Club, whether members would blackball him: and
Shirley quotes Charles Lamb's remark, 'What splendid hands he'd hold, if
only dirt were trumps!' Then Ponny shouts indignantly, 'There, never
mind his hands: think what a clever head he has.'

[Illustration: HARRY FURNISS'S INITIALS.]

Here Professor gives a little lecture on phrenology, impelled thereto by
Penny's capital allusion. Talking like a book, as his frequent manner
is, he expounds in fluent phrase his deeply-rooted faith in this
neglected science. To give idea of its importance, he vows he wouldn't
keep a housemaid who had a bad head. 'No more would I,' says Shirley;
'I'd send her to the doctor.' 'I mean, a head ill-shapen,' explains
Professor blandly, being 'the mildest-mannered man that ever cut a
throat'--in argument. 'A well-proportioned head betokens a fine brain:
whereas a skull that is cramped contains probably a mean one.' Avows
belief not so much in the localisation of organs as in their general
development. Here Leech, who hates street music, professes horror at the
possible development of organs, and wishes they were localised where
nobody could hear them. Paying no heed to this flippancy, Professor
explains gravely that peculiar formations incline to special acts, and
that the development of certain cranial organs--vulgarly termed
'bumps'--may be lessened or augmented in the course of early schooling.
'Well, I do believe in "bumps,"' says Shirley, speaking with solemnity,
'yes, even in schoolboys' heads--if you knock them well together.'

[Illustration: H. W. LUCY'S INITIALS.]

Mark next has an innings, and tells some of his stage stories. He tells
them very funnily, and imitates Macready and many other actors in their
vocal mannerisms. And he mimics operatic singers capitally, with
sonorous words in mock Italian basso recitative. Among his tales is one
of a half-tipsy actor playing in the 'Corsican Brothers' and explaining
their fraternal peculiarity--'My brother in Paris is now
feeling--hic--precishly shame senshations--hic--as myshelf!' Also tells
of his once bringing out a farce called 'Punch' at the Strand Theatre,
wherein a parrot played a prominent part. One night a new parrot took
its place, and used most dreadful language when the curtain rose.

Story-telling being now the order of the evening, Silver tells of the
gun trick being tried in the Far West. One day, just as the conjuror had
caught the bullet in his teeth, another whizzed clos