After this commenced a torrent of questions, forty-six in all before they were done. May I never live to have such another experience! All the points I had evaded, because I had not understood them, came up with hardly a single exception. One man asked, "Can the Parish Council remove the parson?"—a most embarrassing question, which evoked roars of laughter from the audience, and a look of indignation from the Vicar. And the awful conundrums!—most of which I had to content myself with giving up. Here is one. "Supposing only eight people come to the Parish Meeting, and a Parish Council of seven has to be elected, and suppose seven of the eight are nominated for election, and the seven are elected chairmen of the Meeting in succession, and have all to retire because they are candidates for the Council, and suppose the eighth man cannot read or write, and when he's proposed as chairman, goes home, how will the Parish Council be elected?" I simply said I would consult my lawyer, and, if necessary, take counsel's opinion.
Of course there was a vote of thanks, and of course it was carried. When I got home, my wife, who had declined to go, asked me how it had all gone off. "My dear Maria," was all I said; "you are quite right. A man at my time of life ought never to start taking part in public affairs."
THE DOOM OF THE MINOR POETS.
When Minor Poets grew so rife,
They found a Minor Poet's life
Was very little fun
The Spirit of the Age they prayed
They might be melted down, and made
Into a Major one.
Each had a very little spark
Of genius, that in the dark
Might clearly be discerned.
But in a universal glare!
Who could perceive a rushlight, where
By myriads they burned?
The Spirit heard the prayer they urged,
That all their merits might be merged
In one enduring Fame:
"Yet, ere you all are whelmed and gone,
You," she declared, "must fix upon
The Major Poet's name."
Up rose a mighty clamour then,
For Smith proposed the cognomen
Of Smith, in ardent tones.
"More suitable for high renown,"
Cried Brown, "appears the name of Brown."
Jones advocated Jones.
Expecting yet some verdict clear,
The Spirit waited half a year,
Then spread her wings and fled,
But ere she fled, pronounced this curse:
"You all shall read each other's verse
Till all of you are dead!"
Some, overburdened by the doom,
Sank speedily into the tomb.
In padded cells and lone
There wander others, who abuse
All day the volumes they peruse,
But never ope their own!