Try to bring him back to CAROLO MAGNO.

“Wouldn’t you,” I ask “give all you are worth to have lived in the time of CHARLEMAGNE?  Suppose some day you walked into this room and discovered him sitting on his marble throne as OTHO found him with the Iron Crown on his head and his right hand grasping the imperial sceptre, what would you do?”

“I would break hees ribs,” said WILLIAM, his face illumined by a sudden flash of delighted anticipation.

Alack! we are thinking of two personages sundered by centuries.  My mind dwells on CHARLEMAGNE, whilst WILLIAM is evidently thinking of Champagne CHARLIE.

* * * * *

“ANNALS OF A VERY QUIET FAMILY.”

There were eight of us, each within a year or so of one another.

Father was a very quiet man, engaged all day in his study.

Mother was equally quiet.

Father would never allow a trumpet, drum, or any instrument of torture, except the piano, to be brought into the house.

Mother quietly saw his orders carried out.

In due course we all left home one after the other, and having been so quiet for so long, each one of us has contrived to make a considerable noise in the world since, and are all doing well.  “Doing” may be used in the widest possible sense.  Among other accomplishments we blow our own trumpets, as you see.  As father and mother object to noise, we have not encouraged their visits.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  DEA EX MACHINA!

(A Reminiscence.)]

* * * * *

“AS HE’D LIKE IT.”

(Shakspeare once more freely adapted to the situation.)

["We wanted, and we want, to do for the villages, what the first reformed Parliament did in conferring municipal government upon the towns.  We knew that the Tory Party did not really mean to give us village or parish Councils....  ’The Radical agitators,’ says Sir MICHAEL HICKS-BEACH, ’want to see a complete change in the social condition of rural society.’  What if we do?...  Why, it was for this that many of us, seven or eight years ago, and many more years ago, fought for getting the labourer a vote.”—­Mr. John Morley at Cambridge.]

SCENE—­The Forest of Ha(w)_arden._

Touchstone (Mr. J-HN M-RL-Y); Audrey, (The Agricultural Vote); Jaques (Mr. P-NCH), behind.  Afterwards William (Sir M-CH-L H-CKS-B-CH.)

Touch. Come apace, good AUDREY:  I will fetch up your votes, AUDREY.  And how, AUDREY?—­am I the man yet?  Doth my simple programme content you?

Audrey. Your programme!  Lord warrant us, what programme?

Touch. I am here with thee and thy Votes as the glittering poet-god Apollo was among the herds of Admetus.

Jaq. (aside).  Oh, knowledge oddly applied!  Fancy Olympian Oracles in a thatched cottage!