ANOTHER INFORMATION BUREAU.
To-day's Problems and the Replies to Them.
The Cost of Ennoblement.—A Lover of Art.—A Very Natural Inquiry.—The Oaks.—A Remarkable Old Master.—A Delicate Trial of Tact.—Old Books.—Mr. Kipling.
The Cost of Ennoblement.
Can you tell me what I should have to pay to become a marquis? My wife
has a great desire to be a marchioness before she dies. Is there the
title of marchioness in any other country besides England? I mean, do
you think I could get it done in, say, Turkey or some place in need of
money? Not America, I suppose? Anything you can tell me about it will be
useful and will earn our gratitude.—H. F. G. (Bedford Park).
The market price of a marquisate at this moment is £150,000. A few questions are asked. It is not usual to make a commoner a marquis at one step. There are no Turkish marquisates, nor any yet in Albania, but as one never knows what that country may bring forth perhaps it would be wise to wait a little. America confers no titles of such importance as marquis, but a dental degree is not difficult to obtain at, say, Milwaukee. Tammany has its bosses, but that title carries with it no distinction for the wife.
A Lover of Art.
Can you tell me where the best choppers are to be obtained and what are
the most valuable pictures in the Tate Gallery?—F. W. M.(Chelsea).
There are excellent chopper shops near Smithfield. Opinions differ as to the best pictures in the Tate Gallery, individual taste being a powerful factor in the making of a choice.
A Very Natural Enquiry.
Can you tell me where I can procure a book which instructs one how to
write a successful revue? I have quite a lot of spare time just now and
wish to add to my income.—K. M. (Homerton).
We do not know that one has yet been published, but doubtless many are in preparation. We advise you to write to the Revue King, Mr. Max Pemberton, who is always delighted to answer letters and is the soul of courtesy; or to Mr. Alfred Butt, who has plenty of time on his hands.
The Oaks.
Will you kindly give me some facts about the race called the Oaks? It
is to settle a bet. I have always understood that the Oaks is a race run
two days after the Derby as a kind of consolation for those horses which
were unplaced in the Derby; but a friend says that he believes I am
mistaken and that the Oaks is for three-year-old fillies.—M. S.
(Hartlepool).
Your friend, I am told, is right. You must have been confusing oaks with acorns.
A Remarkable Old Master.
I have a picture which my friends tell me is either by Leonardo da
Vinci or Rembrandt. May I send it to you for your opinion, and if so,
what guarantee have I that I shall see it again?—W. F. G. (Woolwich).
From your description of your picture we imagine it to be one of those on which these two clever artists collaborated. It would, however, be wiser to take it to one of the experts than to bring it to a noisy and restless newspaper office. We recommend either Sir Sidney Colvin, Sir Charles Holroyd or Sir Claude Phillips. As a precaution against the negligible risk mentioned in the second part of your query we advise you, when submitting the picture to these gentlemen, to have it chained to your body.
A Delicate Trial of Tact.
The other day I had lunch with an uncle with whom I wish to be on the
best of terms. I should say that he fancies himself as a judge of wine.
We went to a restaurant and he ordered champagne, which came, already
opened, in an ice-basket. When the wine was poured out he tasted it,
smacked his lips and said, "That's perfect! What a bouquet! What an
aroma!" I sipped and found it most vilely corked. I also noticed that
the waiter was grinning, and I then realized that he knew it too, and
that we had been given a bottle which someone else had rejected. What
was I to do? If I told my uncle that the wine was corked he would be
furious to have been detected in an error of judgment. If I did not
drink it he would be furious too. If I did drink it I should be sick,
and I should also be a fool in the eyes of the waiter. If nothing was
said the restaurant people would profit by their low trick. Meanwhile
uncle was sipping and beaming.—P. E. L. (Norbiton).
Your problem is a very interesting one and we should find it easier to answer if you had told us what you actually did. To rise suddenly, apparently for the purpose of flinging your arms round your uncle's neck in a spasm of affection, and at the same time to sweep from the table the bottle and both glasses seems to us the course which possesses most elements of tact. The circumstance that you were inspired by admiration and love would mitigate your uncle's wrath, and a new and sound bottle could quickly be obtained. We admit that the restaurant would remain unpunished; but then that is a restaurant's métier.
Old Books.
I have recently turned up in a loft the following books: "Complete
Farrier," Law's "Serious Call," "Robinson Crusoe," Wesley's "Hymns,"
"The Shipwreck," by Falconer, two odd volumes of "The Spectator," and
Prendergast's "Sermons." All are very old, dirty and worm-eaten, and I
feel sure must therefore be very valuable. Can you say what I am likely
to get for them from a good dealer?—E. G. (Croydon).
Fourpence for the lot.
Mr. Kipling.
Kindly tell me if the Mr. Kipling who has been making such a splendid
speech about the Cabinet and their mercenariness and the treacherous
nature of the Irish is the same Mr. Kipling who wrote "The Recessional"
and "Without Benefit of Clergy"? Some one here says that he is, but I
doubt it.—A. L. D. (Swindon).
We are making enquiries.