[Ill.u.s.tration]

BY PARLIAMENTARY.

_On the Platform._

A LADY OF FAMILY. Oh, yes, I do travel third-cla.s.s sometimes, my dear. I consider it a duty to try to know something of the lower orders.

[_Looks out for an empty third-cla.s.s compartment._

_In the Carriage._--_The seats are now occupied: the LADY OF FAMILY is in one corner, next to a CHATTY WOMAN with a basket, and opposite to an ECCENTRIC-LOOKING MAN with a flighty manner._

The ECCENTRIC MAN (_to the LADY OF FAMILY_). Sorry to disturb you, Mum, but you're a-setting on one o' my 'am sandwiches.

The _L. of F._???!!!

The E. M. (_considerately_). Don't trouble yourself, Mum, it's of no intrinsic value. I on'y put it there to keep my seat.

The CHATTY W. (_to the L. OF F._). I think I've seen you about Shinglebeach, 'ave I not?

The L. OF F. It is very possible. I have been staying with some friends in the neighbourhood.

The C. W. It's a nice cheerful place is Shinglebeach; but (_confidentially_) don't you think it's a very singler thing that in a place like that--a fash'nable place, too--there shouldn't be a single 'am an' beef shop?

The L. OF F. (_making a desperate effort to throw herself into the question_). What a very extraordinary thing to be sure. Dear, _dear_ me!

No ham and beef shop!

The C. W. It's so indeed, Mum; and what's more, as I daresay you have noticed for yourself, if you 'appen to want a snack o' fried fish ever so, there isn't a place you could go to--leastways, at a moment's notice. Now, 'ow do you explain such a thing as that?

The L. OF F. (_faintly_). I'm afraid I can't suggest any explanation.

A SENTENTIOUS MAN. Fried fish is very sustaining.

[_Relapses into silence for remainder of journey._

The ECCENTRIC MAN. Talking of sustaining, I remember, when we was kids, my father ud bring us home two pennorth o' ches'nuts, and we 'ad 'em boiled, and they'd last us days. (_Sentimentally._) He was a kind man, my father (_to the L. OF F., who bows constrainedly_), though you wouldn't ha' thought it, to look at him. I don't know, mind yer, that he wasn't fond of his bit o' booze--(_the L. OF F. looks out of window_)--like the best of us. I'm goin' up to prove his will now, I am--if you don't believe me, 'ere's the probate. (_Hands that doc.u.ment round for inspection._) That's all reg'lar enough, I 'ope. (_To the L.

OF F._) Don't give it back before you've done with it--I'm in no 'urry, and there's good reading in it. (_Points out certain favourite pa.s.sages with a very dirty forefinger._) Begin there--_that's_ my name.

[_The L. OF F. peruses the will with as great a show of interest as she can bring herself to a.s.sume._

The ECCENTRIC MAN. D'ye see that big 'andsome building over there?

That's the County Lunatic Asylum--where my poor wife is shut up. I went to see her last week, I did. (_Relates his visit in detail to the L. OF F., who listens unwillingly._) It's wonderful how many of our family have been in that asylum from first to last. I 'ad a aunt who died cracky; and my old mother, she's very peculiar at times. There's days when I feel as if I was a little orf my own 'ed, so if I say anything at all out of the way, you'll know what it is.

[_L. OF F. changes carriages at the next station. In the second carriage are two Men of seafaring appearance, and a young Man who is parting from his FIANCeE as the L. OF F. takes her seat._

The FIANCe. Excuse me one moment, Ma'am.

(_Leans across the L. OF F. and out of the window._) Well, good-bye, my girl; take care of yourself.

The FIANCeE (_with a hysterical giggle._) Oh, I'll take care o' _my_ self.

[_Looks at the roof of the carriage._

HE (_with meaning_). No more pickled onions, eh?

SHE. What a one you are to remember things! (_After a pause._) Give my love to Joe.

HE. All right. Well, Jenny, just one, for the last. (_They embrace loudly, after which the F. resumes his seat with an expression of mingled sentiment and complacency._) Oh (_to L. OF F._), if you don't mind my stepping across you again, Mum. Jenny, if you see d.i.c.k between this and Friday, just tell him as----

[_Prolonged whispers; sounds of renewed kisses; final parting as train starts with a jerk, which throws the FINACe upon the L. OF F.'S lap. After the train is started a gleam of peculiar significance is observable in the eyes of one of the Seafaring_ _Men, who is reclining in an easy att.i.tude on the seat. His companion responds with a grin of intelligence, and produces a large black bottle from the rack. They drink, and hand the bottle to the FIANCe._

The F. Thankee, I don't mind if I do. Here's wishing you----

[_Remainder of sentiment drowned in sound of glug-glug-glug; is about to hand back bottle when the first SEAFARER intimates that he is to pa.s.s it on. The L. OF F. recoils in horror._

BOTH SEAFARERS. It's _wine_, Mum!

[_Tableau. The LADY OF FAMILY realises that the study of third-cla.s.s humanity has its drawbacks._

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE FARMING OF THE FUTURE; OR, WHAT BRITISH AGRICULTURE IS COMING TO.

_A Car on the Electric Light Railway. TIME.--Twentieth Century._

FIRST FARMER (_recognising Second Farmer_). Why, 'tis Muster Fretwail, surelie! didn't see it was you afore. And how be things gettin' along with _you_, Sir, eh?

FARMER FRETWAIL (_lugubriously_). 'Mong the middlin's, Muster Lackaday; 'mong the middlin's! Nothen doin' just now--nothen 't all!

THIRD FARMER (_enviously_). Well, _you_ hevn't no call fur to cry out, neighbour. I see you've got a likely lot o' noo 'oardins comin' up all along your part o' the line. I wish mine wur arf as furrard, I know thet!

F. FRETWAIL. Ah, them "Keep yer 'air on"'s, _you_ mean, Ryemouth. I don't deny as they was lookin' tidy enough a week back. But just as I was makin' ready fur to paint up "Try it on a Billiard Ball," blamed if this yere frost didn't set in, and now theer's everything at a standstill, wi' the brushes froze 'ard in the pots!

F. RYEMOUTH. 'Tis the same down with me. Theer's a acre o' "Bunyan's Easy Boots" as must hev a noo coat, and I cann't get nothen done to 'en till the weather's a bit more hopen like. Don' keer _'ow_ soon we hev a change, myself, I don't!

F. LACKADAY. Nor yet me, so long as we don't 'ave no gales with it.

Theer was my height acre pasture as I planted only las' Candlemas wi'

"Roopy's Lung Tonics"--wunnerful fine and tall they was, too--and ivery one on 'en blowed down the next week!

F. FRETWAIL. Well I 'ope theer wun't be no rain, neither, come to that.

I know I had all the P's of my "Piffler's Persuasive Pillules" fresh gold-leaved at Michaelmas, and it come on wet directly arter I done it, and reg'lar washed the gilt out o' sight an' knowledge, it did. Theer ain't no standin' up agen rain!