Those were my first visitors. After that I had about two calls a day. One day the Vicar dropped in to afternoon tea, to congratulate me on my public spirit. I confess I felt rather pleased. I had evidently done the right, the high-minded, the patriotic thing. My mind became filled with visions of myself as Chairman of the Parish Council, the head man of a contented village. Just before he left, however, the Vicar suggested that I should advise the electors to elect into the chair someone who had had previous training of what its duties and responsibilities were, and I suddenly remembered that the Vicar was the present Chairman of the Vestry. Then somehow I guessed why I had been favoured with a visit. The curious thing was, that my next caller (who arrived half an hour afterwards) came to say that the most satisfactory thing in the whole Act was, that the clergyman could not take the chair. Then my memory once more told me what manner of man I was talking to—he was a prominent local preacher. I was being nobbled.
And so it went on. My answer to all who came was, that they could come and ask me questions at the meeting. Is was a convenient plan enough—at the time. Yet my suggestions—like chickens and curses—came home to roost—at the meeting. And that, as I have said, is the third chapter.
Athelstan the Ready.—Mr. Athelstan Riley.
MR. PUNCH ON BILLIARDS.
["The billiard-season has set in in real earnest."—Daily Paper.]
Come, people all, both old and young, An hearken to my lay! And give you ear while I give tongue And sing a song that ought to be sung, And say my simple say.
I sing a song of a noble game, Whose charms few men withstand— Billiards!—sport of ancient fame, Beloved of knight, admired of dame, Adored in every land!
The world's great games are numbered six— Cricket, chess, and whist, Football, golf—but Billiards licks With three small balls and two long sticks, And subtle play of wrist.