VOCES POPULI rVMAI.l!: ARTISTE (SINGS REFRAIN). VOCES POPULI \_Reprinted from '' Piaic/i BY F. ANSTEY AUTHOR OF " VICE VERSA," ETC. WITH TWENTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE SECOND SERIES LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. AND NEW YORK : 15 EAST l6th STREET 1892 {All rights rescn'ed] KiCHARD Clay akd Sons, Limited, LONDON AND BUNGAY. S. CONTENTS AN EVENING WITH A CONJUROR AT THE TUDOR EXHIBITION IN AN OMNIBUS AT A SALE OF HIGH-CLASS SCULPTURE AT THE GUELPH EXHIBITION AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY AT THE HORSE SHOW .... AT A DANCE AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM . THE TRAVELLING MENAGERIE AT THE REGENT STREET TUSSAUD'S AT THE MILITARY EXHIBITION . AT THE FRENCH EXHIBITION IN THE MALL ON DRAWING-ROOM DAY AT A PARISIAN CAFE CHANTANT AT A GARDEN PARTY .... AT THE MILITARY TOURNAMEN 1' FREE SPEECH THE RIDING-CLASS THE IMPROMPTU CHARADE-PARTY A CHRISTMAS ROMP .... ON THE ICE IN A FOG BRICKS WITHOUT STRAW AT A MUSIC HALL A RECITATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES . BANK HOLIDAY A ROW IN THE PIT ; OR, THE OBSTRUCTIVE HAT PAGE I 7 13 19 26 32 38 44 50 57 62 67 73 80 85 90 95 99 104 no 115 121 127 131 136 142 147 153 ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE " LED ME SEE— I SEEM TO REMEMBER YOUR FACE SOME'OW." .... 3 "what ARE YOU DOIN' THEM C'RECT GUIDES AT, OLE MAN? A SHILLIN ' ? NOT me I'' 8 " GO 'OME, DIRTY DICK ! " \^ " FIGGERS ^ere, GEN'l'm'n !" 20 "pets! don't you love them?" 27 "CAPTURED BY A DESULTORY ENTHUSIAST" 34 '* HE EXPECTED THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE TO SEE " 42 '' ER"— (CONSULTS SOME HIEROGLYPHICS ON HIS CUFF STEALTHILY) ... 46 " H'M ; THAT MAY BE MITHRAS'S NOTION OF MAKING A CLEAN JOB OF IT, BUT IT AIN'T mijie!" 51 " I SEZ AS THAT UN's A FA\VKS, AN' I'M READY TO PROVE IT ON ANNY MAN" . 60 " that's flay-actin', that is— and I don't 'old with it no how ! " . .64 "go in, JIM ! YOU GOT YER MARKIN'-PAPER READY ANYHOW " . . . . 71 " COME AN LOOK ! ALAHA-BA-LI-BOO ! " 74 " OW 'e SMOILED at me THROUGH THE BRORNCHES ! " 81 FEMALE ARTISTE (SINGS REFRAIN) 86 " SHOW IT NOW, BY PUTTING MONEY IN THIS 'aT ! " I02 " YOU AIN'T NO MORE 'OLD ON THAT SADDLE THAN A STAMP WITH THE GUM LICKED OFF ! " I05 " JVann, SIR? l am warm— AND SOMETHING MORE !" II9 " SNAY PAS FACILE QUAND VOUS AVEZ LES SKATES TOUTES SUR UN COTE — COMME }noi /" 123 " GO IT, OLE FRANKY, MY SON ! " I25 RECOGNISES WITH DISMAY A VIEW OF THE GRAND CANAL 134 THE SISTERS SILVERTWANG 137 " I AM ONLY A COWBOY " 143 " RUM THE SIGHTS THESE 'eRE SAVIDGES MAKE O' THEIRSELVES" . . . I49 THE OWNER OF THE HAT DEIGNS NO REPLY I54 VOCES POPULI an ]£veniiu3 with a Conjuror. Scene — A Suhnrban Hall. The Performance has not yet begun. The Audience is limited and lozi'-spirited, and may perhaps number — ///- cludijig the Attendants — eighteen. The only people in the front seats are a man in fill evening dress, zuhich he tries to conceal wider a caped coat, and two Ladies in plush opera-cloaks. Fog is hanging about in the rafters, and the gas-stars sing a melancholy dirge. Each casual cough arouses dismal echoes. Enter an intending Spectator, ivho ts conducted to a seat iji the middle of an empty row. After removing his hat and coat, he suddenly thinks better — or worse — of it, puts them on again, and vanishes hurriedly. First Sardonic Attendant {at doonvay). Reg'lar turnin' cm a\va\- to-night, we are ! Second Sardonic Attendant. He come up to mc afore he goes to the pay-box, and sez he — " Is there a seat left ? " he scz. And I sez to 'im, "Well, I think we can manage to squeeze you in somewhere." Like that, I sez. [The Orchestra, consisting of tivo thin-armed little girls, with pigtails, enter, and perform a stumbling Overture upon a cracked piano. Herr Von KamberwOHL, the Conjuror, appears on platform, amidst loud clapping from two obvious Confederates in a back row. VOI,. II. B Voces Populi. Herr V. K. (/// a mixed accent). Lyties and Shentilmans, pefoor I co-mence viz my hillusions zis hevenin' I 'ave most hemphadically to repoodiate hall assistance from hany spirrids or soopernatural beins vatsohever. All I shall 'ave ze honour of showing you will be perform by simple Sloight of 'and or Ledger-dee-Mang ! {He invites any member of the Ajidience to step up and assist him, but the spectators remain coy.) I see zat I 'ave not to-night so larsh an orjence to select from as usual, still I 'ope — {Here one of the obvious Confederates slouches up, and joins him on the platform.) Ah, zat is goot ! I am vair much oblige to you, Sare. {The Confederate grins sheepishly.) Led me see — I seem to remember your face some'ow. {Broader grin from Confederate^ Hah you vos 'ere last night ? — zat exblains it ! But you 'ave nevaire assist me befoor, eh ? {Reckless shake of the head from Confederate.) I thought nod. Vair veil. You 'ave nevaire done any dricks mit carts — no .'' Bot you will dry } You never dell vat you gan do till you dry, as ze ole sow said ven she learn ze halphabet. {He pauses for a laugh — which doesiCt come.) Now, Sare, you know a cart ven you see 'im ^ Ah, zat is somtings alretty ! Now I vill ask you to choose any cart or carts out of zis back. {The Confederate fiunbjes.) I don't vish to 'urry you — but I vant you to mike 'aste — &c., &c. The Man in Evening Dress. I remember giving Bimbo, the Wizard of the West, a guinea once to teach me that trick — there was nothing in it. First Lady in Plush Cloak. And can you do it .^ The M. in E. D. {guardedly). Well, I don't know that I could exactly do it nozu — but I know how it's done. \^He explains elaborately how it is done. Herr V. K. {stamping, as a signal that the Orchestra may leave oft). Next I shall show you my zelcbrated hillusion of ze inexhaustible 'At, to gonclude viz the Invisible 'En. And I shall be moch oblige if any shentilmans vill kindly favour me viz 'is 'at for ze purpose of my cxbcriment. The M. in E. D. Here's mine — it's quite at your service. \^To his companions^ This is a stale old trick, he merely — {explains as before). But you wait and see how I'll score off him over it ! "leu me see— I SEEM TO KEMEMUEU VOL'R FACE SO.ME'uW. 4 Voces PopzUi. Herr V. K. {to the M. in E. D.). You are gvide sure, Sare, you leaf nossing insoide of your 'at ? The M. in E. D. {zvith a zvink to his neighbours). On the contrary, there are several little things there belonging to me, which I'll thank you to give me back by-and-by. Herr V. K. {diving into the hat). So? Vat 'ave we 'ere? A bonch of flowairs ! Anozzer bonch of flowairs ? Anozzer — and anozzcr ! Ha, do you alvays garry flowairs insoide your 'at, Sare ? The M. in E. D. Invariably — to keep my head cool ; so hand them over, please ; I want them. [His Companions titter., ajid declare " it really is too bad of J dm ! " Herr V. K. Bresently, Sare, — zere is somtings ailse, it feels loike — yes, it ees — a mahouse-drap. Your haid is drouble vid moice, Sare, yes ? Bot zere is none 'ere in ze 'at ! The M. in E. D. {zvith rather feeble indignation). I never said there were. Herr V. K. No, zere is no mahouse — bot — [diving again"] — ha ! a leedle vide rad ! Anozzer vide rad ! And again a vide rad — and one, two, dree more vide rads ! You vind zey keep your haid noice and cool, Sare ? May I drouble you to com and dake zem avay ? I don't loike the vide rads myself, it is madder of daste. [The Audience snigger^ Oh, bot vait — zis is a most gonvenient 'at — [extracting a large feeding-bottle and a complete set of baby-linen] — ze shentelman is vairy domestic I see. And zere is more yet, he is goot business man, he knows o\v von must hadvertise in zese' ere toimes. 'E 'as 'elp mc, so I vill 'elp 'im by distributing some of his cairculars for 'im. [He shozvers cards, commending somebody's self -adjusting trousers amongst the A ndience, each person receiving about two dozen — chiefly in tJie eye — until the air is dark., and the floor thick zvith them. The M. in 1'^. D. {mitch annoyed). Infernal liberty! Confounded impudence ! Shouldn't have had 7ny hat if I'd known he was going to ])lay the fool with it like this ! 471 Even i 71 o- icitli a Conjuror. First Lady in Plush Cloak. But I thought you knew what was coming ? The M. in E. D. So I did— but tliis fellow docs it differently. [Herr Von K. is preparing to fire a marked fia/f-croiun from a blunderbuss into a crystal casket. A Lady with Nerves (to Iter husband). John, I'm sure he's going to let that thing off! John {a Brute). Well, I shouldn't be surprised if he is. / can't help it. The L. \VITH N. You could if you liked — you could toll him my nerves won't stand it — the trick will be every bit as good if he only pretends to fire, I'm sure. John. Oh, nonsense! — You can stand it very well if you like. The L. with N. I cant, John .... There, he's raising it to his shoulder. John, I nmst go out. I shall scream if I sit here, I know I shall! John. No, no — what's the use .•* He'll have fired long before you get to the door. ]\Iuch better stay where you are, and do your screaming sitting down. {The Conjuror fires^ There, you see, you didn't scream, after all ! The L. with N. I screamed to myself — which is ever so much worse for me ; but you never zuill understand me till it's too late ! [Herr Von Y^. performs another trick. First Lady in Plush Cloak. That was very clever, wasn't it } I can't imagine how it was done I The ]\I. in E. D. {in ivhom the memory of his desecrated hat is still rankling). Oh, can't you 1 Simplest thing in the world — any child could do it ! Second Lady. What, find the rabbit inside those boxes, when they were all corded up, and sealed ! The M. in E. D. You don't mean to say you were taken in by that ! Why, it was another rabbit, of course ! First Lady. But even if it zcas another rabbit, it was wearing the borrowed v.-atch round its neck. Voces Popitli. The M. in E. D. Easy enough to slip the watch in, if all the boxes have false bottoms. Second L. Yes, but he passed the boxes round for us to examine. The M. in E. D. Boxes — but not those boxes. First L. But how could he slip the watch in when somebody was holding it all the time in a paper bag ? The M. in E. D. Ah, / saw how it was done — but it would take too long to explain it now. I have seen it so well performed that you coiddnt spot it. But this chap's a regular duffer ! Herr V. K. {t-vJio finds this sort of thing rather disturbing). Lyties and Shentilmans, I see zere is von among us who is a brofessional like myself, and knows how all my leedle dricks is done. Now — [suddenly abandoning his accejii'] — I am always griteful for hanythink that will distrack the attention of the orjence from what is going on upon the Stige ; naterally so, because it prevents you from follerin' my actions too closely, and so I now call upon this gentleman in the hevenin' dress jest to speak hup a very little louder than what he 'as been doin', so that you will be enabled to 'ear hevery word of 'is hexplanation more pufifickly than what some of you in the back benches have done itherto. Now, Sir, if you'll kindly repeat your very hinteresting remarks in a more haudible tone, I can go on between like. [Murmurs of " No no ! " " Shut up !" " We dont want to hear him ! " from various places ; The Man in Evening Dress subsides into a crimson taciturnity, which cojitinues d7iring the remainder of the performance. at the ^u^or lEyhibitioiu IN THE CENTRAL HALL. The ustial Jocose 'Arry {wJio Jias come here with 'Arriet, for no very obvious reason, as they neither of them know or care about any history but their ow?i). Well, I s'pose as we are 'ere, we'd better go in a buster for a book o' the words, eh? {To Commissionaire.) What are yer doin' them c'rect guides at, ole man } A shilHn' .'' Not me ! 'Ere, 'Arriet, we'll make it out for ourselves. A Young Man {zvho has dropped hi for five minutes — '■fust to say he s been, don't you hnozu"). 'Jove — my Aunt! Nip out before she spots me . . . Stop, though, suppose she has spotted me } Never can tell with giglamps . . . better not risk it. \ls " spotted" while hesitating. His Aunt. I didn't recognise you till just this moment, John, my boy. I was just wishing I had some one to read out all the extracts in the Catalogue for me ; now we can go round together. [John affects a dutiful delight at this suggestion, arid zuonders mentally if he can get away in time to go to afternoon tea with those pretty Cliesterton Girls. An Uncle {who has taken Master Tommy out for the aftemooti). This is the way to make your English History real to you, my boy ! [Tommy, zvho had cherished hopes of Covent Garden Circus, privately thinks that English History is a sufficiently unpleasant reality as it is, and conceives a bitter prejudice against the entire Tudor Period o)i the spot. The Intelligent Person. Ha! armour of the period, you see! '• WHAT ARE YOU DOIN' THEM C'RECT GUIDES AT, OLE MAN? A SIIIT.T.TN' ? NOT At the ludor Exhibition. {Feels bound to make an intelligent remark?) 'Stonishing how the whole art of war has been transformed since then, eh ? Now — to me — {as if he ivas conscious of being singular in this respect') — to me^ all this is most interesting. Coming as I do, fresh from Froude — His Companion {a Flippant Person). Don't speak so loud. If they know \-ouVe come in here fresh, you'll get turned out ! Patronising Persons {inspecting magnificent suit of russet and gilt armour). 'Pon my word, no idea they turned out such good work in those times — very creditable to them, really. BEFORE THE PORTRAITS. The Uncle. Now, Tommy, you remember what became of Katherine of Aragon, I'm sure .^ No, no — tut — tut — she wasn't executed ! I'm afraid you're getting rather rusty with these long holidays. Remind me to speak to your mother about setting you a chapter or so of history to read every day when we get home, will you .' Tommy {Jo himself). It is hard lines on a chap having a Sneak for an Uncle I Catch me swotting to please ////// ! 'Arry. There's old 'Enery the Eighth, you see — that's 'im right enough ; him as 'ad all those wives, and cut every one of their 'eds off! 'Arriet {admiringly). Ah, I knew we shouldn't want a Catalogue. The Int. P. Wonderfully Holbein's caught the character of the man — the — er — curious compound of obstinacy, violence, good-humour, sensuality, and — and so on. No mistaking a Holbein — you can tell him at once by the extraordinary finish of all the accessories. Now look at that girdle — isn't that Holbein all over .' Flippant P. Not quite all over, old fellow. Catalogue says it's painted by Paris Bordone. The Int. P. Possibly — but it's Holbein's manner, and, looking at these portraits, you see at once how right Froude's estimate was of the King. F. P. Does Froude say how he got that nasty one on the side of his nose .■• A Visitor. Looks overfed, don't he ^ VOL. II. (J lo Voces Populi. Second V. {sympathetically'). Oh, he fed himself very well ; you can see that. The Aunt. Wait a bit, John — don't read so fast. I haven't made out the middle background yet. And where's the figure of St. Michael rising above the gilt tent, lined with Jlairs-de-lis on a blue ground .-' Would this be Guisnes, or Ardres, now } Oh, Ardres on the right — so that's Ardres — yes, yes ; and now tell me what it says about the two gold fountains, and that dragon up in the sky. [John calculates that., at this rate, he has a very poor chance of getting azuay before the Gallery closes. The Patronising Persons. 'Um ! Holbein again, you see — very curious their ideas of painting in those days. Ah, well. Art has made great progress since then — like everything else ! Miss Fisher. So that's the beautiful Queen Mary! I wonder if it is really true that people have got better-looking since those days .'' [Glances appealingly at PHLEGMATIC FlANCE. Her Phlegmatic Fiance. I wonder. Miss F. You hardly ever see such small hands now, do you ? With those lovely long fingers, too ! The Phl. F. No, never. Miss F. Perhaps people in some other century will wonder how anybody ever saw anything to admire in us ? The Phl. F. Shouldn't be surprised. [Miss F. does wish secretly that CHARLES had more conversation. The Aunt. John, just find out who No. 222 is. John {sulkily). Sir George Penruddocke, Knight. His Aunt {with enthnsiasni). Of course — //c'ze' interesting this is, isn't it .-* — seeing all these celebrated persons exactly as they were in life ! Now read who he was, John, please. The Int. Person. Froudc tells a curious incident about — Flippant P. I tell you what it is, old chap, if you read so much history, you'll end by believing it ! The Int. P. {pan sing before the Shakspcare portraits). "He was not for an age, but for all time." At the TiLcior Exhibitio7t. \ \ The Fl. P. I suppose that's why they've painted none of them alike. A Person with a talent for Comparison. Mary, come here a moment Do look at this— " Elizabeth, Lady Hoby" — did you ever s^^ such a likeness ? Mary. Well, dear, I don't quite— The Person with, &C. It's her living image ! Do you mean to say you really don't recognise it .' — Why, Cook, of course ! Mary. Ah ! (apologetically)— hn'i I've never seen her dressed to go out, you know. The Uncle. " No. 13, Sir Rowland Hill, Lord Mayor, died 1561 "— Tommy {anxious to escape the tJircatened chapters if possible). I know about him, Uncle, he invented postage stamps ! OVER THE CASES. First Patronising P. "A Tooth of Queen Kathcrinc Parr." Dear me ! very quaint. Second P. P. (tolerantly). And not at all a bad tooth, cither. 'Arriet (comes to a case contai)iing a hat labelled as formerly belonging to Henry the Eighth). 'Arry, look 'ere ; fancy a king going about in a thing like that — pink with a green feather ! Why, I wouldn't be seen in it myself ! 'Arry. Ah, but that was ole 'Enery all over, that was ; he wasn't one for show. He liked a quiet, unassumin' style of 'at, he did. "None of yer loud pot 'ats for Me !" he'd tell the Ro)-al 'atters ; "find me a tile as won't attract people's notice, or you won't want a tile yerselves in another minute !" An' you may take yer oath they served him pretty sharp, too ! 'Arriet (^giggling). It's a pity they didn't ask you to write their Catalogue for 'em. The Aunt. John, you're not really looking at that needlework — it's Queen Elizabeth's own work, John. Only look how wonderfully fine the stitches are. Ah, she was a truly great woman ! I could spend hours over this case alone. What, closing are they, already ? We must have another day at this together, John — just you and I. 12 Voces Pop? I It. John. Yes, Aunt. And now — {thinks there is just time to call on the Chestertons, if he goes soon) — can I get you a cab, or put you into a 'bus or anything } His Aunt. Not just yet ; you must take me somewhere where I can get a bun and a cup of tea first, and then we can go over the Catalogue together, and mark all the things we missed, you know. [John resigns himself to the inevitable rather than offend his ivealthy relative; the INTELLIGENT PERSON comes ont, saying he has had " an intellectual treat" and intends to " ni7i through Provide again " that evening. 'Arrv and 'Arriet, depart to the " Ocean Wave " at Henglers. Gallery gradually clears as Scene closes in. 3n an ©innibue. TJic majority of the inside passengers, as usual, sit in solemn silence, and gaze past their opposite neighbours into vacancy. A couple of Matrons converse in zuJieezy zvhispers. First Matrox. Well, I must say a bus is plcasanter riding than what they used to be not many years back, and then so much cheaper, too. Why you can go all the way right from here to Mile End Road • for threepence ! Second Matron. What, all that way for threepence — (ivith an impulse of vague humanity). The poor 'orses ! First Matron. Ah, well, my dear, it's Competition, you know, — it don't do to think too much of it. Conductor {stopping the bus). Orchard Street, Lady ! \^To Second Matron, who had desired to be put dozvn there. Second Matron to Conductor). Just move on a few doors further, opposite the boot-shop. {To First Matron.) It will save us walking. Conductor. Cert'inly, Mum, we'll drive in and wait while you're tryin' 'em on, if you like — we ain't in no 'urry ! {The Matrons get out, and their places are taken by tzco young girls, who are iji the middle of a conversation of thrilling interest. First Girl. I never liked her myself — ever since the way she behaved at his Mother's that Sunda\-. Second Girl. How did she behave .' {A faint curiosity is discernible amongst the other passengers to learn Jioiv she — whoever she is — behaved that Su}iday. 14 Voces Popiili. First Girl. Why, it was you told me ! Yoii remember. That night Joe let out about her and the automatic scent fountain. Second Girl. Oh, yes, I remember now. {General disappointment^ I couldn't help laughing myself. Joe didn't ought to have told — but she needn't have got into such a state over it, need she .'' First Girl. That was Eliza all over. If George had been sensible, he'd have broken it off then and there — but no, he wouldn't hear a word against her, not at that time — it was the button-hook opened Jiis eyes ' \The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to knozv Jioiv and zvhy this delicate operation was performed. Second Girl {jnysteriously). And enough too ! But what put George off most was her keeping that bag so quiet. \TJie general imagination is once more stirred to its depths by this mysterious allusion. First Girl. Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to come and go on about it to me b}' the hour together. " I shouldn't have minded so much," he told me over and over again, with the tears standing in his eyes, — " if it hadn't been that the bottles was all silver-mounted !" Second Girl. Silver-mounted .'' I never heard of that before — no wonder he felt hurt ! First Girl {impressively'). Silver tops to everyone of them — and that girl to turn round as she did, and her with an Uncle in the oil and colour line, too — it nearly broke George's 'art ! Second Girl. He's such a one to take on about things — but, as I said to him, " George," I says, " You must remember it might have been worse. Suppose you'd been married to that girl, and then found out about Alf and the Jubilee sixpence — how would that have been .'' " First Girl {u)iconsciously acting as the mouthpiece of the other passengers). And what did he say to that? Second Girl, Oh, nothing — there was nothing he could say, but I could see he was struck. She behaved very mean to the last — she wouldn't send back the German concertina. Ill ail Omnibus. 1 5 First Girl. You don't say so ! Well, I wouldn't have thought that of her, bad as she is. Second Girl. No, she stuck to it that it wasn't like a regular present, being got through a grocer, and as she couldn't send him back the tea, being drunk, — but did you hear how she treated Emma over the crinoline 'at she got for her .' First Girl {to the immense relief of the rest). No, what was that .'' Second Girl. Well, I had it from Emma her own self. Eliza wrote up to her and says, in a postscript like, — Why, this is Tottenham Court Road, I get out here. Good-bye, dear, I must tell you the rest another day. [Gets out, leaving the tantalised audience inconsolable, and long- ing for courage to question her companion as to the precise details of Eliza s heartless behaviour to George. The com- panion, however, relapses into a stony reserve. Enter a Chatty Old Gentleman "d-'ho has no secrets from any- body, and of course selects as tJie first recipient of Ids confidence the one person zvho hates to be talked to in an omnibus. The Chatty O. G. I've just been having a talk with the policeman at the corner there — what do you think I said to him } His Opposite Neighbour. I — I really don't know. The C. O. G. Well, I told him he was a rich man compared to me. He said " I only get thirty shillings a week. Sir." " Ah," I said, "but look at your expenses, compared to mine. What would you do if you had to spend eight hundred a-year on your children's education ?" I spend that — every penny of it. Sir. His Opp. N. {utterly uninterested). Do you indeed i* — dear me ! C. O. G. Not that I grudge it — a good education is a fortune in itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make the best of it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads, but I've had a deal of trouble with them one way and another — a deal of trouble. {Pauses for some expression of sympathy — zi'hich does not come — and he continues-) There are my two eldest sons — what must they do but fall in love with the same lady — the same lady, Sir ! {No one seems to care much for these domestic revelations — possibly because they are too 1 6 Voces Popidi. obviously addressed to the general ear). And, to make matters worse, she was a married woman — {his principal hearer looks another zvay uneasily) — the wife of a godson of mine, which made it all the more awkward, y'know. (His OPPOSITE NEIGHBOUR giving no sign, the C. O. G. tries one Passenger after anotJicr.) Well, I went to him — {Jiere he fixes an old Lady,zvho immediately passes up coppers out of her glove to the CONDUCTOR) — I went to him, and said — [addressing a smartly dressed young Lady ivith a parcel ivho giggles) — I said, " You're a man of the world — so am I. Don't you take any notice," I told him — {this to a callozu young man, ivJio blushes) — " they're a couple of young fools," I said, " but you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those boys of mine — they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone." And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met with no encouragement — but what can / do — it's a heavy trial to a father, you know. Then there's my third son — he must needs go and marry — {to a Lady at his sidj with a reticule, zuho gasps faintly) — some young woman who dances at a Music-hall — nice daughter- in-law that for a man in my position, eh .'' I've forbidden him the house of course, and told his mother not to have any communication with him — but I know. Sir, — {violently, to a Man on his other side, zvho coughs in much embarrassment) — I knoiv she meets him once a week under the eagle in Orme Square, and /can't stop her! Then I'm worried about my daughters — one of 'em gave me no peace till I let her have some painting lessons — of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master would be an elderly man — whereas, as things turned out,— ^ — A Quiet Man in a Corner. I 'ope you told all this to the Police- man, Sir } The C. O. G. {flaming unexpectedly). No, Sir, I did not. I am not in the habit — whatever you may be — of discussing my private affairs with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir. {^Funics in silence for the rest of the journey. The Young Lady with the Parcel {to her friend— for the sake of vindicating her gentility). Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny, carrying a great brown-paner parcel, in a bus, too ! Any one would take me for a shop-girl ! GO 'OME, DIRTY DICK ! " VOL. II. 1 8 Voces Popidi, A Grim Old Ladv opposite. And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be taken for any one less respectable. {^Collapse ^/Genteel Y.L. First Humorous 'Arry (^recognising a friend on entering^ Excuse me stoppin' your kerridge, old man, but I thought j'ou wouldn't mind givin' me a lift, as you was goin' my way. Second H, 'A. Quite welcome, old chap, so long as you give my man a bit when you git down, }'er know. First H. 'A. Oh, o' course — that's expected between gentlemen. {Both look round, to see if their facetionsness is appreciated, find it is not and subside.) The Conductor. Bcnk, benk! {he means ''Bank") 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher up there. Bill, can't you .'' A Dingy Man smoking, in a van. Want to block up the ole o' the road, eh .'' That's right ! The Conductor {roused to personality). Go 'ome. Dirty Dick ! syme old soign, I see, — "Monkey an' Poipe ! " {To Coachman of smart brougJiam luJiicJi is pressing rather closely behind.) I say old man, don't }'ou race after my bus like this — you'll only tire your 'orse. [ The Coachman affects not to have heard. The Conductor {addressing the brongJiam hcrse, whose head is almost throiigJi the door of the omnibus). 'Ere, 'ang it all ! — step insoide, if yer want to ! \Brougham falls to rear — triiimph (^y CONDUCTOR as Scene closes. at a Sale of HMol^Clase Sculpture. Scene — An upper floor in a City Warehouse ; a low whiteivashed room, dimly ligJited by dusty luindoivs and tivo gas-burners iti ivire cages. Around the zvalls are ranged several statues of meek aspect, securely confined in barred wooden cases, like a sort of marble menagerie. In the centre, a labyrinthine grove of pedestals, surmounted by busts, groups, and statuettes by modern Italian masters. A bout these pedestals a small croivd — consisting of Elderly Merchants on the look out for a " neat thing in statuary " for the conservatory at Croydon or Musivell Hill, Voufig City Men zuho have dropped in after hatch. Disinterested Dealers, Upholsterers Buyers, Obliging Brokers, and Grubby and Mysterious men — is cautiously circttlating. Obliging Broker {to Amiable Spectator, zcho has come in out of curiosity, and without the remotest intention of purchasing sculpture^. No Catlog, Sir ? 'Ere, allow me to orfer you mine — that's my name in pencil on the top of it. Sir; and, if you should 'appen to see any lot that takes your fancy, you jest ketch my eye. {Reassuringly.) I sha'n't be fur off. Or look 'ere, gimme a nudge — I shall know what it means. [^The A. S. thanks him profusely, and edges away with an inward vow to avoid his and the AUCTIONEER'S eyes, as he would those of a basilisk. Auctioneer {from desk, zvith the usual perfunctory fervour). Lot 13, Gentlemen, very charming pair of subjects from child life — " The Pricked linger" and " The Scratched Toe " — by Bimbi. A Stolid AssisI'ANT {in shirtsleeves). Figgcrs 'ere, Gen'lm'n ! [languid surge of crozvd towards them. U V At'-/ //i 'terl^li^ iff'' " FIGGERS V;r, gen'l'm'n ! " At a Sale of High-Class Sculpture. 21 A Facetious Bidder. Which of 'em's the finger and which the toe ? AUCT. {coldly). I should have thought it was easy to identify by the attitude. Now, Gentlemen, give me a bidding for these very finely- executed works by Bimbi. Make any offer. What will you give me for 'em .'' Both very sweet things. Gentlemen. Shall we say ten guineas,'' A Grubby Man. Give yer five. AuCT. {with grieved resignation). Very well, start 'em at five. An}' advance on five.' {To ASSIST.) Turn 'em round, to show the back view. And a 'arf ! Six ! And a 'arf ! Only six and a 'arf bid for this beautiful pair of figures, done direct from nature by Bimbi. Come, Gentlemen, come! Seven! W\as that yon, Mr. Gri.MKS .' (TllE GRUBBY Man admits the soft inipeaclnnent) Seven and a 'arf Eight ! It's against you. Mr. Grimes {i.vith a snprcmc effort). Two-and-six ! \_Mops his broiv zvith a red cotton handkercJiief. AuCT. {in a tone of gratitude for the smallest mercies). Eight-ten-six. All done at eight-ten-six.' Going . . . gone! Grimes, Eight, ten, six. Take money for 'em. Now we come to a very 'andsome work by Piffalini — " The Ocarina Flayer^' one of this great artist's masterpieces, and an exceedingly choice and high-class work, as you will all agree directly you see it. {To Assist.) Now, then. Lot 14, there — look sharp ! Stolid Assist. " Hocarina Flier " eyn't arrived. Sir. AuCT. Oh, hasn't it.' Very well, then. Lot 15. '' TJie Pretty Pill- takerl' by Antonio Bilio — a really magnificent work of Art, Gentlemen. (^'Pill-taker, 'ei'e !" frojn the S. A.) What'U you give me for her.' Come, make me an offer. {Bidding proceeds till the " Pill-taker " is knocked dozen for tive?ity-three-and-a-half guineas.) Lot 16, " The Mixture as Before" by same artist — make a charming and suitable companion to the last lot. What do you say, Mr. MIDDLEMAN — take it at the same bidding? (Mr. M. assents, zuith the end of one eyebrozv.) Any advance on twenty-three and a 'arf? None ? Then,— MIDDLEMAN, Twenty-four, thirteen, six. Mr. Middleman {to the Amiable Spectator, zvho has been vaguely inspecting the '^Pill-taker"). Don't know if you noticed it, Sir, but I got that last couple very cheap — on'y forty-seven guineas the pair, and they are worth eight}', I solemnly declare to you. I could get fort}- a-piece for 2 2 Voces Popttli. 'em to-morrow, upon my word and honour, I could. Ah, and I know who'd give it me for 'em, too ! The a. S. [sympathetically). Dear me, then you've done very well over it. Mr. M. Ah, well ain't the word — and those two aren't the only lots I've got either. That " Saiidzvich-Man " over there is mine — look at the work in those boards, and the nature in his clay pipe ; and " The Boot- Black" that's mine, too— all worth twice what / got 'em for — and lovely things, too, ain't they ? The a. S. Oh, \cry nice, very clever — congratulate you, I'm sure. Mr. ]\I. I can see you've took a fancy to 'em, Sir, and, when I come across a gentleman that's a connysewer, I'm always sorry to stand in his light ; so, see here, you can have any one you like out o' my little lot, or all on 'em, with all the pleasure in the wide world, Sir, and I'll on'y charge you five per cent, on what I gave for 'em, and be exceedingly obliged to you, into the bargain, Sir. [The A. S. feebly disclaims any desire to take advantage of this magnanimous offer?) Don't say No, if you mean Yes, Sir. Will you 'ave " llie Pill-taker" Sir t The a. S. {politelj'). Thank you very much, but— er — I think not. Mr. M. Then perhaps you could do with " The Little Boot-Black," or ■' The Sandwich-Man," Sir .'' The a. S. Perhaps — but I could do still better without them. [//fc' moves to another part of the room. The Obl. Broker {zvhispering beerily in his ear). Seen anythink yet as takes your fancy, Sir ; 'cos, if so — \^The A. S. escapes to a dark corner — zvhere he is luarmly welcomed by Mr. Middleman. Mr. M. Kneiv you'd think better on it. Sir. Now which is it to be — the " Boot-Black" or " Mixture as Before" ? AUCT. Now we come to Lot 19. Massiv^e fluted column in coral mail)lc with revolving-top — a column, Gentlemen, which will speak for itself Tin: r\\(i;'i](jus IJiDDliR {after a scrutiny). Then it may as well mention, while it's about it, that it's got a bit out of its back ! At a Sale of High-Class Sen I pi arc 23 AUCT. Flaw in the marble, that's all. {To ASSIST.) Nothing the matter with the column, is there .-' Assist, {ivith rducta}it candour). Well, it \is c^ot a little chipped, Sir. AuCT. (easi/j). Oh, very well then, we'll sell it "A. F." Very glad it was found out in time, I'm sure. [B /Mi uq- proceeds. First Dealer to Second (/;/ a liusky zvJdsper). Talkin' o' Old Masters, I put young 'Anway up to a good thing the other day. Second D. {wit/iout surprise — probably from a knoivlcdge of his friend's noble itnselfsh nature). Ah — 'ow was that ? First D. Well, there was a picter as I 'appened to know could be got in for a deal under what it ought — in good 'ands, mind yer — to fetch. It was a Morlan' — leastwise, it was so like }ou couldn't ha' told the difference, if }-ou understand my meanin'. {T/ic other nods ivitJi complete intelligence?) Well, I 'adn't no opcnin' for it m}sclf just then, so I sez to young 'Anway, " You might do worse than go and 'ave a look at it," I told him. And I run against him yesterday, Wardour Street way, and I sez, " Did yer go and see that picter .-* " " Yes," sez he, '• and what's more, I got it at pretty much m}- own figger, too ! " " Well," sez I, " and ain't }-er goin' to shake 'ands with me over it ? " Second D. {interested). And did he } First D. Yes, he did — he beyaved very fair over the matter, I will say that for him. Second D. Oh, 'Anway's a very decent little feller — nozv. AuCT. {Jiopefully). Now, Gentlemen, this next lot'll tempt }OU, /'m sure ! Lot ^^^^^ a magnificent and very finely executed dramatic group out of the "■ Mercha)it of Venice',' Othello in the act of smothering Z^^^i'^'t'wt?//^, both nearly life-size. (ASSIST., zvith a sardonic infection. " Group 'ere, Gen'lni'n !'') What shall we say for this great work by Roccocippi, Gentlemen ? A hundred guineas, just to start us } The F. B. Can't you put the two figgers up separate .'' AuCT. You know better than that — being a group, Sir. Come, come, any one give me a hundred for this magnificent marble group ! The figure of Othello ver}' finely finished, Gentlemen. 24 Voces Popn/i. The F. B. I should ha' thought it was /icrwho was the finely finished one of the two. AUCT. {pained by this levity). Really, Gentlemen, do 'ave more appreciation of a 'igh- class work like this ! . . . Twent\--five guineas ? . . . Nonsense! I can't put it up at that. [Bidding langnis/ics. Lot withdraivu. Second Dtsinterested Dealer {to First D. D., in an undertone). 1 wouldn't tell every one, but I shouldn't like to see you stay 'ere and waste your time ; so, in case you %uas thinking of waiting for that last lot, I may just as well mention — [ Whispers. First D. D. Ah, it's that way, is it .'' Much obliged to you for the 'int. But I'd do the same for you any day. Second D. D. I'm snre yer would ! \They ivatch one another suspiciously. AuCT. Now 'ere's a tasteful thing, Gentlemen. Lot. 41. '■'Nymph eating Oysters" {''Nymph 'ere, Genlninl"), by the celebrated Italian artist Vabene, one of the finest works of Art in this I'oom, and they're all exceedingly fine works of Art ; but this is a truly work of Art, Gentlemen. What shall we say for her, eh } {Silence.) Why, Gentlemen, no more appreciation than that? Come, don't be afraid of it. Make a beginning. {Bidding starts.) Forty-five guineas. Forty-six — pounds. Forty-six pounds onl}-, this remarkable specimen of modern Italian Art. Forty-six and a 'arf. Only forty-six ten bid for it. Give character to any gentle- man's collection, a figure like this would. Forty-seven pounds — guineas ! and a 'arf. . . . Forty-seven and a 'arf guineas . . . For the last time ! Bidding with you, Sir. Forty-seven guineas and a 'arf — Gone ! Name, Sir, '\{ you please. Oh, money .'' Very well. Thank you. Proud Purchaser {to Friend, in excuse for his extravagance). You see, I must have something for that grotto I've got in the grounds. Ills r'Rii'.ND. If she was mine, I should put her in the hall, and have a gaslight fitted in the oyster-shell. P. P. {thoughtfully). Not a bad idea. But electric light would be more suitable, and easier to fix too. Yes — we'll see. At a Sale of High-Class Sculpture. 25 The Obl. Broker {pursuing the Am. Spect.). I 'ope, Sir, you'll remember me, next time you're this way. The Am. Spect. {zvho has only ransomed Jiiniself by taking over an odd lot, consisting of itnitation marble fruit, a model, under crystal, of tlie Leaning Tozver of Pisa, and three busts of Italian celebrities of whom he has never heard). I'm afraid I sh'an't have very much chance of forgetting you. Good z.iX&xxioowX \_Exit hurriedly, dropping the fruit, as Scene closes. VOL. II. at tbc 6nelpb lEybibition. IN THE CENTRAL HALL. A Thrifty Visitor {on entering). Catalogue ? No. What's the use of a Catalogue ? Miserable thing, the size of a tract, that tells you nothing you don't know ! His Wife {indicating a pile of Catalogues on table'). Aren't tJiese big enough for you ? The Thr. V. Those ? Why they're big enough for the London Directory! Think I'm going to drag a thing like that about the place ? You don't really want a Catalogue— it's all your fancy ! Mr. Prattler {to Miss Ammerson). Oh, do stop and look at these sweet goldfish ! Pets ! Don't you love them .-' Arent they tame .'* Miss Ammerson. Wouldn't do to have them «7/^/— might jump out and bite people, you know ! Mr. p. It's too horrid of you to make fun of my poor little enthusiasms ! But really, — couldn't we get something and feed them i* — Do let's ! Miss A. I dare say you could get ham-sandwiches in the Restaurant — or chocolates. Mr. p. How unkind you arc to mc ! But I don't care. ( Wil/tdly.) I shall come here all by myself, and bring biscuits. Great big ones! Are you determined to take me into that big room with all the Portraits ^ Well you must tell me who they all arc, then, and which are the Guclphiest ones. "pets! don'-]- you love THEM? AlCtlt TIIEV TAME?" 2 8 Voces Popidi. IN THE ROYAL ROOM. Considerate Niece {to Uncle). They seem mostly Portraits here. You're sure you don't mind looking at them, Uncle .-' I know so many people do object to Portraits. Uncle {zuith the air of a Christian Martyr). No, my dear, no ; /don't mind 'em. Stay here as long as you like. I'll sit down and look at the people till youVe done. First Critical Visitor {exajniniug a Viezu of St. James s Park). I wonder where that was taken. In Scotland, I expect — there's two Highlanders there, you see. Second C. V. Shouldn't wonder — lot o' work in that, all those different colours, and so many dresses. {Admires, thougJitfully. A Well-read Woman. That's Queen Charlotte, that is. George the Third's wife, you know — her that was so domestic. Her Companion. Wasn't that the one that was shut up in the Tower, or something 1 The W. W. In the Tower } Lor, my dear, no, / never 'eard of it. You're thinking of the Tudors, or some o' that lot, I expect ! Her Comp. Am I .'' I dare say. I never could remember 'Istry. Why, if you'll believe me, I always have to stop and think which of the Georges came first ! More Critical Visitors {before Portraits). He's rather pleasant- looking, don't you think } I don't like Jier face at all. So peculiar. And what a hideous dress — like a tea-gown without any upper part — frightful ! A Sceptical V, They all seem to have had such thin lips in those days. Somehow, I cant bring myself to believe in such very thin lips — can you, dear .-* Her Friend. I always think it's a sign of meanness, myself The S. V. No; but I mean — I can't believe every one had them in the eighteenth century. Her Friend. Oh, I don't know. If it was the fashion ! At the Giiclph Exhibition. 29 ABOUT THE CASES. Visitor {admiring an embroidered xvaistcoat of the time of George the Second — a highly popular exhibit). What lovely work ! Why, it looks as if it was done yesterday ! Her Companion {luJio is not in the habit of allowing his enthusiasm to run aivay with him). Urn — yes, it's not bad. But, of course, they wouldn't send a thing like that here without having it washed and done up first ! An Old Lady. "Teapot used by the Duke of Wellington during his campaigns." So he drank tea, did he .^ Dear me ! Do you know, my dear, I think I must have 7ny old tea-pot engraved. It will make it so much more interesting some day ! IN THE SOUTH GALLERY. Mr. Prattler {before a portrait of Lady Hamilton by Romney). There ! Isn't she too charming .'' I do call her a perfect duek ! Miss Ammerson. Yes, you mustn't forget her when you bring those biscuits. An Amurrcan Girl. Father, see up there ; there's Byron. Did you erver see such a purrfectly beautiful face .-* Her Father {solemnly). He was a beautiful Ma)i — a beautiful Poet. The a. G. I know — but the expression, it's real saint-like ! Father {slozcly). Well, I guess if he'd had any different kind of expression, he wouldn't have written the things he did write, and that's a fact ! A Moralising Old Lady (at Case O). No. 1260. "Ball of Worsted wound by William Cowper, the poet, for Mrs. Unwin." No. 1261. '• Netting done by William Cowper, the poet." How very nice, and what a difference in the habit of literary persons nozcadays, my dear ! o o Voces Populi. IN THE CENTRAL HALL. ]\Ir. Whiterose, a Jacobite fin de siecle, is seated on a Bench beside a Seedy Stranger. The S. S. {half to himself). Har, well, there's one comfort, these 'ere Guelphs'U get notice to quit afore we're much older ! Mr. Whiterose {surprised). You say so ? Then you too are of the Young England Party ! I am rejoiced to hear it. You cheer me ; it is a sign that the good Cause is advancing. The S. S. Advancin' t I believe yer. Why, I know a dozen and more as are workin' 'art and soul for it ! Mr. W. You do 1 We are making strides, indeed ! Our England has suffered these usurpers too long. The S. S. Yer right. But we'll chuck 'em out afore long, and it'll be '■' Over goes the Show " with the lot, eh .'' Mr. W. I had no idea that the — er — intelligent artisan classes were so heartily with us. We must talk more of this. Come and see me. Bring your friends — all you can depend upon. Here is m}^ card. The S. S. {putting the card in the lining of his hat). Right, Guv'nor ; we'll come. I wish there was more gents like yer, I do ! Mr. W. Wc are united by a common bond. Wc both detest — do wc not } — the Hanoverian interlopers. We arc both pledged never to rest until we have brought back to the throne of our bclov^ed England, her lawful sovereign lady — {uncovering) — our gracious Mary of Austria-Este, the legitimate descendant of Charles the Blessed Martyr ! The S. S. 'Old on, Guv'nor ! Me and m\' friends are with yer so fur as doing away with these 'ere hidle Guclphs ; but blow }-er Mary of Orstria, yer know. Blow 'er ! Mr. W. {horrified). Hush — this is rank treason ! Remember — slie is the lineal descendant of the House of Stuart! The S. S. W^hat of it .■' There won't be no lineal descendants when we git hour way, 'cause there won't be nothing to descend to nobody. The honly suv'rin we mean to 'avc is the People — the Democrisy. At the G Help It Rxhibition. 31 But there, you're young, me and my friends'll soon tork you over to hour way o' thinking. I dessay we 'aint fur apart, as it is. I got yer address, and we'll drop in on yer some night — never fear. No hevenin' dress, o' course .-' Mr. W. Of course. I — I'll look out for you. But I'm seldom in — hardly ever, in fact. The S. S. Don't you fret about that. Me and my friends ain't nothing partickler to do just now. We'll ivait for yer. I should like yer to know ole Bill Gabb. You should 'ear tJiat feller goin' on agin the Guelphs when he's 'ad a little booze — it 'ud do your 'art good. Well, I on'y come in 'ere as a deligatc like, to report, and I seen enough. So 'ere's good-day to yer. Mr W. {alone). I shall have to change my rooms — and I rcas so comfortable ! Well, well, — another sacrifice to the Cause ! at tbe 1Ro\)aI aca^cm^. IN THE VESTIBULE. Visitors ascending staircase, full of entlntsiasvi and energetic determina- tion not to miss a single Picture, encounter people descending in various stages of mental and physical exJiaJLstion. At the turnstiles tivo Friends meet unexpectedly ; both being shy men, zuho, zuith timely notice, would have preferred to avoid one another, their greetings are marked by an unnatural effusion and follozved by embarrassed silence. First Snv Man {to break the spell). Odd, our running up against one another like this, eh ? Second Shy Man. Oh, very odd. {Looks about him irresolutely, and zi'onders if it zvould be decent to pass on. Decides it zuill hardly do.) Great place for meeting, the Academy, though. First S. M. Yes ; sure to come across somebody, sooner or later. \L.aughs nervously, and zv is lies the other zvould go ^ Second S. M. {seeing that his friend lingers). This your first visit here .'' First S. M. Yes. Couldn't very well get away before, you know. l^Feels apologetic, zvithout exactly knozving zvJiy. Second S. M. It's my first visit, too. {Sees no escape, and resigns himself.) ICr — we may as well go round together, eh } First S. M. {who zvas afraid this was coming — heartily). Good ! By the way, I always think, on a first visit, it's best to take a single room, and do that thoroughly. [This has only Just occurred to him. At the Royal Academy. JO Second S. M. (zuJio had been intending to follow that plan himself). Oh, do you ? Now, for iny part, I don't attempt to see anj-thing thoroughly the first time. Just scamper through, t,dance at the thhigs one oughtn't to miss, get a general impression, and come away. Then, if I don't happen to come again, I've always done it, you see. But (considerately), look here. Don't let me drag you about, if you'd rather not ! First S. M. Oh, but I shouldn't like to feci I was an\- tie on you. Don't you mind about me. I shall potter about in here — for hours, I dare sa\-. Second S. M. Ah, well {ivith vague cojisolation), I shall always know where to ^;/^ you, I suppose. First S. M. {brightening visibly). Oh dear, yes ; I sha'n't be far awa\'. [^They part zvith miitital relief, only tempered by the necessity of following the course they have respectively prescribed for them- selves. Nemesis overtakes the SECOND S. M. in the next Gallery, when he is captured by a Desultory Enthusiast, who insists upon dragging him all over the place to see obscure " bits" and "■gems" zvhicJi are only to be appreciated by ricking the neck or stooping painfully. A Suburban Lady (to Female Friend). Oh dear, ho'w stupid of me ! I quite forgot to bring a pencil ! Oh, thank you, dear, that will do beautifully. It's just a little blunt ; but so long as I can mark with it, you know. You don't think we should avoid the crush if we began at the end room 1 Well, perhaps it is less confusing to begin at the beginning, and work steadily through. IN GALLERY NO. I. A small group has collected before Mr. Wyllies '' Davy f ones' s Locker" which they inspect solemnly for some time before venturing to commit themselves to any opinion. First Visitor {after devoting his zvhole mind to the subject). \Vh\-, it's the Bottom of the Sea — at least {more cautiously), that's what it seems to be intended for. Second V. Ah, and very well done, too. I wonder, now, how he managed to stay down long enough to paint all that 1 VOL. II. F "CAPTURIiD UY A DESULTOra' ENTHUSIAST. At the Royal Academy o:) Third V. Practice, I suppose. I've seen writing done under water myself. But that was a tank ! Fourth V. {prcsnniably in profound allusion to the fisJies and sea- anemones). Well, they seem to be 'aving it all their own way down there, don't they .' \^nie Gyo2ip, feeling that this remark sums tip the situation, disperses. The Suburban 'Lxdy {her pencil in full play). No. 93. Now what's that about .^ Oh, ''Forbidden Szceets," — yes, to be sure. Isn't that charming ? Those two dear little tots having their tea, and the kitten with its head stuck in the jam-pot, and the label and all, and the sticky spoon on the nursery table-cloth — so natural / I really must mark that. (Azvards this distinetion.) 97. "■ Going vp Top!' Yes, of course. Look, Lucy dear, that little fellow has just answered a question, and his master tells him he may go to the top of the class, do you see ? And the big boy looking so sulky, he's wishing he had learnt his lesson better. I do think it's so clever — all the different expressions. Yes, I shall certainly mark that I IN GALLERY NO. II. The S. L. {dojibtfully). H'm, No. 156. '' Cloud Chariots"? Not very like chariots, though, are they .' Her Friend. I expect it's one of those sort of pictures that \-ou ha\c to look at a long time, and then things gradually come out of it, }-ou know. The S. L. It may be. {Tries the experiment.) No, / cant make anything come out — only just clouds and their reflections. {Struggling between good-nature and conscientiousness.) I don't think I can mark that. IN GALLERY NO. Ill, A Matron {before Mr. Dicksees '' Tannhdnser"). " J 'en us and TannJuiuscr" — ah, and is that Venus on the stretcher.' Oh, that's her all on fire in the background. Then which is Tannhiiuscr, and what are they all supposed to be doing .' [In a tone of irritation. Her Nephew. Oh, it tells you all about it in the Catalogue— he meets her funeral, you know, and leaves grow on his stick. ,6 Voces Pop nil. The Matron {J)ursiug Jier lips). Oh, a dead person. [^Repiilses the Catalogue severely and passes on. First Person, ivith an '' Eye for Art'' {before ''Psyches Bath" by the President). Not bad, eh ? Second Person, &c. No, I rather like it. {Feels that he is growing too lenient). He doesn't give you a very good idea of marble, though. First P. &c. No — that's not marble, and he always puts too man)' folds in his drapery to suit me. First P. &c. Just what / always say. It's not natural, you know. \T hey pass on, much pleased zvith themselves and one anotJier. A Fiance {Jialting before a sea-scape, by Mr. Henry Moore, to FIANCEE). Here, I say, hold on a bit — what's tliis one .■' Fiancee {tvJw doesn't mean to zvaste the zvhole afternoon over pictures). Wh}-, it's only a lot of waves — come on ! The Suburban L. Lucy, this is rather nice. '' Breakfasts for the Forth!" {Pondering). I think there must be a mistake in the Cata- logue — I don't see any breakfast things — they're cleaning fish, and what's a " Porth ! " Would you mark that — or not } Her Comp. Oh, I ///////' so. The S. L. I don't know. Pve marked such a quantity already and the lead won't hold out much longer. Oh, it's by Hook, R A. Then I suppose it's sure to be all right. I've marked it, dear. Duet bv Two Dreadfully Severe Young Ladies, ivJio paint a little on China. Oh, my dear, look at that. Did }'ou ever see such a thing .^ Isn't it too perfectly awful ? And there's a thing ! Do come and look at this horror over here. A ''Study,'' indeed. I should just think it zvas ! Oh, Maggie, don't be so satirical, or I shall die ! No, but do just see this — isn't it hilling? They get worse and worse every year, I declare ! [A nd so on. IN GALLERY NO. V. Two Prosaic J^crsons come upon a little picture, by Mr. Stvar, of a boy lying on a rock, piping to fishes. FUiST P. 1'. /'//cr/'.v a rum thiuL^! At the Royal Academy. t^^j Second P. P. Yes, I wasn't aware mj-sclf that fishes were so partial to music. First P. P. They ma)^ be — out there — {perceiving- that the boy is tinclad) — but it's peculiar altogether — they look like herrings to me. Second P. P. Yes— or mackerel. Puit {tolerantly') I suppose it's a fancy subject. [They consider that this absolves them from taking any further interest in it^ and pass on. IN GALLERY NO. XI. An Old Lady {zvho judges Art from a purely Moral Standpoint, halts approvingly before a picture of a female orpJian). Now that really is a nice picture, my dear — a plain black dress and white cuffs — just what I like to see in a young- person ! The S. L. {her enthusiasm greatly on the zvane, and her temper slightly effected). Lucy, I zvish you wouldn't worry so — it's quite impossible to stop and look at everything. If you wanted your tea as badly as /do! Mark that one } What, when they neither of them have a single thing on ! Never, Lucy, — and I'm surprised at }'our suggesting it ! Oh, you meant the next one } h'm — -no, I cant say I care for it. Well, if I do mark it, I shall only put a tick — for it really is not worth a cross ! COMING OUT. The Man who always isiakes the Right Remark. H'm. Haven't seen an}'thing I could carr}- awa)' with me. His Flippant Friend. Too many people about, eh } Never mind, old chap, you may manage to sneak an umbrella down stairs — I won't say an}'thing ! [Disgust of his companion^ zvho descends stairs in offended silence, as scene closes. Bt tbe 1bov5c Sbo\\\ Time — About 3.30. Leaping Competition about to begin. The Competitors arc ranged in a line at the iipper end of the Hall while the attendants place the hedges in position. Amongst the Spectators in the Area are — a Saturnine Stableman from the country ; a Cockney Groom ; a Morbid Man ; a Man zuho is apparently under the ijnpression that he is the only person gifted zvith sight ; a Critic zvho is extremely severe upon other people's seats ; a Judge of Horsefesh ; and Tiuo Women ivJio cant see as well as they could zvish. The Descriptive Man. They've got both the fences up now, d'ye see ? There's the judges going to start the jumping ; each rider's got a ticket with his number on his back. See } The first man's horse don't seem to care about jumping this afternoon — see how he's dancing about. Now he's going at it — there, he's cleared it ! Now he'll have to jump the ne.xt one ! [^Keeps up a running fire of these instructive and valuable observations throughout the proceedings. The Judge of Horseflesh. Rare good shoulders that one has. The Severe Critic {taking the remark to apply to the horses rider). Il'm, }'es — rather — pity he sticks his elbows out quite so much, though. [///jT Friend regards him in silent astonisJuncnt. Another Competitor clears a fence, but exhibits a considerable amount of daylight. The Saturnine Stableman {encouragingly). \o\\\\ 'ev to set back a bit next journey, Guv'nor ! At the Horse Shozv. 39 The Cockney Groom. 'Orses 'ud jump better if the fences was a bit 'igher. The S. S. They'll be plent}- 'oigh enough fur some on 'cm. The Severe Critic. Ugly scat that fellow has— all anyhow when the horse jumps. Judge of Horseflesh. Has he t I didn't notice— I was looking at the horse. [Severe Critic /tv/j snubbed. The S. S. {soot/miglj, as the Coiupetitor ivith the loose seat comes round again). That's not good, Guv'nor ! The Cockney Groom. 'Ere's a little bit o' fashion coming down next — wh\-, there's quite a boy on his back. The S. S. 'E won't be on 'im long if he don't look out. Cup an ball /call it! The Morbid Man. I suppose there's always a accident o' some sort before they've finished. First Woman. Oh, don't, for goodness' sake, talk like that— I'm sure / don't want to see nothing 'appen. Second Woman. Well, you may make 3'our mind easy — for }-ou won't see nothing here ; you ivould have it this was the best place to come to ! First Woman. I only said there was no sense in pa}-ing extra for the balcony, when you can go in the area for nothing. Second Woman {snorting). Area, indeed ! It might be a good deal airier than what it is, I'm sure — I shall melt if I stay here much longer. The Morbid Man, There's one thing about being so close to the jump as this — if the 'orse jumps sideways — as 'osses will do every now and then — he'll be right in among us before we know where we are, and then there'll be a pretty how-de-do ! Second Woman {to her Friend). Oh, come away, do — it's bad enough to see nothing, let alone having a great 'orse coming down atop of us, and me coming out in my best bonnet, too — come away ! \_They leave. The Descriptive Man. Now, they're going to make 'em do some in-and-out jumping, see .' they're putting the fences close 40 Voces Populi, together — that'll puzzle some of them — ah, he's over both of 'em ; very clean that one jumps ! Over again ! He's got to do it all twice, you see. The Judge of Horseflesh. Temperate horse, that chestnut. The Severe Critic. Is he, though .' — but I suppose they have to be here, eh .'' Not allowed champagne or whiskey or anything before they go in — like they are on a race-course .'' The J. OF H. No, they insist on every horse taking the pledge before they'll enter him. The Descriptive Man. Each of 'em's had a turn at the in-and-out jump now. What's coming next ^ Oh, the five-barred gate — they're going over that now, and the stone wall — see them putting the bricks on top ? That's to raise it. The Morbid Man. None of 'em been off yet ; but {hopefully) there'll be a nasty fall or two over this business — there's been many a neck broke over a lower gate than that. \_A Competitor clears the gate easily, holding the reins casually in his right hand. The J. OF H. That man can ride. The Severe Critic. Pretty well — not what I call business, though^ going over a gate w^'th one hand, like that. The J. OF H. Didn't know you were such an authority. The S. C. {modestly). Oh, I can tell when a fellow has a good seat. I used to ride a good deal at one time. Don't get the chance much now — worse luck ! The J. OF H. Well, I can give you a chance, as it happens. (Severe Critic accepts ivitJi entJmsiasm, and the inward reflection that the cJiance is much less likely to come off than he is himself.) You wait till the show is over, and they let the horses in for exercise. I know a man who's got a cob here — regular little devil to go — bucks a bit at times — but you won't mind that. I'll take you round to the stall and get my friend to let you try him on the tan. How will that do you, eh .'' Tiiic Severe. Critic {almost speechless luith gratitude). Oh — cr — it At the Horse S/iozc, 4 will do me right enough— capital ! That is— it would, if I hadn't an appointment, and had my riding things on, and wasn't feclin"- rather out of sorts, and hadn't promised to go home and take my wife in the Park, and it's her birthday, too, and, then, I've long made it a rule never to mount a strange horse, and— cr — so you understand how it is don't you ? The J. OF H. Quite, my dear fellow. (As, for that matter, he has done fro in the first. ) The Cockney Groom {alluding to a man zvho is riding at t/te gate). 'Ere's a rough 'un this bloke's on ! {Horse rises at gate ; his rider shouts " Hoo, over ! " and the gate falls amidst general derision.) Over ? Ah, I should just think it zvas over ! The Saturnine Stableman {as horseman passes). Yer needn't ha' " Hoo'd " for that much ! [The Small Boy, precariously perched on an immense animal, follows ; his horse, becoming 7in manageable, declines t/ie gate, and leaps the hurdle at the side. The S. S. Ah, you're a artful lad, you are — thought you'd take it where it was easiest, eh ? — you'll 'ev to goo back and try agen you will. Chorus of Sympathetic Bystanders. Take him at it again, boy ; you're all right ! . . Hold him in tighter, my lad. . . . Let out your reins a bit ! Lor, they didn't ought to let a boy like that ride. . . . He ain't no more 'old on that big 'orsc than if he was a fly on him ! . . . Keep his 'ed straighter next time. . . . Enough to try a bo)-'s nerve ! &c., &c. [T/ie Boy takes the horse back, atid eventually clears the gate amidst immense and well-deserved applause. The Morbid Man {disappointed). Well, I full\- expected to see '/;// took off on a shutter. The Descriptive Man. It's the water-jump next— see ; that's it in the middle ; there's the water, underneath the hedge ; they'll have to clear the 'ole of that — or else fall in and get a wetting. Thc\-"ve taken all the VOL. IL n HE EXPECTKU lllEKE WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE TO SEE. At the Horse Shoiv. 43 horses round to the other entrance — they'll come in from that side directly. \One of the Judges holds up his stick as a signal ; wild shouts of ''Hoy-hoy! Whorr-oosh!" from within, as a Competitor dashes out and clears hedge and ditch by a foot or tivo. Deafening applause. A second horseman rides at it, and lands —if the zvord is alloivable — neatly in the zuater. Roars of laugJiter as Jie scrambles out. The Morbid Man. Call that a brook ! It ain't a couple of inches deep — it's more mud than water ' No fear {lie means " no hope") of any on 'em getting a ducking over that ! [And so it turns out ; the horses take the jump with more or less success, but ivithout a single saddle being vacated. The pro- ceedings termi)iatc for the afternoon amidst demonstrations of hearty satisfaction from all but TlIE MORBiD Max, zvho had expected there would have been "' more to see." Bt a Bancc. The Hostess is receiving her Guests at the head of the staircase ; a Conscientiously Literal Man presents Jiimself. Hostess {ivitJi a gracious smile, and Jier eyes directed to the people immediately behind him). So glad you were able to come — how do you do ? The Conscientiously Literal Man. Well, if you had asked me that question this afternoon, I should have said I was in for a severe attack of malarial fever — I had all the symptoms — but, about seven o'clock this evening, they suddenly passed off, and — \_Perceives, to his surprise, that his Hostess's attention is zuandering, and decides to tell her the rest later in the evening. Mr. Clumpsole. How do you do. Miss Thistledown .' Can you give me a dance .'' Miss Thistledown {zuho has danced tvith him before — once). With pleasure — let me see, the third extra after supper } Don't forget. Miss Bruskleigii {to Major Erser). Afraid I can't give you any- thing just now — but if you see mc standing about later on, you can come and ask mc again, you know. Mr. BOLDOVEl-i {glancing eagerly round the room as he enters, and soliloquising mentally). She ought to be here by this time, if she's coming — can't see her though — she's certainly not dancing. There's her sister over there with the mother. She hasn't come, or she'd be with them. Poor-looking lot of girls here to-night — don't think much of this music — get away as soon as I can, no go about the thing ! , . . Hooray ! There she is, after all ! Jolly waltz this is they're playing ! How pretty she's looking — how pretty all the girls are looking ! If I can only get her to At a Dance. 45 give me one dance, and sit out most of it somewhere ! I feel as if I could talk to her to-night. By Jove, I'll try it ! \\Vatches his opportunity, and is cmitioiisly making his way towards his divinity, when he is intercepted. Mrs. Grappleton. Mr. Boldover, I do believe you were going to cut me ! {Mr. B. protests a)id apologises.) Well, / forgive you. I've been wanting to have another talk with you for ever so long. I've been thinking so much of what you said that evening about Browning's relation to Science and the Supernatural. Suppose you take me down stairs for an ice or something, and we can have it out comfortably together. \pismay of Mr. B., ivho has entirely forgoltoi any theories he may have advanced on the subject, but has no option but to comply ; as lie leaves the room loith MRS. GRAPPLETON on his arm, he has a torturing glimpse of MiSS ROUNDARM, apparently absorbed in her partner s conversation. ]\Ir. Senior Roppe {as he zvaltces). Oh, you needn't feel convicted of extraordinary ignorance, I assure you, Miss Featherhead. You would be surprised if you knew how many really clever persons have found that simple little problem of nought divided by one too much for them. Would you have supposed, by the way, that there is a reservoir in Pennsylvania containing a sufficient number of gallons to supply all London for eighteen months .^ You don't quite realize it, I see. " How many gallons is that .'" Well, let me calculate roughly — taking the population of London at four millions, and the average daily consumption for each individual at — no, I can't work it out with sufficient accuracy while I am dancing ; suppose wc sit down, and I'll do it for you on my shirt-cuff — oh, very well ; then I'll work it out when I get home, and send you the result to-morrow, if \-ou will allow me. Mr. Culdersack {luho has provided himself beforehand ivith a set of topics for conversation — to his partner, as they halt for a moment). Er— (consults some hieroglyphics on his cuff stealthily)— have you read Stanley's book yet ? Miss Tabula Raiser. No, I haven't. Is it interesting ? Mr. Culdersack. I can't say. I've not seen it myself. Shall we er p [^/'-y ^"-^'t-' another turn. " ER -" (CONSULTS SOME IIIICKOGI.YPHICS 0.\ HIS CUFF STEAI.TIIILV At a Dance. 47 Mr. C. I suppose you have— cr— been to the {hesitates between the Academy and the Military Exhibition — decides on latter topic as fresher) Military Exhibition ? Miss T. R. No— not yet. What do you think of it } Mr. C. Oh — /haven't been cither. Er — do you care to — t [ They take another turn. Mr. C. {after third halt). Er — do you take any interest in poUtics .' Miss T. R. Not a bit. Mr. C {much relieved). No more do I. {Considers that he has satisfied all mental requirements^ Er — let me take you down stairs for an ice. {They go. Mrs. Grappleton {re-entering zvith Mr. Boldover, after a discussion that has outlasted two ices and a plate of s/raivberries). Well, I thought you would have explained my difficulties better than that — oh, what a delicious waltz ! Doesn't it set you longing to dance .'' Mr. B. {zuho sees MiSS Roundar.M in the distance, disengaged). Yes, I really think I must— [Prepai'ing to escape. Mrs. Grappleton. I'm getting such an old thing, that really I oughtn't to — but well, just this once, as my husband isn't here. [Mr. Boldover resigns himself to necessity once more. First Chaperon {to second ditto). How sweet it is of your eldest girl to dance with that absurd Mr. Clumpsole ! It's really too bad of him to make such an exhibition of her — one can't help smiling at them 1 Second Cm. Oh, Ethel never can bear to hurt any one's feelings — so different from some girls ! By the wa\', I've not seen your daughter dancing to-night — men who dance are so scarce nowadays — I suppose they think they have the right to be a little fastidious. First Cii. Bella has been out so much this week, that she doesn't care to dance except with a really first-rate partner. She is not so easily pleased as your Ethel, I'm afraid. Second Ch. Ethel is young, you see, and, when one is pressed so much to dance, one can hardly refuse, can one ? When she has had as many seasons as BELLA, she will be less energetic, I dare sa\-. 48 Voces Popiili. [Mr. BoLDOVER has at last succeeded in approaching MiSS ROUNDARM, and even in inducing her to sit out a dance zvith him ; but, having led her to a convenient alcove, he finds himself totally tinable to give any adequate expression to the rapture lie feels at being by her side. Mr. B. [determined to lead up to it somehozu). I — I was rather thinking — {lie meant to say, " devoutly hoping," but, to his otvn bitter disgust, it comes cut like this) — I should meet you here to-night. Miss R. Were you t Why .' Mr. B. {with a stidden dread of going too far just yet). 0\\ {carelessly), you know how one does wonder who will be at a place, and who won't. Miss R. No, indeed, I don't — hoiv does one wonder 1 Mr. B. {ivith a vague notion of implying a complimentary exception in her case). Oh, well, generally — {with the fatal tendency of a shy man to a sweeping statement) — one may be pretty sure of meeting just the people one least wants to see, you know. Miss R. And so you thought you would probably meet me. I see. Mr. B. {overwhelmed with confusion, and not in the least knowing what he says). No, no, I didn't think that — I hoped you mightn't — I mean, I Avas afraid you might — \^Stops short, oppressed by the impossibility of explaining. Miss R. You are not very complimentary to-night, are you "i Mr. B. I can't pay compliments — \.o yoiL — I don't know how it is, but I never can talk to you as I can to other people ! Miss R. Are you amusing when you are with other people .'' Mr. B. At all events I can find things to say to tJicm. Enter ANOTHER MAN. Another Man {to Miss R.). Our dance, I think } Miss R. {who had intended to get out of it). I was wondering if you ever meant to come for it. {To Mr. B., as they rise) Now I sha'n't feel I am dcjiriving the father people ! {Perceives the speechless agony in his expression, anil relents.) Well, you can have the next after this if )'ou care At a Dance. 49 about it — only do try to think of something in the meantime! {As she goes off.) You will — won't you ? Mr. B. {to himself). She's given me another chance ! If onl\- I can rise to it. Let me see — what shall I bc^in with? / know — Supper! She hasn't been down yet. Hl.S Hostess. Oh, Mr. Boldover, you're not dancing this— do be good and take some one down to supper — those poor Chaperons arc d\ing for some food. [Mr. B. takes doivn a Matron ivJiose repast is protracted through three zvalt.'^es and a set of Lancers — he conies up to find MiSS ROUNDARM gone, a)id the Musicians putting up their instrjiments. Coachman at door {to Linkman, as Mr. B. goes doi^'u the steps). That's the lot, Jim ! [Mr. B. zca/ks Jionie, zvisJiing the Park Gates zcere not shut, so as to render the Serpentine inaccessible. VOL. II. . U at tbe Britisb riDuseum. IN THE SCULPTURE GALLERIES. Sightseers discovered drifting languidly along in a state of depression, only tempered by the occasional exercise of the right of every free-born Briton to criticise ivhenever he fails to understand. The general tone is that of faintly amused and patronising superiority. A Burly Sightseer ivith a red face {inspecting group representing ^^ Mithras Sacrificing a Bull"). H'm ; that may be Mithras's notion of making a clean job of it, but it ain't mine I A Woman {examifiing a fragment from base of sculptured column with a puzzled expression as she reads the inscription). " Lower portion of female figure — probably a Bacchante." Well, how they know who it's intended for, when there ain't more than a bit of her skirt left, beats me ! Her Companion. Oh, I s'pose they've got to put a name to it o' some sort. AN' Intelligent Artisan {out for the day with his YiK^ctv. — reading from pedestal). " Part of a group of As — Astrala — no, Kstraga — lizontes" — that's what they are, yer see. Fiancee. But who were they ">. The I. A. Well, I can't tell yer — not for certain ; but I expect they'd be the people who in'abited Astragalizontia, Fiancee. Was that what they used to call Ostralia before it was discovered .' {They come to the Clytie bust.) Why, if that isn't the same ■^ i: r li! / JP^^ ■J f 1 ^ i'\ W4j " h'm ; THAT MAY BK MITHRAS'S NOTION OF MAKING A CLEAN JOU OF IT, KCT IT ain't iitinc! " -^ Voces Popnli. 0- head Mrs. Meggies has under a glass shade in her front window, only smaller — and hers is alabaster, too ! But fancy them going and copy- ing it, and I dare say without so much as a " by your leave," or a " thank you ! " The I. A. {reading). " Portrait of Antonia, sister-in-law of the Emperor Tiberius, in the character of Clytie turning into a sunflower." Fiancee. Lor ! They did queer things in those days, didn't they ^ {Stopping before anotlier bust.) Who's that .'' The I. A. 'Ed of Ariadne. Fiancee {slightly surprised). What ! — not young Adney down our street ? I didn't know as he'd been took in stone. The I. A. How do you suppose they'd 'ave young Adney in among this lot — why, that's antique ! FlANCltE. Well, I was thinking it looked more like a female. But if it's meant for old Mr. Teak the shipbuilder's daughter, it flatters her up considerable ; and, besides, I always understood as her name was Betsy. The I. A. No, no ; what a girl you are for getting things wrong ! that 'ed was cut out }-ears and years ago ! Fiancee. Well, she's gone off since, that's all ; but I wonder at old Mr. Teak letting it go out of the family, instead of putting it on his mantelpiece along with the lustres, and the two chiny dogs. The a. I. {zvith ungallant candour). 'Ark at you ! Why you 'ain't much more sense nor a chiny dog yourself ! Moralizing Matron {before the Venus of Ostia). And to think of the poor ignorant Greeks worshipping a shameless hussey like that ! It's a pity they hadn't some one to teach them more respectable notions \ Well, well ! it ought to make us thankful zve don't live in those benighted times, that it ought ! A Connoisseur {after staring at a colossal Greek lion). A lion, eh > Well, it's another proof to my mind that the ancients hadn't got very far in the statuary line. Now, if you want to sec a stone lion done true to Nature, you've only to walk any day along the Euston Road. A Practical Man. I dessay it's a fine collection, enough, but it'.*^ At the British Mtiseiivi. 53 a pity the things ain't more perfect, /should ha' thought, with so many- odds and ends and rubbish l)ing about as is no use to nobody at present they might ha' used it up in mending some that only requires a 'arm 'ere or a leg there, or a 'ed and what not, to make 'em as good as ever. But ketch them {he means the Officials) taking any extra trouble if they can help it ! His Companion. Ah, but yer see it ain't so easy fitting on bits that belonged to something different. You've got to look at it that way. The p. M. /don't see no difficulty about it. Why, any stonemason could cut down the odd pieces to fit well enough, and they wouldn't have such a neglected appearance as they do now. A Group has collected round a Gigantic Arm in red granite. First Sightseer. There's a arm for yer! Second S. (a hnmoiirist). Yes ; 'ow would yer like to 'a\'e that come a punching your 'ed .'' Third S. itJiougJitfully). I expect they've put it up 'ere as a sarmple like. The Moralizing Matron. How it makes one realize that there were giants in those days ! Her Friend. But surely the size must be a little exaggerated, don't you think } Oh, is this the God Ptah } \The M. IM. says nothing, but clicks her tongue to express a grieved pity, after zvhich she passes on. The Intelligent Artisan and his Fiancee have entered the Nineveh Gallery, and are regarding an immense human-headed, zvinged dull. The I. A. (indulgently). Rum-looking sort o' beast that 'ere. Fiancee. Ye-es — I wonder if it's a likeness of some animal they used to 'ave then .' The I. A, I did think you was wider than that ! — it's only imaginative. What 'ud be the good o' wings to a bull .^ Fiancee {on her defence:. You think you know so much — but it's 54 Voces Populi. got a man's 'ed, ain't it ? and I know there used to be 'orses with 'alf a man where the 'ed ought to be, because I've seen their pictures — so there ! The I. A. I dunno what you've got where your 'ed ought to be, torking such i-ot ! IN THE UPPER GALLERIES ; ETHNOGRAPHICAL COLLECTION. The Grim Governess {directing a scared small boy s attention to a particularly hideous mask). See, Henry, that's the kind of mask worn by savages ! Henry. Always — or only on the fifth of November, Miss Goole .■' \^He records a mental vow never to visit a Savage Island on Guy Fawkes's Day, and makes a prolonged study of the mask, zuith a viezv to future nightmares. A Kind, but Dense Uncle {to Niece). All these curious things were made by cannibals, Ethel — savages who eat one another, you know. Ethel {suggestively). But, I suppose, Uncle, they wouldn't eat one another if they had any one to give them buns, would they 1 S^Her Uncle discusses the suggestion elaborately, but without appreciating the hint ; the GOVERNESS has caught sight of a huge and hideous Hazvaiian Idol, zuith a furry orange-coloured head, big viother-d -pearl eyes, zuith black balls for the pupils, and a grinning mouth picked out zcith shark's teeth, to zvhich she introduces the horrified Henry. Miss Goole. Now, Henry, you see the kind of idol the poor savages say their prayers to. Harry {tremulously). But n — not just before they go to bed, do they, Miss Goole 1 AMONG THE MUMMIES. The Uncle. That's King Ramcscs' mummy, Ethel. Ethel. And what was her name, Uncle .•* Tin-: Gr)Vi:i;XESS (halting before a case containitig a partially unrolled At the British Mtiseinn. ^ •> vinmniy, the spine and thigh of zvhich are exposed to vieiv). Fancy, Henry, that's part of an Egyptian who has been dead for thousands of years ! Why, you're not frightened, are you ? Harry {shaking). No, I'm not frightened. Miss Goole — only if you don't mind, I — I'd rather see a gentleman not quite so dead. And there's one over there with a gold face and glass eyes, and he looked at me, and — please, I don't think this is the place to bring such a little boy as me to! A Party is examining a Case of Mtimniicd Animals. The Leader. Here you are, you see, mummy cats— don't they look comical all stuck up in a row there ? First Woman. Dear, dear— to think o' going to all that expense when they might have had 'em stuffed on a cushion ! And monke\-s, and dogs too — well, I'm sure, fancy that now ! Second Woman. And there's a mummied crocodile down there. I dor^t see what they'd want with a mummy crocodile, do you t The Leader {ivitJi an air of perfect comprehension of Egyptian customs). Well, you see they took whatever they could get 'old of, they did. IN THE PREHISTORIC GALLERY. Old Lady {to Policeman). Oh, Policeman, can you tell me if there's anj' article here that's supposed to have belonged to Adam ? Policeman {a wag in Ids %vay). Well, Mum, we 'ave 'ad the 'andle of his spade, and the brim of his garden 'at, but they wore out last year and 'ad to be thrown away — things won't last for ever — even 'ere, you know. GOING OUT. A Peevish Old Man. I ain't seen anything to call worth seeing, / ain't. In our Museum at 'ome they've a lamb with six legs, and hain,-- light stones as big as cannon-balls ; but there ain't none of that sort 'ere, and I'm dog-tired trapesing over these boards, I am ! 56 Voces Populi. His Daughter {a candid person). Ah, I ought to ha' known it Avarn't much good taking you out to enjoy yourself — you're too old, yon are ! Ethel's Uncle (cheeri/y). Well, Ethel, I think we've seen all there is to be seen, eh ? Ethel. There's one room we haven't been into yet, Uncle, dear. Uncle. Ha— and what's that } Ethel {persnasivc/y). The RcfresJune>it Room. [ The J lint is accepted at last. ^be ^ravellino flDcnaocrie. OUTSIDE. A croivd is staring stolidly at the gorgeously gilded and painted entrance, zvitk an affectation of superior ivisdom to that of tJie zveaker-minded , zvho sneak apologetically up the steps from time to time. A tall-hatted orchestra have Just finished a time, and hung their brazen instruments up like joints on the hooks above them. A Woman Carrying an Infant {to her Husband). Will 'ee goo in, Joe? Joe {who is secretly burning to see the show). Naw. Sin it arl afoor arfen enough, Th' outside's th' best on it, I reckon. His Wife {disappointed). Saw 'tis, and naw charge for lookin' at 'en neither. The Proprietor. Ladies and Gentlemen, Re-mem-bar ! This is positively the last opportunity of witnessing Dcnman's Celebrated Menagerie — the largest in the known world ! The Lecturer is now describing the animals, after which Mile. Cravache and Zambango, the famous African Lion-tamers, will go through their daring feats with forest-bred lions, tigers, bears, and hyenas, for the last time in this town. Remembar — the last performance this evening ! Joe {to his Wife). If ye'd like to hev a look at 'em, I wun't say nay to et. His Wife. I dunno as I care partickler 'bout which way 'tis. Joe {annoyed). Bide where 'ee be then. His Wife. Thcer's th' child, Joe, to be sure. Joe. Well we bain't a gooin' in, and so th' child wun't come to no 'arm, and theer's a hend on it ! VOL. II. I 58 Voces Poptili, His Wife. Nay, she'd lay in my arms as quiet as quiet. I wur on'y thinkin', Joe, as it 'ud be somethin' to tell her when she wur a big gell, as her daddy took her to see th' wild beasties afoor iver she could tark — that's arl I wur meanin', Joe. And they'll let 'er goo in free, too. Joe. Ay, that'll be fine tellin's fur 'er, sure 'nough. Come arn, Missus, we'll tck th' babby in — happen she'll niver git th' chance again. \TJiey mount tJie steps eagerly. INSIDE. Joe's Wife {with a vague sense of being defrauded). I thart thee'rd ha' bin moor smell, wi' so many on 'em ! Joe. They doan't git naw toime for it, I reckon, alius on the rord as they be. The Lecturer. I How me to request yar kind hattention for a moment. (Stand back there, you boys, and don't beyave in such a silly manner !) We har now arrived at the Haswail, or Sloth Bear, described by Buffon as 'aving 'abits which make it a burden to itself. {Severely^ The Haswail. In the hajoinin' cage observe the Loocorricks, the hony hanimal to oom fear is habsolootly hunknown. When hattacked by the Lion, he places his 'ed between his fore-legs, and in that position awaits the honset of his would-be destroyer. Joe's Wife. I thart it wur th' hostridge as hacted that away. Joe. Ostridges ain't gotten they long twisted harns as iver /heard on. His Wife {stopping before another den). Oh, my blessed ! 'Ere be a •queer-lookin' critter, do 'ee look at 'en, Joe. What'U he be now .'' Joe. How do 'ee suppose as I be gooin' to tell 'ee the name of 'en "f He'll likely be a sart of a 'arse. {^Dubiously. His Wife. They've a let' en git wunnerful ontidy fur sure. 'Ere, Mister {to Stranger) can you tell us the name of that thcer hanimal .-• Stranger. That — oh, that's a Gnu. Joe's Wife. He says it be a noo. Joe. a noo IV hat ? His Wife. Why, a noo hanimal, I s'pose. The Travelling Menagerie. 59 Joe. Well, he bain't naw himprovement on th' hold 'uns, as I can sec. They'd better ha' left it aioan if they couldn't do naw better nor '/;//. Dunno what things be coming to, hinventin' o' noo hanimals at this time o' da\-. BEFORE ANOTHER CAGE. A Boozed and Argumentative Rustic. I sez as that 'un's a fawks, an' I'm ready to prove it on anny man. A Companion {soothingly). Naw, naw, 'c baint naw fawks. I dunno what 'tis, — but 'tain't naw fawks nawhow. B. AND A. Rustic. I tell 'ee 'tis a fawks, I'm sure on it. {To Mild Visitor.) Baint 'e a fawks, Master, eh ? Mild Visitor. Well, really, if you ask me, I should say it was a h\-ena. The Rustic's Comt. A h)-anna : ah, that's a deal moor like ; saw 'tis! The Rustic. A planner.^ Do 'ee take me vur a vool .' Ill knack th" 'ed arf o' the man as plays 'is priskies wi' mc, I wull ! Wheer be 'e .^ Let mc get at 'en I [Mild V. 7iot being prepared to defend his opinion by personal combat, discreetly loses himself in crozud. ON THE ELEPHANT'S BACK. Second Boy. Sit a bit moor forrard, Billy, cann't 'ee ! First Boy. Cann't, I tell 'ee, I be sittin' on th' scruff of 'is neck as 'tis. Third Boy. I can see my vaither, I can. 'Ere, vaithcr. vaither, look at me — see wheer / be ! Fourth Boy {a candid friend). Shoot oop, cann't 'cc', ya young gozzle-'ead ! Think ya vaither niver sec a hass on a hellyphant afoor ! Fifth Boy. These yere helliphants be main straddly roidin'. I wish 'c wudn't waak honly waun haff of 'en at oncest, loike. What do 'ce mean, a kitchin' old o' me behind \ that wa\-, eh, Jimmy Passons ! 6o Voces Populi, "l SEZ AS THAT UN S A FAWKS, AN 1 M RF.AuY TO I'ROVK IT ON ANNY MAN. Sixth Boy. You'd ketch 'old 'o hany thing if you was hkc mc, a sh'din' down th' helliphant's ta-ail. Fifth How If 'cc doan't let go o' mc, I'll job th' helliphant's ribs, and make 'iin gallo]), I will, so nou\ Jimmy Passons I The Travelling Menagerie. 6i IN FRONT OF THE LIONS' DEN DURING PERFORMANCE. Various Speakers. Wheer be pushin' to .' Car that manners screouging like that ! . . . I cann't see nawthcn, / cann't wi' all they 'ats in front . . . What be gooin' arn, do 'ee know .■* ... A wumman gooin' in along 'o they lions and tigerses .-* Navv, ye niver mane it ! , . . Bain't she a leatherin' of 'un too ! . . . Now she be a kissin' of 'un — maakin' it oop loike. . . . John, you can see better nor me — what be she oop to now? . . . Puttin' 'er 'ed inside o' th' lion's } Aw, dear me, now — tlicre's a thing to be doin' of! Well, I'd ruther it was 'er nor me, I know tJiat . . . They wun't do 'er naw 'arm, so long's she kips 'er heye on 'em . . . What do 'ee taak so voolish vor .-' How's th' wumman to kip 'er heye on 'em, with 'er 'ed down wan on 'em's throat, eh ? . . . Gracious alive ! if iver I did ! . . . Oh, I do 'ope she bain't gooin' to let off naw fire-arms, I be moor fear'd o' pistols nor any tigers . . . Theer, she's out now ! She be bold fur a female, bain't her .''... She niver maade 'em joomp through naw bla-azin' 'oops, though. . . ■. What carl would she hev fur doin' that } Well, they've a drared 'er doin' of it houtside', that's arl I know . . An' they've a drared Hadam outside a naamin' of th' hanimals — but ye didn't expect to see that doon inside', did 'ee ? . . . Bob, do 'ee look at old Muster Manders ovver theer by th' hellyphant. He's a maakin' of 'isself that familiar — putting biskuts 'tween his lips and lettin' th' hellyphant take 'em out wi's troonk ! . . . /see un — let un aloan, th' hold doitler, happen he thinks he's a feedin' his canary bird ! at the IRcgcut Street ^U66aub'6. Before the effigy of Dr. KocJi, ivJio is represented in the act of examining a test-tube zcith the expression of bland blamelessness peculiar to Wax Models. Well-informed Visitor. That's Dr. Koch, making his great discovery ! Unscientific V. What did he discover t Well-inf. V. Why, the Consumption Bacilhis. He's got it in that bottle he's holding up. Unsc. V. And what's the good of it, now he lias discovered it } Well-inf. V. Good.'' Why, it's the thing that causes consuuiptiony you know ! Unsc. V. Then it's a pity he didn't leave it alone ! Before a Scene I'epresetiting " The Home Life at Sandringham." First Old Lady {^uith Catalogue). It says here that " the note the page is handing niayhdcvQ come from Sir Dighton Probyn, the Comptroller of the Royal Hou.sehold." Fancy that ! Second Old Lady. He's brought it in in his fingers. Now that's a thing I never allow in my house. I always tell Sarah to bring all letters, and even circulars, in on a tray ! Before a Scene representing the late Fred Archer, on a 7-athrr quaint quadruped, on Ascot Racecourse. A Sportsman. H'm — Archer, eh? Shouldn't have backed his mount in that race ! At the Regent Street Dissainf s. 63 Before " The Library at Haxvardenr Gladstonian Enthusiast {to Friend, who, ivith the perverse ingenuity of patrons of Waxzvorks, has been endeavouring to identify the Rev. John Wesley among the Cabinet in Downing Street). Oh, never mind all that lot, Betsy; they're only the Cover vient ! Here's clear Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone in this next! See, he's lookin' for somcthincj in a drawer of his side-board — ain't that natural? And only look^ — a lot of people have been leaving Christmas cards on him {a pretty and touching tribute of affection, which is eminently characteristic of a warm-hearted Public). I wish I'd thought o' bringing one with me ! Her Friend. So do I. We might send one 'ere by post — but it'll have to be a New Year Card now ! A Strict Old Lady {before next group). Who are these two ? "Mr. "Enery Irving, and Miss Ellen Terry in Faust, eh .'' No — I don't care to stop to see them — that's plaj'-actin', that is — and I don't 'old with it no- how ! What are these two parties supposed to be doin' of over here.' What — ^Cardinal Newman and Cardinal Manning at the High Altar at the Oratory, Brompton ! Come along, and don't encourage Popery by looking at such figures. I did 'ear as they'd got Mrs. Pearcey and the prambilator somewheres. I should Wkc to sec that, now. IN THE CHILDREN'S GALLERY. An Aunt {who finds the excellent Catalogue a mine of useful informa- .tion). Look, Bobby, dear {reading). " Here we have Constantine's Cat, as seen in the A'ights of Straparola, an Italian romancist, whose book Avas translated into French in the year 1585 — Bobby {disappointed). Oh, then it isnt Puss in Boots ! A Genial Grandfather {pausing before Crusoe and Friday). Well, Percy, my boy, \'ou know who that is, at all events — ch .' Percy. I suppose it is Stanley — but it's not very like. The G. G. Stanley ! — Why, bless my soul, never heard of Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday ? Percy. Oh, I've heard oi them, of course — they come in Pantomimes 64 Voces Popnli. Mj "that's pi.ay-actin', that is— and I don't 'old with it nohow!" — but I like more grown-up sort of books myself, you know. Is -this girl asleep She ? The G. G. No— at least— well, I expect it's The Sleeping Beauty. At the Regent Street TiissmtcT s. 65 You remember her, of course — all about the ball, and the glass slipper, and her father picking a rose when the hedge grew round the palace, eh ? Percy. Ah, you see. Grandfather, you had more time for general reading than we get, {He looks through a practicable cottage luindow.) Hallo, a Dog and a Cat. Not badly stuffed ! The G. G. Why, that must be Old Mother Hubbard. {Quoting from memory.) " Old Mother Hubbard sat in a cupboard, eating a Christmas pie — or a bone was it ? " Percy. Don't know. It's not in Selections from British Poetry, which we have to get up for " rep." The Aunt {reading from Catalogue). "The absurd ambulations of this antique person, and the equally absurd antics of her dog, need no recapitulation." Here's fack the Giant Killer, next. Listen, Bobby, to what it says about him here. {Reads.) " It is clearly the last transmuta- tion of the old British legend told by Geoffrey of Monmouth, of Corineus, the Trojan, the companion of the Trojan Brutus, when he first settled in Britain. But more than this " — I hope you're listening, Bobby i* — " 7nore than this, it is quite evident, even to the superficial student of Greek mythology, that many of the main incidents and ornaments arc borrowed from the tales of Hesiod and Homer." Think of that, now ! [Bobby thinks of it, zcith depression. The G. G. {before figure of Aladdin s Uncle selling new lamps for old). Here you are, you see! '■'■ Ali Baba" got 'em all here, you see. Never read your Arabian Nights, either! Is that the way they bring up boys nowadays ! Percy. Well, the fact is, Grandfather, that unless a fellow reads that kind of thing when he's young, he doesn't get a chance afterwards. The Aunt {still quoting). " In the famous work," Bobby, "by which we know Masudi, he mentions the Persian Hezar Afsane-um-um-um, — nor have commentators failed to notice that the occasion of the book written for the Princess Homai resembles the story told in the Hebrew Bible about Esther, her mother or grandmother, by some Persian Jew two or three centuries B.C." Well, I never knew that before ! . . . This is Sind- bad and the Old Man of the Sea — let's see what they say about him. VOL. n. K 66 Voces Pop2tli. {Reads.) " Both the story of Sindbad and the old Basque legend of Tartar© are undoubtedly borrowed from the Odyssey of Homer, whose Iliad and Odyssey were translated into Syriac in the reign of Harun-ur-Rashid." Dear, dear, how interesting, now ! and, Bobby, what do you think some one S3.ys2iho\it Jack a)id the Beanstalk ? He says — "This tale is an allegory of the Teutonic Al-fader, the red hen representing the all-producing sun ; the moneybags, the fertilizing rain ; and the harp, the winds." Well, I'm sure it seems likely enough, doesn't it ? [Bobby siippresses a yazvn ; PERCY'S feelings are outraged by receiving a tin trumpet from the Lucky Tub ; general move to the scene of the Hampstead Tragedy. BEFORE THE HAMPSTEAD TABLEAUX. Spectators. Dear, dear, there's the dresser, you see, and the window broken and all ; it's wonderful how they can do it ! And there's poor Mrs. 'Ogg — it's real butter and a real loaf she's cutting, and the poor baby, too ! . . . Here's the actual casts taken after they were murdered. Oh, and there's Mrs. Pearcey wheeling the perambulator — it's the veiy peram- bulator ! No, not the very one — they've got that at the other place, and the piece of toffee the baby sucked. Have they really ! Oh, we must try and go there, too, before the children's holidays are over. And this is all .-* Well, well, everything very nice, I will say. But a pity they couldn't get the real perambulator ! at the noilitar^ lEyhibition. IN THE AVENUE FACING THE ARENA. An Unreasonable Old Lady {arriving breathless, zvitk I icr grand- son and niece). This'll be the place the balloon goes up from, I wouldn't miss it for anything ! Put the child up on that bench, Maria ; we'll stand about here till it begins. Maria. But /don't see no balloon nor nothing, [ Which, as the foliage blocks out all but the immediate foreground is scarcely surprising. The U. O. L. No more don't I — but it stands to reason there wouldn't be so many looking on if there wasn't something to see. We're well enough where w^e are, and I'm not going further to fare worse to please nobody ; so you may do as you like about it. [M.KRIA. promptly avails herself of this pennission. The U. O. L. {a little later). Well, it's time they did sometJiing, I'm sure. Why, the people seem all moving off! and where's that girl Maria got to ? Ah, here you are ! So you found you were no better off.' — Next time, p'raps you'll believe what I tell you. Not that there's any War Balloon as / can see ! Maria. Oh, there was a capital view from where / was — out in the open there. The U. O. L. Why couldn't you say so before } Out in the open ! Let's go there then — it's all the same to vie ! Maria {zvitJi an nndutiful giggle). It's all the same now — wherever you go, 'cause the balloon's gone up. The U. O. L. Gone up ! What arc )-ou telling me, ]\Laria .-' 6S Voces Populi, Maria. I see it go — it shot up ever so fast and quite steady, and the people in the car all waved their 'ats to us. I could see a arm a waving almost till it got out of sight. The U. O. L. And me and this innercent waiting here on the seat like Iambs, and never dreaming what was goin' on ! Oh, Maria, however you'll reconcile it to your conscience, /don't know ! Maria. Why, whatever are you pitching into vie for ! The U. O. L. It's not that it's any partickler pleasure to me, seeing a balloon, though we did get our tea done early to be in time for it — it's the sly deceitfulness of your coiiduck, Maria, which is all the satisfaction I get for coming out with you, — it's the feeling that — well, there, I won't talk about it ! \In pursuance of whicJi virtuous resolve, she talks about notJiing else for the reinainder of the day, until the unfortunate Maria wishes fervently that balloons had never been invented. IN THE BUILDING. An admiring group has collected before an enormous pin-cushion in the form of a fat star, and about the size of a Church-hassock. First Soldier (to his Companion). Lot 'o work in that, yer know ! Second Soldier. Yes. [Thoughtfully.) Not but what — {becoming critical) — if I'd been doin' it myself, I should ha' chose pins with smaller 'eds on 'em. First S. {regarding this as presumptuous). You may depend on it the man who made that 'ad his reasons for choosing the pins he did — but there's no pleasing some parties ! Second S. {apologetically). Well, I ain't denying the Art in it, am I .? First Woman. I do call that 'andsome, Sarah. See, there's a star, and two 'arps, and a crownd, and I don't know what all — and all done in pins and beads ! " Made by Bandsman Brown," too ! {Reading placard. Second W. Soldiers is that clever with their 'ands. Four pounds seems a deal to ask for it, though. First W. But look at the weeks it must ha' took him to do ! {Reading^ At the Military Rxhibitioji. 69 "Containing between ten and eleven thousand pins and beads, and a hundred and ninety-eight pieces of coloured cloth !" Why, the pins alone must ha' cost a deal of money. Second W. Yes, it 'ud be a pity for it to go to somebody as 'ud want to take 'cm out. First \V. It ought to be bought up by Govcr'ment, that it ought — they're well able to afford it. A select party of Philistines, comprising a young Man, apparently in the Army, and his MOTHER and SiSTER, are examining Mr. Gilbert's Jnbilee Trophy in a spirit of puzzled antipathy. The Mother. Dear me, and that's the Jubilee centrepiece, is it } What a heavy-looking thing. I wonder what that cost .^ Her Son {gloomily'). Cost .^ Why, about two da)\s' pay for every man in the Service ! His Mother. Well, I call it a shame for the Army to be fleeced for that thing. Are those creatures intended for mermaids, with their tails curled round that glass ball, I wonder .' \^Shc sniffs. Her Daughter. I expect it will be crystal. Mother. Her Mother. Very likely, my dear, but — glass or crystal — / see no sense in it ! Daughter. Oh, it's absurd, of course — still, this figure isn't badly done. Is it supposed to represent St. George carrying the Dragon .' Because they've made the Dragon no bigger than a salmon ! Mother. Ah, well, I hope Her Majesty will be better pleased with it than I am, that's all. \After zvhich they fall into ecstasies over an industrial exhibit consisting of a drain-pipe, cunningly encrusted ivith fragments of regimefital mess-china set in gilded cement. Before a large mechanical clock, representing a fortress, which is striking. Trumpets sound, detachments of wooden soldiers march in and out of gatezvays, and parade the battlements, clicking for a considerable time. A Stectator {ivith a keen sense of the fitness of things'). What — all that for on'y 'alf past five ! 70 Voces Popitli, OVERHEARD IN THE AMBULANCE DEPARTMENT. Spectators {passing in front of groups of models arranged in realistic surroundings'). All the faces screwed up to suffering, you see ! ... What a nice patient expression that officer on the stretcher has ! Yes, they've given him a wax head — some of them are ovAy papier-mache. . . . Pity they couldn't get nearer their right size in 'elmets, though, ain't it ? . . . There's one chap's given up the ghost ! . . . I know that stuffed elephant — he comes from the Indian Jungle at the Colinderies \ . . . \ do think it's a pity they couldn't get something more like a mule than this wooden thing! Why, it's quite 7^^/, and its ears are only leather, nailed on ! . . . You can't tell, my dear ; it may be a peculiar breed out there — cross between a towel-horse and a donkey-engine, don't you know ! IN THE INDIAN JUNGLE SHOOTING-GALLERY. At the hack, amidst tropical scenery, an endless procession of remarkably nndeccptive rabbits of painted tin are rnjining rapidly np and down an inclined plane. Birds jerk painfully through the air above, and tin rats, boars, tigers, lions, and ducks, all of the same size, glide szviftly along grooves in the middle distance. In front, Commissionnaires are busy loading rifles for keen sportsmen, zvho keep np a lively but somewhat ineffectii 'e fusillade. 'Arriet {to 'Arry). They 'ave got it up beautiful, I must say. Do you get anything for 'itting them .-' 'Arry. On'y the honour. A Father {to intelligent Small Boy in rear of NERVOUS Sportsman). No, I ain't seen him 'it anything yet, my son ; but you watch. That's a rabbit he's aiming at now. . . . Ah, misscd\\\m. ! Small Boy. 'Ow d'yer knozv what the gentleman's a-aiming at, eh, Father } Father. 'Ow .' Why, you notice which way he points his gun. \frJie N. S. fires agaiti — ivithout results. At the Military Exhibition. 71 Small Boy. I sor that time, Father. He was a-aiming at one o' them ducks, an' he missed a rabbit ! {The N. S. gives it itp in disgust. " GO IN, JIM! YOU GOT YER MARKIN'-FAPER READY ANYHOW." Efiter a sinalL party of 'Ames in high spirits. First 'ArRY. 'Ullo ! /'m on to this. 'Ere Guvnor', 'and us a gun. r\\ show yer 'ow to shoot ! 72 Voces Popitli. [He takes tip his position, in happy nnconscioiisness that playful companions have decorated his coat-collar behind with a long piece of zvJiite paper. Second 'Arry. Go in, Jim ! You got yer markin'-paper ready- anyhow. [Delighted guffazvs from the other 'Arries, in zvJiicJi JiM joins vag2iely. Third 'Arry. I'll lay you can't knock a rabbit down ! Jim. I'll lay I can ! [Fires. The procession of rabbits goes on tindisturbed. Second 'Arry {jocosely^. Never mind. You peppet-ed 'im. I sor the feathers floy ! Third 'Arry. You'd ha' copped 'im if yer'd bin a bit quicker. Jim {annoyed). They keep on movin' so, they don't give a bloke no chornce ! Second 'Arry. 'Ave a go at that old owl. [Alluding to a tin representation of that fozvl tuhich I'emains stationary among the painted rushes. Third 'Arry. No — see if you can't git that stuffed bear. He's on'y a yard or two away ! An Impatient 'Arry (at doortuay). 'Ere, cojne on I Ain't you shot enough .? Shake a leg, can't yer, Jim .'* Second 'Arry. He's got to kill one o' them rabbits fust. Or pot a tin lion, Jim .-' You ain't afraid ? Jim. No ; I'm goin' to git that owl. He's quiet any way. [Fires. The ozul falls prostrate. Second 'Arry. Got 'im ! Owl's orf! Jim, old man, you must stand drinks round after this ! [Exeunt 'Arries, to celebrate their victory in a befitting fashion, as Scene closes in. Bt tbe jfrencb (!?j:bibition. Chorus of Arab Stall-Keepers. Come an look ! Alaha-ba-li-boo ! Eet is verri cold to-day ! I-ah-rish Brandi ! 'Ere Miss ! you com' 'ere ! No pay for lookin'. Alf a price ! Verri pritti, verri nah-ice, verri cheap verri moch ! \And so on^ Chorus of British Saleswomen. Will you allow me to show you this little novelty, Sir ? 'Ave you seen the noo perfume sprinkler ? Do come and try this noo puzzle — no 'arm in lookiii'. Sir. Very nice little novelties 'ere, Sir ! 'Eard the noo French Worltz, Sir ? every article is very much reduced, &c., &c. AT THE F0LIES-BERG£RE. Scene — A hall in the grounds. Several turnstiles leading to curtaiiied entrances. Showman {shouting). Amphitrite, the Marvellous Floatin' Goddess Just about to commence ! This way for the Mystic Gallery — three illusions for threepence ! Atalanta, the Silver Queen of the Moon ; the Oriental Beauty in the Table of the Sphinx, and the Wonderful Galatea, or Pygmalion's Dream. Only threepence ! This way for the Mystic Marvel o' She ! Now commencing ! A Female Sightseer {with the air of a person making an original suggestion). Shall we go in, just to see what it's like ? Male Ditto. May as well, now we are 'ere. {To preserve L "come an look! AI.AHA-nA-I.I-nOO !' At the French Exhibition. 75 himself from any suspicion of credulity). Sure to be a takx-in o' some sort. \_They enter a dim apartjnent, in zuhich tivo or three people are leaning over a barrier in front of a small Stage ; the Curtain is lowered, and a Pianist is industriously pounding aivay at a Waltz. The F. S. {with an uncomfortable giggle). Not much to see so far, is there ? Her Companion. Well, they ain't begun yet. [The Waltz ends, and the Curtain rises, disclosing a CAVERN SCENE. Amphitrite, in blue tights, rises through the floor. Amphitrite {in the Gallic tongue). Mesdarms et Messurcs, j'ai I'honnoor de vous sooayter Ic bong jour ! {Floats, with no apparent support, in the air, and performs various graceful evolutions, concluding by reversing herself completely.) Bong swore, Mesdarms et messures, mes rcmercimongs ! [She dives below, and the Curtain descends. The F. S. Is that all .^ I don't sec nothing in that I Her Comp. {who, having paid for admission, resents this want of appreciation). Why, she was off the ground the 'ole of the time, wasn't she .-' I'd just like to see you turnin' and twisting about in the air as easy as she did with nothing to 'old on by ! The F. S. I didn't notice she was off the ground — yes that 2aas clever. I never thought o' that before. Let's go and see the other things now. Her Comp. Well, if you don't see nothing surprising in 'em till they're all over, you might as well stop outside, /should ha' thought. The F. S. Oh, but I'll notice more next time — you've got to get used to these things, you know. [They enter the Mystic Gallery, and find themselves in a dim passage, opposite a partitioned compartment, in ^uhich is a glass case, supported on four pedestals, zuith a silver crescent at the back. The illusions — to judge from a sound of scurrying behind the scenes — have apparently been taken somewhat unazvares. "j^^ Voces Popitli. The Female Sightseer {anxious to please). They've done that alf-moon very well, haven't they ? Voice of Showman {addressing the Illusions). Now then, 'urry up there — we're all waiting for you. [The face of '' Atalania, the Silver Queen of the Moon" appears strongly illuminated, inside the glass-box, and regards the spectators with an impassive contempt — greatly to their confusion. The Male S. {in a propitiatory to7ie). Not a bad-looking girl, is she ? Atalanta, the Queen of the Moon {to the Oriental Beauty in next compartment). Polly, when these people are gone, I wish you'd fetch me my work ! [ TJie Sightseers move on, feeling crushed. In the second compart- ment the upper portion of a female is discovered, calmly knitting in the cefitre of a small table, the legs of which are distinctly visible. The Female S. Why, wherever has the rest of her got to ? The Oriental Beauty {with conscious superiority). That's what you've got to find out. \They pass on to interview '■'Galatea, or Pygmalioii s Dream'' zvhose compartment is as yet enveloped in obscurity. A Youthful Showman {apparently on familiar terms with all the Illusions). Ladies and Gentlemen, I shell now 'ave the honour of pcrsentin' to you the wonderful Galatear or Livin' Statue ; you will 'ave an oppertoonity of 'andling the bust for yourselves, which will warm before your eyes into living flesh, and the lovely creechcr live and speak. 'Ere, look sharp, carn't yer ! {To Galatea.) Pygmalion's Dream {frojn the Mystic gloom). Wait a bit till I've done warming my 'ands. Now you can turn the lights up . . . there, you've bin and turned 'em out now, stoopid ! The Y. S. Don't you excite yourself. I know what I'm doin'. {Turns the lights up, and reveals a large terra-cotta Bust) At my At the French Exhibition, 'jj request, this young- lydy will now perceed to assoom the yew and kimplexion of life itself Galatear, will you oblige us by kindly coming to life ? [T/ie Bust vanishes, and is replaced by a decidedly earthly Yon)ig Woman in robust health. The Y. S. Thenk you. That's all I wanted of \-cr. Now, will you kindly return to your former styte ? [ The Young Woman transforms herself into a hideous Skull. The Y. S. {in a tone of reinonstrance). No — no, not that ridiklous fice ! We don't want to see what yer will be — it's very hike yer, I know but still — {the skull changes to the Bust.) Ah, that's more the stoyle ! {Takes the Bust by the neck and hands it round for inspection}) And now, thenking you for your kind attention, and on'y 'orskin one little fyvour of you, that is, that you will not reveal 'ow it is done, I will now bid you a very good evenin', Lydies and Gentlemen ! The F. S. {outside). It's wonderful how they can do it all for three- pence, isn't it ? We haven't seen She yet ! Her Comp. What ! 'aven't you seen wonders enough ? Come on, then. But you are going it you know ! \They enter a small room, at the further end of which are a barrier and proscenium with drawn hangings. The Exhibitor {in a confidential tone, punctuated by bows). I will not keep you waiting, Ladies and Gentlemen, but at once proceed with a few preliminary remarks. Most of you, no doubt, have read that celebrated story by Mr. Rider 'Aggard, about a certain She-zcho-must-be-obeyed, and who dwelt in a place called Kor, and you will also doubtless remember how she was in the 'abit of repairing at certain interv^als, to a cavern, and renooing her youth in a fiery piller. On one occasion, wishing to indooce her lover to foller her example, she stepped into the flame to encourage him — something went wrong with the works, and she was instantl}- redooced to a cinder. I fortunately 'appened to be near at the time (you will escuse a little wild fib from a showman, I'm sure !) I 'appened to be porsin by, and was thus enabled to secure the ashes of the Wonderful She, which — {draws hangings and reveals a shalhnc vietal Urn suspended 78 Voces Popitli. in the centre of scene') are now before you enclosed in that little urn. She — where are you ? She {in a full szveet voice front below). I am 'ere ! Showman. Then appear ! \The upper portion of an exceedingly comely YoUNG PERSON emerges from the mouth of the Urn. The F. S. {startled). Lor, she give me quite a turn ! Showman. Some people think this is all done by mirrors, but it is not so ; it is managed by a simple arrangement of light and shade. She will now turn slowly round, to convince you that she is really inside the urn and not merely beyind it. {She turns round condescendingly) She will next pass her 'ands completely round her, thereby demonstrating the utter impossibility of there being any wires to support her. Now she will rap on the walls on each side of her, proving to you that she is no reflection, but a solid reality, after which she will tap the bottom of the urn beneath her so that you may see it really is what it purports to be. {^YVE performs all these actions in the most obliging manner) She will now disappear for a moment. (She sinks into the Urn) Are you still there, She.'' She {from the recess of the Urn). Yes. Showman. Then will you give us some sign of your presence } {a Jiand and arm are protruded and waved gracefully). Thank you. Now you can come up again. (She reappears) She will now answer any questions any lady or gentleman may like to put to her, always provided you won't ask her how it is done — for I'm sure she wouldn't give me away, would you. She 1 She {ivith a sloiu bozv and gracious smile). Ccrtingly not. The F. S. {to her Companion). Ask her something— do. Her Comp. Go on ! / ain't got anything to ask her — ask her yourself! A Bolder Spirit {zvith interest). Are yom feet warm ? She. Quite— thenks. The Showman. How old are you. She > She {impressively). Two theousand years. 'Arry. And quite a young thing, too ! At the French Hxhibition. 79 A Spectator {%vho has read the Novel). 'Ave you 'card from Leo Vincey lately ? She (coldly). I don't know the gentleman. Showman. If you have no more questions to ask her, She will now retire into her Urn thenking you all for your kind attendance this morning, which will conclude the entertainment. {Final disappearance aU on 2)rawing**1Room 2)av\ 77^^ //'//^ ^" ca7'riages bound for BuckvigJiani Palace is niovmg by sloiv stages down the Drive. A curious but not uncritical crowds consisting largely of females, peer into the carriages as they pass, and derive an occult pleasure from a glimpse of a satin train and a bouquet. Other spectators circulate behind them, roving from carriage to carriage, straining and staring hi at the occupants tvith the childlike interest of South Sea Islanders. The coachmen and footmen gaze impassively before them, ignoring the croivd to the best of their ability. The ladies in the carriages bear the ordeal of popidar inspection with either haughty resignation elaborate unconsciousness, or amused tolerance, and it is difficult to say zvhich demeanour provokes the greatest resentment in the democratic breast. Chorus of Female Spectators. We shall see better here than what we did last Droring-Room. Law, 'ow it did come down, too, pouring the 'ol.^ day. I was that sorry for the poor 'orses ! . , , Oh, that one luas nice, ivlarire ! Did you se-; 'er train i* — all flame-coloured satting — lovely I Ain't them flowers beautiful } Oh, Liza, 'ere's a pore skinny-lookin' thing coming next — look at 'er pore dear arms, all bare ! But dressed 'andsome enough . . , That's a Gineral in there, sec .'' He's 'olding his cocked 'at on his knee to save the feathers — him and her have been 'aving words, apparently . . . Oh, I do like this one. I s'pose that's her Mother with her — well, yes, o' course it may be her Aunt ! A Sardonic Loafer. 'Ullo, 'ere's a 'aughty one! layin' back and /// the Mall on Drawiuo--Roo]]i Day. 8i puttin' up 'er glorses ! Know us agen, Mum, won't you ? You may well look — you ain't seen so much in yer ole life as what you're sccin' to-day, r\\ lay ! Ah, you ought to feel honoured, too, all of us comin' out to look "ow, 'e smoiled at me through the broknches 1 " at yer. Drored 'er blind down, this one 'as, yer see — knew she wasn't wuth looking at ! \A carriage passes ; the footman on the box is adorned by an enormous nosegay, over ivhicJi he can just see. First Comic Cockney. Ow, I s'y — you 'ave come out in bloom, Johnny ! VOL. II. M 82 Voces Populi. Second C. C. Ah, they've bin forcin' 'im under glorse, they 'ave ! 'Is Missis '11 never find 'im under all them flowers. Ow, 'e smoiled at me through the brornches ! \AnotJier carriage passes, tJie coacJniian and footmen of tvhicJi are juidecoratcd. First C. C. Shime ! — they might ha' stood yer a penny bunch of voilets between yer, that they might ' The Sardonic L. 'Ere's a swell turn-out and no mistake — with a couple o' bloomin' beadles standin' be'ind ! There's a full-fed 'un inside of it too, — look at the dimonds all over 'er bloomin' old nut. My eye ! {T/ie elderly doivager inside pr'odnces a cut-glass scent-bottle of goodly size^ Ah, she's got a drop o' the right sort in there — see her sniffin at it — it won't take 'er long to mop up that little lot ! Jeames {behind the carriage, to Chawles). Our old geeser's per- doocin' the custimary amount o' sensation, eh, Chawley .-* Chawles {nndcr notice). Well, thank 'Eving, I sha'n't have to share the responsibility of her much longer ! 'Arriet {to Arry). I wonder they don't get tired o' being stared at like they are. 'Arry. Bless your 'art — they don't mind — they like it. They'll go 'ome and s'y {in falsetto) " Ow, Pa, all the bloomin' crowd kep' on a lookin' at us through the winder — it zvas proime ! " 'Arriet {giggling admiringly). 'Ow do you know the w'y they tork ? 'Arry {superior). Why, they don't tork partickler different from what you and me tork — do they ? First Mechanic. See all them old blokes in red, with the rum 'ats, Bill .-* They're Beefeaters goin' to the Pallis, they are. Second M. What do they do when they git there ? First M. Do .'' oh, mind the bloomin' staircase, and chuck out them as don' bcyave themselves. A Restless Lady {to her husband). Harry, I don't like this place at all. I'm sure we could see better somewhere else. Do let's try and squeeze in somewhere lower down . . . No, this is worse — that horrid tobacco ! Suppose we cross over to the Palace .'' {They do so. In tlie Mall on Dra^i'i/io-Roojn Day. ?)7^ A Policeman. Too late to cross now, Sir — go back, please. [ They go back and take up a position in front of the crozi'd on the curbstone. The R. L. There, we shall see beautifull}- here, Harry. A Crusty Matron {talking at the R. L. and her husband). Well. I'm sure, some persons have got a cheek, coming in at the last minnit and standing in front of those that have stood here hours — that's ladylike, I doiit think ! Nor yet, I didn't come here to ha\e m)^ eye poked out by other parties' pairosols. {Continues in this strain until the R. L. can stand it no longer, and tirges her husband to depart. Chorus of Policemen. Pass along there, please, one way or the other — keep moving there, Sir. The R. L. But where arc we to go — we must stand soniei<.'here ? A Policeman. Can't stand anywhere 'ere. Mum. [The unhappy couple are passed on from point to point, until they are finally Jieninied in at a spot from zvhich it is impossible to see anything zvhatever. Harry. If you had on]\- been content to staj- where you were at first, we should have been all right • The R. L. Nonsense, it is all your fault, you are the most hopeless person to go anywhere with. \\'hy didn't you tell one of those policemen ivho we zuere ? Harry. Why .-* Well, because I didn't see one who looked as if it would interest him, if you want to know. THE ROYAL CARRIAGES ARE APPROACHING. Chorus of Loyal Ladies of Various Ages. There— they're clearing the way — the Prince and Princess won't be long now. Here's the Life Guards' Band — don't they look byootiful in those dresses .' Won't that poor drummer's arms ache to-morrow .^ This is the escort coming now . . . 'Ere come the Royalties. Don't push so, Polly, you can see without that ! . . . There, that was the Prince in the first one — did ycr see 84 Voces Popidi, him, Polly ? Oh, yes, leastwise I see the end of a cocked 'at, which I took to be 'im. Yes, tJiat was 'im right enough . . . There goes the Princess — wasn't she looking nice ? I couldn't exactly make out which was her and which was the two young Princesses, they went by all in a flash like, but they did look nice ! . . . 'Era's another Royalty in this kerridge — '00 will she be, I wonder ? Oh, I expect it would be the old Duchess of No, I don't think it was 'er, — she wasn't looking pleasant enough, — and she's dead, too . . . Now they have got inside — 'ark at them plajdng bits of God Save the Queen. Well, I'm glad I've seen it. A Son {to cheery old Lady). 'Ow are you gettin' on, Mother, eh ? Ch. O. L. First-rate, thankee, John, my boy. Son. You ain't tired standing about so long .'' Ch. O. L. Lor' bless you, no. Don't you worry about vie. Son. Could you see 'em from where you was 1 Ch. O. L. I could see all the coachmen's 'ats beautiful. We'll wait and see 'em all come out, John, won't we .'' They won't be more than an hour and a half in there, I dessay. A Person with a Florid Vocabulary. Well, if I'd ha' known all I was goin' to see was a set o' blanky nobs shut up in their blank-dash kerridges, blank my blanky eyes if I'd ha' stirred a blanky foot, s'elp me Dash, I wouldn't ! A Vendor {persuasively'). The kerrect lengwidge of hevery flower that blows — one penny ! Bt a paiisian Caf^ (Tbantant Scene — An open-air restaurant in the Champs-Elys^es ; the seats in the enclosure are rapidly filling ; the diners in the gallery at the back have passed the salad stage, and are noiv free to take a more or less torpid interest in the Entertainment below. Enter Two Britons, tvho make their zvay to a couple of vacant chairs close to the orchestra. First Briton. Entree libre, you see ; nothing to pay ! Cheaper than your precious Exhibition, eh ? {Chuckles knowingly. Second Briton {ivJw zvould rather have stayed at tJie Exhibition but doesn't like to say so). Don't quite see how they expect the thing to pay if they don't charge anything, though. First B. Oh, they make their profit out of the dinners up in the gallery there. Second B. (appreciating the justice of this arrangement, having dined with his companion elsezvhere). Well, that's fair enough. \Fcels an increased respect for the Entertainment. First B. Must get their money back somehow, you know. Capital seats for hearing, these. Now, we'll just take a cup of coffee, and a quiet cigar, while we listen to the singing — yoiiW enjoy this, / know ! [ With the air of a man zvho knows the zuhole thing by heart ; the Waiter brings tzvo tumblers of black coffee, for which he demands the sum of six francs ; lively indignation of the Two Britons, who denounce the charge as a szuindle, and take some time to recover sufficient equanimity to attend to zvhat is going on on the Stage. AI.K AKTISTK (SINOS RKFRMN). At a Parisian Caje Cha/i/ani. Sy Female Artiste (sino^s re/rain) — Pour notrc Exposition, II faut nous faire imposition ! Sec, Sec. Second B. (zv/io not being at ho vie in the language, rather resents his companion's latighter). What's that she's saying ? First B. {who laughed because he knew there was a joke about the Exhibition). Eh ? — oh ! I'll tell you afterwards. \_Hopes his friend will have forgotten all about it by that time. Second B. (j>ertinaciojisly, as the Singer kisses her hand, and rushes precipitately off stage). Well, what was all tJiat about ? First B. {ivJio, upon reflection, finds that he hasn't the faintest idea). Oh, nothing very much — more the manner, you know, than an\-thing else — it's the men who have all the really funny songs. \A Male Artiste appears, boiving and kicking up his left leg behind : the First Briton bends forward with an anxious froivn, determined to let nothing escape him this time. Fortunately, as M. Charlemagne, the Comic Singer, possesses a powerful voice, the FIRST Briton is able to follozv most of the words, from luhich, although they reach his ear in a somewhat perverted form, he contrives to extract intense amusement. This is how the Chanson reaches him : — Seul boulevard silent vous arrete : Quand monde a tout depart n'amas, \^He can't quite make out this last zuord. Repondcz vitcmcnt — [Something he doesn't catch. Le fou I'eau sitot vous crie " un rat ! " [Here he zvhispers to his friend that " That last line was rather neat." Refrain (to which M. Charlemagne dances a gavotte ivith his hat thrust into the small of his back). II n'a pas depart Dinard. [This makes the First Bkiton — zvho once spent a week at Dinard— laugh immoderately. S8 Voces Popitli. Ne Pa, ne Ma! {bis) C'etait pas tant, mais sais comme ga — II n'a pas depart Dinard, II non a pas certain-y-mal la ! First Briton {to Second Ditto). Very funny, isn't he? Second B. {zvho — less fortimate tJian Jiis friend — has not caught a single word). Um — can't say I see much in it myself. First B. {compassionately). Can't you ? Oh, you'll get into the way of it presently. Second B. But what's the joke of all that about "Pa" ? First B. {who has been Jionestly tinder the impression that he did see a point somewhere). Why, he says he's an orphan — hasn't any Pa nor Ma. Second B. {captiously). Well, there's nothing so very funny in that ! First B. {giving up the point on consideration^ as M. CHARLEMAGNE skips off). Oh, it's all nonsense, of course ; these fellows only come on to fill up the time till Polusse sings {fels ratJier proud of having caught the right pronnnciation). Polusse is the only one really worth listening to. Second B. {watching two Niggers in a Knockabout Entertainment). I can follow these chaps better. {(Complacently. One of the Niggers [to the other']. Ha, George Washington, Sar. I'll warm you fur dat ar conduck ! First B. {in a superior manner). Oh, yes ; you soon get into the accent. [Later — M. CHARLEMAGNE has re-appeared, and sung a song about changing his apartments, zvith spoken passages of a pronouncedly Parisian character. First B. {tvho little suspects wJiat he has been roaring zvith laughter at). That fellow really is amusing. I must take Nellie to hear him some night before we go back. Second B. {dubiously). But aren't some of the songs — for a girl of her age — eh .'' First B. My dear fellow, not a bit ! I give you my word I haven't heard a single line yet that was in the least offensive — not a single line! At a Parisian Cafe Cliautaiil. 89 A7ryhoc\y might go ! Look here — it's Polusse next ; now you listen — /le'// make you laugh ! [T/ie great M. Paulus appears and sings several Chansons in a confidentially lugubrious tone, and ivith his forefingers thrust into his zvaistcoat pockets. CiLriously enough, our FiRST Briton is less successfiul in following ]\I. PauluS thaji he was zvith the A rtistes zvJio preceded hint — but this is eyitirely oiving to the big drum and cymbals, whicJi will keep coming in and putting him out — something in this maiuier : — 'M. Paulus. Et quand j'rentr', ce n'est pour ricn — Ma belle me dit : " Mon pauv' bonhomme, Tu n'a pas I'air de" — {The cymbals : brim-brin-brien !) Eir m' flanqu' des giffl's — (The drum : pom-pom-pom-pom !) Refrain (which both Britons tinderstood). " Sur le bi — sur le bo ; sur le bo, de bi, de bo. Sur le bo — sur le bi ; sur le bi, dc bo, de bi ! " &c., &c., &c. First Briton (after twenty viinutes of this sort of thing). That's the end, I suppose. They've let down the curtain. Capital, wasn't he .' I could listen to him all night ! Second B. (as they pass out). So could I — delightful! Don't know when I've enjoyed anything so much. The other people don't seem to be moving, though. [Consults programme.) There's another Part after this ; Paulus is singing again. I suppose you'll stay .'' First B. Well — it's rather late, isn't it ? Second B. (much relieved). Yes. Not worth while going back now {zvith a yaiv)i). \Vc must come here again. First B. (viaking a mental resolution to return no more). Oh, we must ; nothing like it on our side of the Channel, y' know. Second B. (with secret gratitude). No, we can't do it. (]Valk back to their hotel in a state of great mental exhaustion, and finish the evening with a bock on the Boulevards.) VOL. II. N at a (5ar^cn Ipart^* Scene — A London Laivn. A Band in a cosUune Jialf-zvay betzveen the itniforms of a stage hussar and a circus groom, is performing under a tree. Guests discovered sloivly pacing the turf, or standing and sitting about in groups. Mrs. Maynard Gery {to her Brother-in-law — who is thorougJdy aware of her little zveaknesses). Oh, Phil, — you know everybody — do tell me ! Who is that common-looking little man with the scrubby beard, and the very yellow gloves — how does he come to be Jiere ? Phil. Where ? Oh, I see him. Well — have you read SabrincCs Uncle's Other Niece ? Mrs. M. G. No — ought I to have .'' I never even heard of it ! Phil. Really.'' I wonder at that — tremendous hit— you must order it — though I doubt if you'll be able to get it. I\Irs. M. G. Oh, I shall insist on having it. And he wrote it > Really, Phil, now I come to look at him, there's something rather striking about his face. Did you say Sabrinds Niece's Other Aunt — or what .'' Phil. Sabrinds Uncle's Other Niece was what I said — not that it signifies. Mrs. M. G. Oh, but I always attach the greatest importance to names, myself. And do you know him } Phil. What, Tablctt .-' Oh, yes — decent little chap ; not much to say for himself, you know. Mrs. M. G. I don't mind that when a man is clever — do you think you could bring him up and introduce him .-* At a Garden Parly. 91 Phil, Oh, I could — but I won't answer for your not beinf dis- appointed in him. Mrs. M. G. I have never been disappointed in any genius yet perhaps, because I don't expect too much — so go, dear boy ; he may be surrounded unless you get hold of him soon. [Phil obeys. Phil {accosting the Scrubby iMan). Well, Tablett, old fellow, how are things going with you .' Sabrina flourishing .'' Mr. Tablett {enthusiastically). It's a tremendous hit, my boy ; orders coming in so fast they don't know how to execute 'cm — there's a fortune in it, as I always told you ! Phil. Capital ! — but you've such luck. By the way, my sister-in-law is most anxious to know you. Mr. T. (flattered). Very kind of her. I shall be delighted. I was just thinking I felt quite a stranger here. Phil. Come along then, and I'll introduce you. If she asks you to her parties by any chance, mind you go — sure to meet a lot of intcrcstino- people. Mr. T. {pulling up his collar). Just what I enjoy — meeting interestino- people — the only society worth cultivating, to my mind, Sir. Give me intellect — it's of more value than wealth ! YFhcy go in search of ^Ivs. M. G. First Lady on Chair. Look at the dear Vicar getting that poor Lady Pawperse an ice. What a very spiritual expression he has, to be sure — really quite apostolic ! Second Lady. We are not in his parish, but I hav^c ahrays heard him spoken of as a most excellent man. First Lady. Excellent ! My dear, that man is a i)crfect Saint ! I don't believe he knows what it is to have a single worldly thought ! And such trials as he has to bear, too ! With that dreadful wife of his ! Second Lady. That's the wife, isn't it } — the dowdy little woman, all alone, over there "i Dear me, what could he have married her for .' First Lady. Oh, for her money of course, my dear ! Mrs. Pattallon {to Mrs. St. INIartin Somkrville}. Wh\-, it really is you ! I absolutely didn't know you at first. I was just thinking 92 Voces Popiili, " Now who ^s that young and lovely person coming along the path ? " You see — I came out without my glasses to-day, which accounts for it ! Mr. Chuck {ineding a youthful Mati-on and Child). Ah, Mrs. Sharpe, how de do ! Fvi all right. Hullo, TOTO, how are you, eh, young lady .? TOTO {pt'iinly). I'm very well indeed, thank you. ( With siiddeti interest^ How's the idiot .'* Have you seen him lately } Mr. C. {mystified). The idiot, eh .'' Why, fact is, I don't knozv any idiot ! — give you my word ! TOTO {impatiently). Yes, you do — you know. The one Mumm\- says you're next door to — }'ou must see him soinetimes ! You did zzx Mr. Chuck was next door to an idiot, didn't you, Mummy } {Tableau. Mrs. Prattleton. Let me see — did we have a fine Summer in 'Sy ? Yes, of course — I always remember the weather by the clothes we wore, and that June and Jul}' we wore scarcely anything — some filmy stuff that belonged to one's ancestress, don't you know. S7/eh fun ! By the way, what has become of Lucy ? Mrs. St. Patticker. Oh, I've quite lost sight of her lately — you see she's so perfectly happy now, that she's ceased to be in the least interesting ! Mrs. Hussiffe {to Mr. De Mure). Perhaps you can tell me of a good coal merchant .'' The people who supply me now are perfect fiends, and I really must go somewhere else. Mr. De Mure. Then I'm afraid you must be rather difficult to please. Mr. Tablett has been introduced to Mrs Maynard Gery — ivith the folloiving result. Mrs. M. G. {enthusiastically). I'm so delighted to make your acquaint- ance. When my brother-in-law told me who you were, I positively very nearly shrieked. I am such an admirer of your — {thinl^s she zvon't commit herself to the ivhole title — and so compounds) — your delightful Sabrina ! Mr. T. Most gratified to hear it, I'm sure. I'm told there's a growing demand for it. Af a Garden Puj'ty. 93 Mrs. ]\I. G. Such a hopeful sign — when one was beginning quite to despair of the pubHc taste ! Mr. T. Well, I've always said — So long as you give the Public a really first-rate article, and arc prepared to spend any amount of money on piisJiing it, you know, you're sure to see a handsome return for your outlay — in the long run. And of course you must get it carefully analysed by competent judges — Mrs. M. G. Ah, but yoii can feel independent of criticism now, can't you .' Mr. T. Oh, I defy any one to find anything unwholesome in it — it's as suitable for the most delicate child as it is for adults — nothing to irritate the most sensitive — Mrs. ]\r. G. Ah, you mean certain critics arc so thin-skinned — they are indeed ! Mr. T. {zuanniitg to his siibjecf). But the beauty of this particular composition is that it causes absolutely 7io unpleasantness or inconvenience afterwards. In some cases, indeed, it acts like a charm. I've known of two cases of long-standing erysipelas it has completely cured. Mrs. ]M. G. {rather at sea). How gratifying that must be. But that is the magic of all truly great work, it is such an anodyne — it takes people so completely out of themselves — doesn't it .'' Mr. T. It takes anything of that sort out of tJieni, Ma'am. It's the finest discovery of the age, no household will be without it in a few months — though perhaps I say it who shouldn't . Mrs. M. G. {still more astonished). Oh, but I like to hear you. I'm so tired of hearing people pretending to disparage what they have done, it's s>\\c\iZ.pose, and I hate posing. Real genius is never vao^L^st. {If he had been more retiring, she zvoitld have, of course, reversed this axioni^ I zuish you would come and see me on one of my Tuesdays, Mr. Tablett, I should feel so honoured, and I think you would meet some congenial spirits — do look in some evening — I will send you a card if I may — let me see — could you come and lunch next Sunday.' I've got a little man coming who was very nearly eaten up by cannibals. I think he would interest you. Mr. T. I shall be proud to meet him. Er — did they eat much of him ^ 94 Voces Populi. Mrs. M. G. {wJio privately tJiinks tJiis ratJier vulgar). How witty you are ! That's quite worthy of — er — Sabrina, really ! Then you zvill come ? So glad. And now I mustn't keep you from your other admirers any longer. \_She dismisses him. LATER. Mrs. M. G. {to Jar BrOTHER-IN-LAW). How could yow say that dear Mr. Tablett was dull, Phil } I found him perfectly charming — so original and unconventional ! He's promised to come to me. By the way, ■wJiat did you say the name of his book was .'' Phil. / never said he had written a book. Mrs. M. G. Phil — you did! — Sabrinds Other — Something. Why, I've h&Q.r\ praising \\. to him, entirely on your recommendation. Phil. No, no— your mistake. I only asked you if you'd read Sabrinds Uncles Other Niece, and, as I made up the title on the spur of the moment, I should have been rather surprised if you had. He never wrote a line in his life. Mrs. M. G. How abomiiiable of you ! But surely he's famous for something ? He talks like it. [ With reviving hope. Phil. Oh, yes, he's the inventor and patentee of the new " Sabrina " Soap — he says he'll make a fortune over it. Mrs. M. G. But he hasn't even done that yet ! Phil, I'll never forgive you for letting me make such an idiot of myself What «;« I to do now 1 I can't have him coming to me — he's really too impossible ! Phil. Do .-* Oh, order some of the soap, and wash your hands of him, I suppose — not that he isn't a good deal more presentable than some of your lions, after all's said and done ! [Mrs. M. G., before she takes her leave, contrives to inform Mr. Tablett, zvith her prettiest penitence, that she has only just recollected that her hmcheon party is put off, and that her Tuesdays are over for the Season. Directly she returns to Towft, she promises to let him hear from her; in the meantime, he is not to \.\\\\\\s. of troubling himself to call. So there is no liarm done, after all. Et the nDilitarv> (Tournament. Scene — The Agricultural Hall. Tent-pegging going on. Stentorian Judge (zw Arena). Corporal Binks ; {The Assistants give a finishing bloiv to the peg, and fall back. Corporal BlXKS gallops in, misses the peg, and rides off, relieving his feelings by ivhirling his lance defiantly in the air?) Corporal Binks — nothing ! A Gushing Lady. Poor dear thing ! I do wish he'd struck it ! He did look so disappointed, and so did that sweet horse ! The Judge. Sergeant Spanker ! (Sergeant S. ^^t/^/j- in, spears the peg neatly, and carries it off triumphantly on the point of the lance, after luhich 'he rides back and returns the peg to the Assistants as a piece of valuable property of which lie has accidentally deprived them.) Sergeant Spanker — eight ! {Applause ; the Assistants drive in another peg.) Corporal Cutlash ! (Corporal C. enters, strikes the peg, and dislodges without securing it. Immense applajise from the Crozvd.) Corporal Cutlash — two ! The Gushing Lady. Only two, and when he really did hit the peg ! I do call that a shame. I should have given him more marks than the other man — he has such a much nicer face ! A Child with a Thirst for Information. Uncle, why do they call it /^/.'/-pegging } The Uncle. Why ? Well, because those pegs arc what they fasten down tents with. The Child. But why isn't there a tent now } Uncle. Because there's no use for one. Child. Whv ? 96 Voces Pop nil. Uncle. Because all they want to do is to pick up the peg with the point of their lance. Child. Yes, but why should they want to do it .'' Uncle. Oh, to amuse their horses. {The ClliLD poudsrs zipon this anszver with a vietv to afresh catecJiism iipon the equine passion fo7' enter- tainment, and the desirability, or otherzvise, of gratifying it.) A Chatty Man in the Promenade {to his Neighbour). Takes a deal of practice to strike them pegs fair and full. His Neighbour {zuho holds advanced Socialistic opinions). Ah, I dessay — and a pity they can't make no better use o' their time ! Spoiling good wood, / call it. I don't see no point in it myself. The Chatty Man. Well, it shows they can ride, at any rate. The Socialist. Ride } O' course they can ride — we pay enough for 'aving 'em taught, don't we .'' But you mark my words, the People won't put up with this state of things much longer — keepin' a set of 'ired murderers in luxury and hidleness. I tell yer, wherever I come across one of these great lanky louts strutting about in his red coat, as if he was one of the lords of the hearth, well^it makes my nose bleed, ah — it docs ! The Chatty Man. If that's the way you talk to him, I ain't sur- prised if it do. The Judge. Sword versus Sword ! Come in there ! {Tzvo niounted Combatants, in leather jerkins and black visors, armed ivith sivordsticks, enter the ring ; JUDGE introduces them to audience vuitJi the aidofafag.) Corporal Jones, of the Wessex Yeomanry ; Sergeant SMITH, of the Manx Mounted Infantry. ( Their swords are chalked by the Assistants.) Are you ready .-* Left turn! Countermarch! Engage! {The Combatants zvheel round ajid face one another, each vigorously spurring Ins horse and prodding cautiously at the other ; the two horses seem determined not to be drawn into the affair themselves on any account, and take no personal interest in the conflict ; the umpires skip and dodge at the rear of the horses, until one of the Combatants gets in zvitJi a rattling blow on the others head, to the intense delight of audience. Both men are brushed down, and tJieir zveapons re- cJialked, wJiereupon they engage once more — much to the disgust of their horses, zvho had evidently been hoping it was all over. After the contest is finally decided, a second pair of Combatants At the Military Tournamejit. 97 enter ; one is vioiintcd on a black horse, the other on a chestnut, zuho refuses to lend hunself to the business on any terms, and bolts on principle ; while the rider of the black horse remains in stationary meditation.) Go on — that black horse — go on ! ( The chestnut is at length brought up to the scratch snorting, but again flinches, and retires ivith his rider.) The Crowd {to rider of black horse). Go on, nou's >-our chance! 'It him! {The recipient of these counsels pursues his antagonist, and belabours him and his horse zcith impartial good-zvill until separated by the Umpires, wJio examine the chalk-marks with a professional scrutiny.) The Judge. Merc, you on the black horse, you mustn't hit that other horse about the head. {The man addressed appears rebuked and surprised under his black-wired visor.) The JUDGE {reassuringly). It's all r/^/r/, you know ; only, don't do it again, that's all ! {The Combatant sits up again.) The Gushing L.vdv. Oh, I can't bear to look on, really. I'm sure they oughtn't to hit so hard — hozo their poor dear heads must ache ! Isn't that chestnut a duck ? I'm sure he's trying to save his master from getting hurt — they're such sensible creatures, horses are ! {Artillery teams drive in, and gallop betzveen the posts ; the Crozvd going frantic witJi delight when the posts remain upright, and roaring zvith laughter zvhcn one is knocked over.) DURING THE MUSICAL RIDE. The Gushing Lady. Oh, they're simply too szveet ! How those horses are enjoying it — aren't they pets } and how perfectly they keep step to the music, don't they .'* Her Friend, {zvho is beginning to get a trifle tired by her enthusiasm). Yes ; but then they're all trained by Madame Katti Lanner, of Drury Lane, you see. The Gushing Lady. What pains she must have taken with them ; but you can teach a horse anything, can't j'ou .' Her Friend. Oh, that's nothing ; next year they're going to have a horse who'll dance the Highland Fling. The Socialist. A pretty sight ^ Cost a pretty sight o' the People's VOL. II. O 98 Voces Popiili, money, I know that. Tomfoolery, that's what it is; a set of dressed-up bullies dancin' quadrilles on 'orseback ; tJiat ain't military manoeuvrin'. It's sickenin' the way fools applaud such goin's on. And cuttin' off the Saraen's 'ed, too ; I'd call it plucky if the Saracen 'ad a gun in his 'and. Bah, I 'ate the 'ole business ! His Neighbour. Got anybody along with you, Mate ? The Socialist. No, I don't want anybody along with me^ I don't. His Neighbour. That's a pity, that is. A sweet-tempered, pleasant- spoken party like you are oughtn't to go about by yourself. You ought to bring somebody just to enjoy your conversation. There don't seem to be anybody 'ere of your way of thinkin'. DURING THE COMBINED DISPLAY. The Gushing. Lady {as the Cyclist Corps enter). Oh, they've got a dog with them. Do look — such a dear ! See, they've tied a letter round his neck. He'll come back with an answer presently. {But, there being apparently no anszver to this conununication, the faithful but prudent animal does not re-appear?) AFTER THE PERFORMANCE. The Inquisitive Child. Uncle, which side won } Uncle. I suppose the side that advanced across the bridges. Child. Which side would have won if it had been a real battle .'* Uncle. I really couldn't undertake to say, my boy. Child. But which do you think would have won .-' Uncle. I suppose the side that fought best. Child. But which side was that ? {The Uncle begins to find tJiat the society of an intelligent Nephew entails too severe a niental strain to be frequently cultivated.) Ificc Speech. Scene — A/i Open Space. Rain falling in torrents. An Indignation Meeting is being held to protest against the Royal Grants. The CJiainnan presides at a small portable reading-desk^ generally allnded to as The " Nostrnm " ; a ring of more or less Earnest Radicals, under umbrellas, surround him. Speakers address the Meeting in rapid succession; a Mati ivith a red flag gives it a sinister wave at any particularly vigorous expression. Her Gracious Majesty the Queen is repeatedly described as " this mis-rubble ole bein ," a)i Archbishop is invariably mentioned as an ^^ Arch- rogue," zvhile the orators and the audience appear from their remarks to be the only persons capable of ivorthily guiding this unhappy Country s destinies. Policemen in couples look on from a distance and smile indulgently. An Orator {bitterly). The weather is against us, Feller Republi- kins, there's no den}-in' that. As we were tramping along 'ere, through the mud and in the rain, wet to the skin, I couldn't 'elp remarking to a friend o' mine, that if it had been a pidging-shootin' match at Urlingham, or a Race-meeting at Hascot, things 'ud ha' been dift'Vent ! Thcr'd ha' bin blue sky and sunshine enough then. Well, I 'spose han)- weather's con- sidered good enongh for the likes of hus ! Han}- weather '11 do for p.)re downtrod slaves to assert their man'ood and their hindependence in ! {Cries of '' Shame .'") Never you mind — hour turn '11 come some day! We shan't hahvays be 'eld down, and muzzled, and silenced, and prevented uttering the hindignation we've a right to feel ! {Bellozving.) A\'e shall make our vices 'eard one day! But I'm reminded by my friend as I've got to keep to the pint. W'ell {he composes his features into a sneer) V\w loo Voces Popidi. told as 'ow'Er Most Gracious Madjesty — (" Booing'' from Earnest Radicals) — 'Er Most Gracious Madjesty — 'as she calls 'erself — 'as put by a little matter of a milium an' a 'arf — since she came to the Throne. Now, Feller Republikins, that milium an' a 'arf 'as come out oi your pockets ! Several Persons {zvJw do not look as if they paid a heavy income tax). 'Ear 'ear ! Orator. Yes, it belongs to the People — ah ! and you've a legal right to demand it back — a legal right ! And I arsk you — if that milium and a 'arf of money was to be divided among the Toilers of London ter-morrow — 'ow many Hunemployed should we see .'' [Croivd deeply impressed by this forcible argument.) Yet we're arst to put our 'ands in our pockets to support the Queen's children ! A Gentleman with very short hair. Shame — never ! \^Pnts his hand in somebody else s pocket by zvay of empJiasising his decla}'atio7i.'\ Orator. Feller Republikins, if a Queen don't do the work as she's paid for doin' of, what ought to be done with 'er .'' 1 put it to you ! A Very Earnest Radical. The Scaffild ! [Looks round nervously to see if a Policeman is ivithin hearing. A Fat Lady {luho has been ejaculating. " Oh, it is a shime, it is ! " at every fresh instance of Royal expenditure). Well, I must say that's rather strong langwidge ! Another Orator. Gentlemen, I regret to say that, on this mon- strous fraud and attempted imposition known as " The Royal Grants Bill," Mr. Gladstone voted with the Government. [Frantic applause. Orator {puzded). Yes, Gentlemen, I am here to state facts, and I am ashamed to say, that on this single occasion Mr. Gladstone — went wrong. [Shouts of " No I No ! " A Fervid Gladstonian {luaving his umbrella). Three cheers for Mr. Gladstone, what-//^t'^r he does! [The Crowd join in heartily; ORATOR decides to drop the point, par- ticularly as it docs not scon to affect the Meeting's condemnation of tJie principle of the Bill. An Irish Patriot. I've often harrd tell, Gintlcmen, of a certain stra-ange animal they carl a " Conservative Warkin-Man " {Roars of Free Speech. loi laughter). A Warkin-Man a Conservative ! Why, bliss me sowl, the thing's absurd ! There niver zuas such a purrson in this VVarlcl. A Con- servative Warkin-Man ! why — {takes refuge in profanity). If there was why don't we iver hear 'um in an assimbly of this sort ? Why hasn't he the common manly courage to come forward and dcfind his opinions ? We'd hear 'um, Gintlemcn. It's the proud boast of Radicals and Republikins that they'd give free speech and a fair hcarin' to ivery man, no matter hwhat his opinions are, but ye'll nivcr sec 'um stip farward at ahl — and hwhy ? A Decent Mechanic. Well, look 'ere, mate, /';;/ a Conser\'ative Working-Man, if ye'd like to know, and 1 ain't afraid to defend my opinions. Come now ! The Chairm.\N {soinezv/iat taken aback). Well, Friends, while I conduct this chair, I can promise this man a puffickly fair 'earin', and I'm sure you will listen to him patiently, whatever \-ou maj' think of his arguments, {Cries of 'Ear — 'ear! '^ Fair play hall the zvorld hover!" " We'll listen to hitn quiet enough ! ") First of all, I must be satisfied that our Friend is what he professes to be. We want no Sham Workin'-men 'ere. \Brandishes a foot-rule in evidence of the genuineness of his ozun claims. The D. M. Am I a workin'-man .' Well, I've made ladies' boots at sixpence an hour for three years — d'ye call that bein' a Workin' Man .' I've soled and 'ccled while )-ou wait in a stall near Southwark Bridge seven years an' a arf! Praps you'll call that a Workin'-Man .' {Cries of "Keep to the Point!") Oh, I'll keep to the point right enough. There's this Irishman here been a tellin' of you 'ow wrong it is to turn his countrymen out of their 'ouses when they don't pay their rent. Ain't ivc turned out of our 'ouses, if we don't pay ourn .' 'Oo snivels over hus ? The I. P. No personalities now! It's m\' belief }e're a Landlord yerself! \lJproar. The D, M. I told ycv ye wouldn't 'car me now ! A Socialist {in a stoitorian voice). P^eller Demmcrcrats, as an ex- Fenian and an ex-Convict, I implore }-ou — give this man a hcarin' ! The D. M. Then about this Ro}-al Grant. {Cries of " Shut up ! " *' Go 'owe ! " " Don't tork nonsense ! ") If }ou're going to 'a\e a King and "snow It now, by putting money in this 'at Free Speech. lo ^ Queen at all — {Cries of"' We dint ! Doivn ivith 'em /") Ah, then I s'pose you're going to put up fellers like 'im {pointing to the Socialist), and 'im {pointitig to Chairman), and 'im ! \^Uproar. The Socialist. Fellow-Citizens, I appeal to you, give this man rope — he's doing our work splendidly ! The D. M. Well, all I've got to say is {Shouts of " Get doi. over. No, indeed, we can't 7W(7^/;/^. " Familiar f^ To be sure — how clever, and hozv well you all acted it, to be sure — you must be quite tired after it all. I am sure we — hem — are deeply indebted to you. . . . My dear Miss Rose, how wonderfully you disguised yourself, I never recognized you a bit, nor y on, Mr. Nightingale. What part d\d yon take .' Mr. Nightingale. I — er — didn't take any particular part — wasn't wanted, you know. Miss Rose. Not to act, — so we stayed outside and — and — arranged things. An Old Lady. Indeed 1 Then you had all the hard work, and none of the pleasure, my dear, I'm afraid. Miss Rose {sweetly). Oh no. I mean yes ! — but we didn't viiiid it much. The O. L. And which of you settled what the Word was to be .'' Mr. N. Well, I believe we settled that together. l^Carriages are announced ; departure of guests zvho are not of the house-party. In the Smoking-room, Mr. Pushington dis- covers that he does not seem exactly popular zvith the other meny and puts it doivn to jealousy. a Cbristmae IRomp. Scene — Mrs. ChipperfiELD's Drawijig-room. It is after the Christmas dinner, and the Gentlemen have not yet appeared. MRS. C. is laboriously attempting to be gracious to her Brothet^s Fiancee^ whose acquaintance she has made for the first time, and zvith whotn she is disappointed. Married Sisters and Maiden Aunts confer in corners zuith a sleepy acidity. First Married Sister {to Second). I felt quite sorry for Fred, to sec him sitting there, looking — and no wonder — so ashamed of himself — but I always will say, and 1 always must say, Caroline, that if you and Robert had been firmer with him when he was younger, he would never have turned out so badly ! Now, there's my George — Sec, &c. MrS.'C. {to the Fiancee). Well, my dear, I don't approve of young men getting engaged until they have some prospect of being able to marry, and dear Algy was always my favourite brother, and I've seen so much misery from long engagements. However, we must hope for the best, that's all ! A Maiden Aunt {to Second Ditto). Exactl\- what struck me, Martha. One waiter would have been quite sufficient, and if James must be grand and give champagne, he might have given us a little more of it; I'm sure I'd little else but foam in my glass ! And every plate as cold as a stone, and you and I the only people who were not considered worthy of silver forks, and the children encouraged to behave as they please, and Joseph Podmore made such a fuss with, because he's well off — and not enough sweetbread to go the round. Ah, well, thank goodness, we needn't dine here for another year ! 1 1 6 Voces Populi. Mr. Chipperfield {at the door). Sorry to cut you short in your cigar, Uncle, and you, Limpett ; but fact is, being Christmas night, I thought we'd come up a Httle sooner and all have a bit of a romp . . . Well, Emily, my dear, here we are, all of us — -ready for anything in the way of a frolic — what's it to be ? Forfeits, games. Puss in the Corner^ something to cheer us all up, eh ? Won't any one make a suggestion ? [^General expression of gloomy blankness. Algernon {to his Fiancee — zvJioin he wants to sec shine). Zeffie, you know no end of games — what's that one you played at home, with potatoes and a salt-spoon, j^// know ? Zeffie {blusJiing). 'Ho, please, Algy ! I don't know any games, indeed, I couldn't really ! Mr. C. Uncle Joseph will set us going, I'm sure — what do yon say. Uncle 1 Uncle Joseph. Well, I won't say " no " to a quiet rubber. Mrs. C. But, you see, we can't all play in that, and there is a pack of cards in the house somewhere ; but I know two of the aces are gone, and I don't think all the court cards were there the last time we played. Still, if you can manage with what is left, we might get up a game for you. Uncle J. {grimly). Thank you, my dear, but, on the whole, I think I would almost rather romp — Mr. C. Uncle Joseph votes for romping ! What do you say to Dumb Crambo .-' Great fun — half of us go out, and come in on all-fours, to rhyme to " cat," or " bat," or something — you can play that, Limpett ? Mr. Limpett. If I must find a rhyme to cat, I prefer, so soon after dinner, not to go on all-fours for it, I confess. Mr. C. Well, let's have something quieter, then — only do settle. Musical Chairs, ch ? Algy. Zeffie will play the piano for you — she plays beautifully. Zeffie. Not without notes, Algy, and I forgot to bring my music with me. Shall we play " Consequences " } It's a very quiet game — you play it sitting down, with paper and pencil, you know ! Mr. Limpett {sardonically, a7id sotto voce). Ah, this is something //Xv a rollick now. " Consequences," eh t A Christinas Ro)]ip. i i 7 Algy [who has overheard — in a savage undertone). If that isn't good enough for you, suggest something better — or shut up ! [Mr. \.. prefers the latter alternative. Mr. C. Now, then, have you given everybody a piece of paper, Emily .'' Caroline, you're going to play — we can't leave jt?// out of it. Aunt Caroline. No, James, I'd rather look on, and see you all enjoying yourselves — I've no animal spirits now ! Mr. C. Oh, nonsense! Christmas-time, >-ou know. Let's be jolly while we can — give her a pencil, Emily ! Aunt C. No, I can't, really. You must excuse me. I know I'm a wet blanket ; but, when I think that I mayn't be with you another Christmas, we may most of us be dead b)- then, why — {sobs). Fred {the Family Failure). That's right. Mater — trust }-ou to see the humorous side of everything ! Another Aunt. For shame, Fred ! If you don't know who is responsible for your poor mother's low spirits, others do ! [ The Family Failure collapses. Mr. LlMPETT. Well, as we've all got pencils, is there any reason why the revelry should not commence .-' Mr. C. No — don't let's waste any more time. Miss Zeffie says she will write down on the top of her paper " Who met whom " (must be a Lad}' and Gentleman in the party, you know), then she folds it down, and passes it on to the next, who writes, " What he said to her " — the next. " What she said to him " — next, " What the consequences were," and the last, " What the world said." Capital game — first-rate. Now, then ! [ TJie zvhole party pass papers in silence from one to another, and scribble industriously with knitted brozus. Mr. C. Time's up, all of you. I'll read the first paper aloud. {Glances at it, and explodes.) He-he ! — this is really very funny. {Reads.) " Uncle Joseph met Aunt Caroline at the — ho — ho ! — the Empire ! He said to her, ' What are the zvild waves saying I' and she said to him, ' It's time you were taken away ! ' The consequences were that they both went and had their hair cut, and the world said thc)- had alwa}-s suspected there was something" between them ! " 1 1 8 Voces Popitli. Uncle J. I consider that a piece of confounded impertinence ! \Puffs. Aunt C. It's not true. I never met Joseph at the Empire. I don't go to such places. I didn't think I should be insulted like this — {Weeps) — on Christmas too ! Aunts' Chorus. Fred a^ain ! \They regard the FAMILY FAILURE indignantly. Mr. C. There, there, it was all fun — no harm meant. I'll read the next. " Mr. Limpett met Miss Zeffie in the Burlington Arcade. He said to her, * O, you little duck ! ' She said to him, ' Fowls are cheap to-day ! ' The consequences were that they never smiled again, and the world said, ' What price hot potatoes .'' ' " {Everybody looks depressed?) H'm — not bad — but I think we'll play something else now. \2,Y.YY\Y. perceives that Algy is not pleased, ivith her. Tommy {to Uncle Joseph). Uncle, why didn't j-c'// carve at dinner.? Uncle J. Well, Tommy, because the carving was done at a side table — and uncommon badly done, too. Why do you want to know ? Tommy. Parpar thought you woidd carve, I know. He told Mummy she must ask you, because — Mrs. C. {with a prophetic instinct). Now, Tommy, you mustn't tease your Uncle. Come away, and tell your new Aunt Zeffie what you're going to do with your Christmas boxes. Tommy. But mayn't I tell him what Parpar said, first } Mrs. C. No, no ; by and by — not now ! \_She averts the danger. \Later ; the Compa7ty are playing " Hide the Thimble^^ ; i.e., some- one has planted that article in a place so conspicuous that feiv would expect to find it there. As each person catches sight of it, he or she sits down. Uncle Joseph is still, to the general merriment, wandering about and getting angrier every moment. Mr. C. That's it, Uncle, you're warm — you're getting warm ! Uncle J. {boiling over). Warm, Sir .-' / am warm — and something more, I can tell you ! \_Sits dozvn with a bump. Mr. C. You haven't seen it ! I'm sure you haven't seen it. Come now, Uncle ! " Wanit, SIR? I am warm— AND something more! T20 Voces Popiili. Uncle J. Never mind whether I have or have not. Perhaps I don't want to see it, Sir ! The Children. Then do you give it up .'' Do you want to be told .'' Why, it's staring you in the face all the time ! Uncle J. I don't care whether it's staring or not — I don't want to be told anything more about it. The Children. Then you're cJieating, Uncle — you must go on walking till you do see it ! Uncle J. Oh, that's it, eh t Very well, then— I'll walk ! [ Walks out, leaving the company paralysed. Mrs. C. Run after him, Tommy, and tell him — quick ! {^Exit Tommy. Mr. C. {feebly'). I think when Uncle Joseph does come back, we'd better try to think of some game he can!t lose his temper at. Ah, here's Tommy ! Tommy. I told him — but he went all the same, and slammed the door. He said I was to go back and tell you that you would find he was cut up — and cut up rough, too ! Mrs. C. But what did you tell hiin ? Tommy. Why, only that Parpar asked him to come to-night because he was sure to cut up well. You said I might ! [Sensation ; Prompt departure of TOUUY for bed; moralising by Aufits ; a spirit of perfect candour prevails ; names are called — also cabs ; further hostilities postponed till next Christmas. ♦ ®n the 3cc. Scene — TJlc Serpeiitine. On the bank, several persons are having their skates put on ; practised Skaters being irritable and impatient, and others curiously the reverse, at any delay in the operation. Chorus of Unemployed Skate-Fasteners. 'Oo'll 'ave a pair on for an hour ? Good Sport to-day, Si/ ! Try a pair on, Mum ! {to any par- ticularly stout Lady). Will yer walk inter iny porler, Sir ? corpet all the w'y ! 'Ad the pleasure o' puttin' on your skites last year, Miss! Best skates in London, Sir! SJLxhibiting a prinicBval pair. The Usual Comic Cockney {to his Friend, n'ho has undertaken to instruct hivi). No 'tirry, old man — this joker ain't rt;y finished with me yet ! {To Skate-Fastener.) Easy with that jimlet, Guv'nor. My 'eel ain't 'orn, like a 'orse's 'oof I If you're goin' to strap me upas toight as all that, I shell 'ave to go to bed in them skites ! . . . Well, what is it noii.< ? Skate-Fastener. Reg'lar thing fur Gcn'lm'n as 'ires skates ter leave somethink be'ind, jest as security like — anythink'W do — a gold watch and chain, if yer got sech a thing about yer ! The C. C. Oh, I dessay — not me ! Skate-F. {woujided). Why, yer needn't be afroid ! / shorn't run away — you'll find vie 'ere when yer come back ! The C. C. Ah, that will be noice ! But all the sime, a watch is a thing that slips out of mind so easy, yer know. You might go and forgit all about it. 'Ere's a match-box instead ; it ain't silver ! Skate-F. {with respect). Ah, you do know the \\ox\6., yoii do ! The C. C. Now, Alf, old man, I'm ready for yer ! Give us 'old of }'er 'and . . . Go slow now. What's the Vestry about not to put some gravel vol. h. R 122 Voces Popiiii. down 'ere ? It's downright dangerous ! Whoo-up ! Blowed if I ain't got some other party's legs on ! . . . Sloide more ? Whadjer torking about ! I'm sloidin' every way at once, / am ! . . . Stroike out ? I've struck sparks enough out of the back o' my 'ed, if that's all ! . . . Git up ? Ketch me ! I'm a deal syfer settin' dayown, and I'll sty 'ere ! \^He stays. A Nervous Skater {liobbling cautiously doivn the bank — to Friend). I — I don't know how I shall be in these, you know — haven't had a pair on for years. {Striking out.) Well, come — {relieved) — skating's one of those things you never forget — all a question of poise and equi — confound the things ! No, I'm all right, thanks — lump in the ice, that's all ! As I was saying, skating soon comes back to — thought I was gone that time ! Stick by me, old fellow, till I begin to feel my — Oh, hang it all ! . . . Eh ? surely we have been on more than five minutes ! Worst of skating is, your feet get so cold ! . . . These are beastly skates. Did you hear that crack .' Well, yoii may stay on if you like, but I'm not going to risk my life for a few minutes' pleasure ! \^He returns to bank. The Fond Mother {from bank, to Children on the ice). That's right. Alma, you're doing it beaiitifnlly — don't zvalk so much ! {To French Governess). Alma fay bocoo de progray, may elle ne glisse assez — • nayse par, Ma'amzell .-' Mademoiselle. C'est Ella qui est la plus habile, elle patine deja tres bien — et avec un aplomb ! The F. M. Wee-wee ; may Ella est la plus viaile, vous savvy. Look at Ella, Alma, and see how she does it ! Mad. Vous marchez toujours — toujours, Alma ; tachez done de glisser un petit peu — c'est beaucoup plus facile ! Alma. Snay pas facile quand vous avez les skates toutes sur un c6t6 — comme moi, Ma'amzell ! F. M. Ne repondy a Ma'amzell, Alma, and watch Ella ! Ella. Regardez-moi, Alma. Je puis voler vite — oh, mais vite , . . oh I have hurt myself so ! Alma {zvitJi sisterly sympathy.) TJiafs what comes of trying to show off', Ella, darling ! [Ella is helped to the bank. A Paternal Skate-Fastener. 'Ere you are, Missie — set down on "SNAY PAS FACILE QUAND VOUS AVEZ LKS SKATES TOUTES SUR UN' c6t£ — COMME MOI ! 124 Voces Popitli. this 'ere cheer — and you, too, my little dear — lor, they won't do them cheers no 'arm, Mum, bless their little 'arts ! Lemme tyke ycr little skites orf, my pooties. Ill be keerful, Mum — got childring o' my own at 'ome — the moral o' your two, Mum ! The F. M. {to Governess). Sayt un homme avcc un bong kcr. Avez- vous — er — des cuivres, Ma'amzell ? The p. S. {disgustedly). Wot ? — only two bloomin' browns fur t}'kin' the skites orf them two kids' trotters ! I want a shellin' orf o' you fur that job, / do . . . "Not another penny?" Well, if you do cverythink as cheap as you do yer skiting, you orter be puttin' money by, you ought ! That's right, tyke them snivellin' kids 'ome — blow me if ever I — &c. &c. , &c. \Exit party, pursued by powerful metaphors. The Egotistic Skater {in charge of a small Niece). Just see if you can get along by yourself a little — I'll come back presently. Practise striking out. The Niece. But, Uncle, directly I strike out, I fall down ! The E. S. {encouragingly'). You will at first, till you get into it — gives you confidence. Keep on at it — don't stand about, or you'll catch cold. I shall be keeping my eye on you ! \Skates off to better ice. The Fancy Skater {to less accomplished Friend). This is a pretty figure — sort of variation of the " Cross Cut," ending up with " The Vine " ; it's done this way {ilhistrating), quarter of circle on outside edge forwards ; then sudden stop {He sits dozvn with violence). Didn't quite come off that time ! The Friend. The sudden stop carnc off right enough, old fellow ! The F. S. I'll show you again — it's really a neat thing when it's well done ; you do it all on one leg, like this {^Executes an elaborate back-fall. His P^RIEND. You sccrn to do most of it on no legs at all, old chap 1 TliK F. S, Plavcn't practised it lately, that's all. Now here's a figure I invented myself "The Swooping Hawk" I call it. His Friend {unkindly — as the F. S. cones dozvn in the form of a St. Andrezv's Cross). Y — yes. More like a Spread Eagle though, ain't it } Pretty GniT /umdles.) Well, have you ^0/ them ? The Assistant. No, Sir ; I'm rather afraid they ain't here. Fact is, they've sent me out with the wrong set o' slides. This ain't Valentine and Orson — it's a miscellaneous lot. Sir ! {Collapse of Curate as Scene closes in. at a nousic Iball. Scene. — TJie aiiditorhun of a Music Hall, tJie patrons of which are respect- able, but in no sense " smarts The occupajits of the higher-priced seats appear to have dropped in less for the purpose of enjoying the enter- tainment than of discussing their private affairs — though this does not prevent them from applauding everything ivitJt generous impartiality. The Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen, the Celebrated Character- Duettists and Variety Artistes, the Sisters Silvertwang, will appear next ! \They do ; they have just sung a duet in praise of Nature with an interspersed step-dance. " Oh, I love to 'ear the echo on the Moun-ting I " {Tiddity-iddity-iddity-iddity-um ! ) " And to listen to the tinkle of the Foun-ting I " ( Tiddity, &c.) A White-capped Attendant {taking advantage of a pause, plain- tively). Sengwidges, too-pence ! Voluble Lady in the Shilling Stalls {telling her Male Companion an interminable story with an evasive point). No, but you 'ear what I'm going to tell you, because I'm coming to it presently. I can't remember his name at this moment — something like Budkin, but it wasn't that, somewhere near Bond Street, he is, or a street off there ; a Scotchman, but that doesn't matter ! {Here she breaks off to hum the Chorus of " Good Ole MotJier-in-Law ! " which is being sung on the stage) Well, let me see — what was I telling you ? Wait a minute, excuse me, oh, yes, — well, there was this picture, — mind you, it's a lovely painting, but the frame simply nothing, — not that I go by frames, myself, o' course not, but I fetched it down to show him — oh, I know what you'll say, but he must know At a Music Hall. ^-hl something about such things ; he knew my uncle, and I can tell you what he is — he's a florist, and married nineteen years, and his wife's forty — years older than mc, but I've scarcely spoke to her, and no children, so I fetched it to show him, and as soon as he sets eyes on it, he says (Female THE SISTERS SILVEKTWAXG. "Character-Comic" on Stage, lugubrioiisly. " Ritoldcriddlc, ol de;-^j ritolderiddle, olde-;7-/c/^ /" ) I can't tell you hozu old it is, but 'undreds of years, and Chinese, I shouldn't wonder, but we can't trace its 'istry — that's what he said, and if he don't know, nobody does, for it stands to reason he VOL. IL T 1 3 8 Voces Populi. must be a judge, though nothing to me, — when I say nothing, 1 mean all 1 know of him is that he used to be (Tenor Vocalist ON STAGE. " My Sweetheart when a Bo-oy ! ") I always like that song, don't you ? Well, and this is what I was zvanting to tell you, sJie got to know what I'd done — how is more'n / can tell you, but she did, and she come straight in to where I was, and I see in a minute she'd been drinking, for drink she does, from morning to night, but I don't mind tJiat, and her bonnet all on the back of her head, and her voice that 'usky, she (TENOR. " She sang a Song of Home Sweet Home — a song that reached my heart ! ") And I couldn't be expected to put up with that, you know, but I haven't 'alf told \'ou yet — zvell, &c., &c. IN THE RESERVED STALLS. First Professional Lady, ''restingl' to Second Ditto {as Miss Elorrie Foljambe appears on Stage). New dresses to-night. Second Ditto. Yes. {Inspects Miss F.'s costume.) Something wrong with that boy's dress in front, though, cut too low. Is that silver bullion it's trimmed with.'' That silver stuff they put on my pantomime- dress has turned quite yellow ! First Ditto. It will sometimes. Did you know any of the critics Avhcn you were down at Slagtown for the Panto .'' Second Ditto. I knew the GrimesJiire Mercury, and he said most awfully rude things about me in his paper. I was rather rude to him at rehearsal, but we made it up afterwards. You know Lily's married, dear } First Ditto. What— Lily t You don't mean it ! Second Ditto. Oh, yes, she is, though. She went out to Buenos Ayres, and the other day she was taken in to dinner by the Bishop of the Friendly Islands. P'irsT Ditto. A Bishop 1 Fancy ! That is getting on, isn't it } Miss Foljambe {on Stage, ack)iowledging an encore). Ladies and Gentlemen, I am very much obliged for your kind reception this evening, but having been lately laid up with a bad cold, and almost entirely lost my vice, and being still a little 'orse, I feel compelled to ask your kind acceptance At a Music HalL 139 of a few 'ornpipe steps, after which I 'ope to remain, Ladies and Gentlemen, always your obedient 'umble servant to command — Florrie Foljambe I [Tumultuous applause, and hornpipe. Chairman. Professor Boodler, the renowned Imitator of Birds, will appear next ! The Professor {on Stage). Ladies and Gentlemen, I shall commence by an attempt to give you an imitation of that popular and favourite songster the Thrush — better known to some of you, I dare say, as the Throstle, or Mavis ! {He gives the Thrush — ivhich somehoiv doesn't "go.") I shall next endeavour to represent that celebrated and tuneful singing- bird — the Sky-lark. {He does it, but the Lark doesiit quite come off.) I shall next try to give you those two sweet singers, the Male and Female Canary — the gentleman in the stalls with the yellow 'air will represent the female bird on this occasion, he must not be offended, for it is a 'igh com- pliment I am paying him, a harmless professional joke. {The Canaries obtain but tepid acknozuledgments?) I shall now conclude my illustrations of bird-life with my celebrated imitation of a waiter drawing the cork from a bottle of gingerbeer, and drinking it afterwards. [Does so ; rouses the audience to frantic entJtusiasni, and retires after triple recall. The Voluble Lady in the Shilling Stalls {during the performance of a Thrilling Melodramatic Sketch). I've nothing to say against her 'usban', a quiet, respectable man, and always treated me as a lady, with grey whiskers — but that's neither here nor there — and I speak of parties as I find them — luell. That was a Thursday. On the Saturday there came a knock at my door, and I answered it, and there was she saying, as cool as you please (HEROINE ON STAGE. " Ah, no, no — you would not ruin me.'' You will not tell my husband.^") So I told her. " I'm very sorry," I says, " but I can't lend that frying-pan to nobody." So I got up. Two hours after, as I was going down stairs, she come out of her room, and says, — " 'Alio, Rose, 'ow are yer .^ " as if nothing had 'appcned. " Oh, jolly," I says, or somethink o' that sort — / wasn't going to take no notice of her — and she says, " Going out .'' " — like that. I says, " Oh, yes ; nothing to stay in for," I says, careless-like ; so Mrs. Piper, she nc\-er said 140 Voces Popidi. nothing, and / didn't say nothing ; and so it went on till Monday — well ! Her 'usban' met me in the passage ; and he said to me — good-tempered and civil enough, I must say — he said (Villain ON STAGE. " Curse you ! I've had enough of this fooling ! Give me money, or I'll twist your neck, and fling you into yonder mill-dam, to drown ! ") So o' course I'd no objection to that ; and all she wanted, in the way of eatables and drink, she ^ad — no, let me finish my story first. Well, just fancy Ur now ! She asked me to step in ; and she says, " Ow are you ?" and was very nice, and I never said a word — not wishing to bring up the past, and — I didn't tell you this — they'd a kind of old easy chair in the room — and the only remark /made, not meaning anythink, was (Hero ON STAGE. "You infernal, black-hearted scoundrel ! this is your work, is it .'* ") Well, I couldn't ha' put it more pleasant than that, co2ild I } and old Mr. Fitkin, as was settin' on it, he says to me, he says (Hero. " Courage, my darling ! You shall not perish if my strong arms can save you. Heaven help me to rescue the woman I love better than my life ! ") but he's 'alf silly, so I took no partickler notice of 'im, when, what did that woman do, after stoopin' to me, as she 'as, times without number — but — Oh, is the play over .'' Well, as I was saying — oh, Fin ready to go if you are, and I can tell you the rest walking home. \Exit, having thoroughly enjoyed her evening. U IRecitation imber E)ifficultie0. Scene. — An Evening Party ; MiSS Fresia Bludkinson, a talented young Professional Reciter^ has been engaged to entertain the company, and is about to deliver the favourite piece entitled, " TJie Lover of Lobelia Bangs, a Coivboy Idyl. " There is the usual crush, and the guests outside the drazvi7ig-room, who can neither hear nor see what is going on, console themselves by conversing in distinctly audible tones, favinied in a doorway, between the persons who are trying to get in, and the people who would be only too glad to get out, is an UNSOPHISTICATED Guest %vho doesn't know a soul, and is consequently reduced to listcniiig to the Recitation. This is what he hears : — Miss Fresia Blud. (/;/ a tone of lady-like apology). I am only a Cowboy \_Several Ladies put up their glasses, and examine her critically, as if they had rather expected this confession. Sudden burst of Society Chatter from without. Society Chatter. How d'ye do .? . . . Oh, but her parties never are / . . . How are you t . . . No, I left her at . . . Yes, he's somewhere about . . . Saw you in the Row this morn in' , . . Are you doing anything on .' , . . Oh, what a shame ! . . , No, but doesnt she now } . . . No earthly use trying to get in at present . . . &c., &c. Miss Fresia B. {beginning again, zvith meek despair, a little louder). I am only a Cowboy ; reckless, rough, in an unconventional suit of clothes ; I hain't, as a rule, got much to say, and my conversation is mostly oaths. 142 Voces Popitli. [Cries o/"Ss/i/" i7itended, hozvever,for the people outside, wJio are chattering harder than ever. When the cackle of females strikes my ear Society Chatter {as before). Oh, much cooler here . . . Yes, deh'ghtful, wasn't it ? Everybody one knows . . . No, you don't really ? . . . Oh, Popsy's flourishing, thanks . . . The new Butler turned out a perfect demon. . . . but I said I wouldn't have his tail docked for anything ... so they've painted it eau de Nil, and it looks so nice ! Miss F. B. {pointedly). When the cackle of females strikes my ear, I jest vamose, for they make me skeered, And I sorter suspicion I skeer them too, with my hulking form, and my bushy beard ! [Here, of course, she strokes a very round cJwi. Society Chatter. Seems to be somethin' goin' on in there — singin', actin', dancin', or somethin' . . . Well, of course, only heard Jier version of it as yet, y' know . , . Have you seen him in . . . white bengaline with a Medici collar, and one of those . . . nasty gouty attacks he ivill have are only rheumatism, &c., &c. Miss F. B. {ivhcn next heard). I cleared my throat and I tried to speak — but the words died strangled — A Feminine Voice outside. So lo)ig since we had a quiet talk together ! Do tell me all about, &c., &c. MISS r . iJ. strangled by sheer alarm. For there in front [Here she points dramatically at a stout matron, zvho fans Jierself consciously. was the slender form, and the sweet girl-face of our new " School Marm " ! Say, boys ! hev' ye heard an yEolian harp which a Zephyr's tremulous finger twangs ? Wa'al, it kinder thrills ye the way I felt when I first beheld Lobelia Bangs ! Soc. CllAT. Oh, you really ought to go — so touching ! Dick and I both regularly howled all through the last act . . . Not in the least, thanks. Well, if there is a seat . . . You're sure there a7'e any ices .-* Then, strawberry, please — no, nothing to drink! . . . TF/// you allow me ? "I AM ONLY A COWBOY. 144 Voces Populi. . . . Told she could dress hair perfectly, but I soon found she was . . . a Swedenborgian, my dear, or something horrid . . . Haven't you ? Fve had it three times, and ... so many people have asked me for cards that really I . . . had the drains thoroughly looked to, and now they're . . . delicious, but rather overpowering in a room, I think ! &c., &c. Miss F. B. {with genuine feeling). Who would imagine one meek-voiced girl could have held her own in a deafening din ! But Lobelia's scholars discovered soon she'd a dead-sure notion of discipline ; For her satin palm had a sting like steel, and the rowdiest rebel respected her, When she'd stretched out six of the hardest lots in the Bible-Class with a Derringer ! Soc. Chat. No, a very dull party, you could move about quite easily in all the rooms, so we . , . kicked the whole concern to shivers and . . . came on here as soon as we could . . . Capital dinner they^^z^^ us too . . . &c., &c. Miss F. B. {with as much conviction as possible tmder the circumstances). And the silence deepened ; no creature stirred in the stagnant hush , and the only sound Was the far-off lumbering jolt, produced by the prairie rolling for leagues around ! Soc. Chat, {crescendo). Oh, an old aunt of mine has gone in for step-dancing — she's had several lessons . . . and cut her knees rather badly, y know, so I put her out to grass . . . and now she can sit up and hold a biscuit on her nose . . . but she real!}- ought to mix a little grey in her wig ! l&'c., &c., to the distraction of the UNSOPHISTICATED GUEST, zvho is getting quite interested in Lobelia Bangs, ivJiom lie suddenly discovers, much to Ids surprise, on horseback. Miss F. B. And on we cantered, without a word, in the mid-day heat, on our swift mustangs. I was only ignorant Cowboy Clem — but I worshipped bright Lobelia Bangs ! Soc. Chat, {fortissimo). Not for ages ; but last time I met him he was ... in a dreadful state, with the cook down with influenza . . . and so I suppose he's married her by this time ! MiSS F. B. {excitedly). But hark ! in the distance a weird shrill cry, a kinder mournful, monotonous yelp — {Further irruption of SOCIETY Chatter) ... is it jackal .?— bison ?— a cry for help.) A Recitation under Difficulties. 145 Soc. Chat. Such a complete rest, you know — so perfectly peaceful ! Not a soul to talk to. I love it . . . but, to really enjoy a tomato, you must see it dressed ... in the siveetest little sailor suit ! Miss F. B. My horse was a speck on the pampas' verge, for I dropped the rein in my haste to stoop ; Then I pressed my ear to the baking soil — and caught — ah, horror — the Indian whoop ! Soc. Chat. Some sa)- it isiit infectious, but one can't be too careful, and, with children in the house, &c., &c. Miss F. B. I rose to my feet with c[uivering knees, and my face went white as a fresh-washed towel ; I had heard a war-cry I knew too well — 'twas the murderous bellow of Blue-nosed Owl ! Soc. Chat. Nice fellow — I'm very fond of him — so fresh — capital company — met him when I was over there, &c. Miss F. B. " What ! leave you to face those fiends alone I " she cried, and slid from her horse's back ; " Let me die with you — for I love you, Clem ! " Then she gave her steed a resounding smack, And he bounded off; "Now Heaven be praised that my school si.\-shooter I brought ! " said she. " Four barrels I'H keep for the front-rank foes — and the next for you — and the last for me ! " Soc. Chat. Is it a comic piece she's doing, do you know } Don't think so, I can see somebody smiling. Sounds rather like Shakespeare, or Dickens, or one of those fellahs . . . Didn't catch what }-ou said. No. Quite impossible to hear one's self speak, isiit it } Miss F. B. And ever louder the demons yelled for their pale-faced prey— but I scorned death's pangs, For I deemed it a doom that was half delight to die by the hand of Lobelia Bangs I Then she whispered low in her dulcet tones, like the crooning coo of a cushat dove ! {At the top of her voiced "Forgive me, Clem, but I could not bear any squaw to torture my own true love ! " .A.nd she raised the revolver — " crack-crack-crack ! " VOL. II. U 146 Voces PopiUi. [To the infinite chagrin of the UNSOPHISTICATED GUEST, ivho is intensely anxious to hear how Jlliss Bangs and lier lover escaped from so unpleasant a dilcninia — tJie remaining cracks of her revolver, together zvitJi the tivo next stanzas, are drozvned in afresh torrent of small-talk — after ivJiich he hears MiSS F. B. conclnde luith repressed emotion : But the ochre on Bhie-nosed Owl was blurred, as his braves concluded their brief harangues ; And he dropped a tear on the early bier of our Prairie Belle, Lobelia Bangs ! \Which of course leaves him in a state of hopeless mystification. SOC. Chat. Is that the end? Charming! Now we shall be able to talk again ! &c., &c. Banh Ibolt^a^. Scene — Tlie Crystal Palace. The Nave is filled xvith a dense throng of Pleasure-seekers. Every free seat commanding the most distant view of a Variety Performance on the Great Stage has been occupied an hour in advance. The less punctual stand and enjoy the spectacle of other persons hats or bonnets. Gangs of Jl/ale and Female P romenaders jostle and hustle to their hearts' content, or perform the zvar-song and dance of tlie Lower-class 'Arry, which consists in chanting" Oi tiddly-oi-toi ; hoi-toi- oi ! " to a double shujfle. Tired zvomen sit on chairs and look at nothing. In the Grounds, the fancy of young men and maidens is lightly turning to thoughts of love ; the first dawn of the tender passion being intimated, on the part of the youth, by chasing his charmer into a corner and par- tially throttling her, whereupon the maiden coyly conveys that his senti- ments are not unreciprocated by thumping him betzueen the shoulders. From time to time, tivo champions contend with fists for the smiles of beauty, who may usually be heard bellowing zvith perfect impartiality in the background. A small but increasing percentage have already had as miicJi liquid refresJiment as is good for them, and intend to have more. Altogether, the scene, if festive, might puzzle an Intelligent Foreigner zuho is more familar with Continental ideas of enjoyment. A Damsel {in a ruby plush hat zvith a mauve feather). Why, if they yn't got that bloomin' olc statute down from Charin' Cross ! What's 'e doin' of down 'ere, I wonder ? Her Swain {whose featJicr is only pink and white paper). Doin' of? Tykin' 'is d'y orf — like the rest of us arc t}-kin' it. The Damsel {giggling). You go on— }-ou don't green me that w')- — a statute ! 148 Voces Popidi. Swain. Well, 'yn't this what they call a " Statutory " 'Oliday, eh ? Damsel {m IdgJi appreciation of his huj/ioiir). I'll fetch you scch a slap in a minnit ! 'Ere, let's gow on the Swissback. Another Damsel {in a peacock-blue hat zvith orange pompons). See that nekked young man on the big 'orse, Alf ? It says "Castor" on the stand. 'Oo was 'e ? Alf. Oh, / d' know. I dessay il; '11 be 'im as invented the Castor He. The Damsel {disgusted). Fancy their puttin' up a monument to '//// ! Superior 'Arry {talking Musichalls to his Adored One). 'Ave you 'eard her sing " Come where the Booze is Cheapest "i " The Adored. Lots o' toimes. I do like 'er singing. She mykcs sech comical soigns — and then the things she sez ! But I've 'eard she's very common in her tork, and that — orf the styge. The S. a. I shouldn't wonder. Some on 'em are that way. You can't 'ave every tJiink ! His Adored. No, it is a pity, though. 'Spose we go out, and pl'y Kiss in the Ring.^ [They do. AMONG THE ETHNOLOGICAL MODELS. Wife of British Workman {spelling out placard under Hottentot Group). " It is extremely probable that this interesting race will be completely exterminated at no very distant period." Pore things ! British Workman {zvith philosophy). Well, / sha'n't go inter mournin' for 'em, Sairer ! Lambeth Larrikin {in a pasteboard '■'■ pickelhaube^' and a false nose, thougJitfully, to Battersea Bill, ivho is zuearing an old grey chimney-pot hat, with the brim upprrjnost, and a tozv zaig, as they contemplate a party of Botocudo natives). Rum the sights these 'ere savidges make o' their- selvcs, ain't it, Bill } Batt. Bh.L {inore thoughtfully). Yer right — but I dessay if you and me 'ad been born among that lot, 7tv shouldn't care 'ozv we looked ! Vauxhall Voilet {zvho has exchanged headgear zvith ClIELSEA Chorley — zvith dismal results). They are cures, those blackies ! Why, Bank Holiday. 149 yer carn't 'ardly tell the men from the wimmin ! I expect this lot '11 be 'aving a beanfeast. See, they're plyin' their myusic. Chelsea Chorley. Good job wc can't 'ear 'cm. They say as <$^Jti^'^^- "rum tiik sights these 'ere savidges make o' theirselves." niggers' music is somcthink downright horful. Give us " Hi-tiddly-hi " on that m.outh-orgin o' yours, will }cr .'' [Vauxhall VoiLET obliges on that iiistnimoit ; every one in the neighbourhood begins to Jig )ueehanica//j ; exeunt party, daneino. I ;o Voces Pop7ili. A Pimply Youth. " Hopium-eater from Java." That's the stuff they gits as stoopid as biled howls on — it's about time we went and did another beer. Y^hey retire for that purpose. DURING THE FIREWORKS. Chorus of Spectators. There's another lot o' bloomin' rockets gowin orf! Oo-oo, 'ynt that lur-uvly .' What a lark if the sticks come down on somebody's 'ed ! There, didyer see 'em bust 'i Puts me in mind of a shower o' foiry smuts. Lor, so they do — what a fancy you do 'ave. &c., &c. COMING HOME. An Old GENTLE^L\N {ivho has come out with the object of observitig Bank Holiday manners — zuhich he has done from a respectful distance — to Jiis friend, as they settle down in an empty first-class compartment). There, now we shall just get comfortably off before the crush begins. Now, to me, y' know, this has been a most interesting and gratifying experience — wonderful spectacle, all that immense crowd, enjoying itself in its own way — boisterously, perhaps, but, on the whole, with marvellous decorum ! Really, very exhilarating to see — but you don't agree with me 1 Hls Friend {reluctantly). Well, I must say it struck me as rather pathetic than The O. G. {testily). Pathetic, Sir — nonsense ! I like to see people putting their heart into it, whether it's play or work. Give mc a crowd \_As if in anszver to this prayer, there is a sudden irruption of typical Bank Holiday-makers into the compartment. Man by the Window. Third-class as good as fust, these days ! Why, if there ain't ole Fred ! Wayo, P>ed, tumble in, ole son — room for one more standin' ! [ " Ole Fred " plays himself in ivith a triumphal blast on a tin trumpet, after which he playfully Jiammers the roof ivith his sticky as he leans against the door. Bank Holiday. \ 5 Ole Fred. Where's my blanky friend ? I "it 'im one on the jaw, and I ain't seen 'im since ! {Sings, sentiuicntally, at the top of a naturally pozverfiil voice?) " Comrides, Com-rides ! Hever since we was boys ! Sharin' each other's sorrcrs. Sharin' each hother's — beer ! '' \_A '' paraprosdokiaii^' zv/iich delights him to the point of repetition. The O. G. Might I ask you to make a little less disturbance there, Sir? \^\Vhiuipers from over-tired children. Ole Fred {roaring^. " I'm jolly as a Sandboy, I'm 'appy as a king! No matter what I see or 'ear, I larf at heverything ! I'm the morril of my moth-ar, {to O. G.) the himage of your Par ! And heverythink I see or 'ear, it makes me larf 'Ar-har ! '" [//fc' laughs '^Ar-har,'' after ivhich he gives a piercing blast upon the trumpet, with stick obbligato on the roof. The O. G. {7'oused). I really must beg you not to be such an infernal nuisance! There are women and children here who Ole Fred. Shet up, old umbereller whiskers ! {Screams of laughter from women and cliildren, luhich encourage him to sing again.) " An' the roof is copper-bottomed, but the chimlies are of gold. In my double- breasted mansion in the Strand !" {To people on platform, as train stops.) Come in, oh, lor, do ! " Oi-tiddly-oi-toi ! hoi-toi-oy ! " \The rest take up the refrain — '^'Ave a drink an' wet yo7ir eye^ &c. and beat time zvith their boots. The O. G. If this abominable noise goes on, I shall call the guard — disgraceful, coming in drunk like this ! The Man by the \Vl\DOW. 'Ere, dry up, Guv'nor — 'e ain't 'ad enough to urt 'im, 'f ain't ! Chorus of Fem.\LE3 {to O. G.). An' Bank 'Oliday, too — you orter to be ashimed o yerself, you ought ! 'E's as right as right, if you on'}- let him alone ! Ole Fred {to O. G.). Ga-arn, yer pore-'arted ole choiner boy ! {sings dismally), " Ow ! for the vanished Spring-toimc ! Ow ! for the dyes gorn boy ! Ow ! for the " — {changing the melod}>) — " 'omeless, I wander in lonely distress. No one ter pity me — none ter caress!" {Here he sheds tears. I K2 Voces Popidi. overcome by his ozvn pathos, but presently cheers up.) " I dornce all noight ! An' I rowl 'ome toight ! I'm a rare-un at a rollick, or I'm ready fur a foight.*' Any man 'ere wanter foight me ? Don't say no, ole Frecklefoot ! {To the O. G., who perspires free/y.) "Oh, I aw cnj'yin' myself!" [He keeps vp this agreeable rattle, ivithoiit intermission, for the remainder of tJie journey , xvliicJi — as the train stops everyzvhere, and takes quite three-quarters of an hour in getting from Queens Road, Battersea, to 'Victoria — affords a signal proof of his social resources, if it somcivJiat modifies the O. G.'S enthusiasm for the artless gaiety of a Bank Holiday. a IRow in the pit; or, Zbc ©bc^tructivc Ibat. Scene — T//e Pit diu-nig Pantomime Time. The Overture is beginning. An Over-heated Matron {to her Husband). Well, they don't give you much room in 'ere, I miLst say. Slill, we done better than I expected, after all that crushing. I thought my ribs was gone once — but it was on'y the umberella's. You pretty comfortable whcre_;'/;f /^>,/£,iy^j/ ni.lmk^^ niiAa "thk owner of the hat deigns no REn.Y." Mother. You can't wonder at the boy not seeing ! P'raps the lady wouldn't mind taking it off, if you asked her.' Fathkr. Ah ! {He touches Tni-; Owner oe the Hat on the shoulder.) Excuse me, Mum, but might I take the liberty of asking you to kindly remove your 'at } [The Owner oe the Hat deigns no reply. Father {more insistently). JVould you 'avc any objection to oblige me by taking off your 'at, Mum ? {Same result.) I don't know if you 'card me, A Roiv in the Pit. i 5 5 Mum, but I've asked you twice, civil enough, to take that 'at of yours off i^patJietically). I'm a plaj'in' 'Ide and Seek be'ind it 'ere ! [A^^ answer. The Mother. People didn't ought to be allowed in the Pit with sech 'ats ! Callin' 'crself a lady — and settin' there in a great 'at and feathers like a 'Ighlander's, and never answering no more nor a stuffed himage ! Father {to the Husband ofTw^ Owner of the Hat). Will you tell your good lady to take her 'at off, Sir, please ? The Owner of the Hat [to her Husband). Don't you do nothing of the sort, Sam, or you'll 'ear of it ! The Mother. Some people are perlite, I must say. Parties might beyave as ladies when they come in the Pit ! It's a pity her 'usband can't teach her better manners ! The Father, '/w teach her ! 'E knows better. 'E's got a Tartar there, V 'as ! The Owner of the Hat. Sam, are you going to set by and hear me insulted liJ-'c this .'' Her Husband [turning round tremnlously). I — I'll trouble you to drop making these personal allusions to my wife's 'at. Sir. It's puffickly impos- sible to listen to what's going on on the stage with all these remarks be'ind ! The Father. Not more nor it is to see what's going on on the stage with that 'at in front ! I paid 'arf-a-crown to see the Pantermime, I did ; not to 'ave a view of your wife's 'at ! . . . 'Ere, Maria, blowed if I can stand this 'ere game any longer. Jimmy must change places again, and if he can't see, he must jest stand up on the seat, that's all ! [Jimmy is transferred to his original place, and mounts upon the seat. A Pittite behind Jimmv {touching up Jimmy's Father zvith an umbrella). Will j'ou tell )-our little boy to set down, please, and not block the view like this .' Jimmy's Father. If you can indooce that lady in front to take off her 'at, I will — but not before. Stay where you are, Jimmy, my boy. The Pittite Behind. Well, I must stand m)-sclf then, that's all. I mean to see, somehoiv ! [He rises. People behind him {sternly). Set down there, will yer .^ \^He resumes his seat cxpcstulating. 156 Voces Popiili. JiMMV. Father, the gentleman behind is a pinching of my legs ! Jimmy's Father. Will you stop pinching my little boy's legs ! He ain't doingj'^;/ no 'arm — is he? The Pinching Pittite. Let him sit down, then ! Jimmy's Father. Let the lady take her 'at off! Murmurs behind. Order, there! Set down ! Put that boy down ! Take orf that 'at ! Silence in front, there ! Turn 'em out ! Shame ! . . . &c., &c. The Husband of the O. of the H. (/// a iuhisp:r to his Wife). Take off the blessed 'at, and have done with it, do ! The O. of the H. What — now ! Pd sooner die in the 'at 1 \^A)i Attendant is called. The Attendant. Order, there, Gentlemen, please — unless you want to get turned out ! No standing allowed on the seats — you're disturbing the performance 'ere, you know ! [Jimmy is made to sit dozun, and weeps silently ; the Jiv.bbnb gradnally subsides — and TlIE Owner of the Wat triumphs — for the vwvient. Jimmy's Mother. Never mind, my boy, you shall have Mother's seat in a minute. I dessay, if all was known, the lady 'as reasons for keeping her 'at on, pore thing ! The Father [perceiving her drift). Ah, I never thought o' that. So she ma\-. Very likely her 'at won"t come off — not without her 'air ! The Mother. Ah, well, we mustn't be 'ard on her, if that's so. The O. of the H. {removing the obstruction). I 'ope you're satisfied now, Fm sure .'' The Father ijiandsomely). Better late nor never. Mum, and we take it kind of )-ou. Though, why you shouldn't ha' done it at fust, I dunno; for you look a deal 'ansomcr without the 'at than what }'ou did in it— doiLt she, Maria ? The O. of the H. {mollified). Sam, ask the gentleman behind if his little boy would like a ginger-nut. [This olive-branch is accepted ; compliments pass ; cordiality is re- stored, and the Pantomime proceeds without further disturbance. RICHARD CLAV AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BUNGAY. yLz 3 1205 00534 4526 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara STACK COLLECTION THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW. 30m-8,'65(F644784)9482