_A V._ (_with suppressed passion, yet pompous withal_). Look here--I’m a Member of Parliament. I’ve been---- _Me_ (_gently_). Do not shout into the receiver, please. _A V._ Hullo! I’m a---- _Me._ Do not say “Hullo!” _A V._ (_maddened_). What’s that? Hullo! Look here--I’m a Member of Parliament, and I’ve been trying for _half an hour_ to get through to the Prime Minister’s---- _Me._ I am sorry you have been trrrr-roubled. You are _thrrrrough_ now. _A V._ Hullo! Is that the Prime Minister’s Private Secretary? _Me_ (_quiet, weary and competent_). Which one do you want? _A V._ Hullo! Sir Thingummy Jig speaking. I want to speak to the Prime Minister’s---- _Me._ Yes, I heard that. But do you want the Principal Private Secretary, or the Assistant Principal Private Secretary, or one of the Personal Private Secretaries? I mean there are forty-seven of us altogether and it makes a lot of difference---- _A V._ (_weakening_). I can’t quite hear. Perhaps you can help me. It’s about---- _Me._ One moment, please. Here is the Prime Minister himself. Would you mind speaking to _him_? I’m rather busy. _A V._ (_awestruck_). Of course.... Hullo! _Me._ Hullo!... The Prime Minister speaking.... Look here, Jig, I want to have a word with you. Would you mind holding the line a moment while I speak to my secretary? _A V._ (_fawning_). By all means.... There’s no hurry--no hurry at all. * * * * * As far as I know the poor fellow is holding still. The Genius of Mr. Bradshaw No one will be surprised to hear that the Christian name of Mr. Bradshaw was George. Indeed, it is difficult to think what other name a man of his calibre could have had. But many people will be surprised to hear that Mr. Bradshaw is no longer alive. Whatever one thinks of his work one is inclined to think of him as a living personality, working laboriously at some terminus--probably at the Charing Cross Hotel. But it is not so. He died, in fact, in 1853. His first book--or rather the first edition of his book[1]--was published in 1839; yet, unlike the author, it still lives. He is, in fact, the supreme example of the posthumous serial writer. I have no information about Mr. Debrett and Mr. Burke, but the style and substance of their work are relatively so flimsy that one is justified, I think, in neglecting them. In any case their public is a limited one. So, of course, is Mr. Bradshaw’s; but it is better than theirs. Mr. Debrett’s book we read idly in an idle hour; when we read Mr. Bradshaw’s it is because we feel that we simply must; and that perhaps is the surest test of genius. [1] “Bradshaw’s General Railway and Steam Navigation Guide for Great Britain and Ireland.”