Upon this point I determined to consult Professor Megalow, who knew nearly as much about stones as bones; till I saw in the Times that he was sent to Egypt, upon some important scientific errand; and then it occurred to me to ask Sir Roland. Not that he was likely to know anything about it, but that he might commend me to a skilful and upright jeweller, such as a family of rank and wealth were likely to have dealings with.
And even while I was thinking of him, up he rode, in his usual haste, upon a showy-looking hack; for the Twentifolds had given up their London establishment, at the death of the previous baronet. With very great pleasure, I ran down to meet him; for although "Placid Bower" was not very grand, I knew that he would be well pleased with it, his nature being very kind, and frank, and hearty. Of course he spoke first, for he always took the lead.
"Why, Tommy, what a beautiful place you have got! I envy you, my dear boy, that I do. And such a look out! You can see the Victoria tower, and read the clock over the bridge with a moderate glass; and on a clear day, you can see the Derby run. You rogue, you never told me of this snug shop, the very place for an industrious M.P. And that is what I'm come about; as well as the pleasure of seeing you, my dear friend, and your good mother."
"Mother will be home in an hour or two," I said; "and we'll make your horse comfortable, and you too, I hope. She is gone to see Bill Chumps' intended, and advise about all the great preparations. He is going to marry Miss Windsor, who has come into a tidy little lump of money—£12,125, entirely at her own disposal. But of course, they will have a settlement."
"Holloa!" he answered; "well that beats me. I thought you were sweet in that quarter, Master Tommy. But you look very jolly, so I hope it is all right. Take me into your own den first. I want to have a pipe, and a chat with you. Well, here we are! Just the sort of place I like. Books enough to look at, and remind you of past woes; with their backs shown like scattered enemies. But I don't half like this news of yours. I did not mean Chumps to get married, for ten years. It takes all the enterprise out of a man. On the other hand, the cash will be handy for him, and enable him to apply himself to politics, though not half enough to live upon. But I have very large ideas in my head. When do they mean to be made miserable for life?"
"Somewhere this side of Michaelmas, my mother seems to say. They have long been engaged, though old Chumps would not have it, until her Godfather discharged responsibilities. You are quite wrong, Roly, in supposing that I have any call, for a moment, to wear the willow. It is true that Miss Windsor, and your most obedient, have been very intimate from tender years, and ever must cherish sweet memories of playing together in the soapsuds. But she does not approach—she in no way realizes—she never has been to me more than a bubble."
"Tommy, your metaphor is fine; and (which is a much greater rarity) appropriate. Now, let us consider how all this bears on the one ambition of my life, and of every life at all worth living—the kicking of the Rads off the foul perch they are crowing on. They have made it foul, mind. It was clean enough, when they hopped up, by cackling, and flapping their wings, and nudging sideways, as if they meant rather to go down, than up. All the honest cocks on the top bar took it easy, and put their heads under their wings, and tucked up one leg, and spread out the claws of the other; till down they went headlong, tumbling on their combs at the rush of a cock, who had sworn he would not fight. And fight he won't now, to preserve his hen's eggs; but only to keep his own perch to himself, and the few little bantams he allows to come up. Meanwhile, rats and weasels increase and flourish; not a sound egg of trade is there left in the nest; and of all the fat chicks of the colonies, not one is allowed to jump up on the mother's broad back, and practice a little crow, under her protection. In fact, my dear Tommy, the big cock of all, having crowed himself up to the top of the roost, has forbidden every other cock to chuckle in his throat, unless it is in chorus with him. Meanwhile, his own run is on every side invaded, and his chicks carried off, and his corn-bin robbed; but all he cares for is to keep his own perch, and be clucked to, as if he were the only cock on earth."
"I dare say that is all true enough," I answered; "but I don't see how we are to better it. What can two little cockerels, such as you and I, do?"
"Tommy, it is that accursed spirit, or want of spirit, that keeps the pest triumphant. I am a very little cockerel; as you say, and should bite the dust before the old rooster. Reason and right go down before him, and all the old principles of patriotism are a mixen for him to crow on. But why? There have been infinitely finer cocks, who would have rolled in the dirt, if they had tried to cut such capers. The reason is simply craven terror, and the want of firm union against him. Truth, and common sense, and common interests, must prevail in the end; if only they are backed up against crowing humbug. And it is the first duty of every one, who cares for his country, to bear his little share in this. Eloquence, eloquence, is all the cry—unrivalled eloquence, vast experience, unparalleled powers of mind, and so forth. But all of these cannot turn black into white, nor prove that we are clean, when they have dragged us through the mud. We are bad enough now, with our Country despised, our manufactures ruined, our agriculture bankrupt, our land worth nothing, our army made an infant-school, and our kingdom rent in twain; but madness, ten times worse than that, is threatened, and promised, for the very next Session."
"Well, let us hear the worst of it;" I answered very calmly, being used to these rodomontades of Sir Roland's, and not having found myself much the worse yet. "What does the enemy mean to do, next year?"