My old friend, Lemmens Porter, whose name I deeply regret not to have read in the Honours List, reminds me of the painful story of Swinburne, who, in a fit of temper, hurled two poached eggs at George Meredith for speaking disrespectfully of Victor Hugo. The incident is suppressed in Mr. Gosse's tactful life, but Mr. Porter had it direct from Meredith, whose bath-chair he frequently pulled at Dorking. Swinburne was, I regret to say, pagan in his views, but, unlike some pagans, he was incapable of adhering to the golden mean. Aristotle, I feel certain, would never have condescended to the use of such a missile, and it is beyond "imagination's widest stretch" to picture, say, the late Dr. Joseph Cook, of Boston, the present Lord Aberdeen, or the Rev. Dr. Donald McGuffin acting in such a wild and tempestuous manner.
IV.
Still we must admit the existence of high temper even in men of high souls, high aims and high achievements. Everyone may improve his temper. We cannot all emulate the patience of Job, but we can at least set before us the noble example of Professor Cawker, who redeemed the angular exuberance of his youth by the mellow and mollifying kindliness of his maturity. Even if Mr. Gladstone did break chairs, we should not lightly condemn him. You cannot make omelettes without breaking eggs. Besides, chairs cannot retaliate.
Marcus Mull.
A Cynical Headline.
"NEW BRITISH BLOW.—BIRTHDAY HONOURS LIST."—Daily Mirror.
We congratulate our contemporary on its terseness. The Times took nearly a column to say the same thing.