Reginald on Tariffs

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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I'm not going to discuss the Fiscal Question (said Reginald);I wish to be original. At the same time, I think one suffersmore than one realises from the system of free imports. Ishould like, for instance, a really prohibitive duty put uponthe partner who declares on a weak red suit and hopes for thebest. Even a free outlet for compressed verbiage doesn'tbalance matters. And I think there should be a sort ofbounty-fed export (is that the right expression?) of thepeople who impress on you that you ought to take lifeseriously. There are only two classes that really can't helptaking life seriously--schoolgirls of thirteen andHohenzollerns; they might be exempt. Albanians come underanother heading; they take life whenever they get theopportunity. The one Albanian that I was ever on speakingterms with was rather a decadent example. He was a Christianand a grocer, and I don't fancy he had ever killed anybody.I didn't like to question him on the subject--that showed mydelicacy. Mrs. Nicorax says I have no delicacy; she hasn'tforgiven me about the mice. You see, when I was staying downthere, a mouse used to cake-walk about my room half thenight, and none of their silly patent traps seemed to takeits fancy as a bijou residence, so I determined to appeal tothe better side of it--which with mice is the inside. So Icalled it Percy, and put little delicacies down near its holeevery night, and that kept it quiet while I read Max Nordau'sDegeneration and other reproving literature, and went tosleep. And now she says there is a whole colony of mice inthat room.That isn't where the indelicacy comes in. She went outriding with me, which was entirely her own suggestion, and aswe were coming home through some meadows she made a quiteunnecessary attempt to see if her pony would jump a rathermessy sort of brook that was there. It wouldn't. It wentwith her as far as the water's edge, and from that point Mrs.Nicorax went on alone. Of course I had to fish her out fromthe bank, and my riding-breeches are not cut with a view tosalmon-fishing--it's rather an art even to ride in them. Herhabit-skirt was one of those open questions that need not beadhered to in emergencies, and on this occasion it remainedbehind in some water-weeds. She wanted me to fish about forthat too, but I felt I had done enough Pharaoh's daughterbusiness for an October afternoon, and I was beginning towant my tea. So I bundled her up on to her pony, and gaveher a lead towards home as fast as I cared to go. What withthe wet and the unusual responsibility, her abridged costumedid not stand the pace particularly well, and she got quitequerulous when I shouted back that I had no pins with me--andno string. Some women expect so much from a fellow. When wegot into the drive she wanted to go up the back way to thestables, but the ponies know they always get sugar at thefront door, and I never attempt to hold a pulling pony; asfor Mrs. Nicorax, it took her all she knew to keep a firmhand on her seceding garments, which, as her maid remarkedafterwards, were more tout than ensemble. Of course nearlythe whole house-party were out on the lawn watching thesunset--the only day this month that it's occurred to the sunto show itself, as Mrs. Nic. viciously observed--and I shallnever forget the expression on her husband's face as wepulled up. "My darling, this is too much!" was his firstspoken comment; taking into consideration the state of hertoilet, it was the most brilliant thing I had ever heard himsay, and I went into the library to be alone and scream.Mrs. Nicorax says I have no delicacy.Talking about tariffs, the lift-boy, who reads extensivelybetween the landings, says it won't do to tax rawcommodities. What, exactly, is a raw commodity? Mrs. VanChallaby says men are raw commodities till you marry them;after they've struck Mrs. Van C., I can fancy they prettysoon become a finished article. Certainly she's had a gooddeal of experience to support her opinion. She lost onehusband in a railway accident, and mislaid another in theDivorce Court, and the current one has just got himselfsqueezed in a Beef Trust. "What was he doing in a BeefTrust, anyway?" she asked tearfully, and I suggested thatperhaps he had an unhappy home. I only said it for the sakeof making conversation; which it did. Mrs. Van Challaby saidthings about me which in her calmer moments she would havehesitated to spell. It's a pity people can't discuss fiscalmatters without getting wild. However, she wrote next day toask if I could get her a Yorkshire terrier of the size andshade that's being worn now, and that's as near as a womancan be expected to get to owning herself in the wrong. Andshe will tie a salmon-pink bow to its collar, and call it"Reggie," and take it with her everywhere--like poor MiriamKlopstock, who would take her Chow with her to the bathroom,and while she was bathing it was playing at she-bears withher garments. Miriam is always late for breakfast, and shewasn't really missed till the middle of lunch.However, I'm not going any further into the Fiscal Question.Only I should like to be protected from the partner with aweak red tendency.

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