And so it went on. My answer to all who came was, that they could come and ask me questions at the meeting. Is was a convenient plan enough--at the time. Yet my suggestions--like chickens and curses--came home to roost--at the meeting. And that, as I have said, is the third chapter.
ATHELSTAN THE READY.--MR. ATHELSTAN RILEY.
["The billiard-season has set in in real earnest."--_Daily Paper._]
Come, people all, both old and young, An hearken to my lay! And give you ear while I give tongue And sing a song that ought to be sung, And say my simple say.
I sing a song of a noble game, Whose charms few men withstand-- Billiards!--sport of ancient fame, Beloved of knight, admired of dame, Adored in every land!
The world's great games are numbered six-- Cricket, chess, and whist, Football, golf--but Billiards licks With three small balls and two long sticks, And subtle play of wrist.
In some, the mind plays chiefest part, In others, muscles rule; In Billiards muscle joins with art, Combining head and hand and heart, In pyramids and pool.
So Winter, hail! Though thou be keen, Thou'rt not so keen as PEALL, As he plays the spot on cloth of green, And makes such breaks as ne'er were seen, Until our senses reel!
Hail, ROBERTS, MITCHELL, DAWSON, too, And others of your sort!-- _Punch_ welcomes you, the leading few, But thinks of the Rest as he gives the Cue:-- "Uphold your noble sport!--
"Preserve its reputation free From every act that's mean.-- Conform to honour's just decree, And curse the man (and curst be he!) Who fouls the table green!"
What wonders will the year reveal? A "Half-a-million Up?" A hundred-thousand points to PEALL Will ROBERTS yield--then show his heel, And win the Diamond Cup?
Or greater marvel still, I wot-- Will players cease to growl When fluke occurs, or when you "pot" The white, and swear it's mean (it's _not_) And loud "Whitechapel!" howl?
All such as these would _Punch_ beseech-- (He dwells on this behest)-- To drop such foolish ways, and preach To all "good form," that happy each May go for his Long Rest!
_The Vicar._ "AND HOW DO YOU LIKE THE NEW CHIMES, MRS. WEAVER? YOU _MUST_ BE GLAD TO HEAR THOSE BEAUTIFUL HYMN-TUNES AT NIGHT! THEY MUST REMIND YOU OF----"
_Mrs. Weaver._ "YES; THAT BE SO, SIR. I'VE TOOK MY MEDICINE QUITE REGULAR EVER SINCE THEY WAS BEGUN!"]