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Updated: June 28, 2025
If you're a striker, strike, and if you're a bleater, bleat!" "Cry!" cries he, with a burst, "that's it strike! that's talking! Man, I've stood it all too long. But when they laid a hand upon the child, when the child's threatened" his momentary vigour whimpering off "my child, my Alexander!" and he was at his tears again. I took him by the shoulders and shook him.
Alfred the Great becomes the Fairy Queen; Moses viewing the Promised Land, turns out to be Moses going to the Fair; Portrait of His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury, is transformed, as if by irreverent enchantment of the dissenting interest, into A Favourite Terrier, or Cattle Grazing; and the most extraordinary work of art in the list described by the Bleater, is coolly sponged out altogether, and asserted never to have had existence at all, even in the most shadow thoughts of its executant!
The London Correspondent of the Tattlesnivel Bleater is in the act of writing his weekly letter, finds himself rather at a loss to settle this question finally, leaves off, puts his hat on, goes down to the lobby of the House of Commons, sends in for Lord John Russell, and has him out.
How do they justify themselves in entirely altering their manuscripts, changing their titles, and abandoning their subjects? Will they deny, in the face of Tattlesnivel, that they do so? If they have such hardihood, let the file of the Bleater strike them dumb. By their fruits they shall be known.
If so, the rejoinder is, that the mighty conspiracy includes the whole circle of Artists of all kinds, and comprehends all degrees of men, down to the worst criminal and the hangman who ends his career. For, all these are intimately known to the London Correspondent of the Tattlesnivel Bleater, and all these deceive him. Sir, put it to the proof.
Baring, after expressly telling the Bleater's London Correspondent that he had bought No. 39 for one thousand guineas, gives it up to somebody unknown for a couple of hundred pounds; the Marquis of Lansdowne pretends to have no knowledge whatever of the commissions to which the London Correspondent of the Bleater swore him, but allows a Railway Contractor to cut him out for half the money.
He accuses them on the unimpeachable faith of the London Correspondent of the Tattlesnivel Bleater. With whose evidence they will find it impossible to reconcile their own account of any transaction of their lives. The national character is degenerating under the influence of the ramifications of this tremendous conspiracy. Forgery is committed, constantly.
"What's the use chasin' round over this pasture all night? Here we've wasted an hour already. I've fired away all my cartridges, and we haven't nailed a single bleater. We've got 'em so wild we can't sneak up within half a mile of 'em. Let's quit it for a bad job, go aboard, and turn in!" "Cut it out, Dolph!" impatiently retorted another voice. "You've got a backbone like a rope!
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