"'Anybody who had come in upon us suddenly would have supposed that I was confusing and distracting, instead of making things plainer; upon my word they would.'... "'I am very sorry indeed,' said Mrs. NICKLEBY. 'I am very sorry indeed for all this. I really don't know what would be the best to do, and that's the truth;... but if it could be settled in any friendly manner--and some fair arrangement was come to, so that we undertook to have fish twice a week, and a pudding once, or a dumpling, or something of that sort, I do think it might be very satisfactory and pleasant for all parties.' "This compromise, which was proposed with abundance of tears and sighs, not exactly meeting the point at issue, nobody took any notice of it." _Dickens's "Nicholas Nickleby._"] AIR--"_Nickledy Nod._" Oh! where are we next to be carried, My own dear NICKLEBY NOD? We're worried, and hurried, and harried! In pickle has _no one_ a rod? Obstruction's becoming a bore; We're victims of boor, clown, and cad. It seems of our "noble six hundred" A solid majority's mad! DICKENS was surely prophetic, My own dear NICKLEBY NOD! The plight of yourself is pathetic, The state of the House appears odd. _Can't_ we live quiet and decent? The shindy makes common sense sad: It seems from occurrences recent The mass of the House _must_ be mad! Whom should we ask to protect us, My own dear NICKLEBY NOD? A rowdy rot seems to infect us And Nemesis looks leaden-shod. Shouldn't we look to the Chair To save us from garrulous fad, When row-de-dow fills all the air, And the bulk of the House is gone mad? Cynics may find it amusing, My own dear NICKLEBY NOD, This venomous mutual abusing. Thersites seems ranked as a god. Billingsgate sways our big swells, Talent plays Brummagem Cad. 'Tis worse than Sarcasm of Sadler's Wells. You're mild--and your House is mad! More is to come in the Autumn, My own poor NICKLEBY NOD! We trust by that time you'll have taught 'em Some decency--e'en by the rod. "Not say any more about it?" _That_ will scarce answer, my lad! Patience _may_ soothe, but I doubt it Much--when the culprits are mad! "Settled in some friendly manner?" My own poor NICKLEBY NOD, CHAMBERLAIN, SEXTON, and TANNER (Say) as "fair friends" would look odd. GLADSTONE, and BALFOUR, and SAUNDERSON, _Might_ keep the peace, and be glad; But while malignity maunders on NICKLEBY policy's--mad! "Some fair arrangement?"--_with RUSSELL?_ My own poor NICKLEBY NOD, Hark how they howl, shriek, and hustle! Nay; you must whip out the rod. Wish you had brought it forth sooner. NICKLEBY _role_, my dear lad, Of mild, muddled, well-meaning mooner, Won't work--with a House gone _mad_! * * * * *