The Society for the Better Diffusion of Dynamite.

      THE following extraordinary effusion (which, judging by its crumpled and soiled condition, must have been compiled some months ago) has been received at the office of FUN. It seems to emanate from some individual who is a bit dotty, as we are convinced that no really sane person could have sent such a production to us. As it is, however, a curious piece of foolery, and on a subject that was forced into prominence not long ago, we give it publication:—

      The yearly meeting of this Society was held yesterday at their (very) temporary offices in Murderstone Street, Hoxton. There were present — Count Fewserlite Burstimoff (Chairman), Sheridan Feenix Parke, Esq. (Managing Director), and the following other Directors:— Messrs. Killmore, Grillwell, Fagin, Coward, Blindman, Crackit, Sleigh Fawkes, Stump Eccles, and A. Trew Patrick Ryot, M.P. (Boghooly, Ireland). The attendance of general members of the Society was very large, and the proceedings throughout were marked by great enthusiasm. Owing to the private character of the meeting, no facilities for the accommodation of reporters or police were afforded.

      The report (which was distinctly heard all over the room) being read by the Routine Secretary, Mr. Bangford, Count Fewserlite Burstimoff rose, amidst loud cheers, and, addressing the Society, congratulated them on the excellent results that had been attained since their last meeting. That meeting, they would remember, was held at their handsome though temporary office in Bonfire Buildings. He had certainly hoped to meet them there again, but a contingency — perhaps not wholly unexpected — had arisen. which rendered it desirable — even necessary — that they should come together elsewhere on this occasion. (Hear, hear.) He was glad to say that the occurrences of the past twelve months had been full of encouragement and promise for the future. Their Continental reports were eminently satisfactory, including as they did the brilliant achievement at Barcelona — (loud cheers) — an event which really exceeded in results their most sanguine hopes and expectations. (Cheers.) But even such a success as this — one of which they had good reason to be proud — must not satisfy them, or induce any laxity in the energetic prosecution of their laudable object. Let them go on, cheered and stimulated by the Barcelona success — (cheers) — and add fresh laurels to those already gained. He wished he could have expressed his unadulterated satisfaction with the exhibition of the Society's work in the French Legislative Chamber, but it would be idle for him to deny that a rather serious hitch had taken place. Still, they all knew that accidents would sometimes happen even with the best regulated bombs — (laughter) — and they should not be unduly disheartened by a reverse of this nature. The crowning wrong of the whole affair was, however, the arrest of their brave friend and brother patriot by the crafty and altogether degraded French police. (Execrations.) He would now turn from this disagreeable reverse, and say a few final words of encouragement to the Society. He was then in a position to state that, in conjunction with his valued friend and colleague, Mr. Feenix Parke — (cheers) — he had planned out quite recently several new schemes for the furtherance of their great work, both in England and on the Continent, which they hoped would be carried out in the current year. He believed, however, that his friend, Mr. Feenix Parke, had that very day received important letters from their unwearied Organising Secretary Mr. Shrapnell — (cheers) — and from Mr. Lucifer O'Trigger, their valued Dublin agent — (cheers) — the tenour of which Mr. Parke would communicate to the meeting in the course of a few minutes. In conclusion, he expressed his great confidence in the rapid progress of the Society's operations, and reiterated his own earnest desire and intention to leave no stone unturned to spread the influence of dynamite throughout that mighty Empire — (cheers) — over which, as it was truly said, "the sun never sets." (Loud cheers.)

      Mr. Feenix Parke, who was heartily cheered, said he was perfectly certain that the glowing words of their beloved Chairman would sink deeply into their minds, and strike a responsive chord in the breast of each one of them. With reference to the Society's labours in England at the present moment, he had the gratifying intelligence to convey that Mr. Shrapnell and Mr. Lucifer O'Trigger were engaged in putting the finishing touches to some projects of really first-class importance, which, when carefully carried out, could not fail to materially advance the objects they all had at heart. Mr. Shrapnell's beautifully-conceived plan for the simultaneous removal of portions of three principal London termini — (cheers) — one side of the Mansion House — (renewed cheers) — and most of Drury Lane Theatre, during the next pantomime season — (loud and prolonged cheers) — and Mr. O'Trigger's businesslike project for terminating the existence of Dublin Castle — (loud cheers) — would, he was convinced, be warmly approved of by the Society which he had the honour to address. Mr. Shrapnell's mastery of elaborate scientific details, his intimate local knowledge of Metropolitan buildings, his complete, but quite unsuspected, familiarity with the official arrangements of that miserable body of men, the London Police — (hisses) — and, he would add, his characteristic humanity — (murmurs) — were all exemplified in the schemes just detailed. To make the last-mentioned point quite obvious and satisfactory to the meeting, he had only to state that their ever-thoughtful Organising Secretary intended to bestow the — well, not to put too fine a point upon it — "material" — (laughter) — so skilfully, as to ensure the instant annihilation of all who came within its powerful limb-distributing influence, thus doing away with the probable alternative of lingering pains, the infliction of which was so truly repugnant to all possessed of humane instincts. (Ironical laughter and cheers). He rejoiced that the Society for the Better Diffusion of Dynamite was spreading its influence so fast, and striking its roots so deeply into the soil of many Continental countries. As regards this country, while he strongly denounced the meddling, impertinent attitude of the Scotland Yard minions — (hisses, and a voice, "We'll do for Scotland Yard presently," and cheers) — he believed they would be powerless to stem the advancing wave of patriotism and dynamite on its striking and majestic course. (Loud and prolonged cheers.)

      Mr. Stump Eccles would like to say a few words on the subject of the down-trodden working man, whom he claimed to represent. He was a plain man and hadn't much gift of the gab, and so he would come to the point at once. The point was this: Was the working man (who was the backbone of England) to have £10 (or more) a week for two hours a day job, three days a week, or wasn't he? (Cheers.) Owing to the present execrable state of society, and the beastly greed of the classes, he wasn't likely to get this "living wage" by agitation in Parliament, or by the good old-fashioned way of pulling down the fences in Hyde Park and such like places. (Shame.) But he might get it by a policy of dynamite and pillage. (Cheers.) As to the latter pursuit, he didn't hesitate to say it paid him a jolly sight better than work. (Cheers.) His opinion was, dynamite and plenty of it. (Cheers.) He called it a "material" part of the situation. (Laughter, and "You had me there," from Mr. Feenix Parke.) He hoped Mr. Shrapnell would speedily arrange for some more of the big railway stations, and for another good haul of the same sort. (Cheers.) That would wake up people to the wrongs of the working man, and they'd all get a lot more quids. He didn't hold with work of any kind — (cheers) — but if it was done at all it ought to be done as a great favour. Those were his views, and he hadn't another blooming word to say. (Cheers.)

      Mr. Grillwell and Mr. Blindman endorsed the views of the last speaker.

      Mr. Sleigh Fawkes said be was a direct descendant of that illustrious man whose courageous action in the month of November some few years back — (a laugh) — was held in reverent memory by all present. (Sympathetic murmurs.) The hereditary instinct was without a doubt a very real and potent thing, and he had often felt impelled to repeat the attempt of his great predecessor — (cheers) — though, of course, with the certainty of a very different result. (Cheers.) That this grand accomplishment was only a matter of time, he could not, in view of the splendid progressive work of the Society, doubt. He hoped he might live to see this realisation of his fondest wishes — of the dream of his life, he might say. (Loud cheers.)

      Mr. A. Trew Patrick Ryot, M.P. (who was very warmly greeted), had commenced an impassioned address, when an alarming rumour was suddenly circulated in the room to the effect that a large cordon of police was outside the house, and that they had discourteously, and even peremptorily decline I to accept the porter's studiously polite assurance that the proceedings were of an entirely private character, and that facilities for reporting, etc., had therefore been omitted. A stampede immediately ensued, the whole assembly bolting by certain back passages not known to the police, and, after a crush, during which Mr. Stump Eccles trampled on his revered Chairman, the eloquent Managing Director got a broken nose, and many of his valued colleagues sustained picturesque contusions and bruises, an ignominious escape was successfully made.