[1] A Daylight Saving Bill had been passed some years before, by which an hour was borrowed in April to be paid back in October. The necessity, however, of getting up an hour earlier than usual had made the whole populace so cross that the Government which had passed the Bill was forced to resign, and the next Government repealed the law immediately upon coming into office. They omitted, however, to allow for the repayment of the borrowed hour, and as no Government had since cared to touch the question, Upsidonian time had remained an hour earlier ever since.

[2] It was held in Upsidonia that private knowledge of any fact was the possessor's own property, and, as no one was willing to acquire property if they could help it, questions of this sort were never pressed. It had even been laid down in the courts that a person too ready with information could be indicted for forcing property on his hearers. Vide Cope on "The Bore in Law."

[3] I might also have been arrested for sleeping out with visible means of substance, which had been in Mr. Perry's mind when he had imperilled himself by his kindly action, as he told me afterwards.

[4] They did not forget to send in their bill, but I forgot to pay it.

[5] The public schools, of which there were a good number in Upsidonia, were attended exclusively by the rich, as were the two older universities. Luxurious habits were encouraged in these establishments, and learning was at a discount, although this was never acknowledged. The poor attended council schools, and the newer universities. But even from a school like Seton, where the sons of the worst families were educated, there was a ladder to the more serious seats of learning, and many rich scholars had raised themselves by their own efforts to a position from which they could look down on the families from which they had sprung.

[6] There were two schools of economic reformers in Upsidonia. The one which was supported by the Perrys wished to limit production by law, but I am inclined to think that Mr. Perry did not wish it very much. Edward, however, was strongly in favour of legislation. He thought that the many would benefit at the expense of the few, or so he said.

The other school believed in freedom of consumption, or rather of non-consumption. I never met any of its adherents while in Upsidonia, and only heard them called names.

[7] There was said to be a good deal of corruption in this service. The Government auditors were too well paid to make them altogether trustworthy. Edward was going to see that this was altered when he had time.

[8] This was well said on my part, and I do not regard Edward's reply as convincing.

[9] Buff with canary facings.

[10] Upsidonian word of unknown derivation, signifying a degraded being; one who had lost caste.

[11] I learnt afterwards that it was a matter of "form" and that those amongst Tom's schoolfellows who betrayed a liking for good things were designated "Guts."

[12] A Bill was then before Parliament which would have burdened brewers in perpetuity with the licences of the public-houses owned by them. Mr. Perry regarded this proposal as an intolerable oppression of a deserving body of men. The Bill was afterwards amended, and the brewers relieved of a great anxiety.

[13] I had already taken a fancy to her. See page 66.

[14] The Highlanders were much looked up to by dwellers in other parts of Upsidonia. They were a thrifty hard-living race of fine physique, who had kept very much to themselves, owing largely to the inaccessibility of the country they inhabited; they seldom visited any other part of Upsidonia, or welcomed visitors to their own. They had no rich among them, and seemed to have solved all the economic problems that were so disturbing in and around Culbut, for instance. There were no towns in the Highlands; everybody lived on the land, and as the soil was very poor they had a hard struggle for existence, which brought out the best that was in them. Luxury was absolutely unknown amongst them, but learning flourished. Living so far north, they had long dark winters, which they spent in close study. Their chief form of relaxation was the holding of competitive examinations, for which they all entered. Those who came out first were examiners next time.

[15] He said that he didn't like playing with girls.

[16] It was a plantain.

[17] The contempt for pretty clothes amongst the girl children of Culbut was a question of form. See page 52.

[18] The Lady Cynthia Maxted, younger daughter of the Earl of Blueberry by his marriage with Sarah, daughter of Giles Ploughshare, Esq.

[19] The public parks of Culbut, as well as the semi-private ones (see chapter xiv), were entirely closed to the rich. This had not always been so, but an agitation had been made by the mothers of the poor children who played there some years before, and the Municipality had legislated in their favour. Edward Perry considered this a very bad business.

[20] When I discussed this with Edward, he asked indignantly why those in the liquor trade should be assisted in this way, when other traders in a like predicament would get no help from the Government, but would have to put up prices. I could give him no answer.

[21] The club to which Mr. Perry had introduced me would have corresponded to a working man's club with us, and was under some sort of clerical control. Its members set this, along with the annual subscription, as against advantages enjoyed.

[22] Upsidonian expression for getting rid of your money.

[23] The clergy in Upsidonia were accustomed to treat the rich in a slightly different manner from that in which they treated the poor.

[24] They possessed all the Greek and Latin Classics in Upsidonia, but had not learnt to treat them as living languages. Their greatest scholars had decided that although they were made up of words, or what looked like words, they had not, and never had had, any consecutive meaning. At one time a school had arisen which held them to be mathematical symbols, and a certain Professor Pottinger had claimed to have proved that they referred to the movements of the heavenly bodies. He had predicted, out of Propertius, the arrival of a hitherto unknown comet, but the comet had failed to make its appearance, and the influence of his school had dwindled.

Another advanced school, led by a Professor of a Highland University, taught that the words did have an actual meaning. By picking out all those that are known to-day, such as "omnibus," "miles," "tandem," "???sta," and the like, and rearranging them, this school professed to have translated a good deal. But as each student rearranged them differently, the results were not altogether satisfactory, even to themselves.

I was told of a don in the University of Culbut who had been struck with the number of words which did not seem to correspond with any pronunciation, however corrupt, with which Upsidonians were acquainted; and who even went so far as to say that classical words that were not known might not be those words themselves, but symbolical, as it were, of quite different words. The word "hoc," for instance, he did not believe to be a mis-spelling of the wine of that name, or even to stand for "hook," as some scholars maintained. And there had always been a dispute as to whether the word "et," which occurred so frequently in both languages, should be read as "ate," or as "Et," with a capital, short for "Etta," or "Henrietta." This man boldly proclaimed that it was neither, but from the frequency of its occurrence, was probably intended to represent the word "and." He was, however, unable to explain why people who wished to write "and" should prefer to write "et"; and although his views had aroused some interest in learned circles, he was commonly regarded as a crank.

The great mass of Upsidonian classical scholars were content to employ themselves usefully in examining the different collocations of words in various authors, and in the schools a great deal was learnt by heart. The classics were considered a most valuable exercise of the faculties, and the conservative teachers and men of learning held that it would be a thousand pities to drop them, simply because they did not help the learner to lose money.

[25] This was a favourite subject of conversation with ladies in Upsidonia.

[26] She was also an extremely nice woman—the widow of a well-known musician, and herself no mean performer, on the harp.

[27] The same sort of thing holds amongst us, in matters of art, for instance. Perhaps the majority of us prefer chatty pictures with a strong love interest to the works of Holbein and Rembrandt; but we would not make the same fuss if there were a danger of their being taken out of the country.

[28] This park was one of the most beautiful of the many in Culbut, and of something like twenty acres in extent. It was not really a public park, although it was called so, and was kept up with public money. It was used exclusively by the inhabitants of the houses abutting on to it; the Ladies Susan and Cynthia might play all over it without any risk of infection, mental or physical, from rich children; and if Lord and Lady Blueberry took a walk there in the cool of the evening they would meet none but those whom it might be agreeable to them to meet.

[29] Genuine aristocrats, like the Blueberrys and the Rumboroughs, never hesitated to acquire such possessions as seemed necessary for a well-balanced life, or for legitimate pleasure. In the matter of music, all poor children were taught some instrument at first, but only those who showed considerable aptitude for it were allowed to go beyond a certain point. And they were never allowed to practise at home, even where there was a piano. But on reaching the age of fourteen, if they could pass a rather stiff examination, their parents submitted to the annoyance of acquiring another piece of property, such as a piano, or a violin, for the sake of the pleasure they could gain from their children's performance.

As a consequence of these wise provisions, there were no girls to be found in Upsidonian homes, at least among the poor, who, as the result of a long and expensive education, could play one piece and three hymn tunes indifferently, and did so whenever they felt inclined.

[30] Even in the case of a marriage between families living respectively in town and country the separation was more complete than with us. There were few railways in Upsidonia, and even motor-cars were looked upon with suspicion, and only used by the rich. The poor preferred to drive, or still more to walk. But as the population of Upsidonia was divided between those who liked to live in the country and those who liked to live in towns, there was not so much going and coming as with us.

[31] Sandpit's Gang was a very smart one. Its members could shift more stuff in an hour than ordinary gangs in two. It was one of the sights of the town to see them running to and fro with heavily loaded barrows, over a plank so narrow that it seemed as if they must fall off and hurt themselves.

[32] It would not have been etiquette for them to show any interest whatever in the doings of their masters and mistresses, or to unbend in any way while on duty. The second coachman whom we had just heard about was behaving unprofessionally in talking to his own friends from the box, although his fellow-servants would not blame him for inconveniencing his master and mistress by so doing.

[33] See page 65.

[34] In one sense, all the members of the Upsidonian Upper House were puppet peers. Their chamber was the oldest building in Culbut, and one of which the inhabitants of that city were justly proud. But it lacked accommodation. It had been built at a time when there were only twelve peers in the whole of Upsidonia, and as it had been reckoned that never more than half of them would be present at a debate, it had been designed to hold only six people.

But, according to the system on which the Upper House worked, this was ample. All the business was done by five peers—the Lord Chancellor, and two representing each party. As there were no facilities for reporting debates, they held none. In fact, speeches had reduced themselves in the course of years to three formulÆ. These were: (1) "Let it go"; (2) "I think not"; and (3) "Try again."

Two peers made a quorum, and as a matter of convenience business was usually left to the Lord Chancellor and one peer, who represented the Government when one side was in office, and the Opposition when the other side was in office.

But it must not be supposed that this ancient House had been denuded of all its powers. Far from it. Parliamentary business was much less contentious than with us, and this simple procedure was found to suffice for the bills of most sessions. It worked perhaps better for one party than the other, but as most of the peers belonged to the larger party it was considered only fair that it should do so.

But when a really controversial measure was sent up to the House of Lords, there was a very different state of affairs. Then all the peers in the country were entitled to vote, and the full Committee sat for a week, while the papers were coming in.

It was usually a struggle between the "Let it go's," and the "I think nots"; but the "Try agains" were sometimes in the majority, and the Bill was sent down to the Lower House for amendment. The peers had no machinery for amending it themselves, and no direct means of indicating the amendments they wished made. With the common-sense that was a feature of so many Upsidonian institutions, it was taken for granted that the House of Commons would know perfectly well what was expected of them, and would put it into their Bill if they wanted it passed when it was sent up a second time.

The great body of peers—men for the most part who had other things to think of—seldom made any objection to announcing which way they intended to vote. If they didn't, they were liable to be constantly worried by people coming to them to find out, when they wanted to get on with their work.

If the Government was particularly annoyed at the rejection of a Bill, they would send it up again, and, to avoid any further fuss, the peers would usually fall back upon a fourth formula, which provided for this contingency. This was: "Settle it for yourselves"; and it meant that the Bill would go to the House of Lords Committee again in the usual way, and would be passed.

The system worked well on the whole, and it had never happened that a Bill had gone more than three times to the whole body of peers. They always broke down on the third canvass, even if it was on a question that affected themselves adversely. They could not stand the nuisance of being continually interrupted and annoyed; and many of them turned against their own party for the sake of getting it all over, and being allowed to settle down quietly again.