"When you have finished intimidating the Press, perhaps you will finish the extract."
"'His cynicism,'" she read, "'is too strained to commend him to ordinary mortals----'"
"No one would ever accuse you of being in that category."
"'----but his wit is undeniable, and his impudence delicious.' Well, Mr. CARTER?"
"I should like the extract concluded." I knew the next sentence commenced--"As for DOLLY, Lady MICKLEHAM, she outdoes all the revolted daughters of feminine fiction."
Then an annoying thing happened. ARCHIE'S voice was heard, saying, "DOLLY, haven't you finished that Dialogue yet? We ought to dress for dinner. It'll take us an hour to drive there."
So it had been all arranged, and ARCHIE knew for what I had been summoned.
Yet there are compensations. DOLLY sent the Dialogue to the only paper which I happen to edit. I regretfully declined it. But the fact that she sent it may possibly explain why I have found it so easy to give this account of what happened on that afternoon when I sent the two telegrams.
"_Vive l'Anarchie?_"--Fools! Chaos shrieks in that cry! _Did_ Anarchy live soon would Anarchists die. One truth lights all history, well understood,-- Disorder--like Saturn--devours its own brood.
_Experienced Jock (during preliminary canter, to Stable-boy, who has been put up to make the running for him)._ "NOW, YOUNG 'UN, AS SOON AS WE'RE OFF, YOU GO TO WORK AND MAKE THE PACE A HOT 'UN!"
_Stable-boy (Irish)._ "BEGORRA THIN OI'M THINKIN' IT'S MESELF _ROIDES_ THE RACE, AND YOU POCKETS ALL THE CREDIT O' WINNIN'!"]
["Mr. HERBERT GLADSTONE, as First Commissioner of Works, informed the house that 'no series of historical personages could be complete without the inclusion of CROMWELL,' and though he had no sum at his disposal for defraying the cost of a statue this year, Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, had promised to make the necessary provision in the estimates for next year."--_Spectator._]
Room for the Regicide amongst our Kings? Horrible thought, to set some bosoms fluttering! The whirligig of time does bring some things To set the very Muse of History muttering. Well may the brewer's son, uncouth and rude, Murmur--in scorn--"I hope I don't intrude!"