Volume 159 — AMONG THE PEDESTALS.
Reading edition
The rumour that a number of London's statues are to be moved to make room for new has caused many a marble heart to beat faster; and on making a round of calls I gathered that Sir Alfred Mond has few friends in stone or bronze circles. Not the least uneasy is George IV. in Trafalgar Square. Uneasiness of body he has always known, riding there for ever without any stirrups; but now his mind is uneasy too. "If they take Father from Cockspur Street," he argued very naturally, "why not me?"
A few of the figures feel secure, of course, but very few. Nelson on his column has no fears; Nurse Cavell is too recent to tremble; so is Abraham Lincoln. But the others? They are in a state of nervous suspense, wondering if the sentence of banishment is to fall and resenting any disturbance of their lives. "J'y suis, j'y reste" is their motto.
Abraham Lincoln gave me a hearty welcome and extended an invitation that is not within the power of any other graven image in the city. "Take a chair," he said.
I did so and am thus, I suppose, the first Londoner to put that comfortable piece of furniture to its proper use.
"How do you like being here?" I asked.
He said that he enjoyed it. The only blot on his pleasure was the fear that the Abbey might fall on him, and he therefore hoped that The Times' fund was progressing by leaps and bounds.
His immediate neighbours, on the contrary, exhibited no serenity whatever, and I found Canning and Palmerston shivering with apprehension in their frockcoats. The worst of it was that I could say nothing to reassure them.
Here and there, however, a desire for locomotion was expressed. Dr. Johnson, in the enclosure behind St. Clement Danes, is very restive. I asked him if he would object to removal. "Sir," said the Little Lexicographer (as his sculptor has made him), "I should derive satisfaction from it. A man cannot be considered as enviable who spends all his time in the contemplation, from an unvacatable position, of a street to the perambulation of which he devoted many of his happiest hours."
I ventured to agree.
"Nor," continued the sage, "is it a source of contentment to a man of integrity to observe an unceasing procession of Americans on their way to partake of pudding in a hostelry that has made its name and prosperity out of a mythical association with himself and be unable to correct the error."
"Are you in general in favour of statuary?" I made bold to ask.
"Painting," said he, "consumes labour not disproportionate to its effect; but a fellow will hack half a year at a block of marble to make something in stone that hardly resembles a man. Look around you; look at me. The value of statuary is owing to its difficulty. You would not value the finest head cut upon a carrot."
But one effect of this General Post among the statues is good, and it should delight Mr. Asquith. Cromwell, now outside Westminster Hall, is to be moved into the House.
E.V.L.
FLOWERS' NAMES.
Marigolds. As Mary was a-walking All on a summer day, The flowers all stood curtseying And bowing in her way; The blushing poppies hung their heads And whispered Mary's name, And all the wood anemones Hung down their heads in shame. The violet hid behind her leaves And veiled her timid face, And all the flowers bowed a-down, For holy was the place. Only a little common flower Looked boldly up and smiled To see the happy mother come A-carrying her Child. The little Child He laughed aloud To see the smiling flower, And as He laughed the Marigold Turned gold in that same hour. For she was gay and innocent— He loved to see her so— And from the splendour of His face She caught a golden glow.
An Optimist.
"I have just completed a fortnight's tour on a tandem, and can recommend this form of a holiday as the best I know of.... One Sunday in June, without exaggeration, I was nearly killed twice, and my wife was overcome with fright."—C.T.C. Gazette.
"In a competition at Claygate, Surrey, three children caught 182 green wasps."—Daily Paper.
It is believed that they would not have been caught if they had not been green.
From a recent Admiralty Order:—
"Approval has been given for frocks to be issued to N.C. Officers and men (Royal Marines) during the current year, for walking out purposes only."
It is believed that His Majesty's Jollies have received the order without enthusiasm, on the ground that no mention is made of anything being inside the frocks.
THE ICONOCLAST.
Sir Alfred Mond. "I'M SORRY TO HAVE TO DISTURB YOUR MAJESTY, BUT, OWING TO THE SHORTAGE OF SITES—"
George III. "SHORTAGE OF SIGHTS, INDEED!"
[It is understood that a number of London statues, including that of George III. in Cockspur Street, are to be removed by the Office of Works to make room for new ones.]
Heavy Father. "Put your 'at on this minute, Sir. Do you want to catch your deathercold?"
THE VISIONARY.
'Twas last week at Pebble Bay That I saw the little goat, Harnessed to a little shay. Old was he and poor in coat, And he lugged his load along Where the barefoot children throng Round the nigger minstrels' song. But his eye, aloof and chill, Said to me as plain as plain, "I am waiting, waiting still, Till the gods come back again; Starved and ugly, mean, unkempt, I have dreams by you undreamt, And—I hold you in contempt! "Dreams of forest routs that trooped, Shadowy maidens crowned with vines, Dreams where Dian's self has stooped Darkling 'neath the scented pines; Or where he, old father Pan, Took the hooves of me and ran Fluting through the heart of man. "Surely he must come again, He the great, the hornéd one? Shan't I caper in his train Through the hours of feast and fun!" And he looked with eyes of jade Through the sunshine, through the shade, Far beyond Marine Parade. * * * * * Should you go to Pebble Bay, Golfing or to bathe and boat— Should you see a loaded shay, In the shafts a scarecrow goat, Tell him that you hope (with me) Pan will shortly set him free, Pipe him home to Arcady.
CRICKET NOTES.
Mr. P.F. Warner has received countless expressions of regret on his retirement from first-class cricket. Among these he values not least a "round robin" from the sparrows at Lord's, all of whom he knows by name. In the score-book of Fate is this entry in letters of gold:
"Plum" c Anno b Domini 47.
Long may he live to enjoy the cricket of others!
The test team of Australia being now complete, all correspondence on the subject of its exclusions must cease. We therefore do not print a number of letters asking why there is no one named Geddes on the side.
Mr. Fender and Hobbs are said to be actuated by the same motto, "For Hearth and Home." Both are pledged to return covered with "the ashes."
In the recent Surrey and Middlesex match Mr. Skeet bewildered the crowd by fielding as if he liked it. Hitherto this vulgar manifestation has been confined to Hitch and Hendren.
Although so late in the season Yorkshire has great hopes of a colt named Hirst, who has just joined the side. He was seen bowling at Eton and was secured at once.
There is a strong feeling in Worcestershire that a single-wicket match between Lee of Middlesex and Mr. Perrin of Essex would be a very saucy affair.