THE DUG-OUT DOMINIE.
Some thirty years ago or more
He tried his hand at gerund-grinding,
But very speedily forswore
The rôle before its ties grew binding;
He earned a living by his pen,
Paid court to Clio and Melpomene,
Until the War broke out, and then
Enlisted—as a dug-out dominie.
Shortsighted, undersized and weak,
Intolerant yet self-distrusting,
There could not well have been a "beak"
Less fitted for the nice adjusting
Of his peculiar point of view
To that of forty-odd years later,
Less eager to acclaim the New,
Less apt for Georgian tastes to cater.
He strove, 'tis true, to keep abreast
Of Masefield's grim poetic frenzy,
Sought Truth in Wells, and did his best
To like the Oxford of MacKenzie;
With Yeats he wandered in the Void,
Tasted of Shaw's dramatic jalap,
Then turned with rapture unalloyed
To Dickens, Thackeray and Trollope.
Thus handicapped, thus fortified,
Behold him perilously faring
Into a world where all are tried
By boyhood's scrutiny unsparing;
Where ev'ry trick of gait or speech
Is most inexorably noted,
And masters, more than what they teach,
Are studied, criticised and quoted.
His idols mostly left them cold—
Bagehot, Matt. Arnold, Scott and Milton;
But they were quick in taking hold
Of Praed and J.K.S. and Hilton;
And once undoubtedly he scored
When, on a day of happy omen,
He introduced them to A. Ward,
The wisest of the tribe of showmen.
But still his fervours left them calm—
Emotion they considered freakish;—
He felt with many an inward qualm
That he was thoroughly un-beakish;
His mood perplexed them; he was half
Provocative, half deferential,
Too anxious to provoke a laugh,
Too vague where logic was essential.
So, struggling on to bridge the gaps
That seventeen from sixty sunder,
And causing at his best, perhaps,
A mild and intermittent wonder,
At least he recognised the truth
That there are other ways of earning
The sympathy of clear-eyed youth
Than by a mere parade of learning.
And yet I think his pupils may
In after years, at camp or college,
Admit that in his rambling way
He added to their stock of knowledge;
And, as they ruefully recall
His "jaws" on Clausewitz and Jomini,
On Balzac, Heine and Jean Paul,
Think kindly of their dug-out dominie.
"Hide-bound red tape rules the day." Sir F. Milner's Letter to "The Times."
It is much more effective than ordinary unreinforced variety.
A Happy Family.
"A milk deliverer 31 years of ago, who applied for exemption, said his father was an Atheist, his mother was 'all the other way about,' and his brother was a Socialist, and if he went away there would be war at home. He considered that he should stay at home to keep the peace."—Western Evening Herald.
But a merciful tribunal, thinking that he was more likely to find it in the trenches, only exempted him for a month.