I should be glad, Stationmaster, if you would kindly have a telegram sent to my friends saying that I have only four ribs broken.
As you do not appear to understand what I say, and as I suppose there is nobody who knows English in this desolate Welsh valley where the sufferers from the accident are lying, perhaps you will kindly have us all sent back to Shrewsbury as soon as possible.
The man lying next to me, whose arm is hurt, says that the train was not going to Aberystwyth at all. So perhaps it is as well that circumstances have prevented my proceeding further in it.
We should undoubtedly have been much better off if this accident had happened to us in France or Germany, because then we should have been able to secure the services of the railway interpreter.
Thank Heaven! I am back at Chester, where the hotel people do talk English; and in future I shall vote steadily at elections against any party that does not make the total suppression of all so-called "national tongues" within the British Isles a part of its recognised programme.
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
Mr. Rudolf Lehmann possesses some gifts which peculiarly qualify him to write the volume Smith, Elder & Co. publish, under the title An Artist's Reminiscences. He has passed the age of three-score and ten, and has throughout that period had many opportunities of seeing places, and, more precious, of meeting people. To the study of both he brings keen sight, a good memory, and a genuine, not too obtrusive, sense of humour. Born in Hamburg in 1819, he has sojourned in most of the capitals of Europe, permanently settling down to marriage and life in London. He seems to have known most of the notable personages of the middle and latter half of the century. His wide acquaintance with royalty (some of them mad) would be appalling if it were not mentioned with winning modesty. The volume abounds in good stories, my Baronite particularly delighting in one pertaining to the ceremony of prorogation of parliament by the Queen. Mr. Lehmann was much struck with the spectacle of the old Duke of Wellington carrying the sword of state, Lord Lansdowne bearing the crown, and the Marquis of Winchester with the cap of maintenance set on red velvet cushion. At Lady Granville's the same evening he asked Lord Granville what was the significance of the cap of maintenance. It was one of the few things Lord Granville did not know. "But," he said, "there is Lord Winchester, who carried it this morning. I will go and ask him." The two peers conversed in a whisper, and Lord Granville, returning to his inquiring friend, said, "He does not know either." Mr. Lehmann incidentally mentions that his brother Henry's first success, at the Salon of 1835, was gained by a picture setting forth "Le Départ du Jeune Tobie." At that date Toby had not even arrived to take his place on the volumes in his master's study, and still less, was he M.P. for Barks. It only shows how prophetic is the soul of genius.
The Baron de Book-Worms.