.
Being ruined, I thought that there was no longer any necessity for
prolonging that terrible effort to suppress a laugh, and so I leaned
back in my chair and laughed loud, long, and, in fact, uproariously. The
meeting came to a sudden pause. The first expression on every face was
that of amazed horror, but my laugh was contagious, and presently
someone else joined in, and before order was restored the room rang with
the laughter of a dozen men. All this time I was in an agony of
self-reproach in spite of my laughter. I virtually broke up the meeting,
and it was not until the clergyman, who presided, had dismissed us, that
I could command myself sufficiently to try to explain to him the purely
involuntary nature of my laughter. He was kind enough and intelligent
enough to understand the matter, but the greater part of those who heard
me believe to this day that I was a bold blasphemer of a peculiarly
brutal character. I could never begin to tell what mental suffering the
affair caused me, but I can safely say that I was never more miserable
than I was at the very moment when I was laughing the most thorough and
ecstatic laugh that ever came to me.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Zangwill refuseth to be drawn, and runneth amuck.]

I never was in an awkward predicament. I have seen it stated that I once
wrote "To be concluded in our next" without having the slightest idea
how to extricate my characters from the mess I had got them into, but
that is another story. There is not a word of truth in it. An awkward
predicament is as unfamiliar to me as a crinoline; I have never been in
one. It is absurd, therefore, to ask me what is the _most_ awkward
predicament I have ever been in; besides, it is always so invidious to
select. I really must refuse to pander to editorial flippancy, and to
add myself to the April fools who will scribble seriously upon the
subject. I think, if this sort of thing is to take the place of our
sensible symposia, it is time the Idlers' Club was abolished. The
intrusion of ladies has spoilt everything. Once we sat with our feet on
the mantelpiece smoking. (My own cigar was always given me by the
artist.) Now we never smoke--Angelina won't permit it. Tea replaces the
whiskey of yore, and the horizon is bounded by thin bread and butter. We
are expected to stick to one predetermined subject--doubtless for fear
we might wander off into the improper--and we are almost encouraged to