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diff --git a/20425-8.txt b/20425-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..36a15bf --- /dev/null +++ b/20425-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4631 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Peace Egg and Other tales, by Juliana Horatia Ewing + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Peace Egg and Other tales + +Author: Juliana Horatia Ewing + +Release Date: January 23, 2007 [EBook #20425] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PEACE EGG AND OTHER TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE PEACE EGG + + AND OTHER TALES. + + + + BY + + JULIANA HORATIA EWING. + + + + + + + + LONDON: + + SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, + + NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, W.C. + + BRIGHTON: 129, NORTH STREET. + + NEW YORK: E. & J. B. YOUNG & CO. + + + [Published under the direction of the General Literature Committee.] + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +THE PEACE EGG + +A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY + +HINTS FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS, I., II., III. + +SNAP-DRAGONS + +OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS + + * * * * * + + + + +THE PEACE EGG. + + + + +THE PEACE EGG. + +A CHRISTMAS TALE. + + +Every one ought to be happy at Christmas. But there are many things +which ought to be, and yet are not; and people are sometimes sad even +in the Christmas holidays. + +The Captain and his wife were sad, though it was Christmas Eve. Sad, +though they were in the prime of life, blessed with good health, +devoted to each other and to their children, with competent means, a +comfortable house on a little freehold property of their own, and, one +might say, everything that heart could desire. Sad, though they were +good people, whose peace of mind had a firmer foundation than their +earthly goods alone; contented people, too, with plenty of occupation +for mind and body. Sad--and in the nursery this was held to be past +all reason--though the children were performing that ancient and most +entertaining Play or Christmas Mystery of Good St. George of England, +known as _The Peace Egg_, for their benefit and behoof alone. + +The play was none the worse that most of the actors were too young to +learn parts, so that there was very little of the rather tedious +dialogue, only plenty of dress and ribbons, and of fighting with the +wooden swords. But though St. George looked bonny enough to warm any +father's heart, as he marched up and down with an air learned by +watching many a parade in barrack-square and drill-ground, and though +the Valiant Slasher did not cry in spite of falling hard and the +Doctor treading accidentally on his little finger in picking him up, +still the Captain and his wife sighed nearly as often as they smiled, +and the mother dropped tears as well as pennies into the cap which the +King of Egypt brought round after the performance. + + +THE CAPTAIN'S WIFE. + +Many many years back the Captain's wife had been a child herself, and +had laughed to see the village mummers act the Peace Egg, and had been +quite happy on Christmas Eve. Happy, though she had no mother. Happy, +though her father was a stern man, very fond of his only child, but +with an obstinate will that not even she dared thwart. She had lived +to thwart it, and he had never forgiven her. It was when she married +the Captain. The old man had a prejudice against soldiers, which was +quite reason enough, in his opinion, for his daughter to sacrifice the +happiness of her future life by giving up the soldier she loved. At +last he gave her her choice between the Captain and his own favour and +money. She chose the Captain, and was disowned and disinherited. + +The Captain bore a high character, and was a good and clever officer, +but that went for nothing against the old man's whim. He made a very +good husband too; but even this did not move his father-in-law, who +had never held any intercourse with him or his wife since the day of +their marriage, and who had never seen his own grandchildren. Though +not so bitterly prejudiced as the old father, the Captain's wife's +friends had their doubts about the marriage. The place was not a +military station, and they were quiet country folk who knew very +little about soldiers, whilst what they imagined was not altogether +favourable to "red-coats" as they called them. Soldiers are +well-looking generally, it is true (and the Captain was more than +well-looking--he was handsome); brave, of course it is their business +(and the Captain had V.C. after his name and several bits of ribbon +on his patrol jacket). But then, thought the good people, they are +here to-day and gone to-morrow, you "never know where you have them"; +they are probably in debt, possibly married to several women in +several foreign countries, and, though they are very courteous in +society, who knows how they treat their wives when they drag them off +from their natural friends and protectors to distant lands where no +one can call them to account? + +"Ah, poor thing!" said Mrs. John Bull, junior, as she took off her +husband's coat on his return from business, a week after the Captain's +wedding, "I wonder how she feels? There's no doubt the old man behaved +disgracefully; but it's a great risk marrying a soldier. It stands to +reason, military men aren't domestic; and I wish--Lucy Jane, fetch +your papa's slippers, quick!--she'd had the sense to settle down +comfortably amongst her friends with a man who would have taken care +of her." + +"Officers are a wild set, I expect," said Mr. Bull, complacently, as +he stretched his limbs in his own particular arm-chair, into which no +member of his family ever intruded. "But the red-coats carry the day +with plenty of girls who ought to know better. You women are always +caught by a bit of finery. However, there's no use our bothering _our_ +heads about it. As she has brewed she must bake." + +The Captain's wife's baking was lighter and more palatable than her +friends believed. The Captain (who took off his own coat when he came +home, and never wore slippers but in his dressing-room) was domestic +enough. A selfish companion must, doubtless, be a great trial amid the +hardships of military life, but when a soldier is kind-hearted, he is +often a much more helpful and thoughtful and handy husband than any +equally well-meaning civilian. Amid the ups and downs of their +wanderings, the discomforts of shipboard and of stations in the +colonies, bad servants, and unwonted sicknesses, the Captain's +tenderness never failed. If the life was rough the Captain was ready. +He had been, by turns, in one strait or another, sick-nurse, doctor, +carpenter, nursemaid, and cook to his family, and had, moreover, an +idea that nobody filled these offices quite so well as himself. +Withal, his very profession kept him neat, well-dressed, and active. +In the roughest of their ever-changing quarters he was a smarter man, +more like the lover of his wife's young days, than Mr. Bull amid his +stationary comforts. Then if the Captain's wife was--as her friends +said--"never settled," she was also for ever entertained by new +scenes; and domestic mischances do not weigh very heavily on people +whose possessions are few and their intellectual interests many. It is +true that there were ladies in the Captain's regiment who passed by +sea and land from one quarter of the globe to another, amid strange +climates and customs, strange trees and flowers, beasts and birds, +from the glittering snows of North America to the orchids of the Cape, +from beautiful Pera to the lily-covered hills of Japan, and who in no +place rose above the fret of domestic worries, and had little to tell +on their return but of the universal misconduct of servants, from +Irish "helps" in the colonies, to _compradors_ and China-boys at +Shanghai. But it was not so with the Captain's wife. Moreover, one +becomes accustomed to one's fate, and she moved her whole +establishment from the Curragh to Corfu with less anxiety than that +felt by Mrs. Bull over a port-wine stain on the best table-cloth. + +And yet, as years went and children came, the Captain and his wife +grew tired of travelling. New scenes were small comfort when they +heard of the death of old friends. One foot of murky English sky was +dearer, after all, than miles of the unclouded heavens of the South. +The grey hills and overgrown lanes of her old home haunted the +Captain's wife by night and day, and home-sickness (that weariest of +all sicknesses) began to take the light out of her eyes before their +time. It preyed upon the Captain too. Now and then he would say, +fretfully, "I _should_ like an English resting-place, however small, +before _every-_body is dead! But the children's prospects have to be +considered." The continued estrangement from the old man was an +abiding sorrow also, and they had hopes that, if only they could get +to England, he might be persuaded to peace and charity this time. + +At last they were sent home. But the hard old father still would not +relent. He returned their letters unopened. This bitter disappointment +made the Captain's wife so ill that she almost died, and in one month +the Captain's hair became iron-grey. He reproached himself for having +ever taken the daughter from her father, "to kill her at last," as he +said. And (thinking of his own children) he even reproached himself +for having robbed the old widower of his only child. After two years +at home his regiment was ordered to India. He failed to effect an +exchange, and they prepared to move once more--from Chatham to +Calcutta. Never before had the packing, to which she was so well +accustomed, been so bitter a task to the Captain's wife. + +It was at the darkest hour of this gloomy time that the Captain came +in, waving above his head a letter which changed all their plans. + +Now close by the old home of the Captain's wife there had lived a man, +much older than herself, who yet had loved her with a devotion as +great as that of the young Captain. She never knew it, for when he +saw that she had given her heart to his younger rival, he kept +silence, and he never asked for what he knew he might have had--the +old man's authority in his favour. So generous was the affection which +he could never conquer, that he constantly tried to reconcile the +father to his children whilst he lived, and, when he died, he +bequeathed his house and small estate to the woman he had loved. + +"It will be a legacy of peace," he thought, on his death-bed. "The old +man cannot hold out when she and her children are constantly in sight. +And it may please GOD that I shall know of the reunion I have not been +permitted to see with my eyes." + +And thus it came about that the Captain's regiment went to India +without him, and that the Captain's wife and her father lived on +opposite sides of the same road. + + +MASTER ROBERT. + +The eldest of the Captain's children was a boy. He was named Robert, +after his grandfather, and seemed to have inherited a good deal of the +old gentleman's character, mixed with gentler traits. He was a fair, +fine boy, tall and stout for his age, with the Captain's regular +features, and (he flattered himself) the Captain's firm step and +martial bearing. He was apt--like his grandfather--to hold his own +will to be other people's law, and (happily for the peace of the +nursery) this opinion was devoutly shared by his brother Nicholas. +Though the Captain had sold his commission, Robin continued to command +an irregular force of volunteers in the nursery, and never was colonel +more despotic. His brothers and sister were by turn infantry, cavalry, +engineers, and artillery, according to his whim, and when his +affections finally settled upon the Highlanders of "The Black Watch," +no female power could compel him to keep his stockings above his +knees, or his knickerbockers below them. + +The Captain alone was a match for his strong-willed son. + +"If you please, sir," said Sarah, one morning, flouncing in upon the +Captain, just as he was about to start for the neighbouring town,--"if +you please, sir, I wish you'd speak to Master Robert. He's past my +powers." + +"I've no doubt of it," thought the Captain, but he only said, "Well, +what's the matter?" + +"Night after night do I put him to bed," said Sarah, "and night after +night does he get up as soon as I'm out of the room, and says he's +orderly officer for the evening, and goes about in his night-shirt, +and his feet as bare as boards." + +The Captain fingered his heavy moustache to hide a smile, but he +listened patiently to Sarah's complaints. + +"It ain't so much _him_ I should mind, sir," she continued, "but he +goes round the beds and wakes up the other young gentlemen and Miss +Dora, one after another, and when I speak to him, he gives me all the +sauce he can lay his tongue to, and says he's going round the guards. +The other night I tried to put him back in his bed, but he got away +and ran all over the house, me hunting him everywhere, and not a sign +of him, till he jumps out on me from the garret-stairs and nearly +knocks me down. 'I've visited the outposts, Sarah,' says he; 'all's +well,' And off he goes to bed as bold as brass." + +"Have you spoken to your mistress?" asked the Captain. + +"Yes, sir," said Sarah. "And missis spoke to him, and he promised not +to go round the guards again." + +"Has he broken his promise?" asked the Captain, with a look of anger, +and also of surprise. + +"When I opened the door last night, sir," continued Sarah, in her +shrill treble, "what should I see in the dark but Master Robert +a-walking up and down with the carpet-brush stuck in his arm. 'Who +goes there?' says he. 'You owdacious boy!' says I. 'Didn't you +promise your ma you'd leave off them tricks?' 'I'm not going round the +guards,' says he; 'I promised not. But I'm for sentry-duty to-night.' +And say what I would to him, all he had for me was, 'You mustn't speak +to a sentry on duty.' So I says, 'As sure as I live till morning, I'll +go to your pa,' for he pays no more attention to his ma than to me, +nor to any one else." + +"Please to see that the chair-bed in my dressing-room is moved into +your mistress's bedroom," said the Captain. "I will attend to Master +Robert." + +With this Sarah had to content herself, and she went back to the +nursery. Robert was nowhere to be seen, and made no reply to her +summons. On this the unwary nursemaid flounced into the bedroom to +look for him, when Robert, who was hidden beneath a table, darted +forth, and promptly locked her in. + +"You're under arrest," he shouted, through the keyhole. + +"Let me out!" shrieked Sarah. + +"I'll send a file of the guard to fetch you to the orderly room, by +and by," said Robert, "for 'preferring frivolous complaints.'" And he +departed to the farmyard to look at the ducks. + +That night, when Robert went up to bed, the Captain quietly locked him +into his dressing-room, from which the bed had been removed. + +"You're for sentry-duty to-night," said the Captain. "The carpet-brush +is in the corner. Good-evening." + +As his father anticipated, Robert was soon tired of the sentry game in +these new circumstances, and long before the night had half worn away +he wished himself safely undressed and in his own comfortable bed. At +half-past twelve o'clock he felt as if he could bear it no longer, and +knocked at the Captain's door. + +"Who goes there?" said the Captain. + +"Mayn't I go to bed, please?" whined poor Robert. + +"Certainly not," said the Captain. "You're on duty." + +And on duty poor Robert had to remain, for the Captain had a will as +well as his son. So he rolled himself up in his father's railway-rug, +and slept on the floor. + +The next night he was very glad to go quietly to bed, and remain +there. + + +IN THE NURSERY. + +The Captain's children sat at breakfast in a large, bright nursery. It +was the room where the old bachelor had died, and now _her_ children +made it merry. This was just what he would have wished. + +They all sat round the table, for it was breakfast-time. There were +five of them, and five bowls of boiled bread-and-milk smoked before +them. Sarah (a foolish, gossiping girl, who acted as nurse till better +could be found) was waiting on them, and by the table sat Darkie, the +black retriever, his long, curly back swaying slightly from the +difficulty of holding himself up, and his solemn hazel eyes fixed very +intently on each and all of the breakfast bowls. He was as silent and +sagacious as Sarah was talkative and empty-headed. The expression of +his face was that of King Charles I. as painted by Vandyke. Though +large, he was unassuming. Pax, the pug, on the contrary, who came up +to the first joint of Darkie's leg, stood defiantly on his dignity +(and his short stumps). He always placed himself in front of the +bigger dog, and made a point of hustling him in doorways and of going +first down-stairs. He strutted like a beadle, and carried his tail +more tightly curled than a bishop's crook. He looked as one may +imagine the frog in the fable would have looked, had he been able to +swell himself rather nearer to the size of the ox. This was partly due +to his very prominent eyes, and partly to an obesity favoured by +habits of lying inside the fender, and of eating meals proportioned +more to his consequence than to his hunger. They were both favourites +of two years' standing, and had very nearly been given away, when the +good news came of an English home for the family, dogs and all. + +Robert's tongue was seldom idle, even at meals. "Are you a +Yorkshirewoman, Sarah?" he asked, pausing, with his spoon full in his +hand. + +"No, Master Robert," said Sarah. + +"But you understand Yorkshire, don't you? I can't, very often; but +Mamma can, and can speak it, too. Papa says Mamma always talks +Yorkshire to servants and poor people. She used to talk Yorkshire to +Themistocles, Papa said, and he said it was no good; for though +Themistocles knew a lot of languages, he didn't know that. And Mamma +laughed, and said she didn't know she did."--"Themistocles was our +man-servant in Corfu," Robin added, in explanation. "He stole lots of +things, Themistocles did; but Papa found him out." + +Robin now made a rapid attack on his bread-and-milk, after which he +broke out again. + +"Sarah, who is that tall old gentleman at church, in the seat near the +pulpit? He wears a cloak like what the Blues wear, only all blue, and +is tall enough for a Lifeguardsman. He stood when we were kneeling +down, and said _Almighty and most merciful Father_ louder than +anybody." + +Sarah knew who the old gentleman was, and knew also that the children +did not know, and that their parents did not see fit to tell them as +yet. But she had a passion for telling and hearing news, and would +rather gossip with a child than not gossip at all. "Never you mind, +Master Robin," she said, nodding sagaciously. "Little boys aren't to +know everything." + +"Ah, then, I know you don't know," replied Robert; "if you did, you'd +tell. Nicholas, give some of your bread to Darkie and Pax. I've done +mine. _For what we have received, the Lord make us truly thankful._ +Say your grace and put your chair away, and come along. I want to hold +a court-martial!" And seizing his own chair by the seat, Robin carried +it swiftly to its corner. As he passed Sarah, he observed tauntingly, +"You pretend to know, but you don't." + +"I do," said Sarah. + +"You don't," said Robin. + +"Your ma's forbid you to contradict, Master Robin," said Sarah; "and +if you do I shall tell her. I know well enough who the old gentleman +is, and perhaps I might tell you, only you'd go straight off and tell +again." + +"No, no, I wouldn't!" shouted Robin. "I can keep a secret, indeed I +can! Pinch my little finger, and try. Do, do tell me, Sarah, there's a +dear Sarah, and then I shall know you know." And he danced round her, +catching at her skirts. + +To keep a secret was beyond Sarah's powers. + +"Do let my dress be, Master Robin," she said, "you're ripping out all +the gathers, and listen while I whisper. As sure as you're a living +boy, that gentleman's your own grandpapa." + +Robin lost his hold on Sarah's dress; his arms fell by his side, and +he stood with his brows knit for some minutes, thinking. Then he said, +emphatically, "What lies you do tell, Sarah!" + +"Oh, Robin!" cried Nicholas, who had drawn near, his thick curls +standing stark with curiosity, "Mamma said 'lies' wasn't a proper +word, and you promised not to say it again." + +"I forgot," said Robin. "I didn't mean to break my promise. But she +does tell--ahem! _you know what_." + +"You wicked boy!" cried the enraged Sarah; "how dare you to say such a +thing! and everybody in the place knows he's your ma's own pa." + +"I'll go and ask her," said Robin, and he was at the door in a moment; +but Sarah, alarmed by the thought of getting into a scrape herself, +caught him by the arm. + +"Don't you go, love; it'll only make your ma angry. There; it was all +my nonsense." + +"Then it's not true?" said Robin, indignantly. "What did you tell me +so for?" + +"It was all my jokes and nonsense," said the unscrupulous Sarah. "But +your ma wouldn't like to know I've said such a thing. And Master +Robert wouldn't be so mean as to tell tales, would he, love?" + +"I'm not mean," said Robin, stoutly; "and I don't tell tales; but you +do, and you tell _you know what_, besides. However, I won't go this +time; but I'll tell you what--if you tell tales of me to Papa any +more, I'll tell him what you said about the old gentleman in the blue +cloak." With which parting threat Robin strode, off to join his +brothers and sister. + +Sarah's tale had put the court-martial out of his head, and he leaned +against the tall fender, gazing at his little sister, who was tenderly +nursing a well-worn doll. Robin sighed. + +"What a long time that doll takes to wear out, Dora!" said he. "When +will it be done?" + +"Oh, not yet, not yet!" cried Dora, clasping the doll to her, and +turning away. "She's quite good, yet." + +"How miserly you are," said her brother; "and selfish, too; for you +know I can't have a military funeral till you'll let me bury that old +thing." + +Dora began to cry. + +"There you go, crying!" said Robin, impatiently. "Look here: I won't +take it till you get the new one on your birthday. You can't be so +mean as not to let me have it then!" + +But Dora's tears still fell. "I love this one so much," she sobbed. "I +love her better than the new one." + +"You want both; that's it," said Robin, angrily. "Dora, you're the +meanest girl I ever knew!" + +At which unjust and painful accusation Dora threw herself and the doll +upon their faces, and wept bitterly. The eyes of the soft-hearted +Nicholas began to fill with tears, and he squatted down before her, +looking most dismal. He had a fellow-feeling for her attachment to an +old toy, and yet Robin's will was law to him. + +"Couldn't we make a coffin, and pretend the body was inside?" he +suggested. + +"No, we couldn't," said Robin. "I wouldn't play the Dead March after +an empty candle-box. It's a great shame--and I promised she should be +chaplain in one of my night-gowns, too." + +"Perhaps you'll get just as fond of the new one," said Nicholas, +turning to Dora. + +But Dora only cried, "No, no! He shall have the new one to bury, and +I'll keep my poor, dear, darling Betsy." And she clasped Betsy tighter +than before. + +"That's the meanest thing you've said yet," retorted Robin; "for you +know Mamma wouldn't let me bury the new one." And, with an air of +great disgust, he quitted the nursery. + + +"A MUMMING WE WILL GO." + +Nicholas had sore work to console his little sister, and Betsy's +prospects were in a very unfavourable state, when a diversion was +caused in her favour by a new whim which put the military funeral out +of Robin's head. + +After he left the nursery he strolled out of doors, and, peeping +through the gate at the end of the drive, he saw a party of boys going +through what looked like a military exercise with sticks and a good +deal of stamping; but, instead of mere words of command, they all +spoke by turns, as in a play. In spite of their strong Yorkshire +accent, Robin overheard a good deal, and it sounded very fine. Not +being at all shy, he joined them, and asked so many questions that he +soon got to know all about it. They were practising a Christmas +mumming-play, called "The Peace Egg." Why it was called thus they +could not tell, as there was nothing whatever about eggs in it, and so +far from being a play of peace, it was made up of a series of battles +between certain valiant knights and princes, of whom St. George of +England was the chief and conqueror. The rehearsal being over, Robin +went with the boys to the sexton's house (he was father to the "King +of Egypt"), where they showed him the dresses they were to wear. These +were made of gay-coloured materials, and covered with ribbons, except +that of the "Black Prince of Paradine," which was black, as became his +title. The boys also showed him the book from which they learned their +parts, and which was to be bought for one penny at the post-office +shop. + +"Then are you the mummers who come round at Christmas, and act in +people's kitchens, and people give them money, that Mamma used to tell +us about?" said Robin. + +St. George of England looked at his companions as if for counsel as to +how far they might commit themselves, and then replied, with Yorkshire +caution, "Well, I suppose we are." + +"And do you go out in the snow from one house to another at night? and +oh, don't you enjoy it?" cried Robin. + +"We like it well enough," St. George admitted. + +Robin bought a copy of "The Peace Egg." He was resolved to have a +nursery performance, and to act the part of St. George himself. The +others were willing for what he wished, but there were difficulties. +In the first place, there are eight characters in the play, and there +were only five children. They decided among themselves to leave out +the "Fool," and Mamma said that another character was not to be acted +by any of them, or indeed mentioned; "the little one who comes in at +the end," Robin explained. Mamma had her reasons, and these were +always good. She had not been altogether pleased that Robin had bought +the play. It was a very old thing, she said, and very queer; not +adapted for a child's play. If Mamma thought the parts not quite fit +for the children to learn, they found them much too long; so in the +end she picked out some bits for each, which they learned easily, and +which, with a good deal of fighting, made quite as good a story of it +as if they had done the whole. What may have been wanting otherwise +was made up for by the dresses, which were charming. + +Robin was St. George, Nicholas the Valiant Slasher, Dora the Doctor, +and the other two Hector and the King of Egypt. "And now we've no +Black Prince!" cried Robin in dismay. + +"Let Darkie be the Black Prince," said Nicholas. "When you wave your +stick he'll jump for it, and then you can pretend to fight with him." + +"It's not a stick, it's a sword," said Robin. "However, Darkie may be +the Black Prince." + +"And what's Pax to be?" asked Dora; "for you know he will come if +Darkie does, and he'll run in before everybody else too." + +"Then he must be the Fool," said Robin, "and it will do very well, for +the Fool comes in before the rest, and Pax can have his red coat on, +and the collar with the little bells." + + +CHRISTMAS EVE. + +Robin thought that Christmas would never come. To the Captain and his +wife it seemed to come too fast. They had hoped it might bring +reconciliation with the old man, but it seemed they had hoped in vain. + +There were times now when the Captain almost regretted the old +bachelor's bequest. The familiar scenes of her old home sharpened his +wife's grief. To see her father every Sunday in church, with marks of +age and infirmity upon him, but with not a look of tenderness for his +only child, this tried her sorely. + +"She felt it less abroad," thought the Captain. "An English home in +which she frets herself to death is, after all, no great boon." + +Christmas Eve came. + +"I'm sure it's quite Christmas enough now," said Robin. "We'll have +'The Peace Egg' to-night." + +So as the Captain and his wife sat sadly over their fire, the door +opened, and Pax ran in shaking his bells, and followed by the nursery +mummers. The performance was most successful. It was by no means +pathetic, and yet, as has been said, the Captain's wife shed tears. + +"What is the matter, Mamma?" said St. George, abruptly dropping his +sword and running up to her. + +"Don't tease Mamma with questions," said the Captain; "she is not very +well, and rather sad. We must all be very kind and good to poor dear +Mamma;" and the Captain raised his wife's hand to his lips as he +spoke. Robin seized the other hand and kissed it tenderly. He was very +fond of his mother. At this moment Pax took a little run, and jumped +on to Mamma's lap, where, sitting facing the company, he opened his +black mouth and yawned, with a ludicrous inappropriateness worthy of +any clown. It made everybody laugh. + +"And now we'll go and act in the kitchen," said Nicholas. + +"Supper at nine o'clock, remember," shouted the Captain. "And we are +going to have real frumenty and Yule cakes, such as Mamma used to tell +us of when we were abroad." + +"Hurray!" shouted the mummers, and they ran off, Pax leaping from his +seat just in time to hustle the Black Prince in the doorway. When the +dining-room door was shut, St. George raised his hand, and said +"Hush!" + +The mummers pricked their ears, but there was only a distant harsh and +scraping sound, as of stones rubbed together. + +"They're cleaning the passages," St. George went on, "and Sarah told +me they meant to finish the mistletoe, and have everything cleaned up +by supper-time. They don't want us, I know. Look here, we'll go _real +mumming_ instead. That _will_ be fun!" + +The Valiant Slasher grinned with delight. + +"But will mamma let us?" he inquired. + +"Oh, it will be all right if we're back by supper-time," said St. +George, hastily. "Only of course we must take care not to catch cold. +Come and help me to get some wraps." + +The old oak chest in which spare shawls, rugs, and coats were kept was +soon ransacked, and the mummers' gay dresses hidden by motley +wrappers. But no sooner did Darkie and Pax behold the coats, &c., than +they at once began to leap and bark, as it was their custom to do when +they saw any one dressing to go out. Robin was sorely afraid that this +would betray them; but though the Captain and his wife heard the +barking they did not guess the cause. + +So the front door being very gently opened and closed, the nursery +mummers stole away. + + +THE NURSERY MUMMERS AND THE OLD MAN. + +It was a very fine night. The snow was well trodden on the drive, so +that it did not wet their feet, but on the trees and shrubs it hung +soft and white. + +"It's much jollier being out at night than in the daytime," said +Robin. + +"Much," responded Nicholas, with intense feeling. + +"We'll go a wassailing next week," said Robin. "I know all about it, +and perhaps we shall get a good lot of money, and then we'll buy tin +swords with scabbards for next year. I don't like these sticks. Oh, +dear, I wish it wasn't so long between one Christmas and another." + +"Where shall we go first?" asked Nicholas, as they turned into the +high-road. But before Robin could reply, Dora clung to Nicholas, +crying, "Oh, look at those men!" + +The boys looked up the road, down which three men were coming in a +very unsteady fashion, and shouting as they rolled from side to side. + +"They're drunk," said Nicholas; "and they're shouting at us." + +"Oh, run, run!" cried Dora; and down the road they ran, the men +shouting and following them. They had not run far, when Hector caught +his foot in the Captain's great-coat, which he was wearing, and came +down headlong in the road. They were close by a gate, and when +Nicholas had set Hector upon his legs, St. George hastily opened it. + +"This is the first house," he said. "We'll act here;" and all, even +the Valiant Slasher, pressed in as quickly as possible. Once safe +within the grounds, they shouldered their sticks, and resumed their +composure. + +"You're going to the front door," said Nicholas, "Mummers ought to go +to the back." + +"We don't know where it is," said Robin, and he rang the front-door +bell. There was a pause. Then lights shone, steps were heard, and at +last a sound of much unbarring, unbolting, and unlocking. It might +have been a prison. Then the door was opened by an elderly, +timid-looking woman, who held a tallow candle above her head. + +"Who's there," she said, "at this time of night?" + +"We're Christmas mummers," said Robin, stoutly; "we don't know the way +to the back door, but--" + +"And don't you know better than to come here?" said the woman. "Be off +with you, as fast as you can." + +"You're only the servant," said Robin. "Go and ask your master and +mistress if they wouldn't like to see us act. We do it very well." + +"You impudent boy, be off with you!" repeated the woman. "Master'd no +more let you nor any other such rubbish set foot in this house--" + +"Woman!" shouted a voice close behind her, which made her start as if +she had been shot, "who authorizes you to say what your master will or +will not do, before you've asked him? The boy is right. You _are_ the +servant, and it is not your business to choose for me whom I shall or +shall not see." + +"I meant no harm, sir, I'm sure," said the housekeeper; "but I thought +you'd never--" + +"My good woman," said her master, "if I had wanted somebody to think +for me, you're the last person I should have employed. I hire you to +obey orders, not to think." + +"I'm sure, sir," said the housekeeper, whose only form of argument was +reiteration, "I never thought you would have seen them--" + +"Then you were wrong," shouted her master. "I will see them. Bring +them in." + +He was a tall, gaunt old man, and Robin stared at him for some +minutes, wondering where he could have seen somebody very like him. At +last he remembered. It was the old gentleman of the blue cloak. + +The children threw off their wraps, the housekeeper helping them, and +chattering ceaselessly, from sheer nervousness. + +"Well, to be sure," said she, "their dresses are pretty too. And they +seem quite a better sort of children, they talk quite genteel. I might +ha' knowed they weren't like common mummers, but I was so flusterated +hearing the bell go so late, and--" + +"Are they ready?" said the old man, who had stood like a ghost in the +dim light of the flaring tallow candle, grimly watching the +proceedings. + +"Yes, sir. Shall I take them to the kitchen, sir?" + +"--for you and the other idle hussies to gape and grin at? No. Bring +them to the library," he snapped, and then stalked off, leading the +way. + +The housekeeper accordingly led them to the library, and then +withdrew, nearly falling on her face as she left the room by stumbling +over Darkie, who slipped in last like a black shadow. + +The old man was seated in a carved oak chair by the fire. + +"I never said the dogs were to come in," he said. + +"But we can't do without them, please," said Robin, boldly. "You see +there are eight people in 'The Peace Egg,' and there are only five of +us; and so Darkie has to be the Black Prince, and Pax has to be the +Fool, and so we have to have them." + +"Five and two make seven," said the old man, with a grim smile; "what +do you do for the eighth?" + +"Oh, that's the little one at the end," said Robin, confidentially. +"Mamma said we weren't to mention him, but I think that's because +we're children.--You're grown up, you know, so I'll show you the book, +and you can see for yourself," he went on, drawing "The Peace Egg" +from his pocket: "there, that's the picture of him, on the last page; +black, with horns and a tail." + +The old man's stern face relaxed into a broad smile as he examined the +grotesque woodcut; but when he turned to the first page the smile +vanished in a deep frown, and his eyes shone like hot coals with +anger. He had seen Robin's name. + +"Who sent you here?" he asked, in a hoarse voice. "Speak, and speak +the truth! Did your mother send you here?" + +Robin thought the old man was angry with them for playing truant. He +said, slowly, "N--no. She didn't exactly send us; but I don't think +she'll mind our having come if we get back in time for supper. Mamma +never _forbid_ our going mumming, you know." + +"I don't suppose she ever thought of it," Nicholas said, candidly, +wagging his curly head from side to side. + +"She knows we're mummers," said Robin, "for she helped us. When we +were abroad, you know, she used to tell us about the mummers acting +at Christmas, when she was a little girl; and so we thought we'd be +mummers, and so we acted to Papa and Mamma, and so we thought we'd act +to the maids, but they were cleaning the passages, and so we thought +we'd really go mumming; and we've got several other houses to go to +before supper-time; we'd better begin, I think," said Robin; and +without more ado he began to march round and round, raising his sword +and shouting-- + + "I am St. George, who from Old England sprung, + My famous name throughout the world hath rung." + +And the performance went off quite as creditably as before. + +As the children acted the old man's anger wore off. He watched them +with an interest he could not repress. When Nicholas took some hard +thwacks from St. George without flinching, the old man clapped his +hands; and, after the encounter between St. George and the Black +Prince, he said he would not have had the dogs excluded on any +consideration. It was just at the end, when they were all marching +round and round, holding on by each other's swords "over the +shoulder," and singing "A mumming we will go," &c., that Nicholas +suddenly brought the circle to a standstill by stopping dead short, +and staring up at the wall before him. + +"What _are_ you stopping for?" said St. George, turning indignantly +round. + +"Look there!" cried Nicholas, pointing to a little painting which hung +above the old man's head. + +Robin looked, and said, abruptly, "It's Dora." + +"Which is Dora?" asked the old man, in a strange, sharp tone. + +"Here she is," said Robin and Nicholas in one breath, as they dragged +her forward. + +"She's the Doctor," said Robin; "and you can't see her face for her +things. Dor, take off your cap and pull back that hood. There! Oh, it +_is_ like her!" + +It was a portrait of her mother as a child; but of this the nursery +mummers knew nothing. The old man looked as the peaked cap and hood +fell away from Dora's face and fair curls, and then he uttered a sharp +cry, and buried his head upon his hands. The boys stood stupefied, but +Dora ran up to him, and putting her little hands on his arms, said, in +childish pitying tones, "Oh, I am so sorry! Have you got a headache? +May Robin put the shovel in the fire for you? Mamma has hot shovels +for her headaches." And, though the old man did not speak or move, she +went on coaxing him, and stroking his head, on which the hair was +white. At this moment Pax took one of his unexpected runs, and jumped +on to the old man's knee, in his own particular fashion, and then +yawned at the company. The old man was startled, and lifted his face +suddenly. It was wet with tears. + +"Why, you're crying!" exclaimed the children, with one breath. + +"It's very odd," said Robin, fretfully. "I can't think what's the +matter to-night. Mamma was crying too when we were acting, and Papa +said we weren't to tease her with questions, and he kissed her hand, +and I kissed her hand too. And Papa said we must all be very good and +kind to poor dear Mamma, and so I mean to be, she's so good. And I +think we'd better go home, or perhaps she'll be frightened," Robin +added. + +"She's so good, is she?" asked the old man. He had put Pax off his +knee, and taken Dora on to it. + +"Oh, isn't she!" said Nicholas, swaying his curly head from side to +side as usual. + +"She's always good," said Robin, emphatically; "and so's Papa. But I'm +always doing something I oughtn't to," he added, slowly. "But then, +you know, I don't pretend to obey Sarah. I don't care a fig for Sarah; +and I won't obey any woman but Mamma." + +"Who's Sarah?" asked the grandfather. + +"She's our nurse," said Robin, "and she tells--I mustn't say what she +tells--but it's not the truth. She told one about _you_ the other +day," he added. + +"About me?" said the old man. + +"She said you were our grandpapa. So then I knew she was telling _you +know what_." + +"How did you know it wasn't true?" the old man asked. + +"Why, of course," said Robin, "if you were our Mamma's father, you'd +know her, and be very fond of her, and come and see her. And then +you'd be our grandfather, too, and you'd have us to see you, and +perhaps give us Christmas-boxes. I wish you were," Robin added with a +sigh. "It would be very nice." + +"Would _you_ like it?" asked the old man of Dora. + +And Dora, who was half asleep and very comfortable, put her little +arms about his neck as she was wont to put them round the Captain's, +and said, "Very much." + +He put her down at last, very tenderly, almost unwillingly, and left +the children alone. By and by he returned, dressed in the blue cloak, +and took Dora up again. + +"I will see you home," he said. + +The children had not been missed. The clock had only just struck nine +when there came a knock on the door of the dining-room, where the +Captain and his wife still sat by the Yule log. She said "Come in," +wearily, thinking it was the frumenty and the Christmas cakes. + +But it was her father, with her child in his arms! + + +PEACE AND GOODWILL. + +Lucy Jane Bull and her sisters were quite old enough to understand a +good deal of grown-up conversation when they overheard it. Thus, when +a friend of Mrs. Bull's observed during an afternoon call that she +believed that "officers' wives were very dressy," the young ladies +were at once resolved to keep a sharp look-out for the Captain's +wife's bonnet in church on Christmas Day. + +The Bulls had just taken their seats when the Captain's wife came in. +They really would have hid their faces, and looked at the bonnet +afterwards, but for the startling sight that met the gaze of the +congregation. The old grandfather walked into church abreast of the +Captain. + +"They've met in the porch," whispered Mr. Bull, under the shelter of +his hat. + +"They can't quarrel publicly in a place of worship," said Mrs. Bull, +turning pale. + +"She's gone into his seat," cried Lucy Jane in a shrill whisper. + +"And the children after her," added the other sister, incautiously +aloud. + +There was now no doubt about the matter. The old man in his blue cloak +stood for a few moments politely disputing the question of precedence +with his handsome son-in-law. Then the Captain bowed and passed in, +and the old man followed him. + +By the time that the service was ended everybody knew of the happy +peacemaking, and was glad. One old friend after another came up with +blessings and good wishes. This was a proper Christmas, indeed, they +said. There was a general rejoicing. + +But only the grandfather and his children knew that it was hatched +from "The Peace Egg." + + + + +A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY. + + + + +A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY. + +INTRODUCTION. + + +Since a little story of mine called "The Peace Egg" appeared in _Aunt +Judy's Magazine_, I have again and again been asked where the Mumming +Play could be found which gave its name to my tale, and if real +children could act it, as did the fancy children of my story. + +As it stands, this old Christmas Mumming Play (which seems to have +borrowed the name of an Easter Entertainment or Pasque Egg) is not fit +for domestic performance; and though probably there are few nurseries +in those parts of England where "mumming" and the sword-dance still +linger, in which the children do not play some version of St. George's +exploits, a little of the dialogue goes a long way, and the mummery +(which must almost be seen to be imitated) is the chief matter. + +In fact, the mummery _is_ the chief matter--which is what makes the +play so attractive to children, and, it may be added, so suitable for +their performance. In its rudeness, its simplicity, its fancy +dressing, the rapid action of the plot, and last, but not least, its +_bludginess_--that quality which made the history of Goliath so dear +to the youngest of Helen's Babies!--it is adapted for nursery +amusement, as the Drama of Punch and Judy is, and for similar reasons. + +For some little time past I have purposed to try and blend the various +versions of "Peace Egg" into one Mummery for the nursery, with as +little change of the old rhymes as might be. I have been again urged +to do so this Christmas, and though I have not been able to give so +much time or research to it as I should have liked, I have thought it +better to do it without further delay, even if somewhat imperfectly. + +To shuffle the characters and vary the text is nothing new in the +history of these "Mock Plays," as they were sometimes called. + +They are probably of very ancient origin--"Pagan, I regret to say," as +Mr. Pecksniff observed in reference to the sirens--and go back to "the +heathen custom of going about on the Kalends of January in disguises, +as wild beasts and cattle, the sexes changing apparel," (There is a +relic of this last unseemly custom still in "The Old Tup" and "The Old +Horse"; when these are performed by both girls and boys, the latter +wear skirts and bonnets, the former hats and great-coats; this is also +the case in Scotland where the boys and girls go round at Hogmanay.) + +In the 12th century the clergy introduced miracle plays and Scripture +histories to rival the performances of the strolling players, which +had become very gross. They became as popular as beneficial, and +London was famous for them. Different places, and even trade-guilds +and schools, had their differing "mysteries." + +Secular plays continued, and the two seem occasionally to have got +mixed. Into one of the oldest of old plays, "St. George and the +Dragon," the Crusaders and Pilgrims introduced the Eastern characters +who still remain there. This is the foundation of "The Peace Egg." +About the middle of the 15th century, plays, which, not quite +religious, still witnessed to the effect of the religious plays in +raising the standard of public taste, appeared under the name of +"Morals," or "Moralities." + +Christmas plays, masques, pageants, and the like were largely +patronized by the Tudor sovereigns, and the fashion set by the Court +was followed in the country. Queen Elizabeth was not only devoted to +the drama, and herself performed, but she was very critical and +exacting; and the high demand which she did so much to stimulate, was +followed by such supply as was given by the surpassing dramatic +genius of the Elizabethan age of literature. Later, Ben Jonson and +Inigo Jones combined to produce the Court masks, one of which,--the +well-known "Mask of Christmas," had for chief characters, Christmas +and his children, Misrule, Carol, Mince Pie, Gambol, Post and Pair, +New Year's Gift, Mumming, Wassel, Offering, and Baby's Cake. In the +17th century the Christmas Mummeries of the Inns of Court were +conducted with great magnificence and at large cost. + +All such entertainments were severely suppressed during the +Commonwealth, at which time the words "Welcome, or not welcome, I am +come," were introduced into Father Christmas's part. + +At one time the Jester of the piece (he is sometimes called the +Jester, and sometimes the Fool, or the Old Fool) used to wear a calf's +hide. Robin Goodfellow says, "I'll go put on my devilish robes--I mean +my Christmas calf's-skin suit--and then walk to the woods." "I'll put +me on my great carnation nose, and wrap me in a rousing calf-skin +suit, and come like some hobgoblin." And a character of the 18th +century "clears the way" with-- + + "My name is Captain Calftail, Calftail-- + And on my back it is plain to be seen, + Although I am simple and wear a fool's cap, + I am dearly beloved of a queen--" + +which looks as if Titania had found her way into that mummery! + +"The Hobby Horse's" costume was a horse's hide, real or imitated. I +have no copy of a Christmas Play in which the Hobby Horse appears. In +the north of England, "The Old Horse" and "The Old Tup" are the +respective heroes of their own peculiar mummeries, generally performed +by a younger, or perhaps a rougher, set of lads than those who play +the more elegant mysteries of St. George. The boy who acts "Old Tup" +has a ram's head impaled upon a short pole, which he grasps and uses +as a sort of wooden leg in front of him. He needs some extra support, +his back being bent as If for leap-frog, and covered with an old rug +(in days when "meat" was cheaper it was probably a hide). The hollow +sound of his peg-leg upon the "flags" of the stone passages and +kitchen floor, and the yearly test of courage supplied by the rude +familiarities of his gruesome head as he charged and dispersed maids +and children, amid shrieks and laughter, are probably familiar +memories of all Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Derbyshire childhoods. I do +not know if the Old Horse and the Old Tup belong to other parts of the +British Isles. It is a rude and somewhat vulgar performance, +especially if undertaken by older revellers, when the men wear skirts +and bonnets, and the women don great-coats and hats--the Fool, the +Doctor, and a darker character with a besom, are often of the party, +but the Knights of Christendom and the Eastern Potentates take no +share in these proceedings, which are oftenest and most inoffensively +performed by little boys not yet promoted to be "mummers." It is, +however, essential that one of them should have a good voice, true and +tuneful enough to sing a long ballad, and lead the chorus. + +In the scale of contributions to the numerous itinerant Christmas +Boxes of Christmas week--such as the Ringers, the Waits, the Brass +Band, the Hand-bells, the Mummers (Peace Egg), the Superior Mummers, +who do more intricate sword-play (and in the North Riding are called +Morris Dancers), &c. &c., the Old Tup stands low down on the list. I +never heard the Rhymes of the Old Horse; they cannot be the same. +These diversions are very strictly localized and handed on by word of +mouth. + +Of the best version of "Peace Egg" which I have seen performed, I have +as yet quite vainly endeavoured to get any part transcribed. It is +oral tradition. It is practised for some weeks beforehand, and the +costumes, including wonderful head-dresses about the size of the +plumed bonnet of a Highlander in full-dress, are carefully preserved +from year to year. These paste-board erections are covered with +flowers, feathers, bugles, and coloured streamers. The dresses are of +coloured calico, with ribbons everywhere; "points" to the breeches and +hose, shoulder-knots and sashes. + +But, as a rough rule, it is one of the conveniences of mumming play, +that the finery may be according to the taste and the resources of the +company. + +The swords are of steel, and those I have seen are short. In some +places I believe rapiers are used. I am very sorry to be unable to +give proper directions for the sword-play, which is so pretty. I have +only one version in which such directions are given. I have copied the +"Grand Sword Dance" in its proper place for the benefit of those who +can interpret it. It is not easy to explain in writing even so much of +it as I know. Each combat consists of the same number of cuts, to the +best of my remembrance, and the "shoulder cuts" (which look very like +two persons sharpening two knives as close as possible to each other's +nose!) are in double time, twice as quick as the others. The stage +directions are as follows:-- + + A. and B. fight + +Cut I ... ... Crossing each other. + (They change places, striking as they pass.) + +Cut 2 ... ... " " back. + +Cut 3 ... ... " " other. + +Cut 4 ... ... " " back. + +Four shoulder cuts. + + A. loses his sword and falls. + +But I do not think the version from which this is an extract is at all +an elaborate one. There ought to be a "Triumph," with an archway of +swords, in the style of Sir Roger de Coverley. After the passing and +repassing strokes, there is usually much more hand-to-hand fighting, +then four shoulder cuts, and some are aimed high and some down among +their ankles, in a way which would probably be quite clear to any one +trained in broadsword exercise. + +The following Christmas Mumming Play is compiled from five +versions--the "Peace Egg," the "Wassail Cup," "Alexander the Great," +"A Mock Play," and the "Silverton Mummer's Play" (Devon), which has +been lent to me in manuscript. + +The Mumming Chorus, "And a mumming we will go," &c., is not in any one +of these versions, but I never saw mumming without it. + +The Silverton version is an extreme example of the continuous +development of these unwritten dramas. Generation after generation, +the most incongruous characters have been added. In some cases this is +a very striking testimony to the strength of rural sympathy with the +great deeds and heroes of the time, as well as to native talent for +dramatic composition. + +Wellington and Wolfe almost eclipsed St. George in some parts of +England, and the sea Heroes are naturally popular in Devonshire. The +death of Nelson in the Silverton play has fine dramatic touches. +Though he "has but one arm and a good one too," he essays to +fight--whether Tippo Saib or St. George is not made clear. He falls, +and St. George calls for the Doctor in the usual words. The Doctor +ends his peculiar harangue with: "Britons! our Nelson is dead." To +which a voice, which seems to play the part of Greek chorus, +responds--"But he is not with the dead, but in the arms of the Living +God!" Then, enter Collingwood-- + + "_Collingwood_--Here comes I, bold Collingwood, + Who fought the French and boldly stood; + And now the life of that bold Briton's gone, + I'll put the crown of victory on"-- + +with which--"he takes the crown off Nelson's head and puts it on his +own." + +I have, however, confined myself in "The Peace Egg" to those +characters which have the warrant of considerable antiquity, and their +number is not small. They can easily be reduced by cutting out one or +two; or some of the minor characters could play more than one part, by +making real exits and changing the dress, instead of the conventional +exit into the background of the group. + +Some of these minor characters are not the least charming. The fair +Sabra (who is often a mute) should be the youngest and prettiest +little maid that can toddle through her part, and no old family +brocade can be too gorgeous for her. The Pretty Page is another part +for a "very little one," and his velvets and laces should become him. +They contrast delightfully with Dame Dolly and Little Man Jack, and +might, if needful, be played by the same performers. + +I have cut out everything that could possibly offend, except the +line--"Take him and give him to the flies." It betrays an experience +of Asiatic battlefields so terribly real, that I was unwilling to +abolish this unconscious witness to the influence of Pilgrims and +Crusaders on the Peace Egg. It is easily omitted. + +I have dismissed the Lord of Flies, Beelzebub, and (with some +reluctance) "Little Devil Doubt" and his besom. I had a mind to have +retained him as "The Demon of Doubt," for he plays in far higher +dramas. His besom also seems to come from the East, where a figure +"sweeping everything out" with a broom is the first vision produced in +the crystal or liquid in the palm of a medium by the magicians of +Egypt. + +Those who wish to do so can admit him at the very end, after the sword +dance, very black, and with a besom, a money-box, and the following +doggrel: + + In come I, the Demon of Doubt, + If you don't give me money I'll sweep you all out; + Money I want and money I crave, + Money I want and money I'll have. + +He is not a taking character--unless to the antiquary! I have +substituted the last line for the less decorous original, "If you +don't give me money, I'll sweep you all to the grave." + +It is perhaps only the antiquary who will detect the connection +between the Milk Pail and the Wassail Cup in the Fool's Song. But it +seems at one time to have been made of milk. In a play of the 16th +century it is described as-- + + "Wassayle, wassayle, out of the mylke payle; + Wassayle, wassayle, as white as my nayle," + +and Selden calls it "a slabby stuff," which sounds as if it had got +mixed up with frumenty. + +Since the above went to press, I have received some extracts from the +unwritten version of "Peace Egg" in the West Riding of Yorkshire to +which I have alluded. They recall to me that the piece properly opens +with a "mumming round," different to the one I have given, _that_ one +belonging to the end. The first Mumming Song rehearses each character +and his exploits. The hero of the verse which describes him singing +(autobiographically!) his own doughty deeds in the third person. Thus +St. George begins; I give it in the vernacular. + + "The first to coom in is the Champion bould, + The Champion bould is he, + He never fought battle i' all his loife toim, + But he made his bould enemy flee, flee, flee, + He made his bould enemy flee." + +The beauty of this song is the precision with which each character +enters and joins the slowly increasing circle. But that is its only +merit. It is wretched doggrel, and would make the play far too +tedious. I was, however, interested by this verse:-- + + The next to come in is the Cat and Calftail, + The Cat and Calftail is he; + He'll beg and he'll borrow, and he'll steal all he can, + But he'll never pay back one penny, penny, + He'll never pay back one penny. + +Whether "Cat and Calftail" is a corruption of Captain Calftail or +(more likely) Captain Calftail was evolved from a Fool in Calf's hide +and Cat's skins, it is hard to say. They are evidently one and the +same shabby personage! + +The song which I have placed at the head of the Peace Egg Play has +other verses which also recite "the argument" of the piece, but not +one is worth recording. A third song does not, I feel sure, belong to +the classic versions, but to another "rude and vulgar" one, which I +have not seen for some years, and which was played in a dialect dark, +even to those who flattered themselves that they were to the manner +born. In it St. George and the Old Fool wrangle, the O.F. accusing the +Patron Saint of England of stealing clothes hung out to dry on the +hedges. St. George, who has previously boasted-- + + I've travelled this world all round, + And hope to do it again, + I was once put out of my way + By a hundred and forty men-- + +--indignantly denies the theft, and adds that, on the contrary, he has +always sent home money to his old mother. To which the Old Fool +contemptuously responds-- + + All the relations thou had were few, + Thou had an Old Granny I knew, + She went a red-cabbage selling, + As a many old people do. + +In either this, or another, rough version, the hero (presumably St. +George) takes counsel with Man Jack on his love affairs. Man Jack is +played by a small boy in a very tall beaver hat, and with his face +blacked. + +"My Man Jack, what can the matter be? +That I should luv this lady, and she will not luv me." + +ST. GEORGE and MAN JACK. + + No, nor nayther will she walk {with me + {with thee. + + No, nor nayther will she talk {with me + {with thee. + +But the true "Peace Egg," if _bludgy_, is essentially a heroic play, +and I think the readers of _Aunt Judy's Magazine_ will be content that +I have omitted accretions which are not the less vulgar because they +are old. + +In refining and welding the piece together, I have introduced thirty +lines of my own, in various places. The rest is genuine. + +J. H. E. + + + + +THE PEACE EGG. + +A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY. + +_Written expressly for all Mummers, to commemorate the Holy Wars, and +the happy Festival of Christmas._ + + +DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. + +ST. GEORGE OF ENGLAND (_he must wear a rose_). + +ST. ANDREW OF SCOTLAND(_he must wear a thistle_). + +ST. PATRICK OF IRELAND(_he must wear the shamrock_). + +ST. DAVID OF WALES(_he must wear a leek_). + +SALADIN, A PAGAN GIANT OF PALESTINE(_a very tall grown-up +actor would be effective_). + +THE KING OF EGYPT(_in a turban and crown_). + +THE PRINCE OF PARADINE, HIS SON(_face blacked, and it is_ +"tradition" _to play this part in weeds, as if he were Hamlet_). + +THE TURKISH KNIGHT(_Eastern costume_). + +HECTOR. + +THE VALIANT SLASHER (_old yeomanry coat, &c., is effective_). + +THE DRAGON(_a paste-board head, with horrid jaws, if possible. +A tail, and paws with claws_). + +THE FOOL(_Motley: with a bauble long enough to put over his shoulder +and be held by the one behind in the mumming circle_). + +OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS(_white beard, &c., and a staff_). + +THE DOCTOR(_wig, spectacles, hat and cane_). + +THE LITTLE PAGE(_pretty little boy in velvet, &c_.). + +LITTLE MAN JACK(_big mask head, if convenient, short cloak +and club_). + +PRINCESS SABRA(_pretty little girl, gorgeously dressed, a crown_). + +DAME DOLLY(_a large mask head, if possible, and a very amazing +cap. Dame Dolly should bob curtseys and dance about_). + +No scenery is required. The actors, as a rule, all come in together. +To "enter" means to stand forth, and "exit" that the actor retires +into the background. But the following method will be found most +effective. Let Fool enter alone, and the rest come in one by one when +the Fool begins to sing. They must march in to the music, and join the +circle with regularity. Each actor as he "brags," and gives his +challenge, does so marching up and down, his drawn sword over his +shoulder. All the characters take part in the "Mumming Round." The +next to Fair Sabra might hold up her train, and if Dame Dolly had a +Gamp umbrella to put over _her_ shoulder, it would not detract from +her comic charms. The Trumpet Calls for the four Patron Knights should +be appropriate to each. If a Trumpet is quite impossible, some one +should play a national air as each champion enters. + +_Enter_ FOOL. + + FOOL. Good morrow, friends and neighbours dear, + We are right glad to meet you here, + Christmas comes but once a year, + But when it comes it brings good cheer, + And when it's gone it's no longer near. + May luck attend the milking-pail, + Yule logs and cakes in plenty be, + May each blow of the thrashing-flail + Produce good frumenty. + And let the Wassail Cup abound, + Whene'er the mummers' time comes round. + +_Air, "Le Petit Tambour._" + + _Sings._ Now all ye jolly mummers + Who mum in Christmas time, + Come join with me in chorus, + Come join with me in rhyme. + +[_He has laid his bauble, over his shoulder, and it is taken by_ ST. +GEORGE, _who is followed by all the other actors, each laying his +sword over his right shoulder and his left hand on the sword-point in +front of him, and all marking time with their feet till the circle is +complete, when they march round singing the chorus over and over +again._] + + _Chorus._ And a mumming we will go, will go, + And a mumming we will go, + With a bright cockade in all our hats, we'll go with a gallant show. + +[_Disperse, and stand aside._] + +[_Enter_ FATHER CHRISTMAS.] + +FATHER CHRISTMAS Here comes I, old Father Christmas; +Welcome, or welcome not, +I hope poor old Father Christmas +Will never be forgot! +My head is white, my back is bent, +My knees are weak, my strength is spent. +Eighteen hundred and eighty-three +Is a very great age for me. +And if I'd been growing all these years +What a monster I should be! +Now I have but a short time to stay, +And if you don't believe what I say-- +Come in, Dame Dolly, and clear the way. + +[_Enter_ DAME DOLLY.] + +DAME DOLLY. Here comes I, little Dame Dolly, +Wearing smart caps in all my folly. +If any gentleman takes my whim, +I'll set my holiday cap at him. +To laugh at my cap would be very rude; +I wish you well, and I won't intrude. +Gentlemen now at the door do stand, +They will walk in with drawn swords in hand, +And if you don't believe what I say-- +Let one Fool and four knights from the British Isles come in and clear + the way! + +[_Enter_ FOOL_ and four Christian knights._] + +FOOL[_shaking his bells at intervals_]. +Room, room, brave gallants, give us room to sport, +For to this room we wish now to resort: +Resort, and to repeat to you our merry rhyme, +For remember, good sirs, that this is Christmas time. +The time to make mince-pies doth now appear, +So we are come to act our merriment in here. +At the sounding of the trumpet, and beating of the drum, +Make room, brave gentlemen, and let our actors come. +We are the merry actors that traverse the street, +We are the merry actors that fight for our meat, +We are the merry actors that show pleasant play. +Stand forth, St. George, thou champion, and clear the way. + +[_Trumpet sounds for_ ST. GEORGE.] + +[ST. GEORGE _stands forth and walks up and down with sword on +shoulder._] + +ST. GEORGE. I am St. George, from good Old England sprung, +My famous name throughout the world hath rung, +Many bloody deeds and wonders have I shown, +And made false tyrants tremble on their throne. +I followed a fair lady to a giant's gate, +Confined in dungeon deep to meet her fate. +Then I resolved with true knight-errantry +To burst the door, and set the captive free. +Far have I roamed, oft have I fought, and little do I rest; +All my delight is to defend the right, and succour the opprest. +And now I'll slay the Dragon bold, my wonders to begin; +A fell and fiery Dragon he, but I will clip his wing. +I'll clip his wings, he shall not fly, +I'll rid the land of him, or else I'll die. + +[_Enter_ THE DRAGON, _with a sword over his shoulder._] + +DRAGON. Who is it seeks the Dragon's blood, +And calls so angry and so loud? +That English dog who looks so proud-- +If I could catch him in my claw-- +With my long teeth and horrid jaw, +Of such I'd break up half a score, +To stay my appetite for more. +Marrow from his bones I'd squeeze, +And suck his blood up by degrees. + +[ST. GEORGE _and_ THE DRAGON _fight_. THE DRAGON_ is killed_. _Exit_ +DRAGON.] + +ST. GEORGE. I am St. George, that worthy champion bold, +And with my sword and spear I won three crowns of gold. +I fought the fiery Dragon and brought him to the slaughter, +By which behaviour I won the favour of the King of Egypt's daughter. +Thus I have gained fair Sabra's hand, who long had won her heart. +Stand forth, Egyptian Princess, and boldly act thy part! + +[_Enter_ THE PRINCESS SABRA.] + +SABRA. I am the Princess Sabra, and it is my delight, +My chiefest pride, to be the bride of this gallant Christian knight. + +[ST. GEORGE _kneels and kisses her hand_. FOOL _advances and holds up +his hands over them._] + +FOOL. Why here's a sight will do any honest man's heart good, +To see the Dragon-slayer thus subdued! + +[ST. GEORGE _rises_. _Exit_ SABRA.] + +ST. GEORGE. Keep thy jests in thy pocket if thou +would'st keep thy head on thy shoulders. +I love a woman, and a woman loves me, +And when I want a fool I'll send for thee. +If there is any man but me +Who noxious beasts can tame, +Let him stand forth in this gracious company, +And boldly tell his name. + +[ST. GEORGE _stands aside_. _Trumpet sounds for_ ST. PATRICK.] + +[ST. PATRICK _stands forth._] + +ST. PATRICK. I am St. Patrick from the bogs, +This truth I fain would learn ye, +I banished serpents, toads, and frogs, +From beautiful Hibernia. +I flourished my shillelah +And the reptiles all ran races, +And they took their way into the sea, +And they've never since shown their faces. + +[_Enter_ THE PRINCE OF PARADINE.] + +PRINCE. I am black Prince of Paradine, born of high renown, +Soon will I fetch thy lofty courage down. +Cry grace, thou Irish conqueror of toads and frogs, +Give me thy sword, or else I'll give thy carcase to the dogs. + +ST. PATRICK. Now, Prince of Paradine, where have you been? +And what fine sights pray have you seen? +Dost think that no man of thy age +Dares such a black as thee engage? +Stand off, thou black Morocco dog, or by my sword thou'lt die, +I'll pierce thy body full of holes, and make thy buttons fly. + +[_They fight._ THE PRINCE OF PARADINE _is slain._] + +ST. PATRICK. Now Prince of Paradine is dead, +And all his joys entirely fled, +Take him and give him to the flies. +That he may never more come near my eyes. + +[_Enter_ KING OF EGYPT.] + +KING. I am the King of Egypt, as plainly doth appear; +I am come to seek my son, my only son and heir. + +ST. PATRICK. He's slain! That's the worst of it. + +KING. Who did him slay, who did him kill, +And on the ground his precious blood did spill? + +ST. PATRICK. I did him slay, I did him kill, +And on the ground his precious blood did spill. +Please you, my liege, my honour to maintain, +As I have done, so would I do again. + +KING. Cursed Christian! What is this thou hast done? +Thou hast ruined me, slaying my only son. + +ST. PATRICK. He gave me the challenge. Why should I him deny? +How low he lies who held himself so high! + +KING. Oh! Hector! Hector! help me with speed, +For in my life I ne'er stood more in need. + +[_Enter_ HECTOR.] + +KING. Stand not there, Hector, with sword in hand, +But fight and kill at my command. + +HECTOR. Yes, yes, my liege, I will obey, +And by my sword I hope to win the day. +If that be he who doth stand there +That slew my master's son and heir, +Though he be sprung from royal blood +I'll make it run like ocean flood. + +[_They fight._ HECTOR _is wounded._] + +I am a valiant hero, and Hector is my name, +Many bloody battles have I fought, and always won the same, +But from St. Patrick I received this deadly wound. + +[_Trumpet sounds for_ ST. ANDREW.] + +Hark, hark, I hear the silver trumpet sound, +It summons me from off this bloody ground. +Down yonder is the way (_pointing_); +Farewell, farewell, I can no longer stay. + +[_Exit_ HECTOR.] + +[_Enter_ ST. ANDREW.] + +KING. Is there never a doctor to be found +Can cure my son of his deep and deadly wound? + +[_Enter_ DOCTOR.] + +DOCTOR. Yes, yes, there is a doctor to be found +Can cure your son of his deep and deadly wound. + +KING. What's your fee? + +DOCTOR. Five pounds and a yule cake to thee. +I have a little bottle of Elacampane, +It goes by the name of virtue and fame, +That will make this worthy champion to rise and fight again. + +[_To_ PRINCE.] Here, sir, take a little of my flip-flop, + +Pour it on thy tip-top. + +[_To audience, bowing._] + +Ladies and Gentlemen can have my advice gratis. + +[_Exeunt_ KING OF EGYPT, PRINCE OF PARADINE, _and_ DOCTOR.] + +[ST. ANDREW _stands forth._] + +ST. ANDREW. I am St. Andrew from the North, +Men from that part are men of worth; +To travel south we're nothing loth, +And treat you fairly, by my troth. +Here comes a man looks ready for a fray. +Come in, come in, bold soldier, and bravely clear the way. + +[_Enter_ SLASHER.] + +SLASHER. I am a valiant soldier, and Slasher is my name, +With sword and buckler by my side, I hope to win more fame; +And for to fight with me I see thou art not able, +So with my trusty broadsword I soon will thee disable. + +ST. ANDREW. Disable, disable? It lies not in thy power, +For with a broader sword than thine I soon will thee devour. +Stand off, Slasher, let no more be said, +For if I draw my broadsword, I'm sure to break thy head. + +SLASHER. How canst thou break my head? +Since my head is made of iron; +My body made of steel; +My hands and feet of knuckle-bone. +I challenge thee to feel. + +[_They fight, and_ SLASHER _is wounded._] + +[FOOL _advances to_ SLASHER.] + +FOOL. Alas, alas, my chiefest son is slain! +What must I do to raise him up again? +Here he lies before you all, +I'll presently for a doctor call. +A doctor! A doctor! I'll go and fetch a doctor. + +DOCTOR. Here am I. + +FOOL. Are you the doctor? + +DOCTOR. That thou may plainly see, by my art and activity. + +FOOL. What's your fee to cure this poor man? + +DOCTOR. Five pounds is my fee; but, Jack, as thou art a fool, I'll + only take ten from thee. + +FOOL. You'll be a clever doctor if you get any. + +[_Aside._] + +Well, how far have you travelled in doctorship? + +DOCTOR. From the front door to the cupboard, +Cupboard to fireplace, fireplace up-stairs and into bed. + +FOOL. So far, and no farther? + +DOCTOR. Yes, yes, much farther. + +FOOL. How far? + +DOCTOR. Through England, Ireland, Scotland, Flanders, France, and Spain, +And now am returned to cure the diseases of Old England again. + +FOOL. What can you cure? + +DOCTOR. All complaints within and without, +From a cold in your head to a touch of the gout. +If any lady's figure is awry +I'll make her very fitting to pass by. +I'll give a coward a heart if he be willing, +Will make him stand without fear of killing. +Ribs, legs, or arms, whate'er you break, be sure +Of one or all I'll make a perfect cure. +Nay, more than this by far, I will maintain, +If you should lose your head or heart, I'll give it you again. +Then here's a doctor rare, who travels much at home, +So take my pills, I'll cure all ills, past, present, or to come. +I in my time many thousands have directed, +And likewise have as many more dissected, +And I never met a gravedigger who to me objected. +If a man gets nineteen bees in his bonnet, I'll cast + twenty of 'em out. I've got in my pocket + crutches for lame ducks, spectacles for blind + bumble-bees, pack-saddles and panniers for + grasshoppers, and many other needful things. + Surely I can cure this poor man. +Here, Slasher, take a little out of my bottle, and let + it run down thy throttle; and if thou beest not + quite slain, rise, man, and fight again. + +[SLASHER _rises._] + +SLASHER. Oh, my back! + +FOOL. What's amiss with thy back? + +SLASHER. My back is wounded, +And my heart is confounded; +To be struck out of seven senses into fourscore, +The like was never seen in Old England before. + +[_Trumpet sounds for_ ST. DAVID.] + +Oh, hark! I hear the silver trumpet sound! +It summons me from off this bloody ground. +Down yonder is the way (_points_); +Farewell, farewell, I can no longer stay. + +[_Exit_ SLASHER.] + +FOOL. Yes, Slasher, thou hadst better go, +Else the next time he'll pierce thee through. + +[ST. DAVID _stands forth._] + +ST. DAVID. Of Taffy's Land I'm Patron Saint. +Oh yes, indeed, I'll you acquaint, +Of Ancient Britons I've a race +Dare meet a foeman face to face. +For Welshmen (hear it once again;) +Were born before all other men. +I'll fear no man in fight or freaks, +Whilst Wales produces cheese and leeks. + +[_Enter_ TURKISH KNIGHT.] + +TURKISH KNIGHT. Here comes I, the Turkish Knight, +Come from the Turkish land to fight. +I'll take St. David for my foe, +And make him yield before I go; +He brags to such a high degree, +He thinks there was never a Knight but he. +So draw thy sword, St. David, thou man of courage bold, +If thy Welsh blood is hot, soon will I fetch it cold. + +ST. DAVID. Where is the Turk that will before me stand? +I'll cut him down with my courageous hand. + +TURKISH KNIGHT. Draw out thy sword and slay, +Pull out thy purse and pay, +For satisfaction I will have, before I go away. + +[_They fight_. THE TURKISH KNIGHT _is wounded, and falls on one +knee._] + +Quarter! quarter! good Christian, grace of thee I crave, +Oh, pardon me this night, and I will be thy slave. + +ST. DAVID. I keep no slaves, thou Turkish Knight. +So rise thee up again, and try thy might. + +[_They fight again_. THE TURKISH KNIGHT _is slain._] + +[_Exit_ TURKISH KNIGHT.] + +[_Enter_ ST. GEORGE.] + +ST. GEORGE. I am the chief of all these valiant knights, +We'll spill our heart's blood for Old England's rights. +Old England's honour we will still maintain, +We'll fight for Old England once and again. + +[_Flourishes his sword above his head and then lays it over his right +shoulder._] + +I challenge all my country's foes. + +ST. PATRICK [_dealing with his sword in like manner, +and then taking the point of_ ST. GEORGE'S _sword +with his left hand_]. + +And I'll assist with mighty blows. + +ST. ANDREW [_acting like the other_]. + +And you shall find me ready too. + +ST. DAVID [_the same_]. + +And who but I so well as you. + +FOOL [_imitates the Knights, and they close the circle +and go round_]. + +While we are joined in heart and hand, +A gallant and courageous band, +If e'er a foe dares look awry, +We'll one and all poke out his eye. + +[_Enter_ SALADIN.] + +SALADIN. Don't vaunt thus, my courageous knights, +For I, as you, have seen some sights +In Palestine, in days of yore. +'Gainst prowess strong I bravely bore +The sway, when all the world in arms +Shook Holy Land with war's alarms. +I for the crescent, you the cross, +Each mighty host oft won and lost. +I many a thousand men did slay, +And ate two hundred twice a day, +And now I come, a giant great, +Just waiting for another meat. + +ST. GEORGE. Oh! Saladin! Art thou come with sword in hand, +Against St. George and Christendom so rashly to withstand? + +SALADIN. Yes, yes, St. George, with thee I mean to fight, +And with one blow, I'll let thee know +I am not the Turkish Knight. + +ST. GEORGE. Ah, Saladin, St. George is in this very room, +Thou'rt come this unlucky hour to seek thy fatal doom. + +[_Enter_ LITTLE PAGE.] + +LITTLE PAGE. Hold, hold, St. George, I pray thee stand by, +I'll conquer him, or else I'll die; +Long with that Pagan champion will I engage, +Although I am but the Little Page. + +ST. GEORGE. Fight on, my little page, and conquer! + And don't thee be perplext, +For if thou discourage in the field, + Fight him will I next. + +[_They fight._ THE LITTLE PAGE _falls._] + +SALADIN. Though but a little man, they were great words he said. + +ST. GEORGE. Ah! cruel monster. What havoc hast thou made? +See where the lovely stripling all on the floor is laid. +A doctor! A doctor! Ten pounds for a doctor! + +[DAME DOLLY _dances forward, bobbing as before._] + +DAME DOLLY. Here comes I, little Dame Dorothy, +Flap front, and good-morrow to ye; +My head is big, my body is small, +I'm the prettiest little jade of you all. +Call not the Doctor for to make him worse, +But give the boy into my hand to nurse. + +[_To_ LITTLE PAGE.] Rise up, my pretty page, and come with me, +And by kindness and kitchen physic, I'll cure thee without fee. + +[PAGE _rises. Exeunt_ PAGE _and_ DAME DOLLY.] + +[ST. GEORGE _and_ SALADIN _fight_. Saladin _is slain._] + +[_Enter_ FATHER CHRISTMAS.] + +ST. GEORGE. Carry away the dead, Father. + +FATHER CHRISTMAS. Let's see whether he's dead or no, first, Georgy. +Yes; I think he's dead enough, Georgy. + +ST. GEORGE. Carry him away then, Father. + +FATHER CHRISTMAS [_vainly tries to move the_ GIANT'S _body_]. + +Thou killed him; thou carry him away. + +ST. GEORGE. If you can't carry him, call for help. + +FATHER CHRISTMAS [_to audience_]. +Three or four of you great logger-headed fellows, +Come and carry him away. + +[DOCTOR _and_ FOOL _raise the_ GIANT _by his arms. Exit_ GIANT.] + +[_Enter_ LITTLE MAN JACK.] + +LITTLE MAN JACK. Here comes I, Little Man Jack, +The Master of Giants; +If I could but conquer thee, St. George, +I'd bid the world defiance. + +ST. GEORGE. And if thou beest Little Man Jack, the Master of all Giants, +I'll take thee up on my back, and carry thee without violence. + +[_Lifts him over his shoulder._] + +FOOL. Now brave St. George, he rules the roast; +Britons triumphant be the toast; +Let cheerful song and dance abound, +Whene'er the Mummers' time comes round. + +[_All sing._] + +Rule, Britannia; Britannia rules the waves, +Britons never, never, never will be slaves. + +GRAND SWORD DANCE. + +Cut 1 and cross. + +Cut 2 and cross partner (which is R. and L.). + +Same back again. + +The two Knights at opposite corners R. H. Cut 1 and cross, and Cut 2 +with opposite Knights. + +Same back (which is Ladies' Chain). + +Four sword-points up in the centre. + +All go round--all Cut 6--and come to bridle-arm protect, and round to +places. + +Repeat the first figure. + +[_All go round, and then out, singing._] + +[Illustration: Musical Score] + +_Allegro_, + +And a mumming we will go, will go, and a mumming we will go, With a + +bright cock-ade in all our hats, We'll go with a gal-lant show. + +[_Exeunt omnes._] + +GOD SAVE THE QUEEN. + + + + +HINTS FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS. + + + + +HINTS FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS.--I. + +IN A LETTER FROM BURNT CORK TO ROUGE POT. + + +MY DEAR ROUGE POT,--You say that you all want to have "theatricals" +these holidays, and beg me to give you some useful rules and hints to +study before the Christmas Play comes out in the December Number of +_Aunt Judy_. + +I will do my best. But--to begin with--_do_ you "all" want them? At +least, do you all want them enough to keep in the same mind for ten +days or a fortnight, to take a good deal of trouble, whether it is +pleasant or not, and to give up some time and some of your own way, in +order that the theatricals may be successful? + +If you say Yes, we will proceed at once to the first--and perhaps the +most important--point, on which you will have to display two of an +actor's greatest virtues--self-denial and good temper:-- + +THE STAGE-MANAGER. + +If your numbers are limited, you may have to choose the one who knows +most about theatricals, and he or she may have to act a leading part +as well. But by rights _the stage-manager ought not to act_; +especially as in juvenile theatricals he will probably be prompter, +property-man, and scene-shifter into the bargain. + +If your "company" consists of very young performers, an elder sister +is probably the best stage-manager you could have. But _when once your +stage-manager is chosen, all the actors must make up their minds to +obey him implicitly_. They must take the parts he gives them, and +about any point in dispute the stage-manager's decision must be final. +It is quite likely that now and then he may be wrong. The leading +gentleman may be more in the right, the leading lady may have another +plan quite as good, or better; but as there would be "no end to it" if +everybody's ideas had to be listened to and discussed, it is +absolutely necessary that there should be one head, and one plan +loyally supported by the rest. + +Truism as it is, my dear Rouge Pot, I am bound to beg you never to +forget that _everybody can't have everything_ in this world, and that +_everybody can't be everything_ on the stage. What you (and I, and +every other actor!) would really like, would be to choose the play, to +act the best part, to wear the nicest dress, to pick the people you +want to act with, to have the rehearsal on those days, and that part +of the day, when you do not happen to want to go out, or do something +else, to have the power of making all the others do as you tell them, +without the bother of hearing any grumbles, and to be well clapped and +complimented at the conclusion of the performance. But as this very +leading part could only be played by one person at the expense of all +the rest, private theatricals--like so many other affairs of this +life--must for everybody concerned be a compromise of pains and +pleasures, of making strict rules and large allowances, of giving and +taking, bearing and forbearing, learning to find one's own happiness +in seeing other people happy, aiming at perfection with all one's +might, and making the best of imperfection in the end. + +At this point, I foresee that you will very naturally exclaim that you +asked me for stage-directions, and that I am sending you a sermon. I +am very sorry; but the truth really is, that as the best of plays and +the cleverest of actors will not ensure success, if the actors quarrel +about the parts, and are unwilling to suppress themselves for the +common good, one is obliged to set out with a good stock of philosophy +as well as of "properties." + +Now, in case it should strike you as "unfair" that any one of your +party should have so much of his own way as I have given to the +stage-manager, you must let me say that no one has more need of +philosophy than that all-powerful person. + +_The stage-manager will have his own way, but he will have nothing +else._ + +He will certainly have "no peace" from the first cry of "Let us have +some private theatricals" till the day when the performance ceases to +be discussed. If there are ten actors, it is quite possible that ten +different plays will be warmly recommended to him, and that, whichever +he selects, he will choose it against the gloomy forebodings of nine +members of his company. Nine actors will feel a natural disappointment +at not having the best part, and as it is obviously impossible to fix +rehearsals so as to be equally convenient for everybody, the +stage-manager, whose duty it is to fix them, will be very fortunate if +he suits the convenience of the majority. You will easily believe that +it is his painful duty to insist upon regular attendance, and even to +enforce it by fines or by expulsion from the part, if such stringent +laws have been agreed to by the company beforehand. But at the end he +will have to bear in mind that private theatricals are an amusement, +not a business; that it is said to be a pity to "make a toil of a +pleasure"; that "boys will be boys"; that "Christmas comes but once a +year," and holidays not much oftener--and in a general way to console +himself for the absence of defaulters, with the proverbial philosophy +of everyday life, and the more reliable panacea of resolute good +temper. + +He must (without a thought of self) do his best to give the right +parts to the right people, and he must try to combine a proper "cast" +with pleasing everybody--so far as that impossible task is possible! + +He must not only be ready to meet his own difficulties with each +separate actor, but he must be prepared to be confidant, if not +umpire, in all the squabbles which the actors and actresses may have +among themselves. + +If the performance is a great success, the actors will have the credit +of it, and will probably be receiving compliments amongst the audience +whilst the stage-manager is blowing out the guttering footlights, or +showing the youngest performer how to get the paint off his cheeks, +without taking the skin off into the bargain. And if the performance +is a failure, nine of the performers will have nine separate sets of +proofs that it was due to the stage-manager's unfortunate selection of +the piece, or mistaken judgment as to the characters. + +He will, however, have the satisfaction (and when one has a head to +plan and a heart in one's work, it _is_ a satisfaction) of carrying +through the thing in his own way, and sooner or later, and here and +there, he will find some people who know the difficulties of his +position, and will give him ample credit and _kudos_ if he keeps his +company in good humour, and carries out his plans without a breakdown. + +By this time, my dear Rouge Pot, you will see that the stage-manager, +like all rulers, pays dearly for his power; but it is to be hoped that +the difficulties inseparable from his office will not be wilfully +increased by + + +THE ACTORS. + +They are a touchy race at any time. Amateur actors are said to +have--one and all--a belief that each and every one can play any part +of any kind. Shakespeare found that some of them thought they could +play _every_ part also! But besides this general error, each actor has +his own peculiarities, which the stage-manager ought to acquaint +himself with as soon as possible. + +It is a painful fact that there are some people who "come forward" +readily, do not seem at all nervous, are willing to play anything, and +are either well provided with anecdotes of previous successes, or +quite amazingly ready for leading parts, though they "never tried +acting," and are only "quite sure they shall like it"--but who, when +the time comes, fail completely. I fear that there is absolutely +nothing to be done with such actors, but to avoid them for the +future. On the other hand, there are many people who are nervous and +awkward at first, and even more or less so through every rehearsal, +but who _do not fail at the pinch_. Once fairly in their clothes, and +pledged to their parts, they forget themselves in the sense of what +they have undertaken, and their courage is stimulated by the crisis. +Their knees may shake, but their minds see no alternative but to do +their best, and the best, with characters of this conscientious type, +is seldom bad. + +It is quite true, also, that some actors are never at their best till +they are dressed, and that some others can put off learning their +parts till the last moment, and then "study" them at a push, and +acquit themselves creditably in the play. _But these peculiarities are +no excuse for neglecting rehearsals, or for not learning parts, or for +rehearsing in a slovenly manner._ + +_Actors should never forget that rehearsals are not only for the +benefit of each actor individually, but also of all the characters of +the piece as a whole._ + +A. and B. may be able to learn their parts in a day, and to act fairly +under the inspiration of the moment, but if they neglect rehearsals on +this account, they deal very selfishly by C. and D., who have not the +same facility, and who rehearse at great disadvantage if the other +parts are not properly represented too. + +And now a word or two to the actors of the small parts. It _is_ a +disappointment to find yourself "cast" for a footman, with no more to +do than to announce and usher in the principal personages of the +piece, when you feel a strong (and perhaps well-grounded) conviction +that you would have "made a hit" as the Prince in blank verse and blue +velvet. Well! one must fall back on one's principles. Be loyal to the +stage-manager. Help the piece through, whether it is or is not a +pleasure and a triumph for you yourself. Set an example of willingness +and good-humour. If to these first principles you add the amiable +quality of finding pleasure in the happiness of others, you will be +partly consoled for not playing the Prince yourself by sympathizing +with Jack's unfeigned pride in his part and his finery, and if Jack +has a heart under his velvet doublet, he will not forget your +generosity. It may also be laid down as an axiom that _a good actor +will take a pride in making the most of a small part_. There are many +plays in which small parts have been raised to the rank of principal +ones by the spirit put into them by a good actor, who "made" his part +instead of grumbling at it. And the credit gained by a triumph of this +kind is very often even beyond the actor's deserts. _From those who +play the principal parts much is expected, and it is difficult to +satisfy ones audience, but if any secondary character is made pathetic +or amusing, the audience (having expected nothing) are willing to +believe that if the actor can surprise them with a small part, he +would take the house by storm with a big one._ + +I will conclude my letter with a few general rules for young actors. + +_Say nothing whatever on the stage but your part._ This is a rule for +rehearsals, and if it could be attended to, every rehearsal would have +more than double its usual effect. People chatter from nervousness, +explain or apologize for their mistakes, and waste quite three-fourths +of the time in words which are not in the piece. + +_Speak very slowly and very clearly._ All young actors speak too fast, +and do not allow the audience time to digest each sentence. _Speak +louder than usual, but clearness of enunciation is even more +important. Do not be slovenly with the muscles of the lips, or talk +from behind shut teeth._ + +_Keep your face to the audience as a rule._ + +If two people talking together have to cross each other so as to +change their places on the stage, _the one who has just spoken should +cross before the one who is going to speak_. + +_Learn to stand still._ + +As a rule, _do not speak when you are crossing the stage_, but cross +first and then speak. + +_Let the last speaker get his sentence well out before you begin +yours._ + +If you are a comic actor, _don't run away with the piece by over-doing +your fun. Never spoil another actor's points by trying to make the +audience laugh whilst he is speaking._ It is inexcusably bad +stage-manners. + +If the audience applauds, _wait till the noise of the clapping is over +to finish your speech_. + +_Rehearse without your book in the last rehearsals_, so as to get into +the way of hearing the prompter, and catching the word from him when +your memory fails you. + +_Practise your part before a looking-glass, and say it out aloud._ A +part may be pat in your head, and very stiff on your tongue. + +The Green-room is generally a scene of great confusion in private +theatricals. Besides getting everything belonging to your dress +together _yourself_ and in _good time_, I advise you to have _a little +hand-basket_, such as you may have used at the seaside or in the +garden, and into this to put _pins_, _hair-pins_, _a burnt cork_, +_needles and thread_, _a pair of scissors_, _a pencil_, _your part_, +_and any small things you may require_. It is easy to drop them into +the basket again. Small things get mislaid under bigger ones when one +is dressing in a hurry; and a hero who is flustered by his moustache +having fallen under the washstand well out of sight is apt to forget +his part when he has found the moustache. + +Remember that _Right and Left in stage directions mean the right and +left hand of the actor as he faces the audience_. + +I will not burden you with any further advice for yourself, and I will +reserve a few hints as to rough and ready scenery, properties, &c., +for another letter. + +Meanwhile--whatever else you omit--get your parts well by rote; and if +you cannot find or spare a stage-manager, you must find good-humour +and common agreement in proportion; prompt by turns, and each look +strictly after his own "properties." + +Yours, &c., + +BURNT CORK. + + +HINTS FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS.--II. + +MY DEAR ROUGE POT,--I promised to say a few words about _rough and +ready properties_. + +The most indispensable of all is _the curtain_, which can be made (at +small expense) to roll up and come down in orthodox fashion. Even +better are two curtains, with the rings and strings so arranged that +the curtains can be pulled apart or together by some one in the wings. +Any upholsterer will do this. A double drawing-room with folding doors +is of course "made for theatricals." The difficulty of having only one +exit from the stage--the door of the room--may be met by having a +screen on the other side. But then _the actors who go out behind the +screen, must be those who will not have to come in again till the +curtain has been drawn_. + +If, however, the room, or part of a room, devoted to the stage is +large enough for an amateur proscenium, with "wings" at the sides, and +space behind the "scenes" to conceal the actors, and enable them to +go round, of course there can be as many exits as are needed. + +A proscenium is quite a possibility. _The framework in which the +curtain falls need not be an expensive or complicated concern._ Two +wooden uprights, firmly fastened to the floor by bolt and socket, each +upright being four or five feet from the wall on either side; a +cross-bar resting on the top, but the whole width of the room, to +which (if it draws up) the curtain is to be nailed; a curtain, with a +wooden pole in the hem at the bottom to steady it (like a +window-blind); long, narrow, fixed curtains to fall from the cross-bar +at each end where it projects beyond the uprights, so as to fill the +space between each upright and the wall of the room, and hide the +wings; some bright wall-paper border to fasten on to the uprights and +cross-bar, as decoration;--these are not expensive matters, and the +little carpentry needed could be done in a very short time by a +village carpenter. + +And here, my dear Rouge Pot, I feel inclined to say a word to "Parents +and Guardians." _I wish that a small annual outlay on little pleasures +were oftener reckoned among legitimate expenses in middle-class +British families._ But little pleasures and alms are apt to be left +till they are asked for, and then grudged. Though, if the annual +expenses under these two heads were summed up at the end of the year, +we should perhaps be more inclined to blush than to bewail our +extravagances. As to little pleasures, I am not speaking of toys and +books and presents, of which children have commonly six times as many +now-a-days as they can learn to love; nor do I mean such pleasures as +the month at the seaside, which I should be sorry to describe as a +light matter for papa's purse. But I mean little pleasures of the +children's own devising, for which some trifling help from the elders +will make all the difference between failure and success. In short, my +dear Rouge Pot, at the present moment I mean the children's +theatricals; and papa himself will confess that, whereas two or three +pounds, "up or down," in the seaside move, would hardly be considered, +and fifteen shillings "more or less" in the price of a new dining-room +fender would upset nobody's nerves in the household--if "the children" +asked for a day's work of the village carpenter, and seven and +sixpence worth of wood, to carry out a project of their own, it would +be considered a great waste of money. However, it is only fair to add +that the young people themselves will do wisely to establish a +"theatrical fund" box, which will not open, and to put in a fixed +percentage of everybody's pocket-money to accumulate for some genuine +properties when the theatrical season begins. + +The question of _scenery_ of course must depend on the resources of +the company. But _acting may be very successful without any at all_. +It must never be forgotten that _those who look and listen can also +imagine_, and unless tolerably good scenes can be had, it is almost +better to content oneself with what served in the days of +Shakespeare--a written placard of what the scene is supposed to be. +_Shakespeare scenery_, as we may call it, will amuse people of itself, +and a good piece and good actors will not suffer from its use. Thus, +if _The Barmecide_ is being played, Alnaschan and Ina will be +"discovered" standing in an empty room, at the back of which a placard +will bear this inscription in large letters--A STREET IN BAGDAD. + +It is possible, however, that your company may include some +water-colour artist, who will try his or her hand at scene-painting in +the barn. Well: he will want canvas or unbleached calico, which must +be covered completely with a "first wash" of whitening and size, mixed +to a freely working consistency, and laid on with a white-wash brush. +When dry, he must outline his scene on this in charcoal. The painting +is then to be done in distemper--all the effects are put in by the +first wash; lights and shadows in their full tone, &c. He will use +powder paints, mix them with size (which must be kept warm on a fire), +and add white for body-colour when he wants to lay one colour over +another. I will add four hints. _For a small stage avoid scenes with +extreme perspective. Keep the general colouring rather sober, so as to +harmonize with the actors' dresses. Only broad effects will show. Keep +stepping back to judge your work from a distance._ In a wood, for +instance, the distance may be largely blue and grey, and the +foreground trees a good deal in warm browns and dull olive. _Paint by +candle-light when convenient._ + +_All the lights in your theatre must be protected by glasses. The +footlights should have reflectors behind them_, or a board about +eighteen inches high with block-tin nailed on it. Failing this, a +plain polished fender, in which candles or lamps can be placed, will +serve. _There must also be sidelights_, or the footlights will cast +shadows. _Long strips of coloured glass, in frames, can lie flat in +front of the stage when not in use, and be raised up when wanted, +between the footlights and the stage--blue for moonlight, yellow for +sunshine, rose-colour for sunset scenes and fairy effects._ A shade +may be quickly thrown up between the footlights and the stage, _on the +same principle, if darkness is required. For thunder, shake a thin +sheet of iron behind the scenes. Powdered resin or lycopodium thrown +on to the flame of a candle from a quill_ is said to be effective as +_lightning_. But any tricks with naked lights, in the confusion of +private theatricals, are objectionable, and should never be used +except by some grown-up person not among the actors. _For rain, shake +parched peas in a box with irregular partitions. For a full moon, cut +a round hole in your scene, cover it with some translucent material, +and hold a lamp behind it_; the blue-glass shade must be up before the +footlights. A similar hole, or, if low on the horizon, a +half-moon-shaped one, with a crimson transparency, will do for a +setting sun--then the rose-coloured glass will be required before the +footlights. + +I have no further space just now, my dear Rouge Pot; but you may +expect another letter from me on Scenery Screens, Properties and +Costumes. + +Yours, &c., + +BURNT CORK. + + +HINTS FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS.--III. + +MY DEAR ROUGE POT,--I promised to say something about _scenery +screens_. + +If the house happens to boast a modern pseudo-Japanese screen of a +large size (say six feet high), it will make a very pretty background +for a drawing-room scene, and admit of entrances as I suggested. But +_screens with light grounds are also very valuable as reflectors_, +carrying the light into the back of the stage. There is generally a +want of light on the amateur stage, and all means to remedy this +defect and brighten up matters are worth considering. + +_Folding screens_ may be covered on both sides _with strips of lining +wall-paper of delicate tints, pinned on with drawing-pins_. The paper +can be left plain, or it may serve as the background on which to affix +"Shakespeare Scenery." Or again, your amateur painter will find an +easier and more effective reward for such labour as he will not +grudge to bestow in the holidays, if, instead of attempting the +ambitious task of scene-painting on canvas, he adorns these scenery +screens with Japanese designs in water-colours. Bold and not too +crowded combinations of butterflies and flamingoes, tortoises, +dragons, water-reeds, flowers and ferns. He need not hesitate to +employ Bessemer's gold and silver paints, with discretion, and the two +sides of the screen can be done in different ways. The Japanesque side +would make a good drawing-room background, and some other scene (such +as a wood) might be indicated on the other with a nearer approach to +real scene-painting. _These screens light up beautifully, and are well +adapted for drawing-room theatricals._ + +In the common event of your requiring a bit of a cottage with a +practicable door to be visible, it will be seen that two folds of a +screen, painted with bricks and windows, may be made to do duty in no +ill fashion as the two sides of a house, and with a movable porch (a +valuable stage property) the entrance can be contrived just out of +sight. _The stage will be brightened up by laying down a "crumb +cloth," or covering it with holland._ A drawing-room scene is made +very pretty _by hanging up pairs of the summer white muslin curtains, +looped with gay ribbons, as if there were windows in the sides of the +stage_. + +If a fireplace is wanted and will do at the side, a mantelpiece is +easily represented, and a banner screen will help to conceal the +absence of a grate. A showy specimen of that dreadful thing, a paper +grate-ornament, flowing well down into the fender, may sometimes hide +deficiencies. The appearance of _hot coals in a practicable grate_ is +given by _irregularly-shaped pieces of red glass, through which light +is thrown from a candle behind_. + +A very important part of your preparations will be _the dresses_. + +Now of dresses it may be said--as we have said of scenery--that if the +actors are clever, very slight (if suggestive) accessories in the way +of costume will suffice. At the same time, whilst the scenery can +never be good enough in amateur theatricals to cover deficiencies in +the performance, good costumes may be a most material help to the +success of a piece. Very little wit is demanded from the young +gentleman who plays the part of a monkey, if his felt coat is well +made, and his monkey-mask comical, and if he has acquired some +dexterity in the management of his tail. + +I think, my dear Rouge Pot, that you were taken to see that splendid +exhibition of stage properties, _Babil and Bijou_? Do you remember the +delightful effect of the tribe of oysters? The little boys who played +the oysters had nothing to do but to hop and run, and keep their +shells nicely in front of them, and yet how we laughed at them! Now, +in a large family, such parts as these afford an opportunity for +allowing "the little ones" to "act," and so to become accustomed to +the stage, before they can be trusted to learn written parts. Nor are +_comical costumes_ beyond the powers of home manufacturers. + +You know those men--sandwich-men as they are often called!--who go +about the London streets with one board in front and one behind. These +boards are of simple shape and only reach from the shoulder, to a +little below the knee; they are only wanted to paste advertisements +on. But if you think about it, you will see that to have the boards +high enough to hide the head, and low enough to hide the legs, rounded +at the top like a scallop shell, with the ribs of the shell nicely +painted, eyeholes to peep through, and the hinge of the shell arranged +to conceal the feet, would be no very great effort of skill. _Sandwich +costumes for the little ones_ might be of many effective shapes. Thick +paste-board would probably be strong enough for very little people, +and in many cases a covered framework would be better still, and if +you have a kite-maker in your troupe, you had better commit these +costumes to his skill and ingenuity. A very simple device would be +that of flower-pots painted red. They need come no higher than the +chin, if a good thick bush is firmly held by the little hands behind, +so as to conceal the face. But no doubt, my dear Rouge Pot, you will +say, "if we have no plays with such characters in, we cannot have +them, however desirable it may be to bring in the little ones." But I +think you will find some of the elders ingenious enough to "tack them +on" to your pieces if required, especially to those founded on fairy +tales. + +_Glazed calico_ is the amateur costume-maker's best friend. It is +cheap, it is shiny, and it can be had in all the most effective +colours. I have never seen a very good green; but the turquoise blue, +the pink, and the yellow, are of those pretty Dresden china shades +which Mr. Marcus Ward and other Christmas-card makers use to such good +purpose against gold backgrounds. Many of these Christmas cards, by +the bye, with children dressed in ancient costumes painted by good +artists, will give you and your sisters help in a tasteful combination +of colours; and besides the gold and silver powder paints, which +answer admirably, gold and silver paper can be had to cut stars and +trimmings of various sorts from, to stitch or gum on to fairies' +dresses, &c. + +Tarlatan can now be had in hues that almost rival the colours of +flowers, but I fear that only the white can be had "fire-proof." +Gauze wings, flowing hair, and tarlatan skirts, combined with the +"flurry" of the performances, the confined space behind the scenes, +and lights everywhere, form a dangerous combination which it makes one +shudder to think of. The truth is, my dear Rouge Pot, it cannot be too +often or too emphatically repeated that _naked lights on the stage or +behind the scenes in amateur theatricals are as wrong as in a +coal-mine_. Glass shades for the bedroom candles--with which +boy-brothers, seeing imperfectly through masks, will rush past little +sisters whose newly-crimped hair and tarlatan skirts are sticking out, +they can't feel how far behind them--cost a few shillings, _and the +mental effort of resolving to have and use them_. Depend upon it, +Rouge Pot, the latter is the greater difficulty! And yet our petty +economies in matters which affect our health, our daily comfort, or +our lives, are wonderful, when the dangers or discomforts we have to +avert may, _by chance_, be averted by good luck at no cost at all. So +perhaps the few shillings have something to do with it. I hope they +will always be expended on safety glasses for all lights in use on or +about your stage. + +Well, glazed calico and tarlatan are very effective, and so is cotton +velvet or velveteen; but in every family there will probably be found +a few articles of finery originally made of expensive materials, but +which are now yielded to the juvenile property-box, and from +experience I can assure you that these are valuable treasures. I have +a tender remembrance of a few which were our _pièces de résistance_ +when we "dressed up" either for charades or one of Miss Corner's +plays--"in my young days." A black satin dress--ancient, but of such +lustre and softness as satins are not made now; a real camel's-hair +burnous, dyed crimson; a green satin driving cloak, lined with +fur--these things did not crush and tumble during their long periods +of repose in the property-box, as tarlatan skirts and calico doublets +were apt to do. Most valuable of all, a grey wig, worn right side +foremost by our elderly gentlemen, and wrong side foremost (so as to +bring the pig-tail curls over the forehead) by our elderly ladies. Fur +gloves, which, with a black rabbit-skin mask over her rosy cheeks, +gave ferocity in the part of "the Beast" to our jolliest little +actress. A pair of claret-coloured stockings, silk throughout, and a +pair of yellow leather slippers, embroidered with gold, doubtless +bought long years back in some Eastern bazaar, &c., &c. There came a +date in our theatrical history when only one pair of feet could get +right into these much-desired shoes, heels and all; and as the +individual who owned them was also supposed to display the +claret-coloured stockings to the best advantage, both these important +properties, with the part of Prince to which our custom assigned +them, fell to an actor who could lay no other claim to pre-eminence. + +Surely your home will provide one or two of these "stand-bys" of the +green-room, and you will not fail to value them, I assure you. I hope +you will not fight for them! + +_Wigs are very important. Unbleached calico is a very fair imitation +of the skin of one's head._ A skull-cap made of it will do for a bald +pate, or, with a black pig-tail and judicious face-painting, will turn +any smooth-faced actor into a very passable Chinaman. Flowing locks of +tow, stitched on round the lower part, will convert it into a +patriarchal wig. _Nigger wigs are made of curly black horsehair +fastened on to a black skull-cap._ Moustaches and whiskers can be +bought at small expense, but if well painted the effect is nearly as +good. + +As to _face-painting_. Rouge is indispensable, but care must be taken +not to overdo it. The eyebrows must be darkened with sepia or Indian +ink, and a camel's-hair brush--especially for fair people. With the +same materials you must deepen all the lines of the face, if you want +to make a young person look like an old one. The cheek lines on each +side of the nose, furrows across the forehead, and crow's-foot marks +by the eyes, are required for an old face; but if the audience are to +be very close to the stage, you must be careful not to overdo your +painting. Violet powder is the simplest and least irritating white for +the skin. Rouge should be laid on with a hare's foot. If your "old +man" is wearing a bald wig, be careful to colour his forehead to match +as well as possible with his bald pate. All these applications are +more or less irritating to one's skin. It is said to be a mistake to +_wash_ them off. Cold cream should be rubbed over the face, and then +wiped off with a soft towel. + +As a parting hint, my dear Rouge Pot, when you have passed the stage +of child-plays in rhyme--but do not be in a _hurry_ to discard such +universal favourites as _Dick Whittington_, _Beauty and the Beast_, +and _Cinderella_--don't be too ambitious in your selection from +"grown-up" plays. As a matter of experience, when _we_ got beyond Miss +Corner we took to farces, and found them very successful. There are +many which play well in young hands, and only require the omission of +a few coarse expressions, which, being intended to raise a laugh among +"roughs" in the gallery of a public theatre, need hardly be hurled at +the ears of one's private friends. + +I am bound to say that competent critics have told me that farces were +about the most difficult things we could have attempted. I can only +say that we found them answer. Partly, perhaps, because it requires a +less high skill to raise a laugh than to move by passion or pathos. +Partly, too, because farces are short, and amateurs can make no +greater mistake than to weary their audience. + +If you prefer "dress pieces" and dramas to farces or burlesque, let +some competent person curtail the one you choose to a suitable length. + +The manager of juvenile theatricals should never forget the wisdom +embodied in Sam Weller's definition of the art of letter-writing, that +the writer should stop short at such a point as that the reader should +"wish there wos more of it." + +Yours, &c., + +BURNT CORK. + + + + +SNAP-DRAGONS. + + + + +SNAP-DRAGONS. + +A TALE OF CHRISTMAS EVE. + +MR. AND MRS. SKRATDJ. + + +Once upon a time there lived a certain family of the name of Skratdj. +(It has a Russian or Polish look, and yet they most certainly lived in +England.) They were remarkable for the following peculiarity. They +seldom seriously quarrelled, but they never agreed about anything. It +is hard to say whether it were more painful for their friends to hear +them constantly contradicting each other, or gratifying to discover +that it "meant nothing," and was "only their way." + +It began with the father and mother. They were a worthy couple, and +really attached to each other. But they had a habit of contradicting +each other's statements, and opposing each other's opinions, which, +though mutually understood and allowed for in private, was most trying +to the bystanders in public. If one related an anecdote, the other +would break in with half-a-dozen corrections of trivial details of no +interest or importance to any one, the speakers included. For +instance: Suppose the two dining in a strange house, and Mrs. Skratdj +seated by the host, and contributing to the small-talk of the +dinner-table. Thus:-- + +"Oh yes. Very changeable weather indeed. It looked quite promising +yesterday morning in the town, but it began to rain at noon." + +"A quarter-past eleven, my dear," Mr. Skratdj's voice would be heard +to say from several chairs down, in the corrective tones of a husband +and a father; "and really, my dear, so far from being a promising +morning, I must say it looked about as threatening as it well could. +Your memory is not always accurate in small matters, my love." + +But Mrs. Skratdj had not been a wife and a mother for fifteen years, +to be snuffed out at one snap of the marital snuffers. As Mr. Skratdj +leaned forward in his chair, she leaned forward in hers, and defended +herself across the intervening couples. + +"Why, my dear Mr. Skratdj, you said yourself the weather had not been +so promising for a week." + +"What I said, my dear, pardon me, was that the barometer was higher +than it had been for a week. But, as you might have observed if these +details were in your line, my love, which they are not, the rise was +extraordinarily rapid, and there is no surer sign of unsettled +weather.--But Mrs. Skratdj is apt to forget these unimportant +trifles," he added, with a comprehensive smile round the dinner-table; +"her thoughts are very properly absorbed by the more important +domestic questions of the nursery." + +"Now I think that's rather unfair on Mr. Skratdj's part," Mrs. Skratdj +would chirp, with a smile quite as affable and as general as her +husband's. "I'm sure he's _quite_ as forgetful and inaccurate as _I_ +am. And I don't think _my_ memory is at _all_ a bad one." + +"You forgot the dinner hour when we were going out to dine last week, +nevertheless," said Mr. Skratdj. + +"And you couldn't help me when I asked you," was the sprightly retort. +"And I'm sure it's not like you to forget anything about _dinner_, my +dear." + +"The letter was addressed to you," said Mr. Skratdj. + +"I sent it to you by Jemima," said Mrs. Skratdj. + +"I didn't read it," said Mr. Skratdj. + +"Well, you burnt it," said Mrs. Skratdj; "and, as I always say, +there's nothing more foolish than burning a letter of invitation +before the day, for one is certain to forget." + +"I've no doubt you always do say it," Mr. Skratdj remarked, with a +smile, "but I certainly never remember to have heard the observation +from your lips, my love." + +"Whose memory's in fault there?" asked Mrs. Skratdj triumphantly; and +as at this point the ladies rose, Mrs. Skratdj had the last word. + +Indeed, as may be gathered from this conversation, Mrs. Skratdj was +quite able to defend herself. When she was yet a bride, and young and +timid, she used to collapse when Mr. Skratdj contradicted her +statements and set her stories straight in public. Then she hardly +ever opened her lips without disappearing under the domestic +extinguisher. But in the course of fifteen years she had learned that +Mr. Skratdj's bark was a great deal worse than his bite. (If, indeed, +he had a bite at all.) Thus snubs that made other people's ears +tingle, had no effect whatever on the lady to whom they were +addressed, for she knew exactly what they were worth, and had by this +time become fairly adept at snapping in return. In the days when she +succumbed she was occasionally unhappy, but now she and her husband +understood each other, and having agreed to differ, they unfortunately +agreed also to differ in public. + +Indeed, it was the bystanders who had the worst of it on these +occasions. To the worthy couple themselves the habit had become second +nature, and in no way affected the friendly tenour of their domestic +relations. They would interfere with each other's conversation, +contradicting assertions, and disputing conclusions for a whole +evening; and then, when all the world and his wife thought that these +ceaseless sparks of bickering must blaze up into a flaming quarrel as +soon as they were alone, they would bowl amicably home in a cab, +criticizing the friends who were commenting upon them, and as little +agreed about the events of the evening as about the details of any +other events whatever. + +Yes, the bystanders certainly had the worst of it. Those who were near +wished themselves anywhere else, especially when appealed to. Those +who were at a distance did not mind so much. A domestic squabble at a +certain distance is interesting, like an engagement viewed from a +point beyond the range of guns. In such a position one may some day be +placed oneself! Moreover, it gives a touch of excitement to a dull +evening to be able to say _sotto voce_ to one's neighbour, "Do listen! +The Skratdjs are at it again!" Their unmarried friends thought a +terrible abyss of tyranny and aggravation must lie beneath it all, and +blessed their stars that they were still single, and able to tell a +tale their own way. The married ones had more idea of how it really +was, and wished in the name of common sense and good taste that +Skratdj and his wife would not make fools of themselves. + +So it went on, however; and so, I suppose, it goes on still, for not +many bad habits are cured in middle age. + +On certain questions of comparative speaking their views were never +identical. Such as the temperature being hot or cold, things being +light or dark, the apple-tarts being sweet or sour. So one day Mr. +Skratdj came into the room, rubbing his hands, and planting himself at +the fire with "Bitterly cold it is to-day, to be sure." + +"Why, my dear William," said Mrs. Skratdj, "I'm sure you must have got +a cold; I feel a fire quite oppressive myself." + +"You were wishing you'd a seal-skin jacket yesterday, when it wasn't +half as cold as it is to-day," said Mr. Skratdj. + +"My dear William! Why, the children were shivering the whole day, and +the wind was in the north." + +"Due east, Mrs. Skratdj." + +"I know by the smoke," said Mrs. Skratdj, softly but decidedly. + +"I fancy I can tell an east wind when I feel it," said Mr. Skratdj, +jocosely, to the company. + +"I told Jemima to look at the weathercock," murmured Mrs. Skratdj. + +"I don't care a fig for Jemima," said her husband. + +On another occasion Mrs. Skratdj and a lady friend were conversing. + +... "We met him at the Smiths'--a gentleman-like agreeable man, about +forty," said Mrs. Skratdj, in reference to some matter interesting to +both ladies. + +"Not a day over thirty-five," said Mr. Skratdj, from behind his +newspaper. + +"Why, my dear William, his hair's grey," said Mrs. Skratdj. + +"Plenty of men are grey at thirty," said Mr. Skratdj. "I knew a man +who was grey at twenty-five." + +"Well, forty or thirty-five, it doesn't much matter," said Mrs. +Skratdj, about to resume her narration. + +"Five years matter a good deal to most people at thirty-five," said +Mr. Skratdj, as he walked towards the door. "They would make a +remarkable difference to me, I know;" and with a jocular air Mr. +Skratdj departed, and Mrs. Skratdj had the rest of the anecdote her +own way. + + +THE LITTLE SKRATDJS. + +The Spirit of Contradiction finds a place in most nurseries, though to +a varying degree in different ones. Children snap and snarl by nature, +like young puppies; and most of us can remember taking part in some +such spirited dialogues as the following:-- + +{"I will." {"You daren't." +{"You can't." {"I dare." + +{"You shall." {"I'll tell Mamma." +{"I won't." {"I don't care if you do." + +It is the part of wise parents to repress these squibs and crackers of +juvenile contention, and to enforce that slowly-learned lesson, that +in this world one must often "pass over" and "put up with" things in +other people, being oneself by no means perfect. Also that it is a +kindness, and almost a duty, to let people think and say and do things +in their own way occasionally. + +But even if Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj had ever thought of teaching all this +to their children, it must be confessed that the lesson would not have +come with a good grace from either of them, since they snapped and +snarled between themselves as much or more than their children in the +nursery. + +The two eldest were the leaders in the nursery squabbles. Between +these, a boy and a girl, a ceaseless war of words was waged from +morning to night. And as neither of them lacked ready wit, and both +were in constant practice, the art of snapping was cultivated by them +to the highest pitch. + +It began at breakfast, if not sooner. + +"You've taken my chair." + +"It's not your chair." + +"You know it's the one I like, and it was in my place." + +"How do you know it was in your place?" + +"Never mind. I do know." + +"No, you don't." + +"Yes, I do." + +"Suppose I say it was in my place." + +"You can't, for it wasn't." + +"I can, if I like." + +"Well, was it?" + +"I sha'n't tell you." + +"Ah! that shows it wasn't." + +"No, it doesn't." + +"Yes, it does." + +Etc., etc., etc. + +The direction of their daily walks was a fruitful subject of +difference of opinion. + +"Let's go on the Common to-day, Nurse." + +"Oh, don't let's go there; we're always going on the Common." + +"I'm sure we're not. We've not been there for ever so long." + +"Oh, what a story! We were there on Wednesday. Let's go down Gipsey +Lane. We never go down Gipsey Lane." + +"Why, we're always going down Gipsey Lane. And there's nothing to see +there." + +"I don't care, I won't go on the Common, and I shall go and get Papa +to say we're to go down Gipsey Lane. I can run faster than you." + +"That's very sneaking; but I don't care." + +"Papa! Papa! Polly's called me a sneak." + +"No, I didn't, Papa." + +"You did." + +"No, I didn't. I only said it was sneaking of you to say you'd run +faster than me, and get Papa to say we were to go down Gipsey Lane." + +"Then you did call him sneaking," said Mr. Skratdj. "And you're a very +naughty ill-mannered little girl. You're getting very troublesome, +Polly, and I shall have to send you to school, where you'll be kept in +order. Go where your brother wishes at once." + +For Polly and her brother had reached an age when it was convenient, +if possible, to throw the blame of all nursery differences on Polly. +In families where domestic discipline is rather fractious than firm, +there comes a stage when the girls almost invariably go to the wall, +because they will stand snubbing, and the boys will not. Domestic +authority, like some other powers, is apt to be magnified on the +weaker class. + +But Mr. Skratdj would not always listen even to Harry. + +"If you don't give it me back directly, I'll tell about your eating +the two magnum-bonums in the kitchen garden on Sunday," said Master +Harry on one occasion. + + "Tell-tale tit! + Your tongue shall be slit, + And every dog in the town shall have a little bit," + +quoted his sister. + +"Ah! You've called me a tell-tale. Now I'll go and tell Papa. You got +into a fine scrape for calling me names the other day." + +"Go, then! I don't care." + +"You wouldn't like me to go, I know." + +"You daren't. That's what it is." + +"I dare." + +"Then why don't you?" + +"Oh, I am going; but you'll see what will be the end of it." + +Polly, however, had her own reasons for remaining stolid, and Harry +started. But when he reached the landing he paused. Mr. Skratdj had +especially announced that morning that he did not wish to be +disturbed, and though he was a favourite, Harry had no desire to +invade the dining-room at this crisis. So he returned to the nursery, +and said with a magnanimous air, "I don't want to get you into a +scrape, Polly. If you'll beg my pardon I won't go." + +"I'm sure I sha'n't," said Polly, who was equally well informed as to +the position of affairs at head-quarters. "Go, if you dare." + +"I won't if you want me not," said Harry, discreetly waiving the +question of apologies. + +"But I'd rather you went," said the obdurate Polly. "You're always +telling tales. Go and tell now, if you're not afraid." + +So Harry went. But at the bottom of the stairs he lingered again, and +was meditating how to return with most credit to his dignity, when +Polly's face appeared through the banisters, and Polly's sharp tongue +goaded him on. + +"Ah! I see you. You're stopping. You daren't go." + +"I dare," said Harry; and at last he went. + +As he turned the handle of the door, Mr. Skratdj turned round. + +"Please, Papa--" Harry began. + +"Get away with you!" cried Mr. Skratdj, "Didn't I tell you I was not +to be disturbed this morning? What an extraor----" + +But Harry had shut the door, and withdrawn precipitately. + +Once outside, he returned to the nursery with dignified steps, and an +air of apparent satisfaction, saying, + +"You're to give me the bricks, please." + +"Who says so?" + +"Why, who should say so? Where have I been, pray?" + +"I don't know, and I don't care." + +"I've been to Papa. There!" + +"Did he say I was to give up the bricks?" + +"I've told you." + +"No, you've not." + +"I sha'n't tell you any more." + +"Then I'll go to Papa and ask." + +"Go by all means." + +"I won't if you'll tell me truly." + +"I sha'n't tell you anything. Go and ask, if you dare," said Harry, +only too glad to have the tables turned. + +Polly's expedition met with the same fate, and she attempted to cover +her retreat in a similar manner. + +"Ah! you didn't tell." + +"I don't believe you asked Papa." + +"Don't you? Very well!" + +"Well, did you?" + +"Never mind." + +Etc., etc., etc. + +Meanwhile Mr. Skratdj scolded Mrs. Skratdj for not keeping the +children in better order. And Mrs. Skratdj said it was quite +impossible to do so, when Mr. Skratdj spoilt Harry as he did, and +weakened her (Mrs. Skratdj's) authority by constant interference. + +Difference of sex gave point to many of these nursery squabbles, as it +so often does to domestic broils. + +"Boys never will do what they're asked," Polly would complain. + +"Girls ask such unreasonable things," was Harry's retort. + +"Not half so unreasonable as the things you ask." + +"Ah! that's a different thing! Women have got to do what men tell +them, whether it's reasonable or not." + +"No, they've not!" said Polly. "At least, that's only husbands and +wives." + +"All women are inferior animals," said Harry. + +"Try ordering Mamma to do what you want, and see!" said Polly. + +"Men have got to give orders, and women have to obey," said Harry, +falling back on the general principle. "And when I get a wife, I'll +take care I make her do what I tell her. But you'll have to obey your +husband when you get one." + +"I won't have a husband, and then I can do as I like." + +"Oh, won't you? You'll try to get one, I know. Girls always want to be +married." + +"I'm sure I don't know why," said Polly; "they must have had enough of +men if they have brothers." + +And so they went on, _ad infinitum_, with ceaseless arguments that +proved nothing and convinced nobody, and a continual stream of +contradiction that just fell short of downright quarrelling. + +Indeed, there was a kind of snapping even less near to a dispute than +in the cases just mentioned. The little Skratdjs, like some other +children, were under the unfortunate delusion that it sounds clever to +hear little boys and girls snap each other up with smart sayings, and +old and rather vulgar play upon words, such as: + +"I'll give you a Christmas-box. Which ear will you have it on?" + +"I won't stand it." + +"Pray take a chair." + +"You shall have it to-morrow." + +"To-morrow never comes." + +And so if a visitor kindly began to talk to one of the children, +another was sure to draw near and "take up" all the first child's +answers, with smart comments, and catches that sounded as silly as +they were tiresome and impertinent. + +And ill-mannered as this was, Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj never put a stop +to it. Indeed, it was only a caricature of what they did themselves. +But they often said, "We can't think how it is the children are always +squabbling!" + + +THE SKRATDJS' DOG AND THE HOT-TEMPERED GENTLEMAN. + +It is wonderful how the state of mind of a whole household is +influenced by the heads of it. Mr. Skratdj was a very kind master, and +Mrs. Skratdj was a very kind mistress, and yet their servants lived in +a perpetual fever of irritability that just fell short of discontent. +They jostled each other on the back stairs, said sharp things in the +pantry, and kept up a perennial warfare on the subject of the duty of +the sexes with the general man-servant. They gave warning on the +slightest provocation. + +The very dog was infected by the snapping mania. He was not a brave +dog, he was not a vicious dog, and no high-breeding sanctioned his +pretensions to arrogance. But like his owners, he had contracted a bad +habit, a trick, which made him the pest of all timid visitors, and +indeed of all visitors whatsoever. + +The moment any one approached the house, on certain occasions when he +was spoken to, and often in no traceable connection with any cause at +all, Snap the mongrel would rush out, and bark in his little sharp +voice--"Yap! yap! yap!" If the visitor made a stand, he would bound +away sideways on his four little legs; but the moment the visitor went +on his way again, Snap was at his heels--"Yap! yap! yap!" He barked at +the milkman, the butcher's boy, and the baker, though he saw them +every day. He never got used to the washerwoman, and she never got +used to him. She said he "put her in mind of that there black dog in +the _Pilgrim's Progress_." He sat at the gate in summer, and yapped at +every vehicle and every pedestrian who ventured to pass on the +high-road. He never but once had the chance of barking at burglars; +and then, though he barked long and loud, nobody got up, for they +said, "It's only Snap's way." The Skratdjs lost a silver teapot, a +Stilton cheese, and two electro christening mugs, on this occasion; +and Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj dispute who it was who discouraged reliance +on Snap's warning to the present day. + +One Christmas time, a certain hot-tempered gentleman came to visit the +Skratdjs. A tall, sandy, energetic young man, who carried his own bag +from the railway. The bag had been crammed rather than packed, after +the wont of bachelors; and you could see where the heel of a boot +distended the leather, and where the bottle of shaving-cream lay. + +As he came up to the house, out came Snap as usual--"Yap! yap! yap!" +Now the gentleman was very fond of dogs, and had borne this greeting +some dozen of times from Snap, who for his part knew the visitor quite +as well as the washerwoman, and rather better than the butcher's boy. +The gentleman had good, sensible, well-behaved dogs of his own, and +was greatly disgusted with Snap's conduct. Nevertheless he spoke +friendly to him; and Snap, who had had many a bit from his plate, +could not help stopping for a minute to lick his hand. But no sooner +did the gentleman proceed on his way, than Snap flew at his heels in +the usual fashion-- + + "Yap! Yap! Yap!" + +On which the gentleman--being hot-tempered, and one of those people +with whom it is (as they say) a word and a blow, and the blow +first--made a dash at Snap, and Snap taking to his heels, the +gentleman flung his carpet-bag after him. The bottle of shaving-cream +hit upon a stone and was smashed. The heel of the boot caught Snap on +the back, and sent him squealing to the kitchen. And he never barked +at that gentleman again. + +If the gentleman disapproved of Snap's conduct, he still less liked +the continual snapping of the Skratdj family themselves. He was an old +friend of Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj, however, and knew that they were +really happy together, and that it was only a bad habit which made +them constantly contradict each other. It was in allusion to their +real affection for each other, and their perpetual disputing, that he +called them the "Snapping Turtles." + +When the war of words waxed hottest at the dinner-table between his +host and hostess, he would drive his hands through his shock of sandy +hair, and say, with a comical glance out of his umber eyes, "Don't +flirt, my friends. It makes a bachelor feel awkward." + +And neither Mr. nor Mrs. Skratdj could help laughing. + +With the little Skratdjs his measures were more vigorous. He was very +fond of children, and a good friend to them. He grudged no time or +trouble to help them in their games and projects, but he would not +tolerate their snapping up each other's words in his presence. He was +much more truly kind than many visitors, who think it polite to smile +at the sauciness and forwardness which ignorant vanity leads children +so often to "show off" before strangers. These civil acquaintances +only abuse both children and parents behind their backs, for the very +bad habits which they help to encourage. + +The hot-tempered gentleman's treatment of his young friends was very +different. One day he was talking to Polly, and making some kind +inquiries about her lessons, to which she was replying in a quiet and +sensible fashion, when up came Master Harry, and began to display his +wit by comments on the conversation, and by snapping at and +contradicting his sister's remarks, to which she retorted; and the +usual snap-dialogue went on as before. + +"Then you like music," said the hot-tempered gentleman. + +"Yes, I like it very much," said Polly. + +"Oh, do you?" Harry broke in. "Then what are you always crying over it +for?" + +"I'm not always crying over it." + +"Yes, you are." + +"No, I'm not. I only cry sometimes, when I stick fast." + +"Your music must be very sticky, for you're always stuck fast." + +"Hold your tongue!" said the hot-tempered gentleman. + +With what he imagined to be a very waggish air, Harry put out his +tongue, and held it with his finger and thumb. It was unfortunate that +he had not time to draw it in again before the hot-tempered gentleman +gave him a stinging box on the ear, which brought his teeth rather +sharply together on the tip of his tongue, which was bitten in +consequence. + +"It's no use _speaking_," said the hot-tempered gentleman, driving his +hands through his hair. + + * * * * * + +Children are like dogs, they are very good judges of their real +friends. Harry did not like the hot-tempered gentleman a bit the less +because he was obliged to respect and obey him; and all the children +welcomed him boisterously when he arrived that Christmas which we have +spoken of in connection with his attack on Snap. + +It was on the morning of Christmas Eve that the china punch-bowl was +broken. Mr. Skratdj had a warm dispute with Mrs. Skratdj as to whether +it had been kept in a safe place; after which both had a brisk +encounter with the housemaid, who did not know how it happened; and +she, flouncing down the back passage, kicked Snap; who forthwith flew +at the gardener as he was bringing in the horse-radish for the beef; +who stepping backwards trode upon the cat; who spit and swore, and +went up the pump with her tail as big as a fox's brush. + +To avoid this domestic scene, the hot-tempered gentleman withdrew to +the breakfast-room and took up a newspaper. By and by, Harry and Polly +came in, and they were soon snapping comfortably over their own +affairs in a corner. + +The hot-tempered gentleman's umber eyes had been looking over the top +of his newspaper at them for some time, before he called, "Harry, my +boy!" + +And Harry came up to him. + +"Show me your tongue, Harry," said he. + +"What for?" said Harry; "you're not a doctor." + +"Do as I tell you," said the hot-tempered gentleman; and as Harry saw +his hand moving, he put his tongue out with all possible haste. The +hot-tempered gentleman sighed. "Ah!" he said, in depressed tones; "I +thought so!--Polly, come and let me look at yours." + +Polly, who had crept up during this process, now put out hers. But the +hot-tempered gentleman looked gloomier still, and shook his head. + +"What is it?" cried both the children. "What do you mean?" And they +seized the tips of their tongues with their fingers, to feel for +themselves. + +But the hot-tempered gentleman went slowly out of the room without +answering; passing his hands through his hair, and saying, "Ah! Hum!" +and nodding with an air of grave foreboding. + +Just as he crossed the threshold, he turned back, and put his head +into the room. "Have you ever noticed that your tongues are growing +pointed?" he asked. + +"No!" cried the children with alarm. "Are they?" + +"If ever you find them becoming forked," said the gentleman in solemn +tones, "let me know." + +With which he departed, gravely shaking his head. + +In the afternoon the children attacked him again. + +"_Do_ tell us what's the matter with our tongues." + +"You were snapping and squabbling just as usual this morning," said +the hot-tempered gentleman. + +"Well, we forgot," said Polly. "We don't mean anything, you know. But +never mind that now, please. Tell us about our tongues. What is going +to happen to them?" + +"I'm very much afraid," said the hot-tempered gentleman, in solemn +measured tones, "that you are both of you--fast--going--to--the--" + +"Dogs?" suggested Harry, who was learned in cant expressions. + +"Dogs!" said the hot-tempered gentleman, driving his hands through his +hair. "Bless your life, no! Nothing half so pleasant! (That is, unless +all dogs were like Snap, which mercifully they are not.) No, my sad +fear is, that you are both of you--rapidly--going--_to the +Snap-Dragons_!" + +And not another word would the hot-tempered gentleman say on the +subject. + + +CHRISTMAS EVE. + +In the course of a few hours Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj recovered their +equanimity. The punch was brewed in a jug, and tasted quite as good as +usual. The evening was very lively. There were a Christmas tree, Yule +cakes, log, and candles, furmety, and snap-dragon after supper. When +the company was tired of the tree, and had gained an appetite by the +hard exercise of stretching to high branches, blowing out "dangerous" +tapers, and cutting ribbon and pack-thread in all directions, supper +came, with its welcome cakes and furmety and punch. And when furmety +somewhat palled upon the taste (and it must be admitted to boast more +sentiment than flavour as a Christmas dish), the Yule candles were +blown out, and both the spirits and the palates of the party were +stimulated by the mysterious and pungent pleasures of snap-dragon. + +Then, as the hot-tempered gentleman warmed his coat-tails at the Yule +log, a grim smile stole over his features as he listened to the sounds +in the room. In the darkness the blue flames leaped and danced, the +raisins were snapped and snatched from hand to hand, scattering +fragments of flame hither and thither. The children shouted as the +fiery sweetmeats burnt away the mawkish taste of the furmety. Mr. +Skratdj cried that they were spoiling the carpet; Mrs. Skratdj +complained that he had spilled some brandy on her dress. Mr. Skratdj +retorted that she should not wear dresses so susceptible of damage in +the family circle. Mrs. Skratdj recalled an old speech of Mr. +Skratdj's on the subject of wearing one's nice things for the benefit +of one's family, and not reserving them for visitors. Mr. Skratdj +remembered that Mrs. Skratdj's excuse for buying that particular dress +when she did not need it, was her intention of keeping it for the next +year. The children disputed as to the credit for courage and the +amount of raisins due to each. Snap barked furiously at the flames; +and the maids hustled each other for good places in the doorway, and +would not have allowed the man-servant to see at all, but he looked +over their heads. + +"St! St! At it! At it!" chuckled the hot-tempered gentleman in +undertones. And when he said this, it seemed as if the voices of Mr. +and Mrs. Skratdj rose higher in matrimonial repartee, and the +children's squabbles became louder, and the dog yelped as if he were +mad, and the maids' contest was sharper; whilst the snap-dragon flames +leaped up and up, and blue fire flew about the room like foam. + +At last the raisins were finished, the flames were all but out, and +the company withdrew to the drawing-room. Only Harry lingered. + +"Come along, Harry," said the hot-tempered gentleman. + +"Wait a minute," said Harry. + +"You had better come," said the gentleman. + +"Why?" said Harry. + +"There's nothing to stop for. The raisins are eaten, the brandy is +burnt out--" + +"No, it's not," said Harry. + +"Well, almost. It would be better if it were quite out. Now come. It's +dangerous for a boy like you to be alone with the Snap-Dragons +to-night." + +"Fiddle-sticks!" said Harry. + +"Go your own way, then!" said the hot-tempered gentleman; and he +bounced out of the room, and Harry was left alone. + + +DANCING WITH THE DRAGONS. + +He crept up to the table, where one little pale blue flame flickered +in the snap-dragon dish. + +"What a pity it should go out!" said Harry. At this moment the +brandy-bottle on the sideboard caught his eye. + +"Just a little more," muttered Harry to himself; and he uncorked the +bottle, and poured a little brandy on to the flame. + +Now of course, as soon as the brandy touched the fire, all the brandy +in the bottle blazed up at once, and the bottle split to pieces; and +it was very fortunate for Harry that he did not get seriously hurt. A +little of the hot brandy did get into his eyes, and made them smart, +so that he had to shut them for a few seconds. + +But when he opened them again, what a sight he saw! All over the room +the blue flames leaped and danced as they had leaped and danced in the +soup-plate with the raisins. And Harry saw that each successive flame +was the fold in the long body of a bright blue Dragon, which moved +like the body of a snake. And the room was full of these Dragons. In +the face they were like the dragons one sees made of very old blue and +white china; and they had forked tongues, like the tongues of +serpents. They were most beautiful in colour, being sky-blue. Lobsters +who have just changed their coats are very handsome, but the violet +and indigo of a lobster's coat is nothing to the brilliant sky-blue of +a Snap-Dragon. + +How they leaped about! They were for ever leaping over each other like +seals at play. But if it was "play" at all with them, it was of a very +rough kind; for as they jumped, they snapped and barked at each +other, and their barking was like that of the barking Gnu in the +Zoological Gardens; and from time to time they tore the hair out of +each other's heads with their claws, and scattered it about the floor. +And as it dropped it was like the flecks of flame people shake from +their fingers when they are eating snap-dragon raisins. + +Harry stood aghast. + +"What fun!" cried a voice close behind him; and he saw that one of the +Dragons was lying near, and not joining in the game. He had lost one +of the forks of his tongue by accident, and could not bark for awhile. + +"I'm glad you think it funny," said Harry; "I don't." + +"That's right. Snap away!" sneered the Dragon. "You're a perfect +treasure. They'll take you in with them the third round." + +"Not those creatures?" cried Harry. + +"Yes, those creatures. And if I hadn't lost my bark, I'd be the first +to lead you off," said the Dragon. "Oh, the game will exactly suit +you." + +"What is it, please?" Harry asked. + +"You'd better not say 'please' to the others," said the Dragon, "if +you don't want to have all your hair pulled out. The game is this. You +have always to be jumping over somebody else, and you must either +talk or bark. If anybody speaks to you, you must snap in return. I +need not explain what _snapping_ is. _You know._ If any one by +accident gives a civil answer, a claw-full of hair is torn out of his +head to stimulate his brain. Nothing can be funnier." + +"I dare say it suits you capitally," said Harry; "but I'm sure we +shouldn't like it. I mean men and women and children. It wouldn't do +for us at all." + +"Wouldn't it?" said the Dragon. "You don't know how many human beings +dance with dragons on Christmas Eve. If we are kept going in a house +till after midnight, we can pull people out of their beds, and take +them to dance in Vesuvius." + +"Vesuvius!" cried Harry. + +"Yes, Vesuvius. We come from Italy originally, you know. Our skins are +the colour of the Bay of Naples. We live on dried grapes and ardent +spirits. We have glorious fun in the mountain sometimes. Oh! what +snapping, and scratching, and tearing! Delicious! There are times when +the squabbling becomes too great, and Mother Mountain won't stand it, +and spits us all out, and throws cinders after us. But this is only at +times. We had a charming meeting last year. So many human beings, and +how they _can_ snap! It was a choice party. So very select. We always +have plenty of saucy children, and servants. Husbands and wives too, +and quite as many of the former as the latter, if not more. But +besides these, we had two vestry-men; a country postman, who devoted +his talents to insulting the public instead of to learning the postal +regulations; three cabmen and two "fares"; two young shop-girls from a +Berlin wool shop in a town where there was no competition; four +commercial travellers; six landladies; six Old Bailey lawyers; several +widows from almshouses; seven single gentlemen and nine cats, who +swore at everything; a dozen sulphur-coloured screaming cockatoos; a +lot of street children from a town; a pack of mongrel curs from the +colonies, who snapped at the human beings' heels; and five elderly +ladies in their Sunday bonnets with Prayer-books, who had been +fighting for good seats in church." + +"Dear me!" said Harry. + +"If you can find nothing sharper to say than 'Dear me,'" said the +Dragon, "you will fare badly, I can tell you. Why, I thought you'd a +sharp tongue, but it's not forked yet, I see. Here they are, however. +Off with you! And if you value your curls--Snap!" + +And before Harry could reply, the Snap-Dragons came in on their third +round, and as they passed they swept Harry along with them. + +He shuddered as he looked at his companions. They were as transparent +as shrimps, but of a lovely cerulæan blue. And as they leaped they +barked--"Howf! Howf!"--like barking Gnus; and when they leaped Harry +had to leap with them. Besides barking, they snapped and wrangled with +each other; and in this Harry must join also. + +"Pleasant, isn't it?" said one of the blue Dragons. + +"Not at all," snapped Harry. + +"That's your bad taste," snapped the blue Dragon. + +"No, it's not!" snapped Harry. + +"Then it's pride and perverseness. You want your hair combing." + +"Oh, please don't!" shrieked Harry, forgetting himself. On which the +Dragon clawed a handful of hair out of his head, and Harry screamed, +and the blue Dragons barked and danced. + +"That made your hair curl, didn't it?" asked another Dragon, leaping +over Harry. + +"That's no business of yours," Harry snapped, as well as he could for +crying. + +"It's more my pleasure than business," retorted the Dragon. + +"Keep it to yourself, then," snapped Harry. + +"I mean to share it with you, when I get hold of your hair," snapped +the Dragon. + +"Wait till you get the chance," Harry snapped, with desperate presence +of mind. + +"Do you know whom you're talking to?" roared the Dragon; and he opened +his mouth from ear to ear, and shot out his forked tongue in Harry's +face; and the boy was so frightened that he forgot to snap, and cried +piteously, + +"Oh, I beg your pardon, please don't!" + +On which the blue Dragon clawed another handful of hair out of his +head, and all the Dragons barked as before. + +How long the dreadful game went on Harry never exactly knew. Well +practised as he was in snapping in the nursery, he often failed to +think of a retort, and paid for his unreadiness by the loss of his +hair. Oh, how foolish and wearisome all this rudeness and snapping now +seemed to him! But on he had to go, wondering all the time how near it +was to twelve o'clock, and whether the Snap-Dragons would stay till +midnight and take him with them to Vesuvius. + +At last, to his joy, it became evident that the brandy was coming to +an end. The Dragons moved slower, they could not leap so high, and at +last one after another they began to go out. + +"Oh, if they only all of them get away before twelve!" thought poor +Harry. + +At last there was only one. He and Harry jumped about and snapped and +barked, and Harry was thinking with joy that he was the last, when the +clock in the hall gave that whirring sound which some clocks do before +they strike, as if it were clearing its throat. + +"Oh, _please_ go!" screamed Harry in despair. + +The blue Dragon leaped up, and took such a claw-full of hair out of +the boy's head, that it seemed as if part of the skin went too. But +that leap was his last. He went out at once, vanishing before the +first stroke of twelve. And Harry was left on his face on the floor in +the darkness. + + +CONCLUSION. + +When his friends found him there was blood on his forehead. Harry +thought it was where the Dragon had clawed him, but they said it was a +cut from a fragment of the broken brandy-bottle. The Dragons had +disappeared as completely as the brandy. + +Harry was cured of snapping. He had had quite enough of it for a +lifetime, and the catch-contradictions of the household now made him +shudder. Polly had not had the benefit of his experiences, and yet she +improved also. + +In the first place, snapping, like other kinds of quarrelling, +requires two parties to it, and Harry would never be a party to +snapping any more. And when he gave civil and kind answers to Polly's +smart speeches, she felt ashamed of herself, and did not repeat them. + +In the second place, she heard about the Snap-Dragons. Harry told all +about it to her and to the hot-tempered gentleman. + +"Now do you think it's true?" Polly asked the hot-tempered man. + +"Hum! Ha!" said he, driving his hands through his hair. "You know I +warned you, you were going to the Snap-Dragons." + + * * * * * + +Harry and Polly snubbed "the little ones" when they snapped, and +utterly discountenanced snapping in the nursery. The example and +admonitions of elder children are a powerful instrument of nursery +discipline, and before long there was not a "sharp tongue" amongst all +the little Skratdjs. + +But I doubt if the parents ever were cured. I don't know if they heard +the story. Besides, bad habits are not easily cured when one is old. + +I fear Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj have yet got to dance with the Dragons. + + + + +OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS. + + + + +OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS. + +AN OLD-FASHIONED TALE OF THE YOUNG DAYS OF A GRUMPY OLD GODFATHER. + +CHAPTER I. + + +"Can you fancy, young people," said Godfather Garbel, winking with his +prominent eyes, and moving his feet backwards and forwards in his +square shoes, so that you could hear the squeak-leather half a room +off--"can you fancy my having been a very little boy, and having a +godmother? But I had, and she sent me presents on my birthdays too. +And young people did not get presents when I was a child as they get +them now. _Grumph_! We had not half so many toys as you have, but we +kept them twice as long. I think we were fonder of them too, though +they were neither so handsome nor so expensive as these new-fangled +affairs you are always breaking about the house. _Grumph_! + +"You see, middle-class folk were more saving then. My mother turned +and dyed her dresses, and when she had done with them, the servant was +very glad to have them; but, bless me! your mother's maids dress so +much finer than their mistress, I do not think they would say 'thank +you' for her best Sunday silk. The bustle's the wrong shape. _Grumph_! + +"What's that you are laughing at, little miss? It's _pannier_, is it? +Well, well, bustle or pannier, call it what you like; but only donkeys +wore panniers in my young days, and many's the ride I've had in them. + +"Now, as I say, my relations and friends thought twice before they +pulled out five shillings in a toy-shop, but they didn't forget me, +all the same. + +"On my eighth birthday my mother gave me a bright blue comforter of +her own knitting. + +"My little sister gave me a ball. My mother had cut out the divisions +from various bits in the rag-bag, and my sister had done some of the +seaming. It was stuffed with bran, and had a cork inside which had +broken from old age, and would no longer fit the pickle-jar it +belonged to. This made the ball bound when we played 'prisoner's +base.' + +"My father gave me the broken driving-whip that had lost the lash, and +an old pair of his gloves, to play coachman with; these I had long +wished for, since next to sailing in a ship, in my ideas, came the +honour and glory of driving a coach. + +"My whole soul, I must tell you, was set upon being a sailor. In those +days I had rather put to sea once on Farmer Fodder's duck-pond than +ride twice atop of his hay-waggon; and between the smell of hay and +the softness of it, and the height you are up above other folk, and +the danger of tumbling off if you don't look out--for hay is elastic +as well as soft--you don't easily beat a ride on a hay-waggon for +pleasure. But as I say, I'd rather put to sea on the duck-pond, though +the best craft I could borrow was the pigstye-door, and a pole to punt +with, and the village boys jeering when I got aground, which was most +of the time--besides the duck-pond never having a wave on it worth the +name, punt as you would, and so shallow you could not have got drowned +in it to save your life. + +"You're laughing now, little master, are you? But let me tell you that +drowning's the death for a sailor, whatever you may think. So I've +always maintained, and have given every navigable sea in the known +world a chance, though here I am after all, laid up in arm-chairs and +feather-beds, to wait for bronchitis or some other slow poison. +_Grumph_! + +"Well, we must all go as we're called, sailors or landsmen, and as I +was saying, if I was never to sail a ship, I would have liked to drive +a coach. A mail coach, serving His Majesty (Her Majesty now, GOD +bless her!), carrying the Royal Arms, and bound to go, rough weather +and fair. Many's the time I've done it (in play you understand) with +that whip and those gloves. Dear! dear! The pains I took to teach my +sister Patty to be a highwayman, and jump out on me from the +drying-ground hedge in the dusk with a 'Stand and deliver!' which she +couldn't get out of her throat for fright, and wouldn't jump hard +enough for fear of hurting me. + +"The whip and the gloves gave me joy, I can tell you; but there was +more to come. + +"Kitty the servant gave me a shell that she had had by her for years. +How I had coveted that shell! It had this remarkable property: when +you put it to your ear, you could hear the roaring of the sea. I had +never seen the sea, but Kitty was born in a fisherman's cottage, and +many an hour have I sat by the kitchen fire whilst she told me strange +stories of the mighty ocean, and ever and anon she would snatch the +shell from the mantelpiece and clap it to my ear, crying, 'There, +child, you couldn't hear it plainer than that. It's the very moral!' + +"When Kitty gave me that shell for my very own, I felt that life had +little more to offer. I held it to every ear in the house, including +the cat's; and, seeing Dick the sexton's son go by with an armful of +straw to stuff Guy Fawkes, I ran out, and in my anxiety to make him +share the treat, and learn what the sea is like, I clapped the shell +to his ear so smartly and unexpectedly, that he, thinking me to have +struck him, knocked me down then and there with his bundle of straw. +When he understood the rights of the case, he begged my pardon +handsomely, and gave me two whole treacle-sticks and part of a third +out of his breeches-pocket, in return for which I forgave him freely, +and promised to let him hear the sea roar on every Saturday +half-holiday till farther notice. + +"And speaking of Dick and the straw reminds me that my birthday falls +on the fifth of November. From this it came about that I always had to +bear a good many jokes about being burnt as a Guy Fawkes; but, on the +other hand, I was allowed to make a small bonfire of my own, and to +have eight potatoes to roast therein, and eight-pennyworth of crackers +to let off in the evening. A potato and a pennyworth of crackers for +every year of my life. + +"On this eighth birthday, having got all the above-named gifts, I +cried, in the fulness of my heart, 'There never was such a day!' And +yet there was more to come, for the evening coach brought me a parcel, +and the parcel was my godmother's picture-book. + +"My godmother was a gentlewoman of small means; but she was +accomplished. She could make very spirited sketches, and knew how to +colour them after they were outlined and shaded in Indian ink. She +had a pleasant talent for versifying. She was very industrious. I have +it from her own lips that she copied the figures in my picture-book +from prints in several different houses at which she visited. They +were fancy portraits of characters, most of which were familiar to my +mind. There were Guy Fawkes, Punch, his then Majesty the King, Bogy, +the Man in the Moon, the Clerk of the Weather Office, a Dunce, and Old +Father Christmas. Beneath each sketch was a stanza of my godmother's +own composing. + +"My godmother was very ingenious. She had been mainly guided in her +choice of these characters by the prints she happened to meet with, as +she did not trust herself to design a figure. But if she could not get +exactly what she wanted, she had a clever knack of tracing the outline +of an attitude from some engraving, and altering the figure to suit +her purpose in the finished sketch. She was the soul of truthfulness, +and the notes she added to the index of contents in my picture-book +spoke at once for her honesty in avowing obligations, and her +ingenuity in availing herself of opportunities. + +"They ran thus:-- + + No. 1.--GUY FAWKES. Outlined from a figure of a warehouseman + rolling a sherry flask into Mr. Rudd's wine-vaults. I added + the hat, cloak, and boots in the finished drawing. + + No. 2.--PUNCH. I sketched him from the life. + + No. 3.--HIS MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY THE KING. On a quart jug + bought in Cheapside. + + No. 4.--BOGY, _with bad boys in the bag on his back_. + Outlined from Christian bending under his burden, in my + mother's old copy of the _Pilgrim's Progress_. The face from + Giant Despair. + + No. 5 and No. 6.--THE MAN IN THE MOON, and THE CLERK OF THE + WEATHER OFFICE. From a book of caricatures belonging to Dr. + James. + + No. 7.--A DUNCE. From a steel engraving framed in rosewood + that hangs in my Uncle Wilkinson's parlour. + + No. 8.--OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS. From a German book at Lady + Littleham's. + + +CHAPTER II. + +"My sister Patty was six years old. We loved each other dearly. The +picture-book was almost as much hers as mine. We sat so long together +on one big footstool by the fire, with our arms round each other, and +the book resting on our knees, that Kitty called down blessings on my +godmother's head for having sent a volume that kept us both so long +out of mischief. + +"'If books was allus as useful as that, they'd do for me,' said she; +and though this speech did not mean much, it was a great deal for +Kitty to say; since, not being herself an educated person, she +naturally thought that 'little enough good comes of larning.' + +"Patty and I had our favourites amongst the pictures. Bogy, now, was a +character one did not care to think about too near bed-time. I was +tired of Guy Fawkes, and thought he looked more natural made of straw, +as Dick did him. The Dunce was a little too personal; but Old Father +Christmas took our hearts by storm; we had never seen anything like +him, though now-a-days you may get a plaster figure of him in any +toy-shop at Christmas-time, with hair and beard like cotton-wool, and +a Christmas-tree in his hand. + +"The custom of Christmas-trees came from Germany. I can remember when +they were first introduced into England, and what wonderful things we +thought them. Now, every village school has its tree, and the scholars +openly discuss whether the presents have been 'good' or 'mean,' as +compared with other trees of former years. + +"The first one that I ever saw I believed to have come from good +Father Christmas himself; but little boys have grown too wise now to +be taken in for their own amusement. They are not excited by secret +and mysterious preparations in the back drawing-room; they hardly +confess to the thrill--which I feel to this day--when the +folding-doors are thrown open, and amid the blaze of tapers, Mamma, +like a Fate, advances with her scissors to give every one what falls +to his lot. + +"Well, young people, when I was eight years old I had not seen a +Christmas-tree, and the first picture of one I ever saw was the +picture of that held by Old Father Christmas in my godmother's +picture-book. + +"'What are those things on the tree?' I asked. + +"'Candles,' said my father. + +"'No, father, not the candles; the other things?' + +"'Those are toys, my son.' + +"'Are they ever taken off?' + +"'Yes, they are taken off, and given to the children who stand round +the tree.' + +"Patty and I grasped each other by the hand, and with one voice +murmured, 'How kind of Old Father Christmas!' + +"By and by I asked, 'How old is Father Christmas?' + +"My father laughed, and said, 'One thousand eight hundred and thirty +years, child,' which was then the year of our Lord, and thus one +thousand eight hundred and thirty years since the first great +Christmas Day. + +"'He _looks_ very old,' whispered Patty. + +"And I, who was, for my age, what Kitty called 'Bible-learned,' said +thoughtfully, and with some puzzledness of mind, 'Then he's older than +Methuselah.' + +"But my father had left the room, and did not hear my difficulty. + +"November and December went by, and still the picture-book kept all +its charm for Patty and me; and we pondered on and loved Old Father +Christmas as children can love and realize a fancy friend. To those +who remember the fancies of their childhood I need say no more. + +"Christmas week came, Christmas Eve came. My father and mother were +mysteriously and unaccountably busy in the parlour (we had only one +parlour), and Patty and I were not allowed to go in. We went into the +kitchen, but even here was no place of rest for us. Kitty was 'all +over the place,' as she phrased it, and cakes, mince-pies, and +puddings were with her. As she justly observed, 'There was no place +there for children and book; to sit with their toes in the fire, when +a body wanted to be at the oven all along. The cat was enough for +_her_ temper,' she added. + +"As to puss, who obstinately refused to take a hint which drove her +out into the Christmas frost, she returned again and again with soft +steps, and a stupidity that was, I think, affected, to the warm +hearth, only to fly at intervals, like a football, before Kitty's +hasty slipper. + +"We had more sense, or less courage. We bowed to Kitty's behests, and +went to the back door. + +"Patty and I were hardy children, and accustomed to 'run out' in all +weathers, without much extra wrapping up. We put Kitty's shawl over +our two heads, and went outside. I rather hoped to see something of +Dick, for it was holiday time; but no Dick passed. He was busy +helping his father to bore holes in the carved seats of the church, +which were to hold sprigs of holly for the morrow--that was the idea +of church decoration in my young days. You have improved on your +elders there, young people, and I am candid enough to allow it. Still, +the sprigs of red and green were better than nothing, and, like your +lovely wreaths and pious devices, they made one feel as if the old +black wood were bursting into life and leaf again for very Christmas +joy! + +"And, if one only knelt carefully, they did not scratch his nose," +added Godfather Garbel, chuckling and rubbing his own, which was large +and rather red. + +"Well," he continued, "Dick was busy, and not to be seen. We ran +across the little yard and looked over the wall at the end to see if +we could see anything or anybody. From this point there was a pleasant +meadow field sloping prettily away to a little hill about +three-quarters of a mile distant; which, catching some fine breezes +from the moors beyond, was held to be a place of cure for +whooping-cough, or 'kinkcough,' as it was vulgarly called. Up to the +top of this Kitty had dragged me, and carried Patty, when we were +recovering from the complaint, as I well remember. It was the only +'change of air' we could afford, and I dare say it did as well as if +we had gone into badly-drained lodgings at the seaside. + +"This hill was now covered with snow, and stood off against the grey +sky. The white fields looked vast and dreary in the dusk. The only gay +things to be seen were the red berries on the holly hedge, in the +little lane--which, running by the end of our back-yard, led up to the +Hall--and a fat robin redbreast who was staring at me. I was watching +the robin, when Patty, who had been peering out of her corner of +Kitty's shawl, gave a great jump that dragged the shawl from our +heads, and cried, + +"'LOOK!' + + +CHAPTER III. + +"I looked. An old man was coming along the lane. His hair and beard +were as white as cotton-wool. He had a face like the sort of apple +that keeps well in winter; his coat was old and brown. There was snow +about him in patches, and he carried a small fir-tree. + +"The same conviction seized upon us both. With one breath we +exclaimed, '_It's Old Father Christmas!_' + +"I know now that it was only an old man of the place, with whom we did +not happen to be acquainted, and that he was taking a little fir-tree +up to the Hall, to be made into a Christmas-tree. He was a very +good-humoured old fellow, and rather deaf, for which he made up by +smiling and nodding his head a good deal, and saying, 'Aye, aye, _to_ +be sure!' at likely intervals. + +"As he passed us and met our earnest gaze, he smiled and nodded so +affably, that I was bold enough to cry, 'Good-evening, Father +Christmas!' + +"'Same to you!' said he, in a high-pitched voice. + +"'Then you _are_ Father Christmas?' said Patty. + +"'And a Happy New Year,' was Father Christmas's reply, which rather +put me out. But he smiled in such a satisfactory manner, that Patty +went on, 'You're very old, aren't you?' + +"'So I be, miss, so I be,' said Father Christmas, nodding. + +"'Father says you're eighteen hundred and thirty years old,' I +muttered. + +"'Aye, aye, to be sure,' said Father Christmas, 'I'm a long age.' + +"A _very_ long age, thought I, and I added, 'You're nearly twice as +old as Methuselah, you know,' thinking that this might not have struck +him. + +"'Aye, aye,' said Father Christmas; but he did not seem to think +anything of it. After a pause he held up the tree, and cried, 'D'ye +know what this is, little miss?' + +"'A Christmas-tree,' said Patty. + +"And the old man smiled and nodded. + +"I leant over the wall, and shouted, 'But there are no candles.' + +"'By and by,' said Father Christmas, nodding as before. 'When it's +dark they'll all be lighted up. That'll be a fine sight!' + +"'Toys too, there'll be, won't there?' screamed Patty. + +"Father Christmas nodded his head. 'And sweeties,' he added, +expressively. + +"I could feel Patty trembling, and my own heart beat fast. The thought +which agitated us both, was this--'Was Father Christmas bringing the +tree to us?' But very anxiety, and some modesty also, kept us from +asking outright. + +"Only when the old man shouldered his tree, and prepared to move on, I +cried in despair, 'Oh, are you going?' + +"'I'm coming back by and by,' said he. + +"'How soon?' cried Patty. + +"'About four o'clock,' said the old man, smiling. 'I'm only going up +yonder.' + +"And, nodding, and smiling as he went, he passed away down the lane. + +"'Up yonder.' This puzzled us. Father Christmas had pointed, but so +indefinitely, that he might have been pointing to the sky, or the +fields, or the little wood at the end of the Squire's grounds. I +thought the latter, and suggested to Patty that perhaps he had some +place underground, like Aladdin's cave, where he got the candles, and +all the pretty things for the tree. This idea pleased us both, and we +amused ourselves by wondering what Old Father Christmas would choose +for us from his stores in that wonderful hole where he dressed his +Christmas-trees. + +"'I wonder, Patty,' said I, 'why there's no picture of Father +Christmas's dog in the book.' For at the old man's heels in the lane +there crept a little brown and white spaniel, looking very dirty in +the snow. + +"'Perhaps it's a new dog that he's got to take care of his cave,' said +Patty. + +"When we went indoors we examined the picture afresh by the dim light +from the passage window, but found no dog there. + +"My father passed us at this moment, and patted my head. 'Father,' +said I, 'I don't know, but I do think Old Father Christmas is going to +bring us a Christmas-tree to-night.' + +"'Who's been telling you that?' said my father. But he passed on +before I could explain that we had seen Father Christmas himself, and +had had his word for it that he would return at four o'clock, and that +the candles on his tree would be lighted as soon as it was dark. + +"We hovered on the outskirts of the rooms till four o'clock came. We +sat on the stairs and watched the big clock, which I was just learning +to read; and Patty made herself giddy with constantly looking up and +counting the four strokes, towards which the hour hand slowly moved. +We put our noses into the kitchen now and then, to smell the cakes +and get warm, and anon we hung about the parlour door, and were most +unjustly accused of trying to peep. What did we care what our mother +was doing in the parlour?--we who had seen Old Father Christmas +himself, and were expecting him back again every moment! + +"At last the church clock struck. The sounds boomed heavily through +the frost, and Patty thought there were four of them. Then, after due +choking and whirring, our own clock struck, and we counted the strokes +quite clearly--one! two! three! four! Then we got Kitty's shawl once +more, and stole out into the back-yard. We ran to our old place, and +peeped, but could see nothing. + +"'We'd better get up on to the wall,' I said; and with some difficulty +and distress from rubbing her bare knees against the cold stones, and +getting the snow up her sleeves, Patty got on the coping of the little +wall. I was just struggling after her, when something warm and +something cold coming suddenly against the bare calves of my legs, +made me shriek with fright. I came down 'with a run,' and bruised my +knees, my elbows, and my chin; and the snow that hadn't gone up +Patty's sleeves, went down my neck. Then I found that the cold thing +was a dog's nose, and the warm thing was his tongue; and Patty cried +from her post of observation, 'It's Father Christmas's dog, and he's +licking your legs.' + +"It really was the dirty little brown and white spaniel; and he +persisted in licking me, and jumping on me, and making curious little +noises, that must have meant something if one had known his language. +I was rather harassed at the moment. My legs were sore, I was a little +afraid of the dog, and Patty was very much afraid of sitting on the +wall without me. + +"'You won't fall,' I said to her. 'Get down, will you!' I said to the +dog. + +"'Humpty Dumpty fell off a wall,' said Patty. + +"'Bow! wow!' said the dog. + +"I pulled Patty down, and the dog tried to pull me down; but when my +little sister was on her feet, to my relief, he transferred his +attentions to her. When he had jumped at her, and licked her several +times, he turned round and ran away. + +"'He's gone,' said I; 'I'm so glad.' + +"But even as I spoke he was back again, crouching at Patty's feet, and +glaring at her with eyes the colour of his ears. + +"Now Patty was very fond of animals, and when the dog looked at her +she looked at the dog, and then she said to me, 'He wants us to go +with him.' + +"On which (as if he understood our language, though we were ignorant +of his) the spaniel sprang away, and went off as hard as he could; +and Patty and I went after him, a dim hope crossing my mind--'Perhaps +Father Christmas has sent him for us.' + +"This idea was rather favoured by the fact that the dog led us up the +lane. Only a little way; then he stopped by something lying in the +ditch--and once more we cried in the same breath, 'It's Old Father +Christmas!'" + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"Returning from the Hall, the old man had slipped upon a bit of ice, +and lay stunned in the snow. + +"Patty began to cry. 'I think he's dead,' she sobbed. + +"'He is so very old, I don't wonder,' I murmured; 'but perhaps he's +not. I'll fetch Father.' + +"My father and Kitty were soon on the spot. Kitty was as strong as a +man; and they carried Father Christmas between them into the kitchen. +There he quickly revived. + +"I must do Kitty the justice to say that she did not utter a word of +complaint at this disturbance of her labours; and that she drew the +old man's chair close up to the oven with her own hand. She was so +much affected by the behaviour of his dog, that she admitted him even +to the hearth; on which puss, being acute enough to see how matters +stood, lay down with her back so close to the spaniel's that Kitty +could not expel one without kicking both. + +"For our parts, we felt sadly anxious about the tree; otherwise we +could have wished for no better treat than to sit at Kitty's round +table taking tea with Father Christmas. Our usual fare of thick bread +and treacle was to-night exchanged for a delicious variety of cakes, +which were none the worse to us for being 'tasters and wasters'--that +is, little bits of dough, or shortbread, put in to try the state of +the oven, and certain cakes that had got broken or burnt in the +baking. + +"Well, there we sat, helping Old Father Christmas to tea and cake, and +wondering in our hearts what could have become of the tree. But you +see, young people, when I was a child, parents were stricter than they +are now. Even before Kitty died (and she has been dead many a long +year) there was a change, and she said that 'children got to think +anything became them.' I think we were taught more honest shame about +certain things than I often see in little boys and girls now. We were +ashamed of boasting, or being greedy, or selfish; we were ashamed of +asking for anything that was not offered to us, and of interrupting +grown-up people, or talking about ourselves. Why, papas and mammas +now-a-days seem quite proud to let their friends see how bold and +greedy and talkative their children can be! A lady said to me the +other day, 'You wouldn't believe, Mr. Garbel, how forward dear little +Harry is for his age. He has his word in everything, and is not a bit +shy! and his papa never comes home from town but Harry runs to ask him +if he's brought him a present. Papa says he'll be the ruin of him!' + +"'Madam,' said I, 'even without your word for it, I am quite aware +that your child is forward. He is forward and greedy and intrusive, as +you justly point out, and I wish you joy of him when those qualities +are fully developed. I think his father's fears are well founded.' + +"But, bless me! now-a-days it's 'Come and tell Mr. Smith what a fine +boy you are, and how many houses you can build with your bricks,' or, +'The dear child wants everything he sees,' or 'Little pet never lets +Mamma alone for a minute; does she, love?' But in my young days it +was, 'Self-praise is no recommendation' (as Kitty used to tell me), +or, 'You're knocking too hard at No. One' (as my father said when we +talked about ourselves), or, 'Little boys should be seen but not +heard' (as a rule of conduct 'in company'), or, 'Don't ask for what +you want, but take what's given you and be thankful.' + +"And so you see, young people, Patty and I felt a delicacy in asking +Old Father Christmas about the tree. It was not till we had had tea +three times round, with tasters and wasters to match, that Patty said +very gently, 'It's quite dark now.' And then she heaved a deep sigh. + +"Burning anxiety overcame me. I leant towards Father Christmas, and +shouted--I had found out that it was needful to shout-- + +"'I suppose the candles are on the tree now?' + +"'Just about putting of 'em on,' said Father Christmas. + +"'And the presents, too?' said Patty. + +"'Aye, aye, _to_ be sure,' said Father Christmas, and he smiled +delightfully. + +"I was thinking what farther questions I might venture upon, when he +pushed his cup towards Patty, saying, 'Since you are so pressing, +miss, I'll take another dish.' + +"And Kitty, swooping on us from the oven, cried, 'Make yourself at +home, sir; there's more where these came from. Make a long arm, Miss +Patty, and hand them cakes.' + +"So we had to devote ourselves to the duties of the table; and Patty, +holding the lid with one hand and pouring out with the other, supplied +Father Christmas's wants with a heavy heart. + +"At last he was satisfied. I said grace, during which he stood, and +indeed he stood for some time afterwards with his eyes shut--I fancy +under the impression that I was still speaking. He had just said a +fervent 'Amen,' and reseated himself, when my father put his head into +the kitchen, and made this remarkable statement-- + +"'Old Father Christmas has sent a tree to the young people.' + +"Patty and I uttered a cry of delight, and we forthwith danced round +the old man, saying, 'Oh, how nice! Oh, how kind of you!' which I +think must have bewildered him, but he only smiled and nodded. + +"'Come along,' said my father. 'Come, children. Come, Reuben. Come, +Kitty.' + +"And he went into the parlour, and we all followed him. + +"My godmother's picture of a Christmas-tree was very pretty; and the +flames of the candles were so naturally done in red and yellow, that I +always wondered that they did not shine at night. But the picture was +nothing to the reality. We had been sitting almost in the dark, for, +as Kitty said, 'Firelight was quite enough to burn at meal-times.' And +when the parlour door was thrown open, and the tree, with lighted +tapers on all the branches, burst upon our view, the blaze was +dazzling, and threw such a glory round the little gifts, and the bags +of coloured muslin with acid drops, and pink rose drops, and comfits +inside, as I shall never forget. We all got something; and Patty and +I, at any rate, believed that the things came from the stores of Old +Father Christmas. We were not undeceived even by his gratefully +accepting a bundle of old clothes which had been hastily put together +to form his present. + +"We were all very happy; even Kitty, I think, though she kept her +sleeves rolled up, and seemed rather to grudge enjoying herself (a +weak point in some energetic characters). She went back to her oven +before the lights were out, and the angel on the top of the tree taken +down. She locked up her present (a little work-box) at once. She often +showed it off afterwards, but it was kept in the same bit of +tissue-paper till she died. Our presents certainly did not last so +long! + +"The old man died about a week afterwards, so we never made his +acquaintance as a common personage. When he was buried, his little dog +came to us. I suppose he remembered the hospitality he had received. +Patty adopted him, and he was very faithful. Puss always looked on him +with favour. I hoped during our rambles together in the following +summer that he would lead us at last to the cave where Christmas-trees +are dressed. But he never did. + +"Our parents often spoke of his late master as 'old Reuben,' but +children are not easily disabused of a favourite fancy, and in Patty's +thoughts and in mine the old man was long gratefully remembered as OLD +FATHER CHRISTMAS." + +THE END. + + * * * * * + + +_The present Series of Mrs. Ewing's Works is the only authorized, +complete, and uniform Edition published._ + +_It will consist of 18 volumes, Small Crown 8vo, at 2s. 6d. per vol., +issued, as far as possible, in chronological order, and these will +appear at the rate of two volumes every two months, so that the Series +will be completed within 18 months. The device of the cover was +specially designed by a Friend of Mrs. Ewing._ + +_The following is a list of the books included in the Series_-- + + +1. MELCHIOR'S DREAM, AND OTHER TALES. + +2. MRS. OVERTHEWAY'S REMEMBRANCES. + +3. OLD-FASHIONED FAIRY TALES. + +4. A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING. + +5. THE BROWNIES, AND OTHER TALES. + +6. SIX TO SIXTEEN. + +7. LOB LIE-BY-THE-FIRE, AND OTHER TALES. + +8. JAN OF THE WINDMILL. + +9. VERSES FOR CHILDREN, AND SONGS. + +10. THE PEACE EGG--A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY--HINTS FOR PRIVATE +THEATRICALS, &c. + +11. A GREAT EMERGENCY, AND OTHER TALES. + +12. BROTHERS OF PITY, AND OTHER TALES OF BEASTS AND MEN. + +13. WE AND THE WORLD, Part I. + +14. WE AND THE WORLD, Part II. + +15. JACKANAPES--DADDY DARWIN'S DOVECOTE--THE STORY OF A SHORT LIFE. + +16. MARY'S MEADOW, AND OTHER TALES OF FIELDS AND FLOWERS. + +17. MISCELLANEA, including The Mystery of the Bloody Hand--Wonder +Stories--Tales of the Khoja, and other translations. + +18. JULIANA HORATIA EWING AND HER BOOKS, with a selection from Mrs. +Ewing's Letters. + + +S.P.C.K., Northumberland Avenue, London, W.C. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Peace Egg and Other tales, by +Juliana Horatia Ewing + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PEACE EGG AND OTHER TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 20425-8.txt or 20425-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/4/2/20425/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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