BLACKMAILING. - THE PROPER COURSE TO PURSUE. - SELFISH BOORISHNESS OFRIVER-SIDE LANDOWNER. - "NOTICE" BOARDS. - UNCHRISTIANLIKE FEELINGS OFHARRIS. - HOW HARRIS SINGS A COMIC SONG. - A HIGH-CLASS PARTY. - SHAMEFULCONDUCT OF TWO ABANDONED YOUNG MEN. - SOME USELESS INFORMATION. - GEORGEBUYS A BANJO.

　　WE stopped under the willows by Kempton Park, and lunched. It is apretty little spot there: a pleasant grass plateau, running along by thewater's edge, and overhung by willows. We had just commenced the thirdcourse - the bread and jam - when a gentleman in shirt-sleeves and ashort pipe came along, and wanted to know if we knew that we weretrespassing. We said we hadn't given the matter sufficient considerationas yet to enable us to arrive at a definite conclusion on that point, butthat, if he assured us on his word as a gentleman that we WEREtrespassing, we would, without further hesitation, believe it.

　　He gave us the required assurance, and we thanked him, but he still hungabout, and seemed to be dissatisfied, so we asked him if there wasanything further that we could do for him; and Harris, who is of a chummydisposition, offered him a bit of bread and jam.

　　I fancy he must have belonged to some society sworn to abstain from breadand jam; for he declined it quite gruffly, as if he were vexed at beingtempted with it, and he added that it was his duty to turn us off.

　　Harris said that if it was a duty it ought to be done, and asked the manwhat was his idea with regard to the best means for accomplishing it.

　　Harris is what you would call a well-made man of about number one size,and looks hard and bony, and the man measured him up and down, and saidhe would go and consult his master, and then come back and chuck us bothinto the river.

　　Of course, we never saw him any more, and, of course, all he reallywanted was a shilling. There are a certain number of riverside roughswho make quite an income, during the summer, by slouching about the banksand blackmailing weak-minded noodles in this way. They representthemselves as sent by the proprietor. The proper course to pursue is tooffer your name and address, and leave the owner, if he really hasanything to do with the matter, to summon you, and prove what damage youhave done to his land by sitting down on a bit of it. But the majorityof people are so intensely lazy and timid, that they prefer to encouragethe imposition by giving in to it rather than put an end to it by theexertion of a little firmness.

　　Where it is really the owners that are to blame, they ought to be shownup. The selfishness of the riparian proprietor grows with every year.

　　If these men had their way they would close the river Thames altogether.

　　They actually do this along the minor tributary streams and in thebackwaters. They drive posts into the bed of the stream, and draw chainsacross from bank to bank, and nail huge notice-boards on every tree. Thesight of those notice-boards rouses every evil instinct in my nature. Ifeel I want to tear each one down, and hammer it over the head of the manwho put it up, until I have killed him, and then I would bury him, andput the board up over the grave as a tombstone.

　　I mentioned these feelings of mine to Harris, and he said he had themworse than that. He said he not only felt he wanted to kill the man whocaused the board to be put up, but that he should like to slaughter thewhole of his family and all his friends and relations, and then burn downhis house. This seemed to me to be going too far, and I said so toHarris; but he answered:

　　"Not a bit of it. Serve `em all jolly well right, and I'd go and singcomic songs on the ruins."I was vexed to hear Harris go on in this blood-thirsty strain. We neverought to allow our instincts of justice to degenerate into merevindictiveness. It was a long while before I could get Harris to take amore Christian view of the subject, but I succeeded at last, and hepromised me that he would spare the friends and relations at all events,and would not sing comic songs on the ruins.

　　You have never heard Harris sing a comic song, or you would understandthe service I had rendered to mankind. It is one of Harris's fixed ideasthat he CAN sing a comic song; the fixed idea, on the contrary, amongthose of Harris's friends who have heard him try, is that he CAN'T andnever will be able to, and that he ought not to be allowed to try.

　　When Harris is at a party, and is asked to sing, he replies: "Well, I canonly sing a COMIC song, you know;" and he says it in a tone that impliesthat his singing of THAT, however, is a thing that you ought to hearonce, and then die.

　　"Oh, that IS nice," says the hostess. "Do sing one, Mr. Harris;" andHarris gets up, and makes for the piano, with the beaming cheeriness of agenerous-minded man who is just about to give somebody something.

　　"Now, silence, please, everybody" says the hostess, turning round; "Mr.

　　Harris is going to sing a comic song!""Oh, how jolly!" they murmur; and they hurry in from the conservatory,and come up from the stairs, and go and fetch each other from all overthe house, and crowd into the drawing-room, and sit round, all smirkingin anticipation.

　　Then Harris begins.

　　Well, you don't look for much of a voice in a comic song. You don'texpect correct phrasing or vocalization. You don't mind if a man doesfind out, when in the middle of a note, that he is too high, and comesdown with a jerk. You don't bother about time. You don't mind a manbeing two bars in front of the accompaniment, and easing up in the middleof a line to argue it out with the pianist, and then starting the verseafresh. But you do expect the words.

　　You don't expect a man to never remember more than the first three linesof the first verse, and to keep on repeating these until it is time tobegin the chorus. You don't expect a man to break off in the middle of aline, and snigger, and say, it's very funny, but he's blest if he canthink of the rest of it, and then try and make it up for himself, and,afterwards, suddenly recollect it, when he has got to an entirelydifferent part of the song, and break off, without a word of warning, togo back and let you have it then and there. You don't - well, I willjust give you an idea of Harris's comic singing, and then you can judgeof it for yourself.

　　HARRIS (STANDING UP IN FRONT OF PIANO AND ADDRESSING THE EXPECTANT MOB):

　　"I'm afraid it's a very old thing, you know. I expect you all know it,you know. But it's the only thing I know. It's the Judge's song out ofPINAFORE - no, I don't mean PINAFORE - I mean - you know what I mean -the other thing, you know. You must all join in the chorus, you know."[Murmurs of delight and anxiety to join in the chorus. Brilliantperformance of prelude to the Judge's song in "Trial by Jury" by nervousPianist. Moment arrives for Harris to join in. Harris takes no noticeof it. Nervous pianist commences prelude over again, and Harris,commencing singing at the same time, dashes off the first two lines ofthe First Lord's song out of "Pinafore." Nervous pianist tries to pushon with prelude, gives it up, and tries to follow Harris withaccompaniment to Judge's song out "Trial by Jury," finds that doesn'tanswer, and tries to recollect what he is doing, and where he is, feelshis mind giving way, and stops short.]

　　HARRIS (WITH KINDLY ENCOURAGEMENT): "It's all right. You're doing itvery well, indeed - go on."NERVOUS PIANIST: "I'm afraid there's a mistake somewhere. What are yousinging?"HARRIS (PROMPTLY): "Why the Judge's song out of Trial by Jury. Don't youknow it?"SOME FRIEND OF HARRIS'S (FROM THE BACK OF THE ROOM): "No, you're not, youchuckle-head, you're singing the Admiral's song from PINAFORE."[Long argument between Harris and Harris's friend as to what Harris isreally singing. Friend finally suggests that it doesn't matter whatHarris is singing so long as Harris gets on and sings it, and Harris,with an evident sense of injustice rankling inside him, requests pianistto begin again. Pianist, thereupon, starts prelude to the Admiral'ssong, and Harris, seizing what he considers to be a favourable opening inthe music, begins.]

　　HARRIS:

　　" `When I was young and called to the Bar.' "[GENERAL ROAR OF LAUGHTER, TAKEN BY HARRIS AS A COMPLIMENT. PIANIST,THINKING OF HIS WIFE AND FAMILY, GIVES UP THE UNEQUAL CONTEST ANDRETIRES; HIS PLACE BEING TAKEN BY A STRONGER-NERVED MAN.

　　THE NEW PIANIST (CHEERILY): "Now then, old man, you start off, and I'llfollow. We won't bother about any prelude."HARRIS (UPON WHOM THE EXPLANATION OF MATTERS HAS SLOWLY DAWNED -LAUGHING): "By Jove! I beg your pardon. Of course - I've been mixing upthe two songs. It was Jenkins confused me, you know. Now then.

　　[SINGING; HIS VOICE APPEARING TO COME FROM THE CELLAR, AND SUGGESTING THEFIRST LOW WARNINGS OF AN APPROACHING EARTHQUAKE.

　　" `When I was young I served a termAs office-boy to an attorney's firm.'

　　(Aside to pianist): "It is too low, old man; we'll have that over again,if you don't mind."[SINGS FIRST TWO LINES OVER AGAIN, IN A HIGH FALSETTO THIS TIME. GREATSURPRISE ON THE PART OF THE AUDIENCE. NERVOUS OLD LADY NEAR THE FIREBEGINS TO CRY, AND HAS TO BE LED OUT.]

　　HARRIS (continuing):

　　"I swept the windows and I swept the door,And I - `No - no, I cleaned the windows of the big front door. And I polished upthe floor - no, dash it - I beg your pardon - funny thing, I can't thinkof that line. And I - and I - Oh, well, we'll get on to the chorus, andchance it (SINGS):

　　`And I diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-de,Till now I am the ruler of the Queen's navee.'

　　Now then, chorus - it is the last two lines repeated, you know.

　　GENERAL CHORUS:

　　"And he diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-dee'd,Till now he is the ruler of the Queen's navee."And Harris never sees what an ass he is making of himself, and how he isannoying a lot of people who never did him any harm. He honestlyimagines that he has given them a treat, and says he will sing anothercomic song after supper.

　　Speaking of comic songs and parties, reminds me of a rather curiousincident at which I once assisted; which, as it throws much light uponthe inner mental working of human nature in general, ought, I think, tobe recorded in these pages.

　　We were a fashionable and highly cultured party. We had on our bestclothes, and we talked pretty, and were very happy - all except two youngfellows, students, just returned from Germany, commonplace young men, whoseemed restless and uncomfortable, as if they found the proceedings slow.

　　The truth was, we were too clever for them. Our brilliant but polishedconversation, and our high-class tastes, were beyond them. They were outof place, among us. They never ought to have been there at all.

　　Everybody agreed upon that, later on.

　　We played MORCEAUX from the old German masters. We discussed philosophyand ethics. We flirted with graceful dignity. We were even humorous -in a high-class way.

　　Somebody recited a French poem after supper, and we said it wasbeautiful; and then a lady sang a sentimental ballad in Spanish, and itmade one or two of us weep - it was so pathetic.

　　And then those two young men ............