tal
here. But there's a deal been swept away within my recollection.
We must move with the times."

At this point the inspiration came upon Mr. Bamberger. He laid down
the spoon in his soup and hurriedly caught at the rim of his plate as
a vigilant waiter swept a hand to remove it.

"Hold hard, young man!" said Mr. Bamberger, snatching at his spoon
and again fixing his eye on the Mayor. "You ought to have a Pageant,
Sir."

"A what?"

"A Pageant; that's what we want for Merchester--something to
advertise the dear old place and bring grist to our mills.
I've often wondered if we could not run something of the sort."

This was not a conscious falsehood, but just a word or two of
political patter, dropped automatically, absently. In truth, Mr.
Bamberger, possessed by his inspiration, was wondering why the
deuce it had never occurred to him until this moment. Still more
curious, too, that it had never occurred to his brother Isidore!
This Isidore, after starting as a _croupier_ at Ostend and pushing on
to the post of _Directeur des Fetes Periodiques_ to the municipality
of that watering-place, had made a sudden name for himself by
stage-managing a Hall of Odalisques at the last Paris Exposition,
and, crossing to London, had accumulated laurels by directing popular
entertainments at Olympia (Kensington) and Shepherd's Bush.
One great daily newspaper, under Hebrew control, habitually alluded
to him as the Prince of Pageantists. Isidore saw things on a grand
scale, and was, moreover, an excellent brother. Isidore (said Mr.
Julius Bamberger to himself) would find all the History of England in
Merchester and rattle it up to the truth of music.

Aloud he said--

"This very scene we're looking on, f'r instance!"

"There would be difficulties in the way of presenting it in the open
air," hazarded his Worship.

Mr. Bamberger, never impatient of stupidity, opined that this could
be got over easily.

"There's all the material made to our hand. Eh, Master?--these old
pensioners of yours--in a procession? The public is always
sentimental."

Master Blanchminster, rousing himself out of reverie, made guarded
answer that such an exhibition might be instructive, historically,
for schoolchildren.

"An institution like this, supported by endowments, don't need
advertising, of course--not for its own sake," said Mr. Bamberger.
"I was thinking of what might be done indirectly for Merchester.
But--you'll excuse me, I m