thuoydides. By T. Nickliic, M.A., 
Assistant Master at Rossall School. Crown 8vo, as. 

In this volume the eight books have been divided into short aecdons, and 
a paper has been set on each section, as well as reeapituletoiy papers on 
eailBh book. 
Steps to Gi«ek. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. Foerth Edition. 
i8mo, IS. 

Easy Lessons on Elementary Accidence, with exe r cises and vocebnlaries. 
▲ Shorter Greek Primer. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. Fourth 
Edition. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 

This book contains the elements of Greek Accidence and Syntax fai a 
compass of less than zoo pages. 
Easy Greek Paseages f6r Unseen Translation. By A. M. M. 
Stedman, M.A. Fifth Edition. Fcap. 8vo, is. 6d. 

The pieces are graduated in length and difficulty, and the euiy pieces 
present no serious obstacles. 
Greek Vocabularies for Repetition. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. 
Fourth Edition. Fcap. 8vo, is. 6d. 

A collection of over aooo useful words arranged in sets of twelve eadi 
according to subjects. 
Greek Examination Papers in BCisoellaneons Granunar and 
Idioms. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. Tenth Edition. Crown 
8vo, 2s. 6d. Key (Fourth Edition), issued to Tutors and Private 
Students only, 6s. net. [Sekcoi Examinaii&H Series. 

A collection of Advanced Papers uniform with Stedman's "LatiB 
Examination Papers." See page ao. 
Junior Greek Examination Papers in Misoellaneons Gxmnunar 
and Idioms. By T. C. Weathbrhead, M.A., Headmaster of King's 
College Choir School, Cambridge. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[Junier Examinatien Strut* 
A volume of ys Tunior Papers uniform with Betting's "Junior Letin 
Examination Papers. See page 90. 

Texts 

ArlstoUe.— THE ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. Edited, with an 
Introduction and Notes, by John Burnet, M.A. , Professor of Greek at 
St. Andrews. Cheaper issue. Demy 8vo, los. 6d. net. 

An elaborate edition, based on the assumption that the Nicomacbean 
Ethics is the authentic work of Aristotle, and that it has hardly suffered horn 
interpolation or dislocation. It is also assumed that tbe Eudemian ElUca 
is our most authoriutive commentary, and the parallel passages from it are 
printed under the text to which they refer. The commentary shows that 
most of the difliculties which have been raised disan|:>ear when the work is 
interpreted in the light of Aristotle's own rules of Dialectic. 

Demosthenes.— AGAINST CONON AND CALLICLES. Edited by 
F. Darwin Swipt, M.A. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo, 2s. 

The new text edited for Middle and Upper Forms, with vocabulaiy and 
notes. 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 



»7 



OrMk Testament Belections, Edited by A. M. M. Stbdma«» IC A 
For the Uie of Schoolf. With Introduction, Notes, and Conplele 
VocabuUry. Fourth Edition* Fcap. 8to, it. 6d. 

This smaB volume contains n selection of pnsstffei, each sufficient for a 
lesson, from the Gospels, foming a life of Christ. In schools where only a 
limited time can be piTen to the study of the Gicek Tsstament an oppor- 
tunity is thus supp&d for readinf some of the most efaaimcteristie and 
interesting passages. 

Translations 

AMbylua.— AGAMEMNON, CHOEPHOROE, BUMENIDES. Tkans- 
kttd by Lkwu Camvull, LL.D. Crown Swo, 51. 

]:ABia]|.--SIX DIALOGUES (Nigrinus, Icaro-Menippas, The Cock, Th^ 
Shipg The Pnraste, The Lover of Falsehood). Tkanskted by S. T. 
lawiN, M. A, AsBSlant Bfaster at Qifton. Crown 8to, 3s. 6d. 

[C&utical TVmuiiUimt, 

flophooles.— ELECTRA AND AJAX. Translated by E. D. A 
MORSHBAD, M.A Crown 8to, as. 6d. ICimukmi JVmmUUimu, 



History 

Classical 

An Inirodaotion to the Hiatozy of Borne. By H. N. Aucam, M.A.. 
B.D., Second Master of Owen's School, Islington. With 2 Maps and 
14 IllustratioDS. Crown Sto, ss. 6d. 



This book gives to pupils learning Latin some knowledge of the history 
of die great people whose language they are studyfaig. It has lieen insisted 
by educational authorities mx some knowled|e of the history of Rome is 



essential not only for a proper appreciation of Roman Ht e iaiui e, but that it 
li also a necessary part of a complete education. This book occupies a ^hye 
between die primer and the laiger works on the subject. It gives a iirief 
suTferr of the history of Rome to the death of Augustus. It wHl also be 
Ibund useAil for the general reader who desires some knowledge of the 
subject. 

Storiee from Ancient Hiatozy. By E. Bowybr, B. A , B.Sc., Assistant 
Master, Owen's School Crown 8vo, is. 6d. {N§w HisUrUal Striis. 
This volume — the first of a new historical series on the lines of the recent 
circular of the Board of Education on the teaching of History — is intended 
as an introduction to the story of andcnt history Cor pupils up to the afs 
of twelve. 

In accordance with the suggestions made in the above-mentioned drcuhu', 
it deals with the '*chief events and characters from the MstoiT of the most 
Important nations in their traditional form.** It aims also at ^' giving some 
klea of the nature of the great nations and stam in civilisation, centred 
round certain individuals or events in the chronmogical tuooession " in such 
a way that young children shall be able at least to " place** the moat notable 
diancters of ancient history. 

▲ First Hiatory of Gxeece. By Edith E Fikth, History Mktress of 
Ctoydon High School With 7 Maps. Crown 8vo» ii. 6d. 

[Btipmm^s Bmks, 

Thb book has been written in the hope of supplying a History of Greece 

suitable for yoong children. It is written In biographical form, and those 

lives have lieen selected whidi best explain the rise and dedine of the 

Qraeks. 



} 



i8 MESSRS. METHUEN«S 

A Short History of Greece to the Death of Alexaader the Great. 
By W. S. Hett, B.A., Assistant Master at Brighton College. With 
many Maps. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

This book is intended primarily for the use of students readiof for the 
Oxford and Cacibridge Higher CertiScate. and secondarily as an Tntioduc- 
tion to a wider study of the subject. An attempt has been made to render 
some of the recently acquired archaeological evidence accessible to those who 
have no expert knowledge. The recent papers set for the Higher Certificate 
have demanded far more than a mere collection of facts, and accordingly the 
present work has been written with a view to giving a general survey of the 
Greek race and of the broad principles underlying its histoiy. 

A Junior Greek Histoiy. By W. Horton Spraggb, M.A., Aadstmnt 
Master at City of London Sdiool. With 4 Illustrations and 5 Maps. 
Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. [JimUr School B^kt, 

It describes the main features in the history of Greece down to the time of 
its absorption in the Roman Empire, suitably presented for junior pupQs in 
schools. The greater part of it is taken from ancient authorities, Ureek and 
Latin, but the views ot modem writers have also been consulted. 

A Oonstitational and Political History of Bome. From the 
Earliest Times to the Reign of Domitian. By T. M. Taylor, M.A., 
Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge. Second Edition. 
Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d. 

It contains an account of the origin and growth of the Roman institutioiu, 
and a discussion of the various political movements in Rome from the f^ttifltt 
times to the reign of Domitian. 

A Short Hiatory of Borne. By T. Wells, M. A., Fellow and Tutor of 

Wadham College, Oxford. With 3 Maps. Tenth Edition. Ciown 

8vo, 3s. 6d. 

" The schoolmasters who have felt the want of a fifth-form handbook ot Roman 

history may congratulate themselves on persuading Mr. Wells to respond to it 

His book is excdlently planned and executed. Broken up into diort paragiaphis. 

with headings to arrest the attention, his manual does equal justice to the penonal 

and the constitutional aspects of the story."— /oumal (/ EaMaUiom. 

Stories from Boman History. By E. M. Wiliiot - Bdxton, 
F.R.Hist.S., Author of ''Makers of Europe." Second Edition. 
Crown 8vo, is. 6d. [Be^inn^r^s B^oks. 

The object of this book is to provide an introduction to the study of 
Roman history by a series of stories in chronological order dealing with the 
main events and characters of the history of Rome. 

The Anoient World. By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton, F.R.HistS. With 
Maps and Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

This book tells the stories of the great civilisations of the Ancient World, 
as made known by recent excavation and discovery, from the dawn oif 
Egyptian history to the days of the Roman Elmpire. 

Stories from Old French Bomance. By E. M. Wiliiot- Buxton, 
F.R.Hist.S. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. [Stories from Old Rowum£€, 

These stories are taken from the romantic epics of France, from the epic 
of Charlemagne, of Roland and Locris, of Huon de Bordeaux, of Oner 
and Guillaume de Palema, of Aucassin and Nicollette, and of other heroes 
and heroines of bygone days. 

They serve, thoefore, as an introduction to world literature, as wdl as 
forming a literary reader that will appeal to children between the ages of 
eight and twelve in all classes of schools. It will also be found a smtaUe 
gin-book for all young lovers of stirring romance and tales of chivalry. 



LIST or EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 19 

Modern 

33m story of the British Bmpizv for Ohildi«B. Bj F. M. AiiDMbtON. 
With many lUustntioiig. Crown 8f*o, 2il 

This book gives the atoiy of the Empire in linple luigva||e for children. 
Part I. gires a rapid sarwej of the Cnooiei and Uependencies to show the 
unitj of the whole under the Grown. Bvt II. describes in greater detail 
India, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, and Tasauuiia. 

Tales from Irieh History. By A. Birkhbad, B.A. With i Map. 
Crown Svo, is. 6d. \St0rie5fr0m the Histories. 

This yolume is one of a series that win embrace the historrof all the eMef 
countries of the world. Ehr supplying a series of interemng stories it Is 
hoped that these Tolnmes wiu promote a desire for a nxirc deluled kaowieckie 
of the history and character of other important natioBS (aee pw 39 for tfae 
complete list of the vohimes in the series now ready). 

A ConstitntioDAl History of ICnglanrt. ^ A. M. Chambbks, 
Honours School of Modem Histoty, Oxford ; Htfloty Mlitrem, Bedford 
High SchooL Ckofwn Sto^ 6s. 

This book is meant primarily for use in the Upper Forms in seboob and 
for Students beginning more adraneed worlu It deals mainljr with Sazon 
and Feudal Onanisadon, and with the erolntion of the Central Govemment 
out of earlier mstitutions. The defdopment of each branch of the Con- 
stitution— EsecutiTe, Legislature, and Jud ic a ture is traced sepazatdiy. but, 
as Car as possible, the history of each subject is dealt with ohroncdogically. 
The di f ference b etwe en the English and otiber cons tit utions b examined, and 
its chief characteristics are pointed out, whUe the rdatioBShip of the serenl 
branches of the Cons t itu t ion to each other, now and in the pest, is shown, 
and an attempt is mede to sup;est the pracdcal efiectt of IIm present balance 
of power in the State on the Constitotion. 

JTunior History BxaminattOB Papsats. By W. O. P. Dayiis. Crown 
8to, is. [hmior Rxmmnmtitm Series. 

For pupils preparing for the Oxford and Cambridge Locals, College of 
Preceptors, and other Junior Ezaminationa. They have been modelled on 
papers actually set by the various examining bodies, and the answers 
required will prove useful exerdaes in Composition. They are all most 
carefully graduated, and can be used either to test one particular period, 
or as Examination Papers of the subject generally. 

Stories fSrom French History. By Taylor Dyson, M.A. With i 
Map. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. \Si9riesfr9m the Histories, 

See " Stories from Irish History,'* and p. 39 for the complete list of the 
volumes of the series now ready. 

Battles of Kng^iwh History. By H. B. Gborgb, M. A., Fellow of New 
College, Oxford. With numerous Plans. Fourth Edition, Reriaed, 
with a new Chapter including the South African War. Crown 8yo, 3s. 6d. 
This book is intended to ^[ive a dear general idea of all the most im- 
portant Battles of English History, and, without being technical, to bring 
out their meaning. It b suitable for an Upper Form textbook or school prise. 

British Commerce and Colonies from Blizabeth to Victoria. 
By H. de B. Gibbins, UttD., M.A. Fovith Edition. Crown 8yo, 2s. 

[Commerciai Series. 

A review of the history of British Commerce from the days of Elisabeth to 

the present time, written in simple and concise form, without elaborate detail 

The Industrial History of England. By H. db B. Gibbins, LittD., 
M.A. With Maps and Plans. Sixteenth Edition. Crown 8v<o, tt. 

An introduction to the subject, giving in concise and simple form the main 
outlines of Engbnd's economic history. As far as possible the eooeomic 
questioas ere connected with the social, political, and military 1 



90 MESSRS. MBTHUEN'S 

Europe in Hmmiwiioe and S«fanBAti<m, 1408-1660. B^ M. A. 
HOLLINGS, M.A. Crown 8vo, 21. 6d. {Six Agu if RuropetM Histmy. 
This book deals with the formatioii of the modan Kvopean ■tHii ifH— , 
the Rexuussanoe and Refomuitioo (both Protaitant and Catholkl the eon- 
lolidAtion and ascendancy of France in Europe, and the Wan 01 ReUfioB. 
ending with the Tlinty Yean' War. 

Thm Ag« of tlM Xnlight«&ed DMpot» 1660-1780. By A. H. 
Johnson, ICA., FcUow of All Soolr. With 10 Maps. Oowo 8vo, 
18. 6d. [Six Afu §fBur9fmm Higtmn. 

The period e of ^ ied by this Tolume opens with the triamph of the monarchy 
of Louis XiY. and closes with the failure of the rule of Louis XVL The aim of 
the vohnne is to bring dearly before the younf reader the theory of monaichica] 
rale rq)resented by these Ungs, and to show when ano why they succeeded 



The Central Period Of tlKt Kiddle Ag«, 818-1078. ByaA-LuB, 
Resident History Tutor, Somerville Collate, Oxford. With maair Biapt. 
Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. fSiur A^ if Europtan iBsimy, 

Opening with the election of Henry the Fowler, and dosing with the nse 
of the- House of Hapsburj^ to power, it covers the period of the straggle for 
supremacy between Enipire and Pspacy and of the gradual building up of 
the nations of modem £urope on the ruins of Imperial Rome. It traces the 
development of feudalism and monasticism, of chivalry and the Crusades, of 
schohtftidsm and the Universities, and connects these great movements widi 
the great men who inspired and led them. 

The Sad of the Middle A«e, 1078-1468. By B. C Lodgb» Vice- 
Prindpal and History Tutor, Lady Margaret HalL Crown 8vo, at. 6d. 

[Sis Aiu t/Eu r o p § m Hisi$ty, 
The period which it coven is one of great importance. It marics the decay 
of the political system of the Middle Ages, and the disappearance of the old 
unity in Western Europe ; whilst in it can be traced the growth of new ideals 
to take the place of the old, and above all the rise of nations. It is essentially 
a time of transition, a period of effort and experiment rather than of flnifihed 
work. Its great interest lies in the fact that all the details of the history are 
part of this gradual change from the Middle Ages to Modern days. 

The Bemaking of Modem Europe : From the Outbreak of the French 
Revolution to the Treaty of Berlin, 1 789-1878. By J. A. R. Mauiiott, 
M.A. With 10 Maps. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 

[^jjr Ams of European ffisimy. 
It contains a sketch of European history from the ombreak of the Fkeoch 
Revolution to the Treaty of Berlin, presenting a vivid picture of the revohi- 
tionary period, of the rise and fall of Napoleon, and of the larger movements 



\ 



of European politics since Waterloo. 

The Dawn of Mediaeval Europe, 476-918. By J. H. B. BdASTMLHAK, 
M.A., Professor of History at IIm University of Birmingham. Wkh 
many M^m. Crown 8v<o, aa. 6d. [Si* Ag9s of Emropmm History, 

It is hardly possible to understand Bnropean history withont some know- 
ledge of the settlement of Ewope after the Teutonic fanmigratians and the Call 
of the Empire in the WesL This volume tmces the s u coe sa ive rise of the 
Gothic and Prankish Kingdoms, leading to the establishment of the Holy 
Roman Empire under Charles the Great, and its break op under his descend- 
ants. The mfluenoe of the Eastern Empire, and the rise and conaoests of the 
Mohaasmedan fisith. are considered chiefly in their bearing on the develop 
ment of Western Europe. Attention is directed especially to the central 
figulOB of the period: liieodoffie, S. Benedict. Jnstiniaa. Clovis. Charles the 
Great 

English Beoorde. By H. E. Maldbn, M.A. A CoaapaniM le the 
History of England. Crown Svo, 3a. 6d. 

This handbook is hUended to fomiah the neeeasary basis ef faels for tboae 
who are hearing histnricnl lectnres er reading htftory. It aima alao at 



LIST OF SDUCATIONAL BOOKS 3i 

iBfonrntioB npoa dRtet, fenealosies, biHoriad geofi ap iiy, 
ofljciah, wm and constitndoiMl doeumenu wUdi it vamSky only to be 
found Mattored in diffisrent tolomei. 

Tb^Bii^toaiidDatiMoftlMBngliBhOitiBafti. Bjr H. B. Mau»n, 
M.A. Sevenlh Edition. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 

A reader dcMrilmif in oatliae the Imperial and Local Government of 
Eofiand. 

▲ School History of Bwney, By H. E. Maldut, ILA. With 4 

Maps and 50 lUBsfiatioas. Crown 8to, is. 6d. 

Original lUitftratiotti of Tfagllsh Oozuititutioiial History. 
Coinorising a Selected Number of the Chief Charten and Statutes. 
By D. J. Mbolbt, M.A., Profieaaor of History in the University of 
Gbsgow. Crown Svo, ys. 6d. net. 

This volume covers the whole period from the Anglo-Saxon laws to the 
Act of UnioQ with Ireland. University teachers have long desired such a 
ooUection in a single volume. In those already published the pieoes are 
translated. But smce the object of this selection is that it should serve as 
an introduction to more extended studv, the documents written in Flr«ich or 
Latin are presented in the original language, and they are annotated 
throughout with extracts from other original material bearing on all important 
points, in order that each passage may be as £sr as possible iu own 
mterpreter. 

▲ Bohool History of UnrtfllftgOT By Victor G. Plarr, M.A.» and 

F. W. Walton. M.A. With 45 Illustrations and a Plan of London. 
Crotm 8to, is. od. [School Couniy HutorUs, 

Bzaminatioxi Papers in Knglish History. By J. T. Plowdbn- 

Wardlaw, B. a. Grown 8vo, 2s. 6d. \]Sckool Examination Sorios, 

These papers are designed for candidates for a pass degree in History in 

the Universities, and for students taUpg Historical Soolarships, Army 

Candidates, and the ordinary worit in Public Schools. 

A Student's History of Scotland. By David W. RAiffifis, M.A. 

Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

A history written throughout in simple language, and putUng as dearly 
as possible the results of the most careful recent criticism from original 
sources. 

A School Historv of Somerset. By Walter Raymond. With 
4 Maps and 50 Illustrations. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, is, 6d. 

[SeAooi Cotmiy HisUrios. 
A Sohool History of Lancashire. By W. E. Rhodss, M.A. 
With 3 Maps and 43 Dlustratioiis. Crown Svo, is. 6d. 

[Sekooi Cotmfy Historios, 
A Handy Digest of British History. By C. £. Snowdbn. 
Demy 8vo, 4s. 6d. 

A guide and companion that aims at presenting a clear and easily grasp- 
able analysis of the course of events to students who are reading, and at 
refreshing, at a minimum cost of time and trouble, the memories of those 
who have read. It supplies a commentary on the more important and 
leading questions of each period, while it contents itself with the barest 
mention of episodes, the details of which can be found in most textboohs. 

History and Geography Examination Papers. By C. H. Spbncb, 
M.A., Assistant Master at Clifton College. Third Edition. Crown 
Svo. aa. 6d, [Sckooi Examination Sorios, 



33 MESSRS. METHUEN*S 

The Vtenah B^rolation. By I. E. Symu» M.A., Priiici|»a of Uni- 
▼ersity College, Notdngham. Seooad Edition. Crown Sn>, ss. 6d. 

A short general account of tbe French Reiolutioa, bringing out the 
significance of the chief Cacts and their relation to problems of oar own time. 

Hng^iah Lift Thni Hundred Years Ago. Being the fint two 
chapters of "England wider the Stuarts." By G. M. Trkvbltait. 
M.A., Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. Edited bjr J. Tuulal, 
B.A., Headmaster of the Blackpool Secondary School Crown 8vo, is. 
A graphic aoooont of the state of England and English Society from 
1603 to 1640. 

Berision Notae <m EngrWwh History. By F. Wallacb-Hadmix, 
Awstant Master at Kingston-on-Thames Grammar Scho<^ Cr. 8fo, u. 
This book is not intended to supersede bat rather to supi^ement the nie 
of the ordinary class-book, and has been written chiefly for the nw of 
candidates preparing for the Local Ernminations. It contains a dirono- 
logical analysis of the leading events of English history, together with 
general notes on each rei^n. 

A History of Great Britain. From the Coming of the Angles to the 
Year 1870. By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton, F.R.Hist.S. With so Maps. 
Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

This book attempts to break through the eonventional lines on whkh 
Histonr Class-books are laid down. With very few exceptions these liooks 
make tne reign the chapter-limit, and take each event in cnronologieal order. 
In this book the old system has been entirdy discarded, and each diapter 
wiD be found to deal with one great movement, which is traced in cause, 
events, and result. Another feature is the dote connection which baa bcm 
maintained throughout with European History. 

ICakers of Burope. Outlines of European History for the Middle Forma 
of Schools. By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton, F.R.Hist.S. With 12 BCaps. 
Tenth Edition. Crown Sto, 3s. 6d. 

A Textbook of European History for Middle Forms «h1 Pnpfl Tenoban, 
on the same lines as " A History of Great Britain." 

Basy Stories from "Bngli*^ History. By E. M. Wiliiot-Buzton, 
F.R.Hist.S. Fifth Edition. Crown &ro, is. [Btgimm^t B§aks. 

A historical reader arranged 00 the century method ; that is, it aims at 
enabling the learner, before any detailed study is attempted, to run ^iM eye 
over the centuries, and point out tbe main feature of each succeeding epooi. 
The book oontatns thirty-five stories, from Caradoc to Gordon, vrell and 
simply told, chosen with a riew lo iilostrate each centnry. 

Stories from Modem History. By £. M. Wilmot-Buxton, 
F.R.HisLS. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. [Ntw HistsrUal SerUs. 

An introduction to the storr of oMdern history for pupils up to tbe age of 
twdfo. In acoordaaee with the suggestions made in the late circular 01 the 
Board of Education, it deals with '* the chief events and characters from the 
history of the most impottant nations in their traditional form." Itaimsaleo 
at " giiring some klea of the antnre of the great nations and stages in cinhsa- 
tion, centred roand certain indiriduals or events in their chronological 
sncrieiiinn " in snch a way that young children shall be able at least to 
"pUoe" the most notable characters of history. 

▲ JTnzuor History of Great Britain. By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton. 
Crown Sfo, as. 

This book gives a syHrmatir and tmeresting aoeoont of the hialonr of 
Gcaat Britain to pupils of ages ten to fourteen, who hove lihherto studied the 
iitert in the fonn of ' Stories.' To prevent h from being a mere outline, 
and in accordance with the Board of Education's Circular, many unimport- 
ant £Bcts have been omitted, and the aim has been to give (i) a clear 
apprehension of tbe chief events in chronological seqoenoe; (a) a fiairly 
detafled study of those a^ieets which sboald spcnaBy appeal to young pupils. 
The eonncclion of histerr with Ml— tnw has been laainiaiaerl t'*^ 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 33 

▲ Behool History of Warwickshire. By B. C A. Windlb, D.Sc, 
F.K.S., President of Queen's College, Cork. With a Maps and 47 
Illustrations. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. \JScko0l County Histories, 

Latin 

Grammars, Exercises, etc. 

A Junior Latin Prose. By H. N. Asman, M.A, B.D. Crown 
Sto, 2S. 6d. {Junior School Books. 

The "Junior Latin Prose" is written primarily, though not exclusively, 
with a view to the Junior Locals. It contains ezj^lanation oC and exercises 
on, the chief rules of Syntax, with special attenuon to points which cause 
diflfculty to boys, and conduaes with exercises in Continuous Prose. 
Junior Latin Szamination Papers in Miscellaneous Grammar 
and Idioms. By C G. Sotting, B.A, Assistant Master at St 
PtoTs School Seventh Edition. Fcap. 8vo» is. Key, 3s. 6d. net. 

[Junior Examination Sorios. 

An easier book on the same lines as Stedman's "Latin Examination 

Papers." It is intended for use in the Lower Forms of Public Schools, and 

by candidates preparing for the Oxford and Cambridge Junior Local 

Ucaminations. The volume contains 790 carefully gnduated original 

' questions, divided into papers of ten questions each. 

Bzamination Papers in Vergil. By W. G. Coast, B.A, Ainttant 
Master at Fettes College. Crown 8vo, 2s. 

Three papers are given to each Georgic, five to each .Aneid, and one to 
each Eclogue, and in addition there are a number of general papers. 

Latin Passagres for Unseen Translation. By A. M. Cook, M.A, 
Assistant Master at St. Paul's School, and £. C Marchant, M.A, 
Tutor of Lincoln College, Oxford. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 
Two hundred Latin passages, arranged in order of increasing difficulty. 
Has been carefully oompiled to meet the wants of V. and VI. Form boys at 
the Public Schools, and is also well adapted for the use of honourmen at the 
Universities. Prose and verse alternate throughout. 

A School Latin Orammar. By H. G. Ford, M.A, Assistant Master 

at Bristol Grammar School. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. [Junior School Bo^. 

Both in the Accidence and Syntax what is esyntial for beginners is 

carefully separated, by a system of typing or paging, from what they may 

neglect. Tne book may thus be used by boys of all forms. 

Votes on Greek and Latin Spitax. By G. Buckland Grsbn, 
M.A, Assistant Master at Eduburgh Academy. Second Edition. 
Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

For description, see under "Greek." 
Initia Latina. Easy Lessons on Elementary Accidence. By A M. M. 
Stedman, M.A. Twelfth Edition. Fcap. Svo, is. 

A very easy Latin course for quite young pupils, containing Grammar, 
Exercises, and Vocabularies. 

First Latin Lessons. By A M. M. Stbdman, M.A Twelfth 
Edition. Crown Svo, 2s. 

This book is much fuller than ** Initia Latiua." and while it is not less 
simple, it will carry a boy a good deal further in the study of elementary 
Laun. llie Exercises are more numerous, some easy translation adapted 
from Caesar has been added, and a few easy Examinauon Papers will a&rd 
a useful test of a boy's knowledge of his grammar. The book is intended 
10 form a companion book to the " Shorter Latin Primer." 



MESSRS. MSTHUBN*S 



lint LatlB Besdflr. B7 A. M. M. SmnfAit, ILA. WA Wdbm 

adapted to the Shorter Latin Primer, and Voealmluy. 

Edition. iSmo, is. 6d. 

A eoUaetion of aaqr passages without diflleulties of eoi 

thought The book oommences with simple sentencee and 

ooanected passafes, induding the history of Rome and the Inv! 

Britain, simplified from Eutropius and Csesar. 
Easy Latin P aa aa g e a fixr XTnaeexi Traiialatloin. Bv A. IC If. 

Stbdm AN, M.A. Thirteenth Edition. Fcap. 8to, li. 6d 

A ooUection of short passages for beginners. The piaoes are fradaatad 

hi length and dUBcoUy. 
Bxampla Latlna. First Exerdaes in Laths Aeddenca. ^y A. M. M. 

Stxdman, BL a. WOk Vocabulary. Fourth Edition. Ckown Sio^ ii. 
This book is in t e n ded to be used midwar between a book of rhimnnfaq 

lessons and more difficult Eierdses on Syntax. It "^^fma dmpla ana 

copious e ie rd se s on Acddence and Elementary Synttuc. 
Easy Latin Bzeroises on the Syntax of the Shortaar and 

Bevisad Latin Primer. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. l^th 

Vocabulary. Thirteenth Edition. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. Key^ 3s. net. 
This book has been compiled to accompany Dr. Kennedy's "Sboiter 

Latin Primer** and " Revised Latin Primer.** Special attention baa base 

paid to the rales of §ratio otiigua, and the ezerdses are numeroas. 
The Latin Oompound Sentence. Rules and Egerdsea. ]Bhr A. M. IC 

Stbdm AN, M. A. Second Edition. Crown 8to, is. 6d. s with Vooaba- 

This l)Ook has been compiled to meet the requirements of boji who have 
worked throtmh abook of easy eirereises on SyntaX| and who need methodkal 
teaching on tfie Compound Sentence. In the mam the arrangement of the 
Rerised Latin Primer has been followed. 

Xotanda QnaBdam. Miscellaneous Latin Exercises on Commoo Rnlcs 
and Idioms. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. Sixth Edition. Fcap. 
8to, is. 6d. ; with Vocabulary, 2s. Key, 2s. net. 

This volume is designed to supply miscdlaneous practiea in thoaa rules 
and idioms with which boys are supposed to be familiar. Each e^srriae 
consists of ten miscellaneous sentences, and the exercises are carefully giadu- 
ated. The book may be used side by side with the manuals in regular on. 

Latin Vooabulaiiea for Bepetition. Arranged according to Subiecta. 
By A. M. M. Stxdman, M.A. Sixteenth Ed. Fcap. 8to, is. 6d. 

In this book an attempt has been made to remedy that scantiness ol 
vocabulary which characterises most boys. The words are arranged ac- 
cording to subjects in vocabularies of twelve words each, and if the matter 
of this little book of eighty-nine pages is comniittcd to memory, the pupO 
will have a good stock of words on every subject. 

A Vooabulary of Latin Idioma and Phraaea. By A. M. M. 
Stbdman, M.A. Fifth Edition. 1 i8mo, is. 

Seven hundred useftil Latin phrases arranged alphabedcaHy, Lada- 
English. 

Latin Examination Papera in Miacellaneoua Grammar and 
Idioma. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. Fourteenth Edition. Or. 
8vo, as. 6d. Key (Seventh Edition), issued to Tutors and Piivita 
Students only, 6s. net. 

The following papers have been compiled to provide boys who have 
passed beyond the elementary stages of grammar and scholarship with 
practice in miscellaneous grammar and idioms. 

Considerable space has been given to the doctrines of the mooda (a real 
test of accurate scholarship), and to those short idioms and idiomatic sea- 
tenoes which illnstnte the differences between the English and Lttia 
languages. 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 3$ 

AMitMy Xifttin. Beios m FInt Teal's Coime. By F. J. TftMiT, 
B.A, AnstBDt Mister mt Preston Howe School, Eut Gfinstettd. 
Crown 9ro, PupOs* Book, 2sl ; Mmsten* Book, ti. 6d. net 

A yesr^t school oonne anmoged for class teaching, with test written te 
allow the gradual introdnction of all inflected forms. Nouns and fert» are 
built up according to their stem formation throoghoot, so that the learner 
graduailj acquiras the Accidence sjstematkallj. As a matter of practical 
experience, boys lo or zi years of age are aUe to eonstme Caiar at the end 
of the covse with bnt little hdp. The book contains Vocabaiaries, Grammar, 
and Exercises, and no other textbook is required by the pimQs. The Masters 
Book is a commentary on the Pupils' book, and explains the system of teach- 
ing. It directs attention consistently throughout to the w Mmm ing of words, 
and thus explains the Grammar. 
Bzamixiatiosi Papers in Horace. By T. C Wbathbrhbad, M.A 
Crown 8to, 2s. 

In this volume the whole of Horace has been divided into short sections, 
and a paper has been set on each section, as wdl as (usually) two lecapitn- 
latoty papers on each part, «^, the first book of the Odes. 
XseroiMe in Latin Accidence. By S. B. Winbolt, M.A. Crown 
8vo, IS. 6d. 

This book is adapted for Lower Forms, and is intended to accompany the 
Shorter Latin Primer. 
Latin Hexameter Veree. An Aid to Composition. By S. E. Winiolt, 
M.A Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. Key, 5s. net 

This book contains the fruit of several years' dass teaching. It is olfored 
as a hdp to Fifth and Sixth Forms at Public School^ and undergraduates 
at Universities. 

The principle adopted is to aid in the composition of hexameter verse, by 
showing to some extent the development ot this literary form, by Inferring 
from the evolution what is the best workmanship, and by hinting how 
technique depends largely on thought. 

Texts 

OflMMur.— EASY SELECTIONS FROM CCSAR. The Helvetian War. 
With Notes and Vocabulary. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Illus- 
trated. Fourth Edition. i8nx>, is. 

Liwv.— EASY SELECTIONS FROM LIVY. The Kings of Rome. 
With Notes and Vocabulary. By A. M. M. Stbdman, M.A. Illus- 
trated. Second Edition. i8mo, is. 6d. 

FlantuA'THE CAPTIVI. Edited, with an Introduction, Textual Notes, 
and a Commentary, by W. M. Lindsay, Fellow of Jesus College, 
Oxford. Demy 8vo, los. 6d. net. 

The editor has recoUated all the important MSS. The book oontsdns a 
long Introduction and an important Appendix on the accentual elements in 
early Latin verse. The textual Notes are complete and the Commentary is IhlL 

Taoitnfl.~TACITI AGRICOLA. With Introduction, Notes, Maps, etc 
By R. F. Davis, M.A. Crown 8vo, 2s. 

TACITI GERMANLA. By R. F. Dayis, M.A. Crown 8vo, 2s. 

The text, edited with an Introduction, Notes, and Critical Appendix for 
Middle Forms. 

Translations 

Oicaro.'DE ORATORE I. Translated by E. N. P. Moon, M.A., Ute 
Assistant Master at Cifton. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

SELECT ORATIONS (Pro Milone, Fro Murena, Philippic ii.. In 

Catilinam). Translated by H. E. D. Blakiston, M.A., Fellow and 
Tutor of Trinity College, Oxford. Crovm 8vo, 5s. 



i 



36 MESSRS. MZTHUKN'S 

OiooM^DB MATURA DEORUM. Timniklad bf F. Bmoou. M-A., 

liileScbobrofBBllkilCoUece,OziDid. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 
DB OFFICIIS. Tnyubted by G. B. Gardinu, M.A. Crown 

8vo,ak 6d. 
Hor»o«^THE ODES AND EPODES. TaoiUted l^ A D. Goolbt, 

M. A., FcUow of liagdnlen College, Oxford. Crown 5to, 2s. 
Ja^fMmL— THIRTEEN SATIR^ OF JUVENAL. Tmslntcd bf 

S. G. Owen, M.A. Crown 8yo, 21. 6d. 
Ttoeitiia.-^AGRICOLA AND GERMANIA. TrunUted bj R. B. Town- 

SRBMD, late Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge. Crown diwo, 2t. 6d. 

Mathematics 

Algebra 

Eanr BxflrciMS in Al^bra. Containing 3500 Original Problems. 

By W. S. Bbard. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. With Answers, 

IS, 9d. ; Without Answers, is. 6d. 
A preparatory coune in Algebra for the Loeal Examinations. This book 

rontami many fustinctive features. 
Tasi Omtdm in Saclid and Al^lnra. By D. S. Caldbrwood, 

Headmaster of the Provincial Training College, Edinburgh. In three 

packets of 40, with Answers, is. each; or in three books, price 

jd., 2d., and 3d. 
Junior Al^brs Examination Papers. By S. W. Finn, M.A., 

Headmaster of Sandbach School. With or Without Answers. 

Fcap. 8ro, is. [Junior Bxaminaiion Series, 

SJavcaty-two Papers of ten questions each. The problems, which are 

origfaial, will be found suhable for candidates for the Local Examinations. 

Arithmetic 

EaS7 Exerciaea in Aritlimetic. Containing 5000 Examples. By 
W. S. Bkard. Fourth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. With Answers, is. ^d. ; 
Without Answers, is. [BegiMtur^s Books. 

A comse of Arithmetie for Lower Forms in Secondary Schools and pupils 
preparing for Public Schools, Naral Cadetships. the Oxford and Cambridge 
Preliminary Local Examinations. The examples are very numerous, care- 
fully graduated, and do not involve the use of big numbers. 
Junior Aritlimetie Xbcamination Papeza. By W. S. Bkaad. 
With or Without Answers. Fifth Edition. Fcap. 8vo, is. 

[Junior ExamimUiom Strits, 
Contains 900 Questions arranged in Papers of ten each. Suitable for 
candidates for the Local Examinations, Coimty Scholarships, etc. 
Tha Metxic fikyatam. By Ljcon Dblbos. Crown 8vo, 2s. 

A clear and practical account of the subject, stating iu advantages and 
disadvantages, the general principles of the system, linear measures, square 
and land measure, cubic measure and measures of capacity. 
A South African Arithmetie. By H. Hill, B.A Cr. 8vo, 3s. 6d. 
Contains a number of examples 00 the South African Weights and 
Mcasorcs. 
Teohnieal Arithmetio and Oeometry. By C T. Millis, M.LM.E., 
Principal of the Borough Polytechnic Institute. For use in Technical 
Institutes, Modem Schools, simI Workshops. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

[ Tcjitbooks of Sciencd^ 
A oonrae in Arithmetic, Geometry, and Mensuration intended more 
especially for students in the engineering and building trades. 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 97 

Arithmetio Bzamination Papers. By C. Pbndlbbuhy, M.A., 
Senior Matbemadcml Master at St. Faal't School. Sixth Edition. 
Crown 8yo, as. 6d. Key, $%. net. [Sehooi Examinaiion Sirids, 

A New Junior Arithmetic. By H. Bompas Smith, M.A., Head- 
master of King Edward Yxi. School, Ljrtham. Crown Sto. With 
Answers, 2s. 6a. ; Without Answers, as. 

In this book Arithmetic is taught as the habitual application of oomoBon 
sense to questions involving number, not as the acquisition of mrrhaniral 
fiurilities in certain rules. It is the cheapest Arithmetic on reform lines issued. 

A Short Commercial Arithmetic. By F. G. Taylor, M.A 

Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. [C^ mmgni ai Strus. 

A treatise for those with a £sir knowledge of Arithmetic and Algebra. 

Special attention is given to quick methods <n approximation. Gontams an 

excellent chapter on the slide rule. 

Book-keeping 

The Frinoiplee of BoOk^Keepixig by Double Sntry. By J. E. 

B. M* Allen, M.A., Headmaster of Lowestoft Secondary Daj SoiooL 

Crown 8vo, as. [C^mfturaai Siries, 

A dear and intelligible account of the principles of the subject for those 

who have no previous knowledge of the subject 

Szamination Papere on Book-Keepixig By J. T. Mkdhukst. 
Tenth Edition. Crown 8vo, 3s. Key, 2b. 6d. net. 

[ScAooi ExmminatUn Sirus, 



Geometry 



Geometry on Modem Lines. By E. S. Boulton, M.A., Lecturer 
on Mathematics, Merchant Venturers' Technical College, BristoL 
Crown 8vo, as. 

A textbook on the new method. Only necessary propositions have been 
retained, and the proob are based on the simplest process of reasoning. 

A Preliminary Geometry. By Nobl S. Lydon, Assistant Master at 
Owen's School, Islington. With 159 Diagrams. Crown 8vo, is. 

The " Preliminary Geometry " is intended for the use of be^nners. The 
treatment of the subject is mainlv experimental and pracucal, and the 
ground covered is sumdent to enable the pupil to pass easily to the study of 
a formal course of theorems. Problems involving accurate measurement and 
arithmetical applications of geometrical principles are freely used ; the book 
is copiously illustrated and a large number of useful exercises is provided. 

A Junior Geometry. By Noel S. Lydon. With 276 Diagrams. 
Seventh Edition. Crown 8vo, 2sl [Jumar School Books. 

The method of treatment is the outcome of the author's long practical ex- 
perience as teacher of the subject at Owen's School, Islington. The group- 
ing of kindred propositions, the demonstrations attached to the practical 
problems, the copious series of questions and exercises, and the methodical 
division of the subject into lessons of practical length, are features calculated 
to commend themselves to both master and puful. 

Mechanics 

Xzamplee in Elementary Mechanics, Practical, Graphical, and 
TheoretioaL By W. J. Dobbs, M.A. With 52 Diagrams. Crown 
8vo, 5s. {Soo muier Pkfsiet^ f . -«ii..\ 



-. w*w, zs. txi. Key, 5s. net [ScAi 

Science 
Biology 

Agrioultuxal Zoology. 67 J. Ritzema Bot. 
AiNSWORTH Davibs, M.A. With 155 Ilhutnt 
Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

A condensed review of the entire animnl kingdom, 
the animals harmful or helpful to agriculture. It is 
only for students, but also for the practical farmer and 

Dai]^ Bacteriology. A Short Manual for Studec 
Cheese-makers, and Farmers. By Ed. von F&ki 
lated by J. R. Ainsworth Davis, M.A. Secoc 
Crown OYO, 2s. 6d. 

A brief treatise on bacteriology as applied to dairyin 
mean to become cheese-makers or dairymen, it is oc 
eeneral idea of bacteriology and to become familiarise 
nr attained bv bacteriological research as regards dairy 
application of the same. The author has therefore intr 
of the general part of bacteriology as is absolutely n< 
prehension of the bacteria of milk, and has made the 
elementary as possible. 

Plant Lifs. Studies in Gaidca and ScbooL By ] 
Science Master, Uxbridge County ScbooL Witl 
Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. [ 

A handbook for teamen of botany. A large numbe 
inchided, and Ivll nature-study notes on all plants u 
eian-rooms are given. It is recommended 1^ the Be 
" Sugfestioos on Rural Education/' pa|^e 4a. 
"This volume furnishes just the right kind of course, 1 

and in dass-room experiments, which ic liu^i — 

lnthem*«'« -'*•- 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 19 

OiuXUn/m of Biology. B7 P. Chatmbm Mrronu^ IC.A., Secreteiy 
to the Zoological Society of Londoa. IllwtnitBd. Second Edition, 
down oTOf OS. 

The eontflott of this book have been detennined by the tyllabas of the 
ooojoint Emniniog Board of the Royal CoUegei of Physicians and Somons. 
The book senres as a guide in the laboratory, and also wiU sopply Cbt 
necessary eonnecting links between the isolated Cscu presented by the seven 
or eight plants and snimals selected ont of the mnititode of litinf ofpmisnis. 

An SLomontary Textbook of Agrienltoral Botany. Bjr M. C 
POTTBR, M.A., F.L.S., ProfesMT of Botany, AnaizoDg CoUcBe, 
Newctstle-on-Tfne. lUnstrated. lUid Edition. Grown 8vo, 4s. 6d. 
A textbook of Botany intended asore especially for agricidtnnd fltndentt. 
Considerable space is devoted to vegetable pliysiology. 

iDMet Lilb. By F. V. Thkniald, M. A Dlnatntod. Seeood Edition, 
Revised. Crown ovo, sa. 6d. 

A short account of the more important Hm— ntaristJes of intscts, dealing 
with their economic value at the saaM time. 

Chemistiy 

A Fraotical Ghomlotiy Notebook for KatsionUiilloin and Anny 
Oandidates. Eaijr EKperiments on the Commoner Subatanoes. ^ 
S. E. Brown, M.A., B.Sc., Seniar Science Master at Uppingham. 
Crown 4to, is. 6d. net 



The method is based on pramkai esp<»riimrs, and alma at maintaining 
interest by fnsfing anooms and neonracy in experimenting. The chief 
objects in view are :— (x) a logical sequence in work and aoeorate experi- 
DnntiDg by demonstrati o n 01 pnclical use of apparatus ; (a) to allow the 
teacher more time for individual attention, and to leep the ckss together at 
work on the same experiment This is done by providing a series of 
practical problems to keep die more rapid workers employed, as wdl as for 
use in revision. Working for two hours (practical) per wedc, the coarse 
should be completed in about three terms. There are apteeg provided for 
notes to be taken b]r the puniL 
A PraeUoal Oliemistzy tot Bchoolo and Toohnioai Inatitatna. 
By A. E. DtncsTAN, B.Sc. (Sheffiekl and London); F.CS. (London 
and Berlin) ; Member of the Sodetr of Chemical Industry ; Head of 
Chemical Department, East Ham Technical College. Crown Sto, 3s. 6d. 

[TtxOooJks 0f Scienu. 

This Course of Practical Chemistry meets the requiiemenU of the Upper 



Forms of Secondary Schools, where a good elementaiT foundation has been 
laid in the rudiments of manipulation. The book wfll be found usefol also 
for classes in Technical Institutes and will cover the following grooid :— 

Qualitative Analysis of simple substances and of mixtures, Volumetric 
Analysb, Shnple Qravimetric Analysia, Preparation of Pure Compounds, 
More difficult Quantitative Analysis. QuaHuttve Organic Analysis, Ultimate 
Organic Anal^, Oenerml Organic DetcrminatMma, Determination of 
Phyncal Constants. 
Slemontary Expriwiantal Ohemiatry. By A. E. Ddnstan. B.Sc. 
(Sheffield and London); F.CS. (London and Berlin); Member of the 
Society of Chemical Industry; Head of Chemical Department, East 
Ham Technical College. Widi 4 Plates and 109 Diagrams. Third 
Edition. Ciown 8vo, aa. [/mtior Sck^I Books. 

The arrangement for this book is modelled on thai of the author's " Ele- 
mentary Experimental Science.** The subject is treated eaperimentally, and 
covers the necessary ground for Osfoid and Cambridge Junior Looals, 
CoBege of Precep t or s (Second Class), and Board of Educadon (Fust Stage) 
Fvaminationa. The author believes that the nwthod adopted Is truly 
edncationaL The snl^ect is developed in a logical seqtwnce, and \ * 
possible, historically. 



Lancaster. I'art I. Fifth Ed. Cr. 8vo, is. 6d. [7V 
A course on purely inductive lines dealing with evapor; 
tions, fiiti.ition solubility, air, water, chalk, soda, commu 
pound and simple matter, etc. 

Practical Chemistry. By W. Frrnch, M.A., and T. 
M.A., Science Master at Christ's Hospital. Part 
IS. 6d. [Te 

A continuation of the above dealing with gases, laws 
bination, equivalents, atomic theory, molecular weights, 
nitrogen, carbon, and their compounds, salts, acids, bases 

A Short Hifltoxy of Ohemistry. By T. P. Hilditch, 
A.I.C., F.C.S. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 

Primarily intended as a help to chemical students, 
those studying for University or advanced technical < 
book will also, it is hoped, prove serviceable to general 
wish to have a concise outline of the development of 
mendng with a general survey of the chemistry of the 
Middle Ages, the author shows how the modem science c 
and then proceeds to the history of the various bra 
minerals, organic, technical and physical chemistry, et 
the most notable names in chemistry is added, and, as f] 
sequences of facts or theories have been summarised 
while assisting the memory of the student preparing for < 
be omitted by the casual reader. 

The Cknnplete School Ohemietry. By F. M. OLDHi 
Chemistry Master at Dulwich College. With 125 Illus 
Edition. Crown 8vo, 4s. 6d. 

A complete course in practical and theoretical che 
standard of the London Matriculation and Armv Entra 
It is so arranged that a boy with no knowledge of chemis 
book and use it throughout his progress up the school 
volumetric analysis and on the common metals are include 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 31 

A Junior Chemistry. By E. A. Tylbr, B.A., F.CS., Head of the 
Chemical Department, Swansea Technical College. With 78 lUatni- 
tions. Fourth Edition. Crown Swo, 2s. 6d. [/mm^r Sck^ B99ks. 

The first twenty-three pages are devoted to the necessary physical laws 
and processes. Tlie purification and properties of water are used to Sas- 
Irate these p r oces s es. The student is thus led by a eomHmums tkmm ^ 
fmsoning through the preparation of pure water to the chemistry of water, 
and hence to a knowledge of the fundamental principles of chemistry. The 
middle portion of the book treats of these principles, and then foOows 
the stuay of certain typical elements and compounds. PtoUods and 
ftmrnination Papers are appended. 

Alt Elementary Tert Book of Inorganie Ohemistry. Bv R. 
Lloyd Whxtklby, F.LC, Principal of the Monidpal Science Soiool, 
West Bromwich. Crown Sto, 2s. 6d. 

This book has been written primarily for the use of those who are com- 
mencing the Study of Theoretical Inorganic Chemistry on the line^ laid 
down for Stage I. of that subject in the Syllabus issued by the Board of 
Education. The subject-matter of that Syllabus has consequently been 
xuDy discussed. 

General Science 

Elementary Experimental Science. By W. T. Clougr, Head of 
the Department of Physics and Electrical Engineering, East Ham 
Technical College, and A. E. Dunstan, Head of the Chemical Depart- 
ment, East Ham Technical College. Physics by W. T. Clough, 
A.R.C.S. J Chemistry by A. E. Dunstan, B.Sc. With 2 Plates 
and 154 Diagrams. Ninth Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 

[Junior School Books. 
This book is primarily intended for the use of candidates taking Experi- 
mental Science m the Junior Local Examinations. It will also be found of 
use to those oompetixig for County Council Intermediate Scholarships, and 
as a general textbook in Science Schools. The treatment throughout is 
experimental, and based on the author's experience in preparing boys for 
the abore Examinations. The great majority of the Diagrams have been 
specially drawn — simplicity, clearness, and the avoidance of all unnecessary 
features being particularly aimed at. 

Elementary Seienoe for Papil Teachers. Physics Section by 

W. T. Clough ; Ohemistry Section by A. E. Dunstan. With 

many Illustrations. Crown 8to, 2s. [Ttxtbooks of Science, 

A textbook to meet the new requirements of the Elementary Science section 

of the Preliminary Elxamination for the Certificate on the same lines as above. 

General Elementarjr Science. By T. T. Dunn, D.Sc, and V. A. 
MuNDELLA, Principal of SonderUnd Technical College. With 114 
Illustrations. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

An intermediate course in Physics and Chemistry for Tendon Matricula- 
tion. It is the textbook adopted by the Admiralty for Elementary Science 
at Greenwich College. 

The World of Science. By R. Elliott Stkbl, M.A., F.C.S., Science 
Master at Sherborne School. With 147 Illustrations. Second Edition. 
Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 

An elementary account of Chemistry, Heat, Light, Sound, Magnetism. 
Electricity. Botany. Zoology, Physiology, Astronomy, and Geology written 
in an interesting manner for childr?'n 



- - ^.,^ *» »o ityj^jK,KX yilAl II WiU OC 

introductory course to the subject of Electrical Engin 
majority of the di.igrams have tv^cn specially drawn — si 
iiixd the avoidanrr of all unnecessary features being pai 
The book provides in one volunne theoretical and pra 
Blecthdty and Magnetism. Worked examples of ty 
giTen, and there U also a Glossary and List of Definii 
■mngmaat of the book is modelled on that of the a 
'* Elementary Experimental Science." 

BxamplM in Blementary M^ohanios, Practical 
Theoretical. By W. J. Dobbs, M.A. With 53 ] 
•to. St. [7 

This book is intended for nie at Schools and Techi 
Army and Navy Candidates and Students of Engineer, 
some 1400 examples in Elementary Statics and Kinetics 1 
development in tne methods of teaching these subjects, 
more than a mere collection of examples, being designed 
accompanying textbook. The preparation and use of 
apparatus is described, and the numerous practical exai 
«M of such apparatus have been found to give sarisfac 
•cope of the book comprises — ^Tension and Pressure. Y 
Elastichy, Equilibrium of Three Forces, Resolving and 
Centre of uravity, Velocity, Acceleration, Work. 1 
Momentum, Friction, Projectiles, Rotation and Simple 
Tlie answers to the examples are given at the end of the 1 

Weigbinff and Maaauringr. A Short Course of Prs 
Elementaiy Mathematics and Physics, bv W. J. Dobk 
Foundation Scholar of St. John's College, Camb 
** Examples in Elementary Mechanics," etc. Crown \ 

Contents. I. Measurement of Length ; 11. Woghii 

■Mntof Area; IV. Measurement of Vohmie; V. Density a 

This volume covers that conmion ground between FAe 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 33 

Th& Principles of Kagnetism and Sleotrioitv. By P. L. Gkat« 
B.Sc. An Elementery Textbook. With 181 Diagnunt. Orown 8vo, 
3S. 6cL 

Although not written to any special sjllabas, the book will approximately 
eover the requirements of the Advanced Stage of the Board or Education 
Examination, and London RSc. Pus Examination. It is weU illastrated 
with sketdies such as a stadcnt may, with a little practice, draw for himself 
from the actual apparatus. 

Xzamples in Physios. By C. E. Jackson, M. A., Senior Physics Master 
at Bradford Grammar SdiooL Second Edition. Crown 8yq, 21. 6d. 

[TbctfiiMv tfScumci. 

A collection of over one thousand original problems on Meosoration, 

Hydrostatics, Mechanics, Heat, Light, Magnetism, Fricdooal Electricity, 

Current Electricity and Sound, covering the average Physia course m 

Secondary Schools. 

newt Tsar Physios. S^ C. E. Jackson. With 51 niwHationB and 
nnmerons Examples. Crown Sto, is. 6d. [ T l txt h ^Jkt tf Science. 

This book deals with such subjects as may reasonably be included in a 
first year course of Physics for Secondary Schools, — the processes of measure- 
ment and the dementary principles of Hydrostatics and Mechanics. It is 
an attempt on the part 01 the author to provide a textbook which shall ht 
a useful supplement to the lessons of the dais-room and at the same time 
direct the experimental work of the laboratory. 

Praotical Physios : A Laboratoiy Course for Advanced Students. By 
S. S. Richardson, B.Sc, A.R.C.Sc(Lond.), Lecturer in Physics, 
Municipal Technical School, Liverpool. With Diagrams. Crown Svo, 
4S. 6d. \T€xih»oks of Science, 

This volume provides a practical oourse of work in Experimenal Physics 
for students in Technical Colleges and in the higher forms of Secondary 
Schools. The treatment is based on experience in teaching the subject 
extending over many years. Care is taken to encourage a due amount of 
thought on the part of the student, and the method adopted will, it is hoped, 
lead the student gradually to work out the details of experiments for himself. 
The book, whilst priinanly a laboratory manual, forms at the same time a 
textbook of the principles of physieal measurements. The requirements of 
students preparing for University degrees. Civil Service, Board of Education, 
and other examinations recjuiriog a knowledge of hi|[her physics have bran 
kept well in view, and to give fuiiQier practice, exercises are prorided at the 
end of the chapters. 

Physios Baunination Papers. By R. Eluott Stbbl, M.A., 
Science Master at Sherborne School. Crown Svo, 2s. 6d. 

[School Examinmtitn Sorus, 
Papers on Sound, U^t, Heat, Magnetism, and Electricity. Both book- 
work and problems are mduded. 

Elementary Praotical Physios. By Hknkt Stroud, D.Sc, M.A., 
Professor of Physics, Armstrong College, Newcastle-on-Tyne. With 
115 Diagrams. Second Edition, Revised. Crown Svo, 4s. 6d. 

An introduction to practical work in a Physkal Laboratory and the 
standard works on the subjeoc 



M.K.San. Inst., Lecturer in I'hysiology, Hygiene, 
Municipal Technical School, Liverpool. Crown 8^ 

I 
This book aims at giving systematic instructio 
essential functions of the human body. The mai 
sketches, and photomicrographs, which have been p 
specimens with the special object of elucidating the 
will render the work of considerable value to stn 
"Preliminaiy Physiology" is adapted not only t 
SjTstematic coiurses of study, but also to meet the 
increasing number of lay readers taking an inteU 
important subject of the work ana mechanism of th( 
work is adapted to meet the requirements of the 
the Oxford and Cambridge Locals (Senior), the C 
Candidates for Matriculation, and the sereral examii 
held for students in Hygiene, Physical Culture, Cc 
Probation, and students preparing for examinations 
and Accountancy, where Physiology is now demanded* 
and pactical methods followed throughout the worl 
tahed to prirate study as well as for class courses. 



Technology 



Workaliop Practic«. By Charlb 
of the Department of Engineering, Technical ] 
With 153 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. \T€x 
This deals with the manufacturing operations emph 
shops, and is intended chiefly for students who have 
examining and using the machines and tools required. 

An Introduotion to the Study of Textile Dei 
F. Barkkr, Head of the Textile Department, \ 
College. Demy 8yo, 7s. 6d, {Ttx 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 35 

Builders' Quantities. By H. C. Grubb, Lecturer at Beckenham 
Technictl Institute. CrowD 8vo, 4s. 6d. [TsxtSMikt of Technology, 

This treatise has been compiled to assist students who are preparing for 
the examination in Builders' Quantities, held by the City and Guik» of 
London Institute; while those studying for other examinations, such as 
Honours Building Construcdon, held by the Board of Education, etc, will 
find it covers that portion of the syllabus relating to Quantititt 

▲ Woipdwork Class-Book. Beginner's Course. By H. Hby, Inspector 

of Da^ Manual and of Teoinological Classes, Surrey Education 
Committee, and G. H. Rosi, Headmaster, Coulsiden Council School, 
Dty and Guilds Woodwork Teacher. With fiill Diagimmt and Photo- 
graphs. 4to, 2S. 

This class-book is the first of a series of three, in which the work is 
arranged on a threefold plan of Correlated Lessons in Drawing, Tools and 
Materials, and School Workshop Practice. Tbe schemes have bean approved 
by the Board of Education. 

B4po«ss6 Matsl Work. By A. C Hokth. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 

[ Tixtbooks (rf Tochnology. 
This book provides studenu with a graded sdieme of Sheet Meul Work 
for Schools, containing all the information necessary to thoae wiidiing to 
become expert. 

▲ Textbook dealing^ with Ornamental Design for Woven 
Fabrics. By C. Stiphinson, of the Bradford Technical College, 
and F. Suddards, of the Yorkshire College, Leeds. With 66 
Full-page Plates and numerous Diagrams in the Text. Third Edition. 
Demy 8vo, 7s. 6d. 

The subject-matter is arranged as iu* as ponible in p-ogressive order, 
and always with due regard to the practical application 01 ornament to the 
weaving process. Several chapters are devoted to the various methods of 
boakling up all-over repeating patterns. 

Manual Trainingr Drawing (Woodwork). By F. Sturch, Staff 
Instructor to the Surrey County Council. Its Principles and Ap- 
plication, with Solutions to Examination Questions, 1892-1905, Ortiio- 
graphic. Isometric, and Oblique Projection. With 50 Plates and 140 
Figures. Fcap., 5s. net. 

A guide to the Examinations in Manual Training Woodwork of the City 
and C^ds of London Institute, the Board of Ejcaminations for Educational 
Handwork, and the Examinations of the N. U.T. , and for use in Secondary 
Schools and Training Colleges. It deals with the requirements in Geo- 
metrical and Mechanical Drawing of the Educational Department, University 
of London, Loodon Chamber 01 CoowMroe, etc 

Owrpentry and Joinery. By F. C. Wibbbr, Chief Lecturer to the 
Building Trades Department of the Merchant Venturers' Technical 
Collie at Bristol. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

[ Textbooks of Tuknology, 

An dementary textbook suitable for the Preliminary Grade of the Qty 
and Gsilds of London Instimte and as a book of reference for the 



me use of candidates picparini; for the Oxford and Cambr 
the Colle>re of Preceptors Kxarainati'^ns. The series will \: 
up to Mcthuen's Junior Sch "">! Book>>. The author of ea4 
able expeririicc in teaching; th*; s'lljject, while special atten 
arrangement of the tyi^e and matter, which is as clear and 
books are beautifully printed and strongly boand, and are issue 



Prsiteh Whym— ■ 



H. 



Bloost. is. 
Mmmw fttori^s fkrom Cnflrlish His- 
tory. E. M. WILMOT-BOXTON. IS. 

Morlos fWMii Roman History. 

B. M. WILMOT-BOXTOK. IS. 6d. 

fb^Mfi tho OM Tosta- 

S. M. WiLMOT • BOXTON. 

It. 6d. 
•toriss firont ths Nsw Tosta- 

B. BL WiLMOT'BuxTON. is.6d. 



A First Oo« 
S. Bbard. n 

A First Histt 
Firth, is. 6< 

Kasy Exsro 
W. S. Bbaki 
With Abswvtb. 

■asy Dicta 
W. WnxiAMS 

An Easy 

WlLLIAMSOK. 

Classical Translations 

EoiTBD ST H. F. FOX, M.A., Fbujow amd Tutok or Bkas 

Crown 8vo 
A series of Translations from the Greek and Latin CUsstci 
eac sU tn o m well as bj scholarly aoctiracy. 

Asohyf us — - AOAif EMNON, Chos- 
PMoaoB, BuMBNiDBS. Translated by L. 
Campbbu. 5S. 

Olesro — Db Orators I. Trans- 
lated by B. N. P. Moor. 3s. 6d. 

Oiosro-- Select Orations (Pro 
MiLONB, Pao MuKKNo, Philupic n., In 
Catiumam). Thinslated by H. B. D. 
Blakutom. 9S. 

Olcors — De Natura Deorum. 
TranslatfBd by F. Bkooks. 3s. 6d. 

Oiosro — Db Ofpiciis. Translated 



Horaos — Th 

Tiaoalatad byi 
Luclan — • Six 

kinds, icako-n 
Ship, Thb Pa 
FALassoouX ' 
3S.6d. 

Sophociss — . 

Translated by I 

TaoKus — AG 
MANIA. Traill 
as.6d. 

Thirtssn 8a 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 



37 



Commercial Scries — e$nHnuid 

AOarman Oomm^relal Reader. 

S. TL Bally, at. 
A Oomm^rolal OAOinmphy of 

Porolirn Nations. F. C. Book. as. 
Oommorolal Law. W. D. 

Edwards, n. 
BritlsH Commorco and Colon !•• 

fiFom Bilsaboth to VIotorla. 

H. DB B. GiBBiNS. as. 
no Boonomloo of Oommoroo. 

H. DB B. GiBBIHB. IS. 6d. 

Oommorolai examination 

Paporo. H. DB B. Gwbims. is. 6d. 



A Primor of Buoinooo. S. Jack- 
son. New and Revised Editioa. ss. 6d. 

An Bntraneo Quido to P i oiW 
olono and Buolnooo. H. Tombs. 
is.6d. 

A Oommorolai Qoosraphy of 
tho BrltloH Bmplro. L. W. 
Lydb. as. 

A BHort Oommorolai ArtthmotlOb 

F. G. Tavlob. is. 6d. 

Proelo Writing and Of Woo Oor^ 

E. S. Whitpiblo. 



Junior Examination Series 

Bditbd bt a. M. M. STEDMAN, M.A. 

Fcap. 8vo, IS. 

Thb series b intended to lead up to the School KwB»ination SeriBS| and b intended for the 
use of teachers and pupils in Lower and Middle, to supply nuttenal for the former and 
pcBctice for the latter. The papexs are carefully craduated, cover the whole of the solidect 
nsnally taught, and are intended to form part of the ordinary dass work. They any be 
nsed s«MI voeg or as a written examination. 



Junior Pronoh Examination 
Paporo. F.Jacob. 

Junior BnBiloh Examination 
Paporo. W. Williamson. 

Junior Aritlimotio Examination 
Paporo. W. S. Bbard. 



Junior 



Alffobra Examination 

S. W. Finn. 



Junior Qrcoic Examination 
Paporo. T. C. Wrathbxhkao. 



Junior LAtin Examination 

Paporo. C. G. Bottimg. 
A Koy to the above. 3s. 6d. net 
Junior Oonoral information 

Examination Paporo. W. S. 

Bbakd. 
JL Key to the above. 3s. 6d. n«L 
Junior QooBraphy Examina^ 

tlon Paporo. W. G. Baker. 
Junior Qorman Examination 

Paporo. A. VORQBLIN. 

Junior Hiotory Examination 
Paporo. W. O. P. Datibs. 



Junior School Books 

Editbd by O. D. INSKIP, LL.D., and W. WILLIAMSON, B.A. 
A series of school class books. They are adapted to the needs of the Lower and Middle 
Forms of the Public Schools, and are suitable for the use of candidates preparing for the 
Oxford and Cambridge Junior Local Examinations. 



A Olaoo-Book of Dictation 

PaoooBOO. W. WiLUAMsoN. rs. 6d. 

Tho Pirot Book of KInso. A. E. 

RUBIR. SS. 

Tho Qoopol aeoordinB to Bt. 

Matthow. Edited by E. W. SoirrK. 

is.6d. 
The Qoopol aeoordinB to St. 

Mark. Edited by A. E. Rubib. is. 6d. 
Tho Qoopol aeoordinB to St. 

Luke. Edited by W. Wiixiamson. ss. 
The Actoofthe ApootioOi Edited 

by A. E. Rubie. «. 
A Junior EnBiioh Brammar. 

W. Williamson, as. 



Elomontary Exporlmontal 
Selonco. Phy o lo o by W. T. 
Clougk; Ohomlotry by A. E. 

DuNSTAN. as. 6d. 

Elomontary Exporlmontal 
Ohomlotry. A. £. Dunstan. as. 

A Junior Ohomlotry. E. A. 

Tylbr. as. 6d. 

A Junior Pronoh Qrammar. 

K A. SoRNBT and M. J. Acato^ sb. 

A Junior Pronoh Prooo. R. 

R. N. Baron, as. 



Lydon. as. 



N. & 



I ne Dawn o-T Medlsoval Europe, 

476-918. J. H. P.. Mastekman. 
Tho Central Period of^ tho 

Middle Ago, 918-1273. Beatrick 

A. Lbbs. 
Th* Knd of th« MIddta A^*} 

1278-1468. Elbanok C Lodge. 



Europe ii 
Rcforma 

A. H.uLi 

The Age 
Despot, 14 

Tho Rom 
■uropOi 

Marriott. 



Methuen's New Geographic 

▲ fi^stematio Geography of the World. I 

Owen's School, Islington. In Five Vols. With W 

This new series of Geographies, which will be completed in 

a study of the geography of the world on modem lines, as reo 

Education. Attention is directed to the connection between tht 

the climate, and the economic and political conditions, and the 

geology of the various regions. The matter has been svstematia 

will be found suitable for examination purposes, and also of intei 

Vol. I. Tho Brttloh loloo. VoL II. Europe (cxc 

VoL III. Aola. Vol. IV. Amorloa. VoL V. Afkrloi 

Polynoola. 

Methuen's New Historical 

Editbd by thb Rbv. H. N. Asman, M.A. 

TImm are the first volumes of a new historical series for S 
Editorship of the Rev. H. N. Asmak, M.A., B.D., Second ! 
Isling^oo. The series is oa the lines of the recent Circular of the 
teaching of history. 
•torioo from Anoloitt Hlotory. By E. Bowtbr, 

Master Owen's School. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. (see p. 17X 
Storloo flpom Modem Hlotory. By E. M. Wilmc 

Crown 8to, is. 6d. (see p. 2a). 

Stories from Old Romai 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 



Stories from the Histories 

Edited by B. M. Wilmot-Buxton, F.R.Hut.So& 
With I Map. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. each 

Thb Mtiti wSI •mbmoe the hbtory of all the chief coontries of th« world. It b hopod 
i«t by mppXylng a series of interesting stories these volumes wUl fNrooiote a dedre for a 



i knowledge and remove the general complaint that English children grow ap 

ignorant of the great events and characters in the history of other nations. 



flrown Irish 

A. BiKKHBAD, B.A. 



History. I 

School Examination Series 



•torlsa firotn Prsneh 

Tatlok Dyson, M.A. 



Edited bt A. M. M. STEDMAN, M.A. 

Crown 8vO| as. od. 

These books are intended for the use of teachers and students— to supply material for 

the former, and practice for the latter. The papers are carefully graduated, cover the 

vdiole c^ the subject usually taught, and are intended to form part <^ the ordinary class work 



Pr«neli Biuuni nation 
A. M. M. Stbomah. 
Kfiy. 6s. net. 
Latin Kxamlnatlon 
A. M. M. Stbdman. 
Kfiy. 6ft. net. 
Oraok examination 
A. M. M. Stsdman. 
Koy. 6ft. neL 
Oomnan Kxamlnatlon 
R. T. MoMCM. 
K«y. 6ft. neL 



Paporo. 



Paporo. 



Paporo. 



History and Qooffraphy Kxain* 
ination Paporoi C H. Spbncb. 

Phyoloo Kxamlnatlon Paporo. 

R. E. Stbkl. 

Qonoral Knowlodi^o Bxamlna^ 
tlon Paporo. A. M. M. Stbdmam. 
Koy. 7S. net. 

Kxamlnatlon Paporo In Kngrlloh 
Hlotory. J. Tait Plowd«c-Wa«d- 

LAW. 



School County Histories 



Illustrated. Ctawn 8vo, xs. 6d. 
This scries is designed to enforce the idea, so all -important in young people's education, 
that history begins at home. The volumes are meant to bring history mto connection with 
scenes which their readers know^ to illustrate manners by load examples, and to teach that 
every place has its interest and its story. Maps and illustrations are freely added, and each 
county volume is written by an author who has made a special study <^ the county he treats. 



A School Hlotory of Warwick- 

ohiro. B. C A. WiNDLB. 
A School Hlotory ot Somoroot. 

W. Raymond. 
A School Hlotory o^ Surrey. 

H. B. Maldbm. 



A School Hlotory o^ MIddlooox. 

V. Plakk and F. W. Walton. 

A School Hlotory of Lanoaotilro. 

W. K RiiooBS. 



Simplified German Texts 

Editbd by T. R. N. CROFTS, M.A. 

Fcap. 8vo, IS. each 

This aeries is tmiform with Methuen's Simplified French Texts. 



Dor Miillor am Rholn. Founded 

on Brentano's M&rchen. 
Undino und Huldbrand. 

MOTTB FouQui. 



Die Qoochlchto von Potor 

Schlomlhl. A. V. Chamisso. 
DIo Notholfor. W. H. Riehl. 



Simplified French Texts 



Editbd by T. R. N. crofts, M.A. 
Fcap. 8vo, IS. each 
A series of Firench stories retold in easr French for young pupils who have been stodying 
the language aboat two or three years. Vocabularies nave been added in which the idioms 
are explained. 

L'HIotoIro d*iuto TullpOi A. i La Chanoon do Roland. Roland^ 
^vMAs. M^molroodoOadlohon. Madamb 

Edouasd Laboulatk. I dbSAcub. 



tthul^. 3S. Od. 



PwMrtlcal Chemistry. p|rt I. 

W. Frbnch. xs.6d. «i 1. 

Pmetleal Ohttmlstry. Part II W 

^"♦"■'•* •^ ^hy-lcal Chemistry. 

G. Sbntbk. 35. 6d. 

An Organic Chemistry ^or 
?S5!??* •"*■ Technical In- 
•titutae. A. E. DuNSTAN. as. 6d. 

A Preliminary Phyeioiosy. W. 

Naskamou. 3s.6d 



lextDoolcs of Science 

A . - , ''"">■ IllustratctJ. Crown 8vo 

'^wfu*i'=*..«*""""'"'^ '^ H. I Examp,,. i„ 

' Jackson. 2s, 6d. 

First Year Phy 
SON. IS. 6d. 

Technical A 
Qeometry. c 

Plant Ufe. H. 

A Practical 
Schoole and 
etitutes. A. E 

Practical Phys 
Course for Advan 
Richardson. 4s. 

Elementary Kx| 
triclty and I 
T. Clough. 9S. 6< 

A Short Syeten 
Chemistry, t. 

Textbooks of Technology 

Fully Illustrated. Crown 8vo 



How to IMaico a Dress. 

Wood. is. 6d. 



J. A. E. 

Wbbbbk. 38. 6d. 
Milllnory, Thoorstleal and 

Practical. C. Hill. 2s. 
Instruotion in Oooicery. A. P. 

Thompson, as. 6d. 
An Introduction to the Study 

o^ Textile Doeiffn. A.F.Ba»icwl 

I>«n»y 8vo, 7S. 6d. 



Builders' Quai 

Grubb. 48. 6d. 

R4pouss4 IMetfl 

HoRTH. as. 6d. 

Hectric Llirht 

E. E. Brooks and 
4s. 6d. 

■narlneeriniTWoi 

C C Allen. 3s. 6t 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 41 

OtaiMtmBM at the Zoo. By Wiluam Boyli. DeKribed iii Vene. 

With 24 Coloured Pictures by H. B. Nbilson. Soper-royml i6iiio» at. 

A new nursery rhyme, which tells what happened at the Zoo when Father 
Christmas called to g\re the animals a holiday, and they played at being ■•&. 

Tommy Smith's AtiiTn^iiM By Edmund Sklous. With 8 Ilhutiatioiis 
byG.W.ORD. Eleventh Ed. Fcap. 8vo, is. 6d. Sduwl Edition, is. 6d. 

Tommy Smith's Other Awiw^ia By Edmund Sbix>us. With 12 
Illustrations by Augusta Guest. Fifth Edition. Fcap. Svo, 
2S. 6d. School Edition, is. 6d. 

These charming books, besides inculcating kindness to animals, convey 
much natural history information. The animals dealt with are— frog, toad, 
rook, lat, hare, grass-snake, adder, peewit, mole, woodpigeon, squirrel, 
barn-owl, weasel, blackbird, thrush, hedgehog, danrhick, moorhen, wood- 
pecker, fox, cuckoo, watenrde. rabbit. 

Little Mitchell. The Story of a Mountain Squirrel told by Himself. By 
Margarst W. Moeliy. With a6 Uluatratioos. Sq. cr. 8vo, 2s. 6^ 
This book is a bright story of an American Mountahi Souirrel, showing 
how a lady found him as a baby and brought him up on ner fiurm. His 
exciting adventures, long joumevs, the friends he foond, and the happ)r time 
he had in Boston, make a most tnteresting story, while many natural history 
facts find their way into the book, and these are without exception within the 
comprehension of a child, and so accurate that they may be trusted not to 
contain anything that the facts of science will not support. 

In the Great Colonial Bush. By Edith L. Euas. Author of "The 
Wonderful Voyara of Gulliver Retold," etc With many Illustimtions. 
Fcap. 8vo, 2S. 6a. 

This volume, which has been written with the aim of amusing children, 
endeavours also to convey some knowledge of bird and animal life in the 
Colonies. Australia, South Africa, Canada, and New Zealand are dealt 
with in turn, the connecting link being a little girl, named Lucy, who goes 
magically from one country to the other. The book will delight, as well as 
instruct, so that it may be used with equal fitness as a school reader or a 
gift-book. The birds and animals included are very numerous, and 
amongst them will be found the Platypus, the Koala, the Laughing Jackass, 
the Bower Bird, the Kangaroo, the Water Tortoise, the Zebm, the Ant-Eater, 
the Gnu, the Reindeer, the Beaver, the Kiwi, the Penguin, and many others. 

The Bee People. By Margaret W. Morlby (Founded on). With 74 
Illustrations. Sq. crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 

A natural history book for children on a thorough but entertaining plan. 
The book tells in simple, easy language the life-history of the bee, a general 
account of the insect being followed by chapters devoted to its eyes, tongue, 
honey-sack, legs, wings, and sting. The making of wax-comb and honey 
and the hatching of the eggs are tully described. The processes described 
and illustrated are such as may be seen in most cases by diildren themselves, 
and the orderly arrangement of the observations will tend to develop that 
most important faculty, "how to observe.** 

A Primer of Photography. By Captain Owrn Whrklbr, F.R.P.S. 
With many Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. net. 

There are in existence numerous excellent manuals of photography, 
many sound treatises on individual processes, and one or two admirable 
compendia of photo|^phv in all its branches. The object of this primer 
is to provide somethmg a little difierent— an introduction to the theory and 
(yractice of photography which, while imparting sufiBcient practical instruC' 
tion to enable a novice to walk alone, shall indicate in clear outline, and 
inspire interest in, the more advanced branches of photogTat)hic study. 
Only the technical side is dealt vrith, and this by the light of^over thirty 
years' all*round experience. Various processes of negative-making, printing, 
and enlarging are closely described, and up-to-date information is addnl 
respecting Telephotography, Photography m Coloqrs, and other modem 
developments. 



And C. S. CooPKR, F.R.H.S. With 8 Coloure( 
White ri-ittr"; drawn from Nature by C. F. Nr' 
js. 6d. net. 

This eminently useful and practical handbook, in a 
manner, sets out in tabular form full accounts of all 
wild plants ; their English and Latin names, where 
they bloom, their form and structure, salient feature: 
etc. The plants are treated under their natural o 
description is given of the characteristics of each order 
Introduction containing useful hints and directions 
Introduction respecting classificauon, structure, fertilii 

Insect Wonderland. By Constancb M. Foot. 
through Stories," etc. With 38 Illustrations by V. 
Sto, ^s. 6d. net. 

Tms volume describes the Insect World in a forn 
instructive to youthful readers. One or more spedm 
from each of the seven great National Orders, accc 
system of division. The insects tell their own tales, i 
''Butterfly Green," "Grasshopper Lane," "Beehive 
and there are 38 charming Illustrations. The vol 
acceptable as a reader for the kindergarten or as a pla 

The Toung Electrician. By Hammond Hall, Ai 
Eneineer." With many Illustrations. Crown 8vo 
A book which appeals to every boy who is intere 
science of electricity. It describes in simple langur 
by which electric energy is produced and utilised. I 
machines, batteries and coils, electro - plating, u 
dynamos, accumulators, and electric motors. It 
inaking and using working models of these instni 
performing with inexpensive apparatus a great nun 
instructive experiments. 

The Yotmfir Carpenter. By Cyril Hall. With 
15 Photographic Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 5s. 
This book gives minute directions for properly usin 



LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 43 

tke enreii locomotive to the rood aur, from the turbines of the latest 
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torpedo and explains bow to make models of various tjrpes. Accounts and 
photographs are given of some famous modd engines and model railways, 
and there is a chapter on the tools and materials required by the model-maker. 

Th* Young Naturalist. By W. Pbrcival Wkstbll, F.L.S., 
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In this interesting, useful, and wdl-informed work, the author has 
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My Pet0. By Alexandre Dumas. Newly transhUed by A. R. 
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Here we have Dumas in a new nMt^-at least one unfamiliar to most 
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Man and Nature on Tidal Waters. By A. H. Pattbrson» Author 
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of that « Humble race of men, 

Alike amphibious, by kind Nature's hand 
Form'd to exist on water and on land," 
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Jack's ihsscts. By Edmund Srlous, Author of "Tommy Smith's 
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*' How interesting it would be," said a Uttle girl to her brother, who had 
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true about them, and " Sne jrawned so that she couldn't go on, for it 

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them, which woke them up completelv. Only as it was a book of 
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Science from an Easy Chair. By Sir Ray Lankbstkr, K.C.B., 
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This is a pot pourri of chapters addressed to the general reader, on a 



A Book of the zoo. liy t.Kic rARKRR. wiin : 
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'Ilie author has tried in this book to make a roi 
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Two Legs, and Othar Btonea. By Carl Ewal 
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This is the first of a series of volumes of fairy ta 
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Ooope, and How to be Them. By Gblbtt Bu: 
Manners for Polite Infants, inculcating; many Juvi 
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LIST OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS 45 

DOrereaaoe allegory, artist and translator have together kboured to praseat 
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metre with Die originaL 
XBclish Woodlands and their Story. By Houghtoic Towmlxt. 
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