t#'*-^. X: ' ^r ^TTfZ^Sr. LlDuAR/ IINIVFRSITY OF eALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE »*,V) ^^J\^^ r.:y^ -vv' .\ ..^ii -..J' ie ^^^s^^' p) ■ A/' / VOCES POPULI "my dear child, what on earth have you got on your feet?" VOCES POPULI [Reprinted from " Punch "] /I/ BY (^F. ANSTEY, AUTHOR OF "vice VERSA," ETC. A WITH TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. AND NEW YORK : 15 KAST 16"' STREET 1890 {All rifi'its reser7ieii] Richard Clay and Sons, Limited, london and bungay. TO Zbc EDitor an& Staff of " puncb " THIS VOLUME WHICH ORIGINALLY APPEARED UNDER MR. PUNCH'S AUSPICES IS GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. August, 1890. CONTENTS PAGE A PASTORAL PLAY I THIRD CLASS — PARLLAMENTARY 7 AT A DINNER PARTY 12 AN EAST-END POULTRY SHO\V 1 8 PICTURE SUNDAY 21 A SHOW PLACE 2/ AT A TURKISH BATH 33 TRAFALGAR SQUARE 37 AT A HUNT STEEPLE-CHASE 42 AT A WEDDING 48 AT A BOND STREET GALLERY 54 AT A LEGAL LUNCHEON-BAR 59 AT A WATER-PICNIC 65 THE MUSICAL PRODIGY 7 1 THE CADI OF THE CURBSTONE 76 A GAME OF BILLIARDS 81 SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN HYDE PARK 87 AT THE FRENCH PLAY 92 AT A HIGHLAND TABLE d'HOTE 98 ON A TRIP TO STAFFA AND lONA lOI AT SOME HIGHLAND SPORTS I05 AT A NORTH BRITISH HYDROPATHIC IO9 DOING EDINBURGH CASTLE II4 AT THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW I18 IN AN ITALIAN RESTAURANT 122 CHOOSING CHRISTMAS CARDS 1 28 AT THE PANTOMIME 1 33 ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE " MY DEAR CHILD, WHAT ON EARTH HAVE YOU GOT ON YOUR FEET ? " Front. "you're a toff" 9 "i believe I'm to take you in" 14 "WHAT A picture!" • 23 the man in the flannel shirt 28 "the tapestry along the walls is gobling " . . ■ 29 " 'ow are yer ? pretty bobbish, eh ? " 38 "and the starter will tell you the rest" 43 "it's NOT THE FIRST TIME I'VE UNDERTAKEN SUCH A JOB— NOT BY A VERY LONG way" 52 GESTICULATES ELABORATELY WITH SHILLING 56 "you've BROUGHT THE SUNSHINE IN WITH YOU" 60 " I needn't ask IF you're GOING TO ROW ? " 66 " I AM ONLY A WOMAN WITH THESE DEFENCELESS CHILDREN " . , . -73 " TE-HEE ! TOO MUCH SIDE ON ! " 83 "would ye call that CIVILISATION?" 89 "quoi? ma femme!— ici!" 95 " TRES EGAYANTE, LA PIECE, N'EST-CE PAS ? " " OH, PAS DU TOUT " . . .96 "ah MOOSN'T EAT BREAD, AN' AH MOOSN'T EAT POTEATOES, NOR YET MOOFFINS, NOR TEA-CAAK" "ALTRO! SUL CAMPO DELLA GLORIA VERMICELLI!" 1 25 "OH dear NO, SIR, YOU WON'T FIND THAT CLASS OF GOODS AT ANY respectable SHOP" 130 VOCES POPULI H Ipaetoral pla\). {A Reminiscence of a Wet Juiy.) Argument. Mr. and Mrs. Brondesbury Brown (of North Kensington), roused to emulation by certain recent open-air performances, have invited their friends to witness a selection from T/ie Tempest in the garden of their villa, "Fontainebleau " (which derives its title from two remarkably fine plane-trees at one end of the lawn). Scene — The Anditoriinn. Mr. and MRS. B. B. discovered in readiness to receive their Guests. Mrs, B. B. {ivitJi a desperate cheerfulness^. Do }'OU know, Brondesbury, dear, I really do believe we shall have fine weather, after all t B. B. {riot a Pastoral Enthusiast). I shouldn't be surprised if it did clear «p — about midnight. Mrs. B. B. Well, if it doesn't rain any more till all the people are here, /shall be satisfied. [^She says this with a dim notion of propitiating the Powers that be by her moderation. B. \\. Why, you won't do it out here if it rains, will you .'' Mrs. B. B. {with a deadly calni). Where do you suppose we shall do it, then ? V>. B. {feebly). Why not in the — ar — Drawing-room .'' Mrs. B. B. {fanning herself ), Really^ Brondesbury, you are tot) trying I/^oces Popiili. for anything! A Pastoral Play in the Drawing-room ! Have you no sense of the ridiculous ? Do you know what a Pastoral Play is ? B. B. [grimly). Pm beginning to find out, my dear. The First Guests Jwpefully [as they make their way down the little cast- iron staircase to the lazvn, zvhich is roofed over luitJi sail-cloth, and provided with roiit-seats and chairs). They can't possibly mean to have it this evening — we shall be able to get away all the sooner ! {To their hostess.) Oh, Mrs. Brown, hozv unfortunate ! such hopeless weather for it ! We really ought not to have come at all. Mrs. B. Oh, but indeed — we're not afraid of a few drops of rain — you sha'n't be disappointed ! {General fall of jaivs) We're going to begin as soon as ever a few more people come. You sha'n't go away without your Tempest ! [Guests, realising that they are in for one, at the very least, seat themselves zvith hypocritical expressions of delight. BEHIND THE CURTAIN: UNDER THE PLANE-TREES. The King of Naples {to Ferdinand). I say, old fellow, if we're to lie down and go to sleep here, we must have a little sawdust thrown down first. The ground's sopping ! Ferdinand {also Stage Manager). Oh, don't bother me, my dear fellow ! Where the dickens am / to find sawdust } The K. (^/N. {jinkindly). Thought you might have spared us some out of your calves ! Miranda. / have to go to sleep, too ; and that couch is simply soaked ! Ferdinand {irritably'). Soaked.? , Of course it's soaked! It's Pastoral We must put up with it, that's all. My dear child, what on earth have you got on your feet .'' Miranda {regarding Jier goloshes rtiefull}). They're mother's. She made me promise to wear them if the ground was at all damp. Ariel {to Maid, luho has come round by the path). Well, Tucker, what is it now ? A Pastoral Play. Maid. Your Aunt's love, Miss; and she must insist on your putting on this. Ariel. What a shame ! {To King.) I can't act Ariel in a waterproof, can I .'* The K. ^/N. {sardonically^). Oh, why not.' W'c must try and borrow an old sou-wester for Prospero, though, or he'll be out of the picture. {Angrily, aside to FERDINAND). Hang it all, we'd better do the whole thing under umbrellas at once ! Caliban {to Miranda). All /know is, I hope we shall begin scon. If I stand about in a damp hump much longer, I shall be ill. Just feel it, [Miranda /^^/j- his Jniuip delicately, and commiserates him. Prospero. Never mind your hump — see if you can tell me how to make this confounded beard of mine stick on — the rain's washed off all the gum. IN FRONT— BEFORE PLAY BEGINS. Mrs. Harlesden Smith. Oh, I shall see splendidly here, thanks, dear Mrs. Brown ; /lozo mcII you have arranged it all ! It's really not at all cold — well, if }-ou would go and fetch my cloak, Harlesden, perhaps it might be more Miss Ladbroke Hill {to Mr. Kensal Green). Such a charming idea, these garden theatricals. So different from a hot stuffy theatre ! Mr. Kensal Green {putting vp his coat-collar). It certainly is the reverse of stuffy here ! Plenty of air ! Miranda's Mother. I do wish they would begin. I can't bear to think of my poor girl standing about on that nasty wet grass all this time — so bad for her ! Ariel's Aunt. — If I had guessed it would turn out such a night as this, I would never have allowed my niece to accept the part — and even as it is — \The curtains draivn aside, and play begins: VrOSVEKO instructs Miranda concerni?ig the family history in the midst of a heavy downpour. One ^/Ariel's sJioes comes off in the mud. Voces PopiiH. Miss Ladbroke Hill. How well they did the lightning then, didn't they ? Mr. K. G. Oh, it's all genuine — the Browns are determined to do the thing well. Thunder, too, you see .-^ There's nothing mean about Brown! Miranda's Mother. That dreadful hghtning ! Oh, Mrs. Brown, do please tell them to come away from the trees — it is so dangerous ! Cecil's Aunt. Oh, do ; they might be struck down at any moment — it's tempting Providence ! Mrs. Brown {in despair). It — it's only j-Z-^^-^lightning. Please— //mj'^ don't say anything about it to them now — it will only put them out. They're getting on so nicely ! Enter Caliban [on stage — moists but maledictory). " As wicked dew as e'er my mother brushed .... Drop on you both — a south-west blow on ye I " PrOSPERO {ivith feeling). " For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps ! " Mr. K. G. {sotto voce). If Caliban don't have them, I shall ! Enter Trinculo {on stage). " If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head. Yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. . . . Alas, the storm is come again ! " &c., &c. \Real thunder — rain descends pitilessly. Mr. K. G. Really a triumph of stage-management ! Enter Ferdinand ^;/ j^/^?^^, bearing a log {he tJiroivs it doiun tvitJi a heavy splash). " There be some sports are painful." Mr. K. G. {ivho has been sitting for some time with a stream of water from the roof trickling down the back of his neck). Pastoral Plays, for example. \Scene with Miranda is proceeding in pelting rain-, ivhich extin- gitishes most of the lamps which light the scene, zvJien Miranda's Mother {rises). I can't help it, Mrs. Brown — flesh and blood can't bear it. I can't sit here and see that poor child catching cold under my very eyes. Minnie, dear, come in under the tent out of the rain this instant ! Do you hear t I order you ! \_Sensation in audience — on the zvhole, hardly of disapproval. A Pastoral Play. 5 Miranda. In a minute, Mamma. "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of." {To Prospero). I really must go. It's no use, when Mamma once makes up her mind. [PrOSPERO acquiesces sulkily. Ariel's Aunt. I was just about to say the same thing, dear Mrs. Sudbury! Pastorals or no pastorals, I can't let my sister's child commit suicide. Fanny, come too — and bring your waterproof. Ferdinand (Jielplessly). But I say, how are wc to get along without Miranda and Ariel } Miranda's Mother. That I can't pretend to decide — but I should have thought you gentlemen could have finished it alone — somehow. Or I don't object to Minnie's acting, provided she keeps under the tent and speaks her part from there. [Ariel's Aunt makes similar concession zvith regard to Jier niece. Prospero. No, I don't think that would do. {To Mrs. Brown). Perhaps we //^^ better stop for this evening — there doesn't seem to be much chance of the weather improving, and — {candidly) — I'm afraid it really is a little damp for the ladies, — eh, Brown .' Mr. Brown {basely). Well, if you ask me, I think we've all had about enough of it. [Mrs. B. conceals her mortification. Guests {eagerly). It's been too charming, too delightful — but we mustn't be selfish, must we } It would be cruel to expect them to do any more. And they are so wet, poor things ! \They adjourn zvith ill-disguised relief and profuse expressions of gratitude. IN THE DRAWING-ROOM— LATER. Mrs. Brondesbury Brown is shedding a quiet tear by the chimncypicce ; Mr. Brondesbury Brown is humming, as he lights a candle zvith. one of the programmes. Mr. 15. B. {zvith offensive cheeriness). Do you know, I shouldn't wonder if wc had a fine day to-morrow — the glass is going up again. 6 Voces Popiili. Mrs. B. B. {in a muffled voice). It may, if it likes. Mr. B. B. Come, come, Polly ! I'm sure everything went off very yvell — considering. I only hope none of the people will get rheumatism after it — that's all. Mrs. B. B. I dud-don't c-care if they all die ! <^bir^ Cla^i?— padiaincutarvr SCE N E — Interior of Third Class Smoking Compartment. Fl RST PassENGE R, apparejitly a small Suburban Tradesman, of a full and comfortable habit, seated by window. To Jiim enters a seedy but burly Stranger, /;/ a state of muzzy affability, with an under-suggestion of quarrelsomeness. The Stranger {leaning forzuard mysteriously). Yer saw that gentleman I was a' torkiii' to as I got in ? Did yer know 'oo he was ? First Passenger {without hauteur, butzciththeairof a Person ivhosets a certain value on his conversation). Well, he didn't look much like the Archbishop of Canterbury. The S. He's a better man than ' im ! That was Brasher, the middling weight ! he giv me the orfice straight about Killivan and Smifton, he did ! First P. {interested as a lover of the Noble Art of Self -Defence). Ah ! did he, though ? The S. He did ; I went up to him, and I scz, " Excuse me," I sez, like that, "but are you an American, or a German ? " Fn^ST P, {zvitJi superiority). He wouldn't like that — being taken for a German. T\v^^. {solemnly). Those were my very words ! And he scz, " No, Fm a Yank," and then I knoo 'oo he was, d'ye see ? and so {hacily) one word brought up another, and we got a torkin'. If I \\as to tell you Pd seen Killivan, I should be tcllin' yer a lie ! F'nl"'r*}/ ^' WIIM- A I'ICIUKK 24 Voces Popidi. dazzled — it makes me want to hide my eyes. {Sympathetic inurimir from Und.) Why, when it's hung it will kill everything 7iear it ! Und. {aside to FAIR NEIGHBOUR). At all events, it's done nothing to deserve hanging yet ! It won't be hung till it's cut down ; and, if it's cut down, it'll be cut up ! regular mad Irish bull of a picture, that! Fair Neighbour {who hasn't an idea ivJiat he means'). Oh, Mr. Undertone, doiit — you're too killing ! Mrs. Mar. {bringing up her friends'). Oh ! but I mustn't forget — I want to present Mr. Dummer {in a whisper to S.), the Dummer, you know! (S. boivs, and tries to look as if this description conveyed some definite idea to his mind ; Mr. D. jerks and mumbles). MRS. Plummer ! (Mrs. V. performs a reverential curtsey, as if she was in the presence of a resuscitated Old Master at the very least). Now {tvith much tact), do tell them the story of the picture in your own %vords ! {As if she zvoiddn't spoil it by telling it herself). Stip. {zvho begins to see that it may be as ivell). Well, it's from Browning, you know — " Ralaustion reciting the Alkestis of Euripides to the Syracusans on the steps of the Temple of Herakles." [ Universal chorus of pleased recognition. Mrs. FloppER {enthusiastically). That dear Browning — so like him I I do love recitations. Have you ever heard " Ostler foe " ? Colonel Cropper {to Mrs. Margreen, in a cautious ivhisper). Might I ask — I didn't quite catch — what is the subject supposed to be ? Mrs. Mar. {zvho has a good ear, but a short memory). Oh, don't you know? It's {desperately) "Euripides inciting the Syracusans to discover a lost tune under the steps of the Temple of ' All-kissed-us.' " You remember nozv ? Col. C. Yes, yes — to be sure ; astonishing how one forgets these things — so he did ! Mrs. Rosebery Rasch {to her daughtei). What is it all about, Florida .? • Miss R. R. I'm not quite sure, mother ; but I think it's Euripides with his lyre, accusing somebody of exciting the Heraclese by a lost tune — out of Browning. Picture Su]idav. 2 •^ ^ Mrs. R. R. {satisfied). Oh ! " The Lost CJiord!" , Ah, )cs, 1 sec. I'd forgotten that was his. Mr. Bopper [advancing pompo7t sly to Stippell). Do you know, my dear Sir, that that's a very remarkable picture — it — ah — reminds me of an anecdote I once — ■ — ■ Stip. {evading Jiini blandly). Indeed ? Then my work has not been altogether wasted. Mrs. Jopper {after gazing long at the canvas, to S. in a deep solenm voice). Allow me to ask — do you — er — take your own perspectives .-' Stip. {gaspi?ig, and then recovering his presence of mind). Generally, dear lady — wherever I can come across them. Mrs. Jopp. {profoundly). Quite right. It is the only way to succeed ! [S. retreats, deeply mystified. Stip. {to Mrs. Mar). Oh, are you looking at that? that's in a quieter style, you see. Child nursing a sick monkey. Mrs. Mar. Do you know — though, of course, the other picture, the — the " Syrippidans^' is one of the finest I ever saw ; I think this is more striking, somehow ! hozv sick that monkey looks ! and the child, too — de-licious ! Stip. So glad you like it; just an idea of mine {disparagingly), an idea/ I'm a little doubtful what to call it — must have a good name for it. Can you suggest a title for me ? Und. {as before). Ahem, give a bad picture a good name, and the\' may hang it ! Mrs. Mar. {to S., impidsively). Oh ! yes ! Call it — well [zvith a brilliant inspiration), how would " TJie Sick Monkey " do ? Stip. Charming — admirable ! but — just a trifle too subtle, eh ? Und. Why not " A Pair of 'Em " ? Mrs, Mar. {brightly). No. / know — '' Monkey and Child ;" sounds ([uitc "Old Mastery." Und. {sot to voce). Won't get beyond sounding; better label each, to l>rcvent confusion. Ml^S. Mar. Well, I must tear myself away, Mr. Slijipell. 1 can't tell you how you've stimulated me ! E 26 Voces Populi. Stip. Not at all. Have you had any coffee ? Mrs. Mar. Thanks — not any ; good-bye, good-bye ! And I'm sure if those naughty, unkind Bishops would only come and see your pictures, they would understand how far " Show-Sunday " is from mere pleasure- seeking ! Und. They would indeed ! {Aloud to S.). Good-bye, Stippell, old fellow; you're going to astonish us all this time, that's plain. OUTSIDE. Confused Chorus of Departing Visitors. Did you ever see such dreadful things ? What 2, pity it is, isn't it } Mrs. Mar. {to friend). I assure you, my dear, I never found so much difficulty in saying anything at all decently civil about a picture in my life — really too shocking — they can't get in I Now, where shall we go next .-" It will be quite refreshing to see ?i picture again ! H Sbow HMacc. Scene — A Ducal Castle. Pa7'ty of Tourists discovered waiting in the En- trance Hall. Enter the Head Butler, an imposing person with sandy hair and pale bhie promineyit eyes. The H. B. {zvith condescension). If you'll 'ave the goodness to wait a little, I shall be able to go round with you myself. [^Departs zuith mysterious solemnity, leaving the party overivhclnied. A Matron {zvho yields to none in reverence for the aristocracy — to her daughters). Doesn't everything look stately, dears ? I wonder where they keep all the hats and umbrellas. A Wife {to her husband). Now, for goodness' sake, Charles, don't try to be funny here — remember zuhere you are ! [ The Party converse in luhispers ; a Tourist in a Flannel Shirt taps a man in armour familiarly on the stomach, causing him to emit a hollow ring. The rest look at him reproachfully. He returns their gase with defiance, but edges away from the armed figure as the Butler returns. The H. B. Now, please, if you'll follow me, and keep together. {Tourists straggle after him, each in deadly fear of catching his eye; the Man in the Flannel Shirt hums the "Marseillaise" under his breath.) The Banqueting 'All. The Fam'ly takes all their meals 'ere when at lilaisenings. {Party repeat this to one another in hushed voices.) The tapestry along the walls is Gobling. ClIARLE.S {frivolously), lla, very bad example for the faniil>- ! The H. B. Did you speak, Sir t 28 Voces Populi. Charles {turning red in the face). Only to my wife. Tourist {zvith a taste for Architecture and a desire to air his informa- tion). Er — this portion of the building; is — ah — Early Decorated, is it not ? THE MAN IN THE FLANNEL SHIRT. The H. B. (severely). No, Sir. Decorated quite lately, by a London Firm. [The Architectural Tourist falls to the rear ; the others conceive a poor opinion of hi tu. A SIioiu Place. 29 A Tourist {yicrving Jduisclf to ask a qucstio)i). Will there be many dining here this evening ? The H. B. (ttvV// a lofty catidour). Well, no — we 'aven't many staging "THE TAPESTRY ALONG THE WALLS IS GOBLING. with US at present. I should say we shouldn't set down more than twenty or so to-night — or thirty, at most. A Tourist with a Twang. Air your Cumpan)- a Stag-party .^ -> o Voces Populi. The H. B, {pityingly). There's no deer-forests in this part of the country. The Tourist with a Twang (dapping him on the shoulder and laugh- ing). I see you don't understand our National Colloquiahsms. The H. B. I don't understand any Colloqualisms bein' took with Me. {He moves away ivith dignity). This {opening door) is the Hamber Droring Room. [A door on the opposite side is seen to shut precipitately as the Party enter. The Reverential Matron. Gwendolen^come over here a minute. ( Whispers}} She was sitting in this very chair — -do you see ? I wonder if it could have been the Duchess ! That's the mark left in her book — if I only dared. {Reading title.) The Mystery of a Bathing Machine. We'll get it at the bookstall as we go back. The H. B. {coming to a stand and fixing his eye on a Nervous Touristy ivho opens his mouth feebly). The pair of Vawses on the Consols was brought over by the Grandfather of the present Duke of 'Ammercloth, and are valued at hover five thousand pounds apiece. We 'ave been hoffered nine thousand five 'undred for the pair— and refused. \The Man in the Flannel Shirt groans ^'-'Ow long?" to himself in bitter indignation at the unequal distribution of wealth. The Nervous Tourist. Did you, though ? [Regards the H. B. with intense admiration for his judgment and resolution. A Comic Tourist. I wish some one 'ud offer me nine thousand pounds for the vawses on my mantelpiece. I wouldn't 'aggie over it. The H. B. {ignoring him). The picture in the panel above the chimlcy- piece is a paregoric subject representing Apoller, Mercry, and the Fine Arts complimenting the first Duke of 'Ammercloth on the completion of the new Private Chapel. By 'Ogarth. In the corner. Old woman heatin' a nerring. By Torchlight. , A Tourist {luho thi)iks it is time he made a remark). Let me see — wasn't he one of the Dutch School } Tautschlyt. Torschlyt. I seem to know the name. A S/iozu Place. .^i o The H. B. {tolerantly). No, no, Sir — you didn't foUcr what I said. It wasn't the name of the artis — it's what the old woman is heatin' the 'crrhig by, in a cellar. The cellar and the 'erring is considered masterpieces. A Young Lady. What a very curious method of cooking fish, isn't it t [ TJie Party move on. H. B. This is his Grace's own Study. His Grace sees his tenants at that table. \General interest in the tabic, except on part of the Man in the Flannel Shirt, who suppresses a snort. Charles's Wife. Fancy, Charles — the Duke uses " J " pens ! Charles. Not even gilded ! This is a severe blow, Caroline ! \Prctcnds io be overcome. His Wife. If you go on in this foolish manner, I will not be seen talking to you. The Reverential Matron {in a zvhispcr). Ermyntrude, see if you can manage to pick up a nib when no one's looking — there are plenty lying about. A Tourist {anxious to propitiate the Butler). An excellent landlord, the Duke, I believe ? The H. B. {coldly). We 'ave not 'card of any complaints on the estate. {Leads the way to the Gallery.) The Hoak Gallery— formerly the Harmry. When we 'ave a large 'ouse party, they sometimes comes up 'ere after dinner, and 'as games. {Expressions of pleased surprise — always excepting the Man in the Flannel Shirt, who mutters something about " dancing on volcanoes." A Tourist {with a tJiirst for information). What sort of games >. The H. B. {with dignity). That I can't tell you percisely, bcin' no part of mydooties to participate. {Halting before a picture?) Portrait of'h:ncry llalgernon, Second Marquis of Scasprings, beyeaded on Tower '111 by Sir Peter Lely. Charles the Incorrigible. Do you mean to say that Sir Peter took his head off .'' Till-: ] I. B. {solemnly) lie took his Lordship off full length, Sir, as )-()u can see by looking. {To the Ri;VEKENTIAL MATRON, whose demeanour has not ^-^ Voces Pop2ili. 0^ escaped hijn.) If you like to stop be'ind, and let the rest go on a bit, I can show you something that's not generally open to the public. {^Mysteriously^ It's the room where all his Grace's boots are kep'. He has over a nundred pair of them. [ The Matron rejoins t/ie rest in a state of solemn ecstasy, and can hardly refrain from betraying how highly she has been privileged. The Party return to the Hall. A Tourist {a diligent student of the Society paragraphs in a Sunday paper — to Butler). Is Lady Floriline at home just now ? The H. B. Her Ladyship is away visiting at present, Sir. Expected back Saturday week. Sir. The Society T. {as if he felt this as a personal disappoitttment). Not till Saturday week ? — really ! — ah ! {The rest regard him with increased respect, and listen attentively^ I suppose it's quite true that the match with Lord George Gingham is broken off. Going to marry Lady Susan Sunshade, isn't he ? I was very sorry when I heard of it {^feelingly). The H. B. Was you hintimate with 'is Lordship, Sir.? The S. T. {with a modest reserve^. Oh, I've stayed with him, you know, and that sort of thing. \Iie has — at a Szciss Hotel, zvhen Lord George took him for a tout, — but what of that ? The H. B. Then I should certingly recommend you to inquire of Lord George in pusson. Sir. That's his Lordship coming up the terrace now. \Tlie S. T. collapses utterly. Ermyntrude {coming np to her Mother). Oh, Mamma, what do you think .'' We looked in at a window as we passed, and we saw them all having afternoon tea. And the Duchess was actually eating buttered toast. She didn't see us for ever so long — we had such a good view ! \_Scene closes in upon the majority of the Party, anxiously discussing in undertones the propriety or otherzvise of offering any, and what, fee to the Butler, luho stands apart in a broivn study, with a distinct effort to mitigate the severity of his expression. As far as the Man in the Flannel Shirt is concerned, the problem "solvitur ambulando." at a ^urfucib Batb. Scene — The Middle Room of a Turkish Bath. Subdued light. On benches, and in folding-chairs, Bat Iters are vaguely seen extended in various stages of limpness. The usual Turkish Bathing Bore is heard discoursing to any one he can induce to listen. In a remote corner is a SOMNOLENT Bather who knows him, but trusts, by lying lozv, to evade recognition. The B. B. Yes — {more thoughtfully) — y-yes. Extraordinary the freedom with which my pores act ! I 3.ssme you, I'm not here one minute before {^Proceeds to describe result in detail. [Enter an Elderly Neophyte ; he feels shy and strange, it being his first appearance, and, owing to the gloom, and his own short- sightedness, seats himself upon the SOMNOLENT Bather's legs. The S. B. {roused). Conf Really, Sir, I think you'll be more comfortable somewhere else ! The B. B. Why, bless my soul, I ouf;ht to know that voice — it is Dormer ! To think of our being in the same room all this while, and never suspecting it ! Wish I'd known before — makes it so much less tedious, meeting with some one you know, eh ? S. B. {yazvning). Exactly — oh, very much so. {Crosses hands behind head, and closes eyes. B. B. Difficulty is to recognise fellows here, y'know. S. B. (to himself). Can't button-hole 'em at any rate ! {To theVt.W) You seem to manage it ! B. B. (,)Ii, I knew your voice in a minute— " That's Dormer's voice, 1" 34 Voces Populi. I'll lay a hundrcd-poutid note!" I thought. The wonder is, you didn't recognise mine — I've been talking all the time, more or less. S. B. {guarded/}'). Have you, though ? It is odd, as you say. B. B. I've often found that some people's ears have an astonishing lack of delicate perception. For instance, there's a very dear and old friend of mine — you may know him [ Tells him a long history about his Friend's anral deficiencies. In the meantime the ELDERLY Neophyte has established himself , in some trepidation, on a bencJi, zvith his head resting on a little wooden block, ivJiich he tries hard to think comfortable. He has a dry roof to his moiitJi, a tickling nose, and a general sensation of singeing. As the BORE'S voice ceases, a silence falls, zuhich the E. N. finds depressing. A Stout Gentleman observes '■' Phezv I " occasionally. A clock ticks, and water drips in the distance. A head close to the E. N.'s sighs in a heart-broken manner, and a Restless Bather rises, and begins to prozvl up and down like a caged zvolf Enter a}i Attendant with pewter cups of water ; the E. N. drains one greedily, like a shipzvrecked mariner, and then has another. The B. B. (for the general benefit). Never drink when I'm in the bath. Rinse the mouth out, yes ; but drink "^ no. I had an old aunt — ^Relates a fearful story of the effect of cold water taken internally upon a7i old aimt—the E. N. begins to be alarmed. The B. B. {taking advajttage of another silence). 'Nother thing man ought to be most careful about, and that is — never take Turkish Bath 'cept under medical advice. Now when / went to my medical man — {describes interview at lengtJi. The E. N. reflects, zvitJi terror, that he has omitted to consult his Doctor). Dormer, my dear fellow, you're getting drowsy — very dangerous practice that, slightest thing the matter with your heart, and phit— it's all over with }-ou ! Why, / knew a man once — {gives an accoimt of a man who nearly died, whicJi decides the E. N., zvhohas been just dropping off, to keep azvake at all hazards^ You can always tell if it agrees with you — if you've any singing in the ears, or dizziness, or labouring of breath, or 4t a Tm^kisli Bath, 35 faintness, anything of that sort— well, the sooner }'ou're out, the better — • that's all ! E. N. J/)' symptoms ! {Thinks he would be shampooed at once, if he teas a little more sure what it was like ; decides to let some one else be operated on first?) Shaimpooer {drazuing curtain at arch, with a certain grimness). Ready for two gentlemen now. [ Two Bathers rise, zvith the air of " ci-devant s " summoned to the Cojiciergerie, and pass bctzoeen the curtains ; E. N. listens anxiously for zvJiat can be heard. First Shampooer {apparently an austere character). On that slab, Sir, \{ you please ! Lay right down. The Subject {of a chatty disposition). Eh ? oh, yes, I see ; to be sure, yes, yes. {A dull Jiissing is heard.) The Chatty S. Soon have summer on us now, I — a — was noticing only yesterday how {Ids voice is suddenly extinguished by zvJiat seems to be a bucket of water splashing over him — splutters and gasps. Uneasiness on part of E. N., who longs to hear him speak again). AUST. Shamp. {ignoring this cofiversational opening). On }'our back, Sir ; it's your right leg /want ! Second Shamp. {a talkative Person, to his Subject, who seems slightly reserved). You've 'ad a reg'lar fine turn of it to-day, Sir — comin' ofif o' you beautiful ! {Reluctant grozvl of assent from Subject.) Now over, Sir, please. Bin to this noo Panorammer — Niagrer, Sir ? They tell me it's fust-rate. {Inarticulate grunt f'om S.) Water too 'ot for you. Sir? {Tremendous splashing, zvith some puffing and blozving.) No time for goin' sightsecin' myself. Sir ; got enough to do 'ere, Sir! . . Looks a little tender, that foot, Sir — chiropodist on the premises, Sir, send him to you ? No, Sir ? Very good, Sir — Now on your face, if you'll be so good ! The Chatty S. {indistinctly). I — er — ha, suppose you're prett}- f-full just now, ch ? AuST. Shamp. {shortly). Always busy 'ere, Sir. Sit up! Talk. Shamp. {affectionately). 'Ave a little soap on \-our 'ed, Sir ? Some of our gentlemen don't care for soap on their Vds. Sing'ler, isn'l it ? 36 yoces Populi. The B. B, {bursting out again suddenly). Capital cold plunge they've got here ! one of the longest in London — go in directly they're done sham- pooing you, swim across, and close your pores, come out the other side fresh as a daisy — that's what / do ! E. N. {to himself). Cold water — and I can't swim, oh, Lor' ! \From the Shanipooiiig Chamber are now proceeding sounds more alarming than ever, as of a lively tune being vigorously thumped with fists upon an tmprotectcd body, follotved by zvhat is apparently a smart castigation. The B. B. {meditatively). You'd think a man would be black and blue all over, after that, wouldn't you ? But, except in a very few cases, 1 don't know that such an effect ever actually follows. I'm not sure, though, that the pressure on the ribs The Prowling Bather daps his hands suddenly. First Shampooer appears. " Lemon Squash ? — 77/ drder it. Sir." Stout Gentleman calls for water, and is served by Second Shampooer. Cries of distress are heard from the Shampooing Chamber. The E. N., drawn by a horrible fascination, approaches the arch, and looks in. The interior presents a Morgue-like appearance, and on a grey marble slab the RESERVED SUBJECT is sitting, soaped from head to foot, awaiting the return of the Operator in sullen resignation. T/ie CHATTY PERSON is also neglected for the moment, and may be faintly perceived under the douche, staggering blindly, and gasping out — " That zvill do !" The Two Shampooers {returning by different doors). Called away for a moment. Sir. {They perceive the E, N., standing petrified in centre of floor?) Take you next. Sir } In another minute. Sir. The E.N. {feebly). Er — very well {with a desperate resolution), I — I'm going upstairs to get my watch — I mean my eye-glasses — back again presently. ^Rushes 7ipstairs, flies into his^box, and dresses for dear life as scene closes in. ZTrafaUjar Square. Scene — Trafalgar Square. Several thousand loafers and roughs discovered assert i?tg right of free speech, free meeting, and free procession. A feiv hundred genuine artisans out of zvork standing about moodily. Lines of policemen draivn up in reserve look on impassively. A Lover of Liberty. As an Englishman, sir, I'm disgusted — it's un-English, that's what it is, " dragooning " an inoffensive assembly like this ! I used to think freedom of speech and action was the right of every Briton — but it seems we're to be overawed by the Police now — confounded impertinence on the part of the Government, I call it ! An Orator {leaping suddenly on parapet^. Feller Citizens, are you Men that you stand by with folded 'ands, while unlimited food and wealth lays within a stone's throw ? I want yer Constables (behind). Ah, and we want you — off you go ! [Disappearance of Orator in direction of Police Station. Lover of Liberty. Shame ! Is a man to be punished for his opinions ? Oh, England, England ! Person in Search of Sensation {disappointedly!). Well, there doesn't seem much doing — so far. Squalid Vagabond {recognising Stalwart Constable, ivhom he has appare^itly met before in a professional capacity.) 'Ow are yer, pretty bobbish ? [ Nods to show he bears no malice. Stalwart Constable {good-humouredlj). I'm much as usual, thankee. Companion Constable {to S, C). Well, you do know some rough 'uns, I must say. 'OW ARE YER ? PRETTY BOBBISH, EH ? " Trafalgar Square. 39 Stalwart C. Go on — that gentleman's a West Ender. Professional " Hook " [to line of PoHcemeii). ^oyoiCre 'ere, are you ? Well, me and my pal must take our little promenade sonic bother arter- noon, that's all ! Sympathiser {to Loafer). And so you've actually been out of employment since last January ! Monstrous! The Government ought to -find you work ! Loafer. Jes' what /say, Guv'nor. Let 'em gimme work, and I'll do it fast enough. / don't want ter be idle. I ain't on'y my one trade to earn my bread by — but I'll work at that, if I'm let ! Sympathiser. Exactly, my poor fellow, and what is your trade ? Loafer. Why, I'm a skate-fastener, I am ; puts on parties' skates for 'em, — and 'ere I am — not 'ad a job for months ! Truculent Ruffian (/^ Quiet Opserver.) Hunimployed .^ Quiet Obs. Yes— at present. T. R. Too many o' them bloomin' Coppers about, to my mind — I'd like to slug the lot — they're the ruin of our bisness ! Quiet Obs. Ah, you're right there ! Demagogue {to Police Sergeant). Now, don't you interfere — that's all / ask. /'// speak to them — I have them thoroughly in hand just now, but if you offer them the least opposition, I — {ivitli imicJt solemnity') well, I won't be responsible for what happens. {He is alloived to address the multitude}) Friends, you are met here in this peaceful but imposing manner in the teeth of a brutal and overbearing Constabulary, to show the bloated Capitalists, who are now trembling behind their tills, that we mean to be taken seriously ! Yes, in our squalor and our rags [ TJiroivs open froek-coat, and displays thick gold zvateh-chain. Mob. Yah, pitch us over ycr red slang ! take orf that ere nobby coat ! Harristocrat ! Yah ! Dem. {complacently). It is true that I myself am not in absolute destitution. But what of that, my friends } Can I not feel \_IIere a turnip strikes Jiini in the eye. Yells of " Doiini with him I " " Duck him ! " " Spy I " " Traitor ! " MoB pulls him doivn and attempts to take him to pieces. 40 Voces Populi. Dem {faintly). Here, hi. Policemen, help ! Why the devil don't you use your staves ? [/$■ rescued and assisted home by Police. A Rough {to Policeman). Keep moving ? ah, /'// move ! \Kicks him on the knee-cap. POLICEMAN draius tmncJieon and hits back. Crowd {indignantl}'). Boo ! Coward ! Strikin' a unarmed man — down with him ! \T^^^y ^'^^^ bmtal Constable to a jelly. The Truculent Ruffian {to Quiet Obs.) Are you game for a merry ole lark ? Quiet Obs. You tty me — that's all ! T. R. Then, as them cowards of cops 'ave as much on their 'ands as they kin do with, now's the time for a bit of a loot ! Pass the word to them mates o' yourn — " Pall Mall and no tyranny ! " Quiet Obs. I've done it — they're only waiting for j'^;^ T. R. {suddenly producing red handkerchief). There — nozv, boys ! " Remember Mitchelstown and no brutal perlice ! " Poller me ! Quiet Obs. {arresting him). No, you'll follow us, please — you won't do no good kicking, all right, mates, we've got him. T. R. Oh, please, I didn't know you was a Policeman, sir, or I shouldn't ha' spoke ! Strike me dead I was on'y in fun ! ( Whimpers.) And Pve a good ole mother at 'ome, Sir. The Person in Search of Sensation. What, another arrest? and simply for showing a red handkerchief! I shall write and describe these atrocities. How abominably these police are behaving — actually defending themselves, the blackguards. [^4 Policeman accidentally lifts his arm, zuJiereupon about fifty youths scurry like rabbits ; in the rush, the PERSON IN SEARCH OF Sensation is hustled and slightly trampled on. He becomes annoyed, and hits out right and left — eventually striking a Constable in his exxitement. Const, {zvho has been zuithout sleep for the last tzuo days and has Just had his cheek laid open by a stone). 'Ere, you come along with me, you're ■one of the wust, you are ! The Person. But I assure you I just came to see what there was to be seen ! Trafalgar Square. 4 1 Const. Well, )'ou come along witli me, and )-ou'll see a Magistrit presently, [The Person resists ,• struggles ,• arrival of rcijiforccvicnts ; exit party in "frogs-inare/iiiig" order, conveying Jiim to fresh sensations. Tlir: Lover of Liberty {emerging from ems/i). My hat ruined, my coat split down the back, and my watch gone ! I tolel the crowd I was with them heart and soul — and they hit me in the stomach ! What do we keep our police _/ Pett. Exactly, old fellow, to take Miss Atalanta Manley's place in Buncombe's boat. Pap. And — cr — how's Miss Cinnershaw going? Patt. Oh, in viy boat — it's the fastest ; with Miss Stella and Miss Manley and Rullocks, rowing randan, we can drop down in no time, and take some of the old people on with us — you and Buncombe can manage without a cox, I daresay. OUTSIDE THE STATION. BUNC. There's plenty of time, I tell you. What's the matter with you 1 You've been as grumpy as a pig all the way down. I told you I didn't feel up to doing much work coming back. Of course I shouldn't have run into the bank if I'd seen where I was going ; but, after all, the damage to the boat won't come to much between us, and it didn't delay us half-an-hour ! What, just missed the last train.? Well, I thought it was rather a forlorn hope — but }our sister will be all right, you know. And ycu and I, old chap, must keep up one another's spirits at the hotel, eh .'' [Papillion, who has been reckoning on the railway journey as his last chance, is incapable of jrplying. Scene. — 77/e Box-Office, a feiu minutes before the hour at luliicJi little Master PoUSHKIN Poponanoff, the very latest, youngest, and smallest of Precocious Pianists, has announced his Morning Concert. Music- loving Public besieging pigeon-hole. Clekk {in anszver to several frantic appeals). All tlx shilling seats are gone long ago. Applicants {imploringly). But there's standing-rcom, surely ? We don't mind, as long as we can get in ! Clerk {relenting). It's just possible there may be a few inches left at the back — you can go in and see, if you like. ^Applicants pass in gratefully, to stand patiently, for ttvo hours and a half, in a tropical climate. IN THE COXCERT-ROOM. Polite Attendant {to a Strong-minded Matron, ivho insists on standing with her numerous family in the gangivay betiveen the five-shilling seats). I really must ask you to go further back, Madam — your tickets were for the shilling seats — you have no right to block the passage here. The S. M. There's no room in the shilling scats. I have brought my family all the way from Haverstock Hill on purpose to hear little Poushkin, and it's not likely I shall go away now. yrhe Polite A. summons two other P. A.'s., ivJu urge the pro- priety of retiring. 72 Voces Popiili. The S. M. {ivith spirit). If those arc your orders, execute them ! I am only a woman, with these defenceless children, but I warn you that I will yield to nothing but superior force — you will have to drag us out ! \TJie P. A.'S smile at one another feebly^ and remain irresolute, with the bearing of baffled tyrants at a minor theatre. The S. M. {folloiving up her advantage^. Then perhaps you will let us have some programmes ? \The P. A.'s supply her meekly, and retire i7i discomfitnre, leaving the S. M. and her family, flushed but triumphant, in undisputed possession. Musical Amateur /// Stall {consulting programme). Nothing very new, I see. How often I've heard Liszt play that Rhapsody ! But it will really be very curious and instructive to see how this child takes it. I hear some of his renderings are quite original. Little Master Poushkin appears on platform, and is received ivith tumultu- ous applause. Enthusiastic Person {who has read up an account of an interview ivith Youthful Piaiiist in the paper). Isn't he sweet .'' Such perfect self- possession ! Sec, he has to have a little pair of steps to climb on the music- stool ! Do you know he positively refuses to play a note unless they put one of his tin soldiers on the piano .-* I think that's so charming of him ! Herr Heumacher Sonnenschein (/;/ the front rozv, to his Infant Daughter, a still more surprising Phenomenon, luJw is coming out next zveek). Remember, Ottilie, you clap your hands the instant the first movement is over ; but the flowers you will throw when I tell you. A Mother, to Master Jacky {who has Just begun the piano, and has been brought hei-e to rouse his ambition). Nozv, Jacky, you see what a little boy can do when he tries. Jacky {zvlw has instantly conceived a violent aversion to tJieY. P.) It's all very fine, but I'd like to see him sit down to play some of my scales — he wouldn't look so cocky tJien ! Governess {improvingly, to Spectacled School-girl). Just think, my dear Millie, how he must have practised to be able to play like this ! The Musical Prodigy, 1 '> / J The S. S. {ivith a shudder). It's too awful to think of! The Enth. Person. His playing is simply too wonderful ! I like him better than little Hegmann, or even Hofifner — he's much, prettier / I AM ONLY A WOMAN WITH THESE DEFENCELESS CHILDREN. Discriminating P. Well, he has less firmness than young llegniann, but more dash ; less delicacy, perhaps, than little Hoffner, but he makes up for that in feeling ; and, besides, he's their junior by several years. 74 Voces Populi, A Connoisseur. I assure you I've heard that " Starlight Symphony" played by all the first pianists in Europe, and not one of them — not one — entered into the yearning discontent, the dreamy despair, the hopeless passion, with such feeling and perfect comprehension as this little Poushkin — a child of seven and a half. Sir — marvellous ! [End of First Part ; MASTER PouSHKIN skips off ivith evident relief, and is recalled again and again, amidst raptnrons plaudits. Little MiSS Ottilie throivs her flowers when no one is looking, and they fall unnoticed, nnder the piano, to the intense annoyance of her parent, who had counted npon a para- graph in the papers. The Matron with the Family {to Male Occupants of Stallsj. Alight I ask you kindly to allow my daughters to take your seats for a short time? They are quite unused to standing so long . . . Thank you, so much ! [Male occupants rise, and feeling a delicacy in reclaiming their seats remain standing for remainder of performance. The Enth. Person. They say little Poushkin spends the intervals in playing with his Noah's Ark and sucking sweets. Here he comes again ! Look, his little cheek is quite bulged out. I shouldn't wonder if he had a bull's-eye in it. Isn't he a duck? Do you notice how he always sticks his little legs straight out when he comes to the ScJierzo ? The Concert concludes by little PouSHKIN taking the lead in a trio with tzvo full-grown performers as his foils. More recalls, general iwxoxfi, subsiding, as the audience breaks up, into calmer criticism. First Caviller. After all, you know, I think I prefer De Pachmann. This boy took the Allegro rather too slow, / thought. Second Ditto. And it's so easy to substitute single notes for octaves. I don't call it legitimate, either, for my part. An Unappreciated Genius. Too sickening, I call it, all this fuss about a kid ! Why, I might play Mendelssohn and Chopin till I fell under the piano, and none of these people would give me a hand. Would they ? His Friend. Well, not unless you could get yourself up in a frock and bows. The Musical Prodigy. 75 Humble Friend {to Wealthy Patroness). Well, my dear, I always say just what I think, as you know, and I do say that your little Emmeline plays with quite as much correctness as this little Russian boy, and y<7r more brilliancy of execution. The \V. p. Do you really think so t Of course she has been thoroughly well taught — and, now I think of it, if you've nothing else to do to-morrow evening, you might like to come in about ten — I can't ask you to dinner, because our table is full, but [Humble Friend /tYV.? herself rewarded. A Proud Mother. I've been thinking of such a charming plan, if we can only manage it. I wonder if we could get this little Poushkin to come to us one evening, and play that duet from Zampa with our Josephine — she's very nearly perfect in it now. Herr Heumacher Sonnenschein {to Jiis Daughter). By this time to-morrow week there shall be one little boy, my Ottilic, with the nose out of joint. Professional {i-ecognizing juvenile Ex-Phenomenon). And so you are no longer playing .-' Ex-PhenoM. I am too big become — I can now stretch the octave. Zhc Cabi of tbe Curbstone Scene — A tJioroughfare mar Hydj Park. Shortly bsfor^ Seem opens, an Elderly Gentleman has siiddenly stopped the cab in tuhich lie has been driving, and, zuithout offering to pay the fare, has got out and sJniffled off zvitJi a handbag. The CABMAN has descended from his seat and overtaken the old gentleman, who is now perceived to be lamentably intoxicated. The usual croivd springs up from nowhere, and follozvs the dispute with keen and delighted interest. Cabman. Look 'ere, you ain't goin' not without payin' me, you know — where's my two shillings ? The Elderly Gentleman {smiling sweetly, and balancing himself on his heels against some railings'). I'm shure / dunno. Cabman. Well, look, can't yer .'' don't keep me 'ere all day — feel in yer pockets, come ! \The Old Gentleman makes an abortive effort to find a pocket about him somewhere, and then relapses into abstraction. C.<0WD. Let 'im take 'is time, he II pay yer right enough, if you let the man alone. A Woman. Ah, pore gentleman, the best of us is took like that sometimes ! \Murmurs of sympathy. Cabman. I don't want no more than what's my own. 'E's rode in my keb, and I want my fare out of 'im — an' I mean 'aving it, too ! \_Hcre the OLD GENTLEMAN, ivho seems bored by the discussion, abruptly serpentines off again and is immediately overtaken and surrounded. The Cadi of tlic Curbstone, 77 The E. G. Wha' d' ye mean ? 'founded 'perrinence ! Lemme 'lone . . . 'portant bishniss ! Cabman. Pay me my fare, — or I'll have your bag ! \^Seizes bag ; the ELDERLY GENTLEMAN resisting feebly, and akvaj's smiling. Crowd. Why can't yer pay the man his fare and have done with it } There, he's feeling in his pockets — he's going to pay yer now ! [Elderly Gentleman dives vaguely in a pocket, and eventually produces a threepenny bit, wJiicJi lie tenders magnificently. Cabman. Thruppence ain't no good to me — two shillings is what I want out o' you — a florin — 'j 'ear me .-' The E. G. (after another dive fishes up three halfpence). Thash all you're 'titled to — go 'way, go 'way ! Crowd {soothingly to Cabman). 'E'll make it up in time — don't 'urry 'im. Cabman. D'ye think I kin stand 'ere cooling my 'eels, while he's payin' me a 'apn'y every 'arf 'our ? I've got my living to earn same diS you ave ! Crowd. Ah, he's right there ! {Persuasively to ELDERLY GENTLE- MAN). 'Ere Ole Guv'nor, fork out like a man. {^The Old Guv'nor shakes his head at them with a knoiving expression. Cabman. Well, I sha'n't let go o' this 'ere bag till I am paid — that's all ! \_Here a POLICEMAN arrives on scene. Policeman. Now, then, what's all this? Move along 'ere, all of you — don't go blocking up the thoroughfare like this ! {Scathingly^ What are yer all lookin' at .'' {The Crowd, feeling this rebuke, move azvay some three paces, and then linger undecidedly.) 'Ere, Cabman, you've no right to lay 'old on that gentleman's bag — you know that as well as I do ! Cabman {someivhat mollified by this tribute to his legal knoiuledge, releases bag). Well, he ain't got no right to ride in my keb, and do a guy, without paying nothink, 'as he .'' Policeman. All I \.c\\ you is — you've no right to detain his bag. Cabman. Let 'im pay me my legal fare, then — two shillings it is 'e owes me. I don't want to hinterfere with 'im, if he'll pay me. yS Voces Populi. Pol. {ivith a viag)iificent inipartiality to the E. G.) What have you got to say to that ? The E. G. {zvith a dignified zuave of the hand). Shay ? Why, tha' I'm shimply — a gerrilm'n. Pol. {his impartiality gradually merging into official disgust). Well, all I can say to you is, if you are one, don't abuse it . . . Where are you going to 1 The E. G. {brimming over zinth happy laughter), /dunno! Pol. {deciding to work on his fears). Don't you 1 W^cll, I do, then. I know \\\\e\-& you're goin' to — ah, and where you'll be, too, afore you're much older — the station-'us ! — {ivith a slight lapse into jocidarity, in concession to his audience) — "for one night honly " — that's _;^^?/r direction, unless you look out. ( WitJi virtuous indignation^ 'Ere you are — calling yourself a gentleman, and old enough to know better — riding in this man's keb, and trying to bilk him out of his money. Why, you ought to be ashamed o' yourself! A Fussy Onlooker. Now, Policeman, why do you interfere ? Why can't you leave them to settle it between them 1 Pol. {turning 0)1 hiin zuith aivful dignity). I don't want no suggestion from yo2(, Sir, I know 7ny dooty, and them as tries- to obstruck me'U get no good by it. I'm not 'ere to take one man's part more than another. Cabman, Well, ain't }-ou goin' to do something now you ^r^ here .^ What's the good of a Copper if he won't 'elp a man to git his rights, eh .-* {^Mjirmuis of sympathy from the CROWD. Pol. Now you mind j'^7/rself — that's what jcw'd better do, or you'W be gitting into trouble next ! I've told you I can't interfere one way or the other; and — {generally, to CroWD) — you must pass along 'ere, please, or I shall 'ave to make ycr. Crowd {to E. G.). Give the man his money, can't yer pay 'im 1 Cabman. Come, look sharp ! Just you pay me ! The E. G. How c'n I pay man } P'fectly 'surd ! Go to bleeshes ! \13olts again, and is once more overtaken by the indignant CABMAN. Pol. {follozving up). Now, then. Cabman, don't go hustling him ! [Crowd's sympathy veers round to the E. G. again. The Cadi oj tlic Curbstone. 79 Cabman. '6'6''ji- 'ustlin' ? I ain't laid a finger on 'im. (^Magnanimously^ I've no wish to 'inder 'im from goin' wherever he Hkes, so long as he pays me fust ! Pol. You've no right to touch the man, nor yet his bag; so be careful, that's all I tell you ! The E. G. {zvitJi maudlin enthusiasm). Pleeshman's perfelly ri' ! Pleeshman always knowsh besht ! [Tries to pat POLICEMAN on back. Pol. {his disgust reaching a climax). 'Ere, don't you go pawin' me about — for I won't 'ave it ! If I' m right, it's more than what you are, anyhow ! Now be off with you. wherever it is you're going to ! Cabman {desperate). But look 'ere — can't you take his name and address ? Pol. {rising to the occasion). Ah, that's what I was waitin' for ! Now you've ast me, — now I kin act! {Pulls out a pocket-book full of dirty memoranda, and a stumpy pencil.) Now, then, Sir, your name, if you please ? The E. G. {sleepily). Shtupid thing a-do, but qui' forgot . . . Come out 'ithout mi' name, 'shmornin' ! Pol. {sternly). That won't do with Me, you know. What's your name } Out with it ! The E. G, {evidently making a wild shot at it). Fergushon. \_Smiles as if he feels sure the POLICEMAN ivill be pleased ivith a. name like that. Pol. John .^ George.'' James? — or what .' The E. G. You can purr 'em all down t'me — -it don' marrcr ! Pol. {briskly). Where do you live, Mr. P'erguson .^ The E. G. {mechanically). Shirty-one, Lushington Street, Gargleshbury Park. Pol. {writing it down, and giving leaf to Cabman). There, \\\\\ that do for you .' Cabman. That's all / want. {To the E. G.) You'll 'car from me later on. The E. G. {affectionately). Alwaysh pleash'd slice )-ou, any time . . Pleeshman too . . . Shorry can't shtop — mos' 'portant bishnish ! So Voces Populi. Pol. Which way do you want to go ? The E. G. Earlsh Court. Pol. Then get there, if you're capable of it. And now, you boys, clear the road, will you .'' [77/6' Elderly Gentleman, suiiling in the full conviction of having extricated himself from a difficult situation with con- stumnate tact and diplomacy, goes off unsteadily in the direction of Piccadilly, accompanied by a suite of small boys zvho have kindly resolved to see him through any further adventures that may await his progress. The CABMAN remains to discuss the aff'air at great length on the curbstone. The POLICEMAN paces slozvly on, conscious that he has ivorthily maintained the dignity of his office. H 6amc of BilUarbs, Scene — A Hotel Billiard-room — anywJiere. Mr. Balk andM.V.. FOOTLER discovered about to begin a game. CAPTAIN HAZARD and Mr. SpOTTESBARDE, wJio have come in just too late to secure the table, seat themselves on bench, and look on. A FRIEND of Mr. Footler's is smoking in the background. Capt. Hazard (/// an undertone to MR. S.). They won't be long. We shall get a game before they close — it's only a quarter-past ten now. Mr. Footler {a zveedy, limp man, with spectacles, and a mild expressioi). It's ages since I've touched a cue — -you ought to give me something, really. Mr. Balk {short, stout, and self-satisfied). All right ! How much l-^ will seventy do .^ Mr. F. (a little hurt). Oh, I'm not so bad as all that — say twenty-five. \^Chooses a cue with great circumspection. Mr. Footler's Friend. I shall put a shilling on you, Freddy, my boy — so play up ! Mr. Balk, I'll break. I always make it a rule to play for safety. ( 7'ries to make a miss in baulk, but manages somehow to leave his ball near centre pocket) Ah ! {ivith an air of reproaching so^nebody else) too liard, too Jiard ! Mr. F. {chalking Jiis cue). You've left me a chance there. Let me see — perhaps I'd better leave you where you are for the present, hit the red first, and come back to you afterwards.^ I think that's the better game. M 82 Voces Populi. Capt. H. {aside, to MR. S.). Seems to think he's playing parlour croquet ! Mr. F. [after shifting the position of his left hand several times, and agitating the end of his cue, misses red ball, and lands himself eventually in corner pocket^. I've let you off, you see ! Now how the dickens did I do tJiat, I wonder .-' Mr. B. Can't say, I'm sure — that's three to me {after playing^. Ha ! I've left 'em for you again. Mr. F. /can't do anything. . . . There, didn't I tell you so } But I've saved my miss, anyway ! Mr. B. {zvalking round table). I ought to do something here. Yes, I shall hit the red very fine, and go in off him into the left-hand top-pocket — that's the proper game {plays). Te-hee ! Too much side on ! Capt. H. {sotto voce). He's right thei'e ! Mr, Footler {flurried). My turn, is it 1 But — er — where's my ball— eh } Mr. Balk {good-Jmmouredly). Why, you see, you got into one of the pockets, old fellow, out of my way. Mr. F. Ha ! ha ! So I did. I — I thought it was the best thing to do. What's the game, Marker } Marker. Twenty-seven. Three. Mr. F. I don't like potting my adversary's ball — but you leave me no choice. \Plays. Marker. Three. Twenty-seven. Mr. Balk {encouragingly). Very near, very near, Sir. Well, you haven't left me much. Mr. F. {laughing feebly). No, I^I couldn't afford to. (Mr. Balk makes an easy cannon). Oh, good shot ! Mr. B. {complacently). Ah, I'm getting my eye in now. \Strikes sharply, and se7ids ball off the table. Capt. H. {aside). He'll be getting somebody's eye out presently 1 Mr. B. {receiving ball). Thanks — much obliged. {Explanatorily to Y .) I put rather too much screw on that time. Mr. F. [ivith pride). That's another to me, Marker ! \_Makes a cannon. ' TE-HEE I TOO MUCH SIDE ON ! "' 84 Voces Populi, Mr. B. {patronishigly). There, you see, you can hit 'em when you take a little trouble. Not a bad stroke at all. Mr. F. {modestly). I'm afraid it was a bit of a fluke. Oh, I go on playing, don't I .'' That's two to me, Marker — [after playing agam) . . . and another to this gentleman. Mr. B. {plays, and makes another cannoii). I played for that. Creeping up to you, Footler, eh ! {Later. Mr. F"00TLER'S score is thirty-five— Mr. Balk's nineteen. Mr. Footler is benignly patronising ; Mr. Balk gloomy, and inclined to cavil. Mr. F. {beaming with Jionest pleasure). Five more to me. Marker ! 1 hope you're keeping the score correctly } Mr. B. Well, you aren't going to tell me you tried for that ! . . . Two more ! Come, I say — it's impossible to play against such flukes as that — you played to go in off the red. Mr. F. Oh, n-not altogether . . . {misses). There, you can't say I didn't try for that ! Mr. B. {scanning the cloth). Um — don't like this at all . . . Sha'n't score this time. {He doesn't.) Now you vq got me ! {Gloomily.) [Mr. ¥. plays, and makes three. Mr. B. {disgustedly). There, I never saw the balls run as they do for you in all my life ! Mr. F, {generously). Well, you're not in form to-night — I can see that. Mr. B. Form ! What good's form against such infernal fluking 1 There — go on — it's you to play ! Mr. F. I was just looking round the table, that's all. Well, I shall have a shot at the double event . . . Oh, hard luck ! Mr. B. {growling). Hard luck } Hard stroke, you mean ! {Plays.) Was that a cannon, Marker .'' Marker {imperturbably). No, Sir — nothing. Sir. Mr. B. {hopelessly). It's no use— they won't run for me to-night ! Mr. Footler. Here, Marker, jigger, please. Is the red ball clear of the cushion } A Game of Billiards. 85 Marker {inspecting it). Good half-inch, Sfr ! Mr. F, Then that's my game. {After playing.) Phew! a mile off ! You may beat me yet, old fellow. Mr. B. Not to-night. / can't do anything. . . . There, ever see anything like that in your life .^ Capt. H. {i)i an undertone). I'm hanged if /ever did ! They ought to rent a table by the week if they want to play a game out ! Mr. F. Long game this ! Tell you what, Balk, if you like to take that twenty-five back, Fve no objection ! Mr. F.'s Friend. Oh, I say — and how about my shilling ? Mr. B. {annoyed). Don't be too confident, Footler ; I shall^catch you up yet. I play a waiting game. Capt. H. Jove — and so do we ! Mr. B. I wouldn't make too sure of that shilling, Jones ; the game isn't over yet by a long way. Marker {confidentially). Beg pardon, Gentlemen, but it's getting late, and those other Gentlemen are waiting to play — would you mind playing fifty instead of a hundred up ^ Makes a shorter game, Gentlemen. Mr. F. Well, I'm quite willing. Mr. B. Of course yo2i are ! But I never meant to give you twenty-five in fifty — Fd give nobody such long odds as that. Mr. F. Then, look here, suppose v/e play fifty up, and you take twenty- five — that '11 make you forty-six to my forty-seven. Mr. B. {brigJitening visibly). That's fair enough — all right, Forty-six- forty-seven, Marker. I shall have a chance now. {Lies on table and, in making stroke, kicks Mr. F. in waistcoat^) Conf — Footler, I shall have that stroke over again, Mr. F. {removing to a safe distance). I shall take good care / don't ! Mr. B. {after missing again). Of course I knew I shouldn't bring a stroke like that off twice running — {bitterly) — you ought to run out easily, now ! Mr. F. {trembling with excitement). Oh, Fm not so sure about that. \Ainis jerkily. Jones {his Friend). Mind what )'ou'rc about, old fellow — remember Fve a shilling on you ! 86 Voces Pop7i/i. Mr. F. {aflcr missing). Hang it, Jones ! I wish you'd wait for the stroke — it's enough to put any fellow out ! Mr. Balk. Forty-seven all ! (Plays) What was that, Marker .? Marker {impassively). Nothing, Sir ; 'nother miss, Sir. Mr. Footler. I'll make it safe this time. (Plays.) Pah, never got near it ! Mr. Balk. Now then — (plays) — tut-tut, not legs enough ! Capt. H. (aside). Legs ! a centipede wouldn't have enough for him ! Mr. Footler. Forty-nine — forty-eight. This is getting devilish exciting ! (Plays.) Ah, too fine ! that's another to you — I must be careful now ! Mr. Balk. Oh, you're all right — I sha'n't get anything to-night. Mr. Footler (amiably, as Mr. B. is aiming). Have some more chalk .? Mr. B. (angrily). Chalk ! what the — there, it's all your . . . wait a bit — it's not going to be a miss, anyway . . . it's — hi ! go on — go on, can't you ! (Ball wavers a fezv seconds, and drops into pocket.) Game to me! (Mag- nanimously) Well, Footler, you play a finer game than I thought you did, but I fancy I should beat you by more than this on a better table, and then you started \.\^Q.x\\.y-'hvQ to the good, you know ! Capital exercise, billiards — the King of indoor games ! [Mr. ¥. puts on his coat sulkily. Marker to Capt. H. and Mr. S. [zuho have risen eagerly). Very sorry. Gentlemen, close on 'alfpast eleven, Gentlemen— closing time ! Mr. F. (to Mr. Jones). Well, old fellow, if I didn't quite pull it oft", you'll admit you had a good run for your money ! [Mr. Balk walks out with restored complacency. Mr. Footler follows witJi Mr. Jones ifi a more resigned frame of mind. The Captain and his Friend reserve their remaj'ks until they are alone. Lights extinguished as Scene closes. Simba^ afternoon in 1bv>^c iParh. Scene. — TJie Open Space between the Serpentme and Marble Arch. Denion- stratioji in progress calling upon the Government to resign instantly. Intense heat ; hot, hoarse men a7'e to be observed gesticulating frantically from breaks ; all the indignation and enthusiasm proceed from that portion of the Crozud nearest the vehicles — those at a distance are either apathetic or languidly amused. In the breaks^ perspiring persons of both sexes sit beaming zuarm approval of the speeches. Seedy men hold up huge banners with the perfunctory air of stage supers. Bandsmen sprawl on the turf, as far away from the oratory as practicable, smoking clay pipes. At 710 great distance f}'07n the Demonstration a)i 'E.L.DY.RUY FADDIST is expou7idi7ig a neiv philosophy zuhich is to 7'ege7ierate Society, to a few irrevere7it boys and an 7i7iconvi7iced mo77g7'el. Close by, a Socialist is hara7igui7ig 07i a stool, a7id a Field P7'eacher is delivering a7i exte77ip07X add/'css, zvhile a/i ope7i-air Reciter endeavo7irs i7i vai7i to i'etai7i a/i audie7ice, zvhich has so7/tehow formed an i77ip7'essio7i that he is advocating the Eight Hoiws Labour Bill. All these various delivera7ices are audible at the sa7ne ti77ie, and 7/iiich to the effect i7idicated beloiv. Orator in First Break {educated voice; carefdly atti7'ed i/i white hat a7id waistcoat, frock-coat, butto7i-hole, &c., addressing croivd of well fed a7id co77ifo7'tably clad CITIZENS). Well, Gentlemen, there's one Court these precious aristocrats have all to themselves — and I wish them joy of it ! {Pauses for o7'atorical effect^) I refer, Gentlemen, to the Divo7-ce Court. {Roars of vi7'tuously derisive laughter?) Far be it from mc to contest their right to such a monopoly. We will leave them that. {Scor7iful g/-oa7is.) 8S Voces Popttli. But, I ask you — {Jie drops all playfulness and becomes sinister) if we— the down-trodden slaves of the aristocracy — were to go to them — as they roll round this Park, revelling — {scathingly) ay, revelling, Gentlemen ! {Savage yells as the accuracy of this picture of high-life is recognised) — if we were to go to them, in our destitution {pulls out a silk handkerchief) in our squalor {arranges button-Jiole) our poverty — our rags {buttons coat) — how would they receive us ? Would they take us to their bosoms ? Crowd {with convict ion}) Not they I The Orator {fiercely) Not they, indeed ! Why, Gentlemen, they would laugh — yes, laugh, laugh in our desperate faces ! But let them take heed to themselves ! {And so forth) Another Orator. Those among you who have access to Blue Books {Howls from his auditors, who imagine that this particular form of light literatiire is being held up for execration. Third Orator {an Irishman). And I'd just like to ask ye now, as liberty-loving Englishmen, how would ye feel— hwhat would ye think — hwhat would ye do — if here, in this great Metropolus, ye saw a man barbarously turned out of house and home, for no other rason in the worrld, Gintlemen, for no other rason on this eai'th — than being unable or unwilling to pay his rint ? Would ye call that Civilisation ? Crowd {unanimously). No ! The Elderly Faddist. The force that governs this world, my friends, is one which, for want of a more appropriate term, I shall venture, with your permission, to call " Detriment." {The Mongrel has had enough of it, and strolls off to listen to the PREACHER.) Detriment. Two dots make a line — {argiimentatively) — Do they not ? With the second dot we know the direction, but not the value. With the tJiird dot First Rude Boy. Ga-arn — yer dotty yerself! The E. F, And so with everything. All the words in our language are founded upon one or other of the primary colours. We study Nature — and what do we find .'' This great elementary Law ; the Rule of Five, " supplemented, I ought to say, by the no less elementary Rule of Two. Thus, the human trunk with the four limbs make five — there are five senses, five holes in the head Sunday Afternoon in Hyde Park. 89 " WOULD YE CALL thai CIVILISATION ? Second R. B. There's a crack in jw^r//, anyway ! The E. F. {ignoring tJiis personality). Five petals in most flowers, five points to a starfish, the average number of peas in a pod — five. First R. B. 'Ow many bloo beans mike five, eh. Mister? [E. F. gives it up in despair. N 90 Voces Popiili. Fourth Orator. Depend upon it, my friends, when that iniquitous law was passed, Mr. l^alfour's couch was visited by a nightly spectre — the phantom — [lozucrs his voice impressively) — the ghost, my friends — the ghost The Reciter {who is zvell o)i in '' Fallen by the Way"). "The ghost had a clean white surplice as a clergyman might ha' wore !" [Fourth O. finds his climax spoilt. Irish Patriot. There's nothing at ahl dishonourable in being in prison, Gintlemen. Some of the best and greatest men that ever lived have been in prison An Auditor {ivho seems to have reasons of his ozun for fi.nding this argument particularly soothing). 'Ear, 'ear I The I. P. Look at Gambetta ! A Dull Man {to Neighbour). Wof'i he a-tellin' of us to look at .' His Neighbour. Gambetter. The D. M. Gam— '^^.? Neighbour {curtly). Better. The D. M. Better nor zuot ? Neighbour {losing patience). Oh, /dunno — arsk 'im ! The Preacher {concluding an anecdote zvith the voice of a bull). But that little bo-hoy was not afride, dear friends. A'Voh ! That little ho-hoy was not afride. And zvhy was that little bo-hoy not afride, dear friends .'' Shall I tell yer .'' Becos 'is father 'ad 'old of 'is 'A-and ! Har-yes ! {&c., &c.) The Socialist. Don't you be led away by no words. We shall never get our rights without we shake the fist o' fizzical force in the faces of our capitalist foes ! Puny Shopboy [m/u-h i ///pressed). Ah, yer right there, and no mistike about it ! The Socialist. We'ye the honly class wuth bein' considered, feller- citizens ! It's h/ts that repperesents the hintelleck, the henergy, the ability, the morality of the nation. {General chor/is of ^''Ear, 'ear!") The Haristocracy and the Middle Classes — well, they've got jest enough er cunningness (I won't call it liability), er cunningness, for to cheat us out cr Sunday Afternoon in Hyde Park. 91 wot's ours ! D yer spose as hany o' these 'eve Parliament blokes go into politics for the good o' hothers ? An Individual {ivJw dearly retains no illusions). Ketch them z.-doin of it ! The S. {trinmphantl}!). Hexactly — and that's jest wot yer wont do. Depend on it, whether they call theirselves Radicals, or Liberals, or Tories — / draw no distinctions, they're hall as bad as one another — they go into politics fur wot they kin git hoiit of it. (CROWD vmnmir detestation of such sordid selfishness) Well, wot j^z^'ve got terdo is — horginise, and when you har horginised, yoiiW 'ave all the power, and then — then, feller-citizens and workers, then yer kin vote all the Supplies yerselves, and vote them among yerselves ! \EntJiusiastic applause at this lofty ideal. Another Orator {perorating from waggon). I'm speakin' now with all 'istry vivid to my reckerlection, and I've no 'esitation whathever in asserting fearlessly, and without fear o' contradiction, that, of hall the abominable tyrants that hever perlooted this earth, the present Goverment {sustained groans) — the present Goverment. Har. The most Abandoned ! {He screivs each epitJict out of himself with a tremendous contortion.) The most Degraded ! The most Cowardly ! The most Debased ! The most Ber-lud-thirsty ! Set. Of Sneakin' Ruffians. That hever disgraced the Title. Of so-called Yumanity! Admiring but Familiar Friend. Brayvo ! That's the way to 'it 'cm. Good ole Hatkins ! \fjugle sounds ; Resolution put from platforms. Processions inarch off ivitJi bands and flying colours, zvell pleased ivith the manner in which they have spent a most enjoyable afternoon. Redistri- bution of Property practised in sundry directions as Scene closes in. at tbc Jfvcncb HMa^, Scene — A BritisJi Theatre, on stage of which that irresistibly funny farcical comedy, "■ Les Vivacitcs d un Vrai Lapinl'' ivith the celebrated Patatras in the principal role, is in course of representation. " Les Vivacite's,'' though comparatively iinobjectionable in its main idea, contains incidents and allusions by zvhich BritisJi propriety zvould be painfully scandalised in a literally translated version, but zvhich, in their native form, do not seem somehow to outrage the susceptibilities of the highly respectable Anglo-Saxons of both sexes and various ages who occupy all the best seats. On the Stage. M. Patatras is piteously detailing the story of his domestic unhappiness to a cynical friend, interrupted by frequent merriment from the audience. In the Stalls. BritisJi Matron (zuhosc mirth is far less restrained than it would be in any otJier Stalls). Oh, it is really too funny ! I'm sure I don't know wJiat it is that makes one laugh so ! \_A nd, to do her justice, sJie docs not in tJie least, tJie only phrase sJie caught being — " Et cest toujours comme qa 1 " But it is so silly not to laugh zvJien everybody else is in fits. British Parent {to ///> Daughter, ivJiomJieJiasbrougJitJiere luith a view to discover Jiozv far she has profited by tJiat year at the Boulogne Boarding School — Jie Jiinnelf is " a little rusty in his French''). Well, I haven't heard you laugh much yet ! Thought you understood the language .'' The Daughter {hurt). I do, Papa, I understand every word tliey say — only I don't always quite know what the jokes mean. B. P. {indignantly). And this is what they call education nowadays ! Ah, well, I might have spared my money, it seems. On the Stage. Mlle. Maquillee, ^j- " J/;;/^'. Gandinois,'' says to Visitor, " Asseycz-vous done, je vous prie, vous nous ferez I'amitie de diner A I the Fr Click Play. 9 avec nous ce soir, n'est ce pas ? " The Visitor. " Comment done — mais c'est moi au contraire qui," &c., &c. In the Dress Circle. First Briton {ivith a smile of sjibtle apprecia- tion). Very smartly written, this dialogue, eh ? — that last bit ! [He chuckles wickedly. Second Briton {ivho has been secretly zvishing they zvouldn't speak so confoundedly fast). Full of esprit — full of esprit ! We're no match for them there / [An aside is spoken on stage, zvhich convulses the initiated; both Britons a little late in laughing, and resolve to tvatch one another s face in future — result being that before end of Second Act each darkly suspects the other of being a humbug. On the Stage. "UAmi de la Maiso)r to " M. Gandinois :'' " Froide ? {Aside.) Ah, non, par exemple ! " [Roars of laughter. British Fiancee {ivho is determined John shall not think her dull; behind her handkerchief). Isn't it killing.-' John {luho has been beginning to think her rather too lively, ivith a slight stiffness). Well, some people might find it a trifle broad — but so long as you're amused B. F. (/// extreme confusioii). Oh, I thought this piece was all right — or I wouldn't... that's the ivorst of French, you never know! [Wishes they had gone to ^^ Dorothy" instead. BETWEEN THE ACTS. Lady in Box {to her friend). Enjo}'ing it, dear } The Friend {rapturously). Oh, so much ! it's perfectly delightful ! {With a sudden impulse to candour.) You know, I didn't quite follow everything they said. First Lady. Oh, but one doesn't — )'ou get into it by degrees, }'Ou know. You'll find j'ourself beginning to get more accustomed to it by the time they come to the end of the last Act — at least that's my experience. In THi', Pit. Plain Man {to Quiet Neighbour). Comical kind o' piece, eh .' Find you manage to catch the drift of it at all .'' 94 Voces Popnli. The O. N. {zuJio has spent much of his time abroad). Oh — yes, I — a — think so. The p. M. So did I, first-rate, and without knowing a single word o' French either, mind you ! I manage to pick up what it's all about as I go along, and I'll lay I'm not far out. I knew at once that that old chap in the smoking-cap was put out about the way his daughter carried on^ — that. was very good, and then his old wife, ^//^ came in, and there was a shindy The Q. N. Oh, pardon mc, but you're wrong there. The old lady was his viother-in-lazv, and the girl his young wife. He has no daughter in the piece, and the idea is The p. M. Well, / made it out different myself, any way. \^He evidently prefers his oiun interpretation, wJiich the Q. N. does not make any further efforts to correct. DURING SECOND ACT. On the Stage. Mlle. Minaudiere, ^-jt the inevitable ingenue. " Si je m'amuse ici ! Figurez-vous que " YShe says something very naive indeed, ivhich is received zvith uproarious merriment. In the Stalls. Young Wife iii'Iio is always meaning ''to take tip her French again',' to her husband, whohasgiven her to understand that he is perfectly at home iti the language). But, Harry, what was there so very funny dhontthat? Harry {luho has been laughing, solely to keep up his reputation). Well, you see — it's impossible to t^^anslate these things. {Which it is, for him.) It's Parisian, you know — very Parisian ! Close of Act. M. Patatras {after peering through curtaijts). " Aie, aie ! la dame de I'ombrelle rouge ! Pince ! . . . Cette porte ! " {Opens door and shuts it sharply.) " Mme. la Baronne!" {Opens another, same business.) Le General ! lui aussi ! ou me fourrer ? Ah, sous le canape ! " {Starting back wildly.) " Quoi .'' Ma femme — -ici ! " , • \^Sits doivn Jieavily on a ivork-basket. Other characters rtcsh on, and form tableau as Curtain falls. Chorus of Enthusiasts, in Stalls. It's all so perfectly natural. "OUOI ? MA I-KMMIC ! -ICI ! ' 96 Voces Popiili. isn't it ? So unlike our noisy horseplay— ^/ Daughter). What did he say then ? The Daughter. Oh, Papa, I can't explain everything they say ! B. P. You explain .' I believe /know more about it than you ! The D. {demurely). Then you can explain to me, Papa. [B. V. pretends he hasn't heard ; triumph ^/DAUGHTER. AT THE CLOSE. Critical Playgoer {who has understood, 071 an average, about one word in fifty). I must say I was a little disappointed with the dialogue — nothing like so witty as I expected ! His Friend {whose average was one in a hundred). There were one or two good things in it, though — but, of course it's Patatras one goes to see ! o at a HMoblanb ^able MfDotc Scene — A long dinncr-tabk, garnished with spiky plants languishing in iheir native pots. Visitors discovered consulting Wine-list, ivhicJi tJiey do zvith knitted brozvs for some minutes, and then order whisky and soda. German Waiters get in one another s zvay, and quarrel in zuhispers. Late comers enter, either sneakingly, as if inclined to apologise to the Head- tuaiter, or sivaggering, as if they didn't care partic2ilarly about dining, but had Just looked in. Conversation is conducted in a lozv and decorous tone. The Diffident Diner {to Neighbour, /c-Z/z^/y). Might I trouble you for the — ah — Mennu ? The Neighbour. Eh ? The D, D. Would you kindly pass the — er — {changes his mind about the pronunciation)— M?\.y-r\\i ? The Neighbour {blankly). I'm not seein' ony of it aboot here. The D. D. I was only asking you if you could reach the — {decides to alter it once more) — M'noo .'' The Neighbour. Wull I rax ye the hwhat? The D. D. {meekly). The Bill of Fare, please. The Old Maid {to Elderly Bachelor). And what \\^n^ you been doing to-day .'' The Elderly Bachelor. Well, I took the train to Tay — Tay some- thing or other — and on by coach through Glen — Qi\Q.V].~— {gives it up) — ■ foozle-um, to Loch — bless my soul, I shall forget my own name next ! — ■ and by the Falls of Glare } — Falls of Bower .'' / can't remember all the At a Hio-hlaud Table d Hotc. '^ Dancing coitiiuics ; fourteen separate sword-dances and fifteen entries for the Fling. Local Magnates, zvho are not compelled by their position to remaiji, drive of yaivning, and commending the quality of the bag-pipe playing. Magnates ivhose Pipers have zvon a medal receive congratula- tions suspiciously from London friends. Outside the grounds, other fine old Highland sports " Putting the Cocoa-Nut" " Glass Bottle and Steamed Egg stalking," and " Trying the Weight,'' are noiv in full swing. Highlanders " left sporting." Bt a HAortb Britieb Ib^bropatbtc. Scene — A/i iimncnsc Drannng-rooui, lighted by minierous gas-burners, and furnished on a scale of imposing splendour. It is after dinner ; tea and coffee Jiave just been served in the corridor outside, and persons of more luxurious habits have brought in their cups to sip at leisure. On settees tn the centre sit niiddle-aged Ladies in grey, red, a)id white woollen shazvls each politely admiring the others work. Very young Ladies whisper and laugh in the windozu-seats, all about nothing, and exhibit the liveliest affection for one another. Others converse, not unco7iscious of the distinc- tion, with the exceptional Young Men who have donned eve?iing dress, and who glide about ivitli an agreeable air of feeling perfectly at home. People zvho dont know anybody sit apart in cJiairs, perusing " The Hotels of Europe," or anything else they can get hold of and loondering why other people are so unsociable. A stout old Lady in a corner is discours- ing to a meek little old Maid, in a strong Yorkshire accent, ivhich from time to titne compels the unwilling attention of everybody in the room. The old Ladys husband endeavours in vain to catch her eye from the back- ground, as her confide?ices threaten to become of an alarmingly intimate nature. In the foreground, tivo Visitors have just discovered a bond of sympathy in the fact that ?ieither of them has found Scotch scenery quite what they expected. First Visitor {delighted). You weren't much impressed witli the Kyles of Bute ? You don't say so ! Now that really is very curious — no more was I ! Now, Loch Lomond is certainly rather pretty — {as if he did not wish to turn its head) — bits of it, you know. But the Trossachs — what are the Trossachs, after all ? Second V. Exactly. {Feeling that this settles the Trossachs). What 1 1 o Voces Popidi. are they ? And then some people tell you Glencoes so magnificent — I went through it in a pouring rain, and all I can say is — / couldn't see anything in the place ! and look at Staffa and lona — why, to hear some people talk First V. (Jii a large-mtnded zvay). Well, I didn't think lona was so bad myself, I must say • Second V. Ah, perhaps you're a good sailor. Now, I'm always ill on any steamer The Yorkshire Lady [in a slozv ruminating voice). An' so ah said to ma husband, "Ah doan't loike to cloime oop on them 'cherry boonks,' as they cahl them, it may be vara noice," ah said, " when ya git oop, but if ah was oop, ah'd hev to coom daown agean." An' ma husband sez to me, " Doan't ya be sooch a blethrin owd " \Her Husband drops a book in tJie background. A Young Lady who Likes Excitement {to one of the agreeable young Men in Evening Dress). Oh, Mr. Torckler, don't they ever do anything here ? Mr. Torckler. Oh, yes ; I'm going to ask that lady in the blue spectacles to sing in a minute, and there's somebody in the house some- where who will play the flute, if you go the right way to manage him. The Y. L. {pettishly). Oh, I didn't mean that. — I meant get up some- thing. A Solitary Stranger {seizing the opportimity of speaking to somebody). If you're fond of climbing, there's a very nice mountain in the vicinity — you can get up it easily in three hours, and it's only eight miles by road. The Y. L. {stiffiy): Oh, thank you very much. {To Mr. T.) I mean get up a dance, charades, anything ! An Habitude. Ah, you should have been here the week before last, when the house was full ! There was something going on every evening in the Recreation Room — theatricals, dumb-crambo, thought-reading, and I don't know zuhat all — such, fun we had ! The Y. L. {coldly). Really .? {To Mr. T.) But zvhy couldn't we dress up, or something .^ [ Vaguely. Mr. T. {doubtfully). Well, there's not much point in dressing-up unless you do something when you are dressed up, is there .-' At a N^orth British Hydropathic. 1 1 1 The Y. L. {loJio would be qiiite satisfied zvitJi the mere dressing-iip). I suppose not. Well then, we might dance. Mr. T. (jvko doesn't dance, but would 7xcite if anybody ivei'e to ask him). Not enough men. The Y. L. Oh, some of the girls — by wJiicJi she means the other girls) — can dance with one another. Do propose a dance. Mr. Torckler (diplomatically). Er — well, I must find out what people think about it before proposing anything, you know. {Circulates at as zuide a radius from her as possible, zvhile she endeavours to find out from the expression of those he addresses their ivillingness to dance or otherivise — an object in which she migJit be more successfid if lie ivere mentioning the subject at all). The Yorkshire Lady {as before^. An' ah went straaight hoam, an' ah poet on a moostard pleaster, bahk and front, an' next moarnin' boath ma legs wur ahl swelled oop loike \An agonized expression iji her hearer's face warned her to loiver her voice at this point. Another Young Man, in Evening Dress, approacJies a group of Young Ladies. All the Young Ladies {coquettishly). Now you mustn't come here, Mr. Pattle — you are such a dreadful tease ! You must promise to behave if we let you stop. \They make room for him zvith alacrity. The Y. M. {taking a Novel zvith an elegant carelessness). Is this very pathetic ? The Owner of the Novel. I won't have you making fun of it — it's lovely. I've wept pints over it ! I left off just at the most exciting part. I'm dying to know how it goes on — I should be reading it now if I didn't want to finish this sock. [Knits calmly. The Y. M. {to VOCALISTIC Young Lady). Aren't we to have a song this evening } The Voc. Y. L. How can you ask me ? Why, you know how I broke down last night ! The Y. M. {gallantly). Well, I'd rather hear jv;/ break down than other people finish. I know that. I I 2 Voces Popiili, Proud Mother {from Provinces). There's my daughter here will be happy to sing if you like to ask her — she's had a first-rate teaching ; and people who know what good singing is tell me The Daughter {in modest confusion). How can you go on so, Mamma ? You'll make the gentleman think I'm something wonderful ! {She is induced to consent to sing.) Well, what will you have? I've got " Only tJie Moon and Thee, Love ! " {looking up under her eyelashes) — some of my songs are rather soft — and there's " Say but One Word, and I am TJiinc ! " {archly) — that's a hint to some of you young gentlemen ! Will you have that ? Or this is a pretty one — " One Kiss, and then — we Part I " The Y. M. {prudently, after looking through her music). I think if you wouldn't mind singing " The Better Land'' l^She is disappointed, but sings it, without interrupting either the reading or the conversation. The Yorkshire Lady {speaking through music). So ah said to th' Doactor, " Doactor, ah want you to tell ma joost wheer it is ah'm sooffrin' — is it ma loongs," ah said, " or ma chest, or ma " The Singer {ivith solemn feeling). " Not there — not they-ere, my che-ild ! " [.So?ig concludes amidst faint and absent-minded applause. The Young Lady who Likes Excitement {to herself). That's over, thank Goodness ! There's plenty of time for a dance still, if they only make haste. I'm sure I can hear someone playing a Waltz in the Recrea- tion Room. What are they waiting for ? {Tzvo Men enter, and look around inquiringly). Have they come in to find partners .'' Then there is dancing ! {The tzvo Men bring out a chess-board, a)id begin to play). . . . Pigs! (Mr. Torckler, after conversing confidentially in various quarters, goes out zuith Mr. Pattle.) They're going to arrange about it at last ! ( JJ^aits hopefully for some time — the lively Yo7tng Ladies collect their zvork, and go out too). Oh, those girls are going now. I'd better ask some one, perhaps. {Crossing to Matron.) Do you know where those gentlemen in evening dress have gone } Matron. I heard them say something about a game of billiards and a cigar. The Y. L. {blankly). Oh, {hopefully) but all those young ladies — where have they gone to .' At a Nort/i British Hydropathic. 113 Matron. The young ladies ? Oh, tJiey'vc gone to bed — we keep early- hours here, }'OU know. The Yorkshire Lady. An' he gave ma a perscreepshun, ahl fooll o' things that ah wasn't to tciik. Ah moos'n't eat bread, an' ah moos'n't cat rf % 'All MOOSN T EAT BREAD, AH MOOSN'T EAT POTEATOES, NOR YET MOOFFINS, NOR TEA-CAAK. poteatocs, nor yet mooffins, nor tea-caak, nor no peastry nor sweats {inedi- talivcly) — boot ah niver ivur a sweat cater — ah niver wur thot ! {And so on). {Drawing-room gradually empties, till the Yorkshh^e Lady is left alone with the little old Maid, zvho throzvs in an automatic " Yes " at intervals, and zvondcrs if it will be rude to say she is rather tired. Q Scene — Entrance to the Castle. A small Party OF SIGHTSEERS have Just retained the services of an Official Guide. Guide {in a fnelUfluons tone and without any stops whatever, fixing his eyes on vacancy, having apparently conitnitted his discourse to memory^ Before commencing our round of the Castle Lady and Gentlemen I will ask your attention to a few remarks upon the trench below the drawbridge where we now stand most parties are apt to run away with the erronous impression of its being the ancient moat which a moment's reflection will show us how absurd this is being more than one 'undred feet above the base of the solid rock before us is the exercise ground formerly the scene of countless burnings 'angings and other revolting spectacles common to that barbarious age now appily for ever past from us ! First Sightseer {desirous to gratify the Guide, and display his Military knowledge^. You could hold this place against any odds, eh? Practically impregnable, I suppose? Guide {blandly). Well, Sir, as a fortress, it is quite obslete, being commanded by Arthur's Seat. A " Stoopid " S. Who did you say commands the Castle ? {Discovers that he is cut off front GuiDE by a body of soldiers marching down to drill. By time he comes up zvith him again, GUIDE is already explaining something else, and question allozved to drop. Guide. Above the same-eye Gothic arch under which we are now about to pass you will observe the Scots arms carved above with the motto Nemo me impugn lacessit no one prevokes me with impunity. Doing Edinlmrgli Castle. 1 1 5 The Stoopid S. {in a zuhispcr). What did he say provoked him ? Guide {contiyming). In the chamber above the last and innermost gate making seven in all and lighted by a single grating it formed the place of confinement for the luckless Argyll previous to his execution there the original study was made by Ward for his picture the " Last Sleep of Arg)'lV now in the 'Ouses of Parliament. Sightseers iivho have never seen the Westmhister frescoes'). Really? painted there, was it ! \Thcy regard the grating with dazvning interest. The S. S. Singular thing to do — sending an artist to paint him asleep before they cut his head off, curious days, those, Sir, curious da}'s ! \Moralises on the past. Guide. The portion above is modern having been re-erected in recent times in the latest baronial style on your left as you go forward Lady and Gentlemen you will observe a flight of steps formerly at once the route for persons of royal and noble blood and the only means of access from the condemned cells to the place of execution a striking contrast thus we see afforded between the two sides misery and splendour the 'ighest and the lowest. {Halts in an impressive manner. Sightseers prepare, in limp attitudes, to receive information^ You follow the direction of my staff to the furthest corner of the ramparts where the turret projects it was there that a rather romantic An Old Lady {arriving hurriedly). Are you the Guide.' Can you explain the Castle .-• Guide. Yes, Ma'am, that is what I am here to do — {placidly) — it was there that a rather romantic but strictly The Old Lady. Wait a minute. I want my friend to hear this. I'll fetch her. \^S tarts in search of friend, tvho is drifting aimlessly about amongst the cannon, and comes under protest. Guide {proceeding) — a rather romantic but strictly according to our historical records a curious coincident took place the manner in which the Castle was taken by surprise by Randolph with only thirty picked men ascending the well-nigh precipitous rock the checkwatch or as wc now call it the patrol was at that moment being relieved and the sentinel in mere 1 1 6 Voces Populi. wantonness or pure folly seizing one of the stones with which in those days for purposes of defence the rampart was then encumbered and shouting " Away ! I see ye well !" 'urled it over the rampart upon the 'elmets of the crouching escalade ! The S. S. The crouching ivhicJi ? Guide (repeating ivitJi relish). The crouching escalade fortunately without injury to any of the scaling-party which waiting till the check- watch had gone by clutching the ivy in their garntleted 'ands they reached the summit overpowering the sentinel and taking the Castle by surprise the feat being counted as one of the most daring stratagems known to 'istry ! The S. S. {admiringly). And were j^« there ? Guide. No, Sir ; it took place in thirteen 'undrcd and tiuelve. Sir — {impassively) — before I was born, Sir. {Continuing as before?) In yonder building now the Armry the ruthless Crichton entertained the Douglases at a banquet the cover being removed revealed the black bull's 'ed symptom of violent and immediate death struck with 'orror at the sight they begged for their lives being brutally refused and slain on the spot the iron tank on your right as you ascend is comparatively modern and constructed to 'old water in the event of a siege to provide against the garrison being reduced by thirst the water is forced up into the tank each day by gravitation from the Pentland Tils. I may here mention that the piece of ordnance we are now passing is the famous Mons Meg. Ladies and Gentlemen it is unnecessary for me to explain the cannon the inscriptions on the carriage being its 'istry. The S. S. Is that the gun they fire every day by electricity ? Guide. It was last fired in 1682, Sir, being burst by the discharge and consequently now obslete, even for peaceful purposes. \T he party pass into tin giiadi'angle and face the Royal Apartments. Guide. The wing on }-our right was set apart for the Court and Royal Suite in front stands the ancient Banqueting 'All here Argyll feasted and connived with Cromwell at the death of Charles the First that doorway leads you to Queen Mary's Room the birthplace of James the Sixth afterwards James the First of England. Ladies and Gentlemen — {mysteriously) — I am now going to explain something which you will find Doing Edinburgh Castle. 1 1 7 in none of the authorised guide-books or 'istorical records will you all remain kindly where you now are for a few minutes, and keep your eye fixed on me ? [ Walks slowly to a dooriuay, and touches a stone above it with his stick, sightseers look on, apparently in expectation of some startling coujnrifig trick. Guide {returning zvitJi subdued importance). A curious discovery never yet cleared up was made some years ago in the exact spot which you saw me touch with my stick some workmen making alterations came upon a coffin of oak which being opened proved to contain the skeleton of an infant of great auntiquity The S. S. No-w old did you say the infant was ? Guidb:. Its exact age is unknown, but it was of a great auntiquity and enveloped in a covering wrought with two initials, one of them an I being distinctly visible being reported to Major-General Thackery then in command of the Royal Engineers he gave orders for the skeleton to be replaced and the aperture sealed up which accordingly was done though what or '00 the infant was it is a mystery — [solemnly) — probly will ever remain a mystery but that is where the infant was found and where it now is. The S. S. Did you say that James the First was born in there ? Guide. Yes, Sir, we have 'istorical record of that being so. The S. S. Very zvell {triumphantly) — }'Our mystery's accounted for at once ! [Looks round to discover effect, and perceives that his theory does not seem to be generally understood, and realises for the first time that he does not understand it himself. Guide {declining to piirsue the siibject). Here Ladies and Gentlemen my duties terminate you will now inspect at your leisure for there is no occasion to hurry taking your own time about it the Crown Room the Birthplace St. Margaret,s Chapel Mons Meg and the view from the Castle ramparts the official charge I may here remind you is sixpence each person. Thank you, Sir, I am much obliged to you. [Scene closes on Sightseers, trooping up staircase in varying states of contented vagueness as to wJiat they are going to sec when they get up. at tbe Xorb riDa^or's Sbow. Scene — The Thames Evibankvient. Croivd discovered, waiting for Lord Mayor s Shoiv. Female Pleasure-seeker {tuhose temper is apt to be a little uncertain on these occasions to her husband). We ought to have started at least an hour earher^ust look at the number of people here already ! You woidd dawdle — and it wasn't for want of speaking to, Fm sure ! Her Husband {mildly). It certainly was not. Only, as the Show can't possibly pass for two hours at least She. Two hours ! Am I to stand about in this crowd all that time ? He (mV// a feeble jocularity). Unless you prefer to climb a tree. She. Then, John, all I can say is, I wish I had stayed at home ! (John murmurs a silent but fervent assent.) A Practical Pleasure-seeker. Now I tell you what we'll do, Maria — you take Weetie and keep close to me, and I'll look after Duggie, and we'll just stroll comfortably up and down till the very last minute, and drop comfortably into front places, and there we are ! Patriotic P. What I like about occasions like this, is the spectacle of a thoroughly good-humoured, well-behaved British crowd — you don't see that on the Continent, y'know ! More Patriotic P. {thoughtfully). No, that's perfectly true; and what I say is — we don't want all these police about. Trust more to the general spirit of decency and order — let the people feel they are trusted ! A Socialist. Ah, you're right. Did you year what one of the Orators said in the Square the other afternoon } He told 'em Sir Charles .would 'ave to be as wide awake as what he was 'imself, to prevent a Unemployed Demonstration to-day. " Let him remember," says he, "it's At the Lord Mayor s Show. 1 19 in our power to do that within arf a mile of the Mansion House, which would make the 'ole civilized world ring with 'orror," he says. And it 's men like that as they're trying to silence and intimerdate ! The P.P.'S {edging azuay a little nervously, to one another). Well, I hope the Police are keeping a sharp look-out. I — I don't seem to see so many about as usual, eh .'* A Speculator iivith two tubs and a board) to Female P. 'Ere you are, lydy, hony two shellin' fur a fust-rate stand — you won't see no better if you was to pay a suvring ! Female P. You may say what you like, but Pm not going to tramp about any longer, and if you're so mean as to grudge two shillings — why, I can pay for myself! HUSB. Oh, hang it — get up if you want to ! The Practical P. Well, Maria, it 's no use worrying nozv — we must go and ask at the Police-Stations afterwards — it was a mistake to bring them ! The Patriotic P. Of course one is told there 's a gocd deal of rough horse-play on these occasions, but anything more entirely \^A " larrikin " conies up behind and " bashes" his hat in ; a string of playful youths seize each other by the waist and rush in single file through crowd upsetting everybody in their way : both the Patriotic Pleasure-Seekers go home by the Underground, without waiting for the Procession. The Female P. {on the stand). John, Pm sure this board isn't safe. We should see ever so much better on one of those carts — they're only asking sixpence, John, You are the worst person to come out with — you never give yourself the smallest trouble — / have to do it all ! You can stop here if you choose, Fm going to get into one of those carts ! \^She and John descend, and mount upon a coal-cart zuhich is being driven slowly along the route. Later ; Procession approaching, distant music. Crowd {f imping up and down like " skip-Jacks '' to see better). 'Ere they arc, they're coming ! [ The way is cleared by trotting mounted constables. I20 Voces Populi. Stout Lady. Well, if I wanted to faint ever so, I couldn't now — where are you, my dear ? Another Stout Lady {c/ieerfully). I'm all right, Mrs. Porter, Mum. I've got tight 'old of this nice young Perliccman's belt — don't you fret yourself about me ! Experienced Sightseer {catching hold of little Duggie and placing him in front, tJien pushing forivard). Make room for this little boy, please — I want him to see. \Cr'owd good-naturedly make zvay, affording unimpeded view of procession to DuGGiE and the Experienced Sightseer, who troubles himself no further. A Superior Sightseer. To think of the traffic of the first city of the world being stopped for this contemptible tomfoolery ! [Fights hard for a front place. Procession passing. Impertinent Female [to gorgeous Coachman). 'Ow you 'ave altered ! Well-Informed Person {pointing out City Marshal). That's Sir Charles Warren, that is ! Unemployed {smarting with sense of recent zvrongs). Yah, toirant ! [ TJie C. M. beams zvitJi gratification. Open carriages pass, contai7iing Aldermen in tall hats and fur-coats. Critical Crowd. Brush yer 'ats ! There's a nose ! Oh, ain't he bin 'avin' a go at the sherry afore he started, neither! 'Ere comes old "Sir Ben " — that's 'im in the white pot 'at ! \They cheer SiR Ben, zvithout, hoivever, any clear notion ivJiy. Allegorical Cars pass. Crowd. Don't they look chilly up there ! 'Old on to your globe, Sir ! •Don't ketch cold in them tights, Miss ! They've run up agin somethink, that lot 'ave. See where it's all bent in — eh .-' A t the Lord Alayors Skozu. 1 2 1 Lord Mayor s Coach passes. Crowd. 'Ooray ! That's 'im with the muff on. No, it ain't, yer soft 'ed ! It's 'im in the feathered 'at a-layin' back. W hoy don't ycr let 'im sit on }-cr hip, Guv'nor } &c., &c. A block. Lady Mayoress's Coach stopping. Crowd. There's dresses ! They must ha' cost a tidy penny 1 Agitator. Wrung out of the pockets of the pore working man ! I'd dress 'em, I woukl ! Why shoukl sech as you and me keep the h'kes o' them in laziness .? If we had our rights, it's us 'ud be riding in their places ! Artisan {after a glance at hivi). Dunno as the Show 'd be much the prettier to look at for that, mate. After the Procession. Practical Pleasure-seeker (zvho has been pushed into a back rozv, and seen nothing but the banners, to DUGGIE and Weetie, miraculously recovered'). Thank Heaven, they're found ! Children, let this be a lesson to you in future never to What .-' Seen the Show beautifully, have }'ou ? {Boiling over) Oh, very zuell — wait tell I get you home ! The Female P. Now, don't say another word, John, — anyone but an idiot would have knoivn that the cart would be turned down a back-street ! If I hadn't insisted on getting out when I did, we should have missed the Show altogether. Policeman, is the Show ever coming .? Shall we get a good view from here } Policeman. Capital view, Mum — if }'ou don't mind waiting till next November! \_Tablean. Curtain. R 3n an 3taUan IRcdtaurant Scene — A?t Italian Restaurant — anywhere in the Metropolis. Only afeiv of the small dining-tables are occupied as Scene opens. Near the buffet is a small lift communicating luith the kitchen, and by the lift a speaking- tube. Enter an ADORER ivitJi his ADORED ; lie leads the zvay dozvn the centime of the room, flushed and jubilant — he has not been long engaged, and this is the very first time he has dined zuith Her like this. Adorer {beaming). Where would you like to sit, Pussy ? Pussy {A fine young zvoman — but past the kitten stage). Oh, it's all the same to me I Adorer {catching an aggrieved note in her tone). Why, you don't really think I'd have kept you waiting if I could help it ? There's always extra work on Foreign Post nights ! (PuSSY turns azvay and arranges hat before mirror) Waiter ! {A Waiter ivJio has been reading the " Globe " in the corner, presents Jiimself zvitJi Menu.) What shall we have to begin with, eh. Pussy ? \The Waiter, conceiving himself appealed to, disclaims the responsibility zvith a shrug, and privately reflects that these stiff EnglisJimen can be strangely familiar at times. Pussy. Oh, I don't feel as if I cared much about anything — nozv. Adorer. Well, Pve ordered Vermicelli Soup, and Sole au gratin. Now, you must try and think what you'd like to follow. {Tentatively?) A Cutlet? Pussy {zvitJi infinite contempt for such zvant of originality). A Cutlet . — the idea ! /;/ an Italian Restaurant. 123 Adorer {abashed). I thought perhaps — but look down the h'st (Pussy glances doivu it ivitJi eyes ivhich she tries to render uninterested). " Vol an vent a F Herbaliste^ — that looks as if it would be rather good. Shall we try that ? Pussy. You may if you like — I sha'n't touch it mj'self. Adorer. Well, look here, then, " Rog)ions sautes Venezienne^' — Kidneys, you know — you like kidneys. Pussy iicily). Do I .'' I was not aware of it. Adorer. Come — it's for you to say. {Reads from list.) " Clidteau- briand Bordelaisel' " Jugged Hare and Jelly," " Salmi of Partridge." (Pussy, w/io is still suffering from offended dignity, repudiates all these suggestions zvith scorn and contumely?) Don't like any of them .-* Well, {helplessly) can't you think of anything you ivould like ? Pussy. Nothing — except — {ivith decision) — a Cutlet. Adorer {relieved by this condescensioii). The very thing ! {Tenderly?) We will both have cutlets. Waiter {zi'ho has been ivaiting in dignified submission). Two Porzion Cutlet, verri well — enni Pottidoes .-' Pussy {sharply). Potted what ? Adorer {to Waiter). Yes. {To Pussy, aside in same breath?) Potatoes, darling. {The Waiter suspects he is being trified with?) Do you prefer them sautes, fried, or in chips, — or what } Pussy {zuitk the lofty indifference of an ethereal nature). I'm sure / don't care how they're done ! Adorer. Then Potato-chips, Waiter. Pussy {as Waiter departs). Not for me — ril have mine sautes I Adorer {when they are alone, leaning across table). Fve been looking forward to this all day ! Pussy {un sympathetically). Didn't you have any lunch then .? Adorer. I don't mean to the dinner — but to having you to talk with, quite alone by our two selves. Pussy izuJio has her dignity to cojisider). Oh, I daresay. I wish }'ou'd do something for mc, Joshua. Adorer {fervently). Only tell me what it is, darling I 124 Voces Populi, Pussy. It's only to get me the GrapJdc — I'm sure that gentleman over there has done with it. \TJie Adorer fctcJies it with a lengtJieiiing face ; PusSY retires behind the " Graphic," leaving Jiiin outside in solitude. At length he asserts Jiimself by fetching " Pioich," {ivhich he happens to have seen) from an adjoining table. A Bachelor dining alone and unloved on the opposite side of the room, zvatches them zvith grozving sense of consolation. AT THE SPEAKING-TUBE, Waiter. Una voce poco fa maccaroni ! [At least, it sounds something like this.) A little cupboard arrives by the lift containing a dish zvhicli the Waiter hastens to receive. The nevu arrival is apparently of a disappoint- ing nature, — he returns it indignantly, a7id rushes back to tube?) La ci darem la mano curri rabbito Gorgonzola ! A Voice {^from bottom of lift — argumcntatively). Batti, batti ; la donna e mobile risotto Milanaise. Waiter {losing his temper). Altro ! Sul campodella gloria vermicelli ! The Voice {ironicall}'). Parlatele d'amor o cari fior mulligatawni .'' Waii'ER {scathingly). Salve dimora casta e pura entrecote sauce piquante creme a I'orange cotelettes pommes sautes basta-presto ! \_Corks up tube zvith the air of a man zvho has had the best of it. AT ANOTHER TABLE. Tzvo Brothers are seated here, zvho may be distinguished for the purposes of dialogue as the GoOD BROTHER and the Bad Brother respectively. The Good B. appears {somezuhat against his zvill) to be acting as host, though he restricts Ids ozvn refreshment to an orange, zjuhich he eats zvith an air of severe reproof The Bad B., zvho has a shifty, sullen look and a sodden appearance generally, is devouring cold meat zvith the iiitoise solemnity of a person conscious of being more than three parts drunk. Both attempt to give their remarks an ordinary conversational tone. /// ail Italian Restaurant. 125 "altro! sul CAMro della gloria vermicelli 1 " The 13aD B. [suddenly, ivitJi his mouth full). Will you lend mc five shillings ? The Good B. No, I won't. I sec no reason why I should. 126 Voces Populi. The B. B. (/« a lozv passionate voice). Will you lend me five shillings ? The G. B. {endeavouring to maintain a virtuous calm). I don't thi)ik I will. B. B. You've been giving money away all the afternoon to people after / asked you for some. G. B. (^roused). I was 7iot. It's dashed impertinence of you to say such a thing as that. I'm sick of this dashed nonsense — sick and tired of it ! If I hadn't some principle left still, I should have gone to the East long ago ! B. B. I'm glad you didn't, I want five shillings. G. B. Want five shillings ! You keep on saying that, and never say what you want it for. You must have some object. Do you want it to go and get drunk on } B. B. {with a beery persistence'). Lend me five shillings. G. B. {reflectively). I don't intend to. B. B. {in a tone of compromise). Then lend me a sovereign. G.^. {changing the subject 70 iih a chilling hospitality). Would }'0u like anything after that beef.-* B. B, {doggedly). I should like five shillings. G. B. {irrelevantly). Look here ! I at once admit that you've got more brain than I have. B. B. {handsomely). Not at all — it's you that have got miore brain than me. G. B. {rejecting this overture suspiciously). I've more principle at any rate, and, to tell you the truth, I'm not going to put up with this dashed impertinent treatment any longer ! B. B. You're not, eh .-' Then lend me five shillings. G. B. {desperately). Here, Waiter — bill. I pay for this gentleman. Waiter {after adding up the items). One and four, if you please. \_The G. V>.pays. B. B. And dashed cheap too ! \_A small Cook-boy in zvhitc comes up to Waiter and ivhispers. Waiter. Ze boy say zat gentilman {pointing to B. B.) tell him to give twopence for him to ze Cook. /// an Italian Restaurant. 127 G. B. {aiistercl}'). I have nothing to do with that — he must settle it with him. B. B, {luitJi fierce indignation). It's a lie ! I gave the boy the money. It was a penny ! Waiter {iinpassively). Ze boy say you did not give nosing. B. B. {to G. B.) Be d d ! Don't you pay it — it's a rascally im- position ! See, Garcong, I'll tell you in French. J'ai donnc fhoninie, le chef, doo soo {holding np tzuo fingers) pour lui-nienie a servir. G. B. I'm sorry to have to say it — but I don't believe your story. \To //^6'B. B. B. B. {rising). I'm going to have it out with Cook. {Lurches np to door leading to kitchen and exit. Sounds of altercation beloiv. Re-enter B. 'Q. pursued by VOICE. B. B. turning at door.) What did you say } Voice. I say you are dronken Ingelis pig, cochon, va ! B. B. Well, — it's just as well you didn't say any more. {Goes up to Waiter, confidentially^ That man down there was mos' insultin' — mos insultin'. But, there, I'll give you the penny — there it is. {Presses that coin ////c* Waiter's hand and closes his fingers over it.) Put it into your pocket, quick — say no more 'bout it, Goo' ni'. Only — remember {pausing on threshold d la Charles the First) if any one wantsh row — {zvith recollection of Duke's motto) — I'm here ! That'sh all. {To G. B.) I shall say goo' ni' io you outside. [Exit B. B., unsteaddy. The G. B. {solemnly to Waiter). I tell you what it is — I'm ashamed of him. There, I am. I'm ashamed of him ! [He stalks after his Brother ; sounds of reneived argument zvithout, as scene closes in. (Tboosino Cbri£?tmac> (^ar^0♦ Scene — A Linen draper's. Large boxes full of cards occupy tJie counters; behind them are flusJied young womefi, more or less short of temper ; double roiv of undecided customers. Enter the CONSCIENTIOUS PURCHASER tc//// SYCOPHANTIC COMPANION. This is a cheap place to go to — you only pay twopence three-farthings here for a card they'd ask as much as threepence for at some shops ! S. C. izvitJi enthusiasm). How very nice, dear ! C. P. Now let me see — have you got the list ? I always like to make sure that all my cards have something appropriate about them, S. C. But then you have such wonderful taste, dear ! C. P. {modestly.) I take a little pains over it — that's all. We'll begin at this tray, shall we, and work round .-* Would you send one to the Skympers — or not .-' I see I've put them down — but really, it's so long since they asked us to dinner. Well, I can settle that afterwards, can't I .'' Just tell me when you come across anything you like, and put it aside. S. C. Don't you like this, Sophia, isn't it perfect .-* C. P. A little commonplace, /think. S. C. Yes, perhaps it is, but rather a striking kind of commonplace in its way, don't you think .-' No .? Well, perhaps you're right, dear ! A SiMPLE-MlNDED OlD GENTLEMAN {to BLAND ShOPMAN). Look here, I want a card to send to a little girl. B. S. Certainly, Sir ! Now, here's a card we're selling a good many of — "Ye Festive Skeletons," in two subjects — represented as eating plum- pudding, and playing blind-man's buff, you see. The pair for sixpence three-farthings. Sir. Choosing Christinas Cards. 129 S. O. G. {doubtfiiU)'). Um, haven't you got anything livelier ? B. S, {surprised). Livelier, Sir ? Those are considered very lively, this year, I assure you. S. O. G. Don't seem to me quite suitable for a child. B. S. {tolerantly). Think not, Sir .'' Do you like this ? Churchyard and ruined tower, with moonlight effect — we find that a popular design. S. O. G. No, no. Haven't you got something more — more Christmassy ? Robins, holly, — that kind of thing } B. S. {uiith pit}>). Oh, dearwo^ Sir! You won't find that class of article at any respectable shop ! C. P. I want something for Mrs. Charterhouse Green. Not a w^assail-bowl, my dear! She only came out of that Retreat Place last Friday ! Overworked Shoplady {to Assistant). What are we doing those angels playing the 'arp at .'* Assistant. Twopence three-farthings ; sixpence the set of three. But we're sold out of angels. O. S. Well, give me some of those cats wath fiddles, will you } C. P. Now, tell me, zcw//<^dear Tibbie think I meant anything personal if I send her a cat .'' It won't do to send Florrie Crackendelft Darby and Joan by the fireside, if it's true he's filed a petition, will it ? I think, on the whole, a snow- scene will be safer. A Vague Purchaser. Oh, I want one of those new Art cards — those with a kind of little — well, not a sketch exactly, but — dear me, I could explain what I mean exactly, if you were to let me see one. It's too provok- ing I can't think of it ! Not in the least like that ! It's published by those people who brought out so many of the same last year. {To a Friend?) If it wasn't a lincndraper's, they'd know directly 1 A Meek Housemaid. If you please, have you a penny one with two clasped 'ands } B. S. Not at this time of year. They don't come in season till February, clasped 'ands don't. Simple-Minded Old Gent, {leaving shop ivith purchase). I'm not s I30 Voces Popiili. altogether sure, even now, that a photograph of two stuffed toads kissing under the mistletoe is exactly the sort of thing to please a child as young as little Elfie ! "oh, dear no, sir! you won't find that class of article at any respectable shop!" C. P. And you've got me envelopes to fit them all ? Very well. How much did you say ? Five-and-tenpence threefarthings ! Oh, then I must find some others not quite so expensive. No, I won't take any I chose Clioosing Christmas Cards. 131 first, thank )-ou ! Let me see. Yes, you may pick me out a dozen from this penny tray. It doesn't matter which! {JFo Companion^ Saves so much trouble, doesn't it .-• S. C. Much the most sensible way of doing it, dear. I should never have thought of it myself ; but you arc so full of clever ideas ! I'm sure you must feel this a great tax upon you. C. P. I don't mind a little trouble for my friends. They like to be remembered so ! The Prudent Fiance. Must send Maria something, I suppose ! T/iafs a pretty thing now — Eh, hand-painted on china, is it 1 Only five shillings } Ah, what was that again I saw in the window — the sole of a slipper with something about " hard times" on it ? Only a penny .^ You may put me up one of those. {To hiinsc/f.) A girl likes something that makes her laugh. A Nice Child. I've bought all mine, such beauties ! I got Grandma a card with a purse full of sovereigns on it, because she forgot to send us anything last year, you know — and such a funny fat pig for Tommy, he always eats too much on Christmas Day. Oh, and two turtle-doves for Papa ; he hasn't spoken a word to Mummy, except naughty ones, for two days — fancy 1 And a picture of five playing-cards for that Mr. Redflush, that. Papa says, can't get any one at the Club to play with him, and a horrid one for Jessie — because she sent me one with a monkey on it, before, and a lovely one io^ you, Aunt Mary, if you don't mind it being not quite, clean ! You shall see them all if we happen to stop at a confectioner's going home. Do you think we shall, Auntie dear, do you ^ Overworked Shoplady {to Assistant). I say ! A. Well, what .? O. S. You remember that party with the 'andbag, at my tray } that chose the tipsy owls, the set of complimentary cards with gilt bats, and the row of sparrers on tillygraph wires .-' A. Her that took such a time and spoke so pleasant over it.'' Yes. O. S. She could afford to speak pleasant — went away and never paid me for one of 'em ! 132 Voces Popidi. A. Well, I wouldn't stand in your shoes for something when the accounts are gone through ! A Mild Man. Can you tell me how much this one is ? O. S. {tartly). Aren't they marked on the back ? No ! Sixpence three- farthings, then. M. M. Are you quite sure ? I took it out of a tJweepenny tray ! O. S. {more tartly). Then it had no business there, that's all ! Any one might tell that wasn't a threepenny card, /should ha' thought ! M. M. I'll take four, if you please. O. S. [zvatching him out). If I only get one or two more of his sort, I'd soon make it up ! A Feeble Customer {plaintively). I put all my cards down in this corner, and now they've all got mixed, and I don't know which are mine, and which are somebody else's ! A Pert Young Woman. I want a card of small shirt buttons, half-a- yard of narrer tape, and two packets of egg-eyed sharps. Bland Shopman. Oh, we can't attend to you now — look in another evenmg. P. Y. W. {scathingly). I'll see if they've got 'em at the Stationer's ! \_Scene closes in at tbe pautomintc\ IN THE STALLS. First Paterfamilias [to Second Ditto, apohgcticallj'). Oh, I don't suppose I set foot in a theatre once in two years, in a general way. I shouldn't be here noiv, if it hadn't been that but I thought j^?^ never went at all ? Second P. Not to regular theatres — no ; I consider their influence — ah — pernicious in many ways. I think it's almost a duty not to encourage such entertainments as — well, burlesques, and music-halls, and ballets, and so on. But there's no harm in a Pantomime. First P. No, of course not. So / say. Got up to please the children. Second P. That's all. Your family here } First P. {a little confused). Well — no ; fact is, I was just passing the doors, and — and I'd nothing particular to do this afternoon, and so — and so Where are jo?/r chicks, eh ? Second P. (tv/t/i some embarrassment). Er — at home. I thought before bringing 'em, I'd better see for myself whether there was anything unfit for children to see, y'know, and being in the neighbourhood, why \llicy quite 7inderstand one another. The Pantomime proceeds. Each Paterfamilias positively cries with laughter at the comic parts ^ and then reniarks apologetically to the other, " Well, really, it's such ridiculous rubbish, you can't help smiling at it I " The zvonderfid groupings and processions of the Ladies of the Ballet rouse them to enthusiasm, and they thoroughly appreciate the popular songs and 134 Voces Populi. jests introchiced by the principal performers. As they leave they say, "After all, I suppose you ought to be young to really enjoy this sort of thing!'' IN THE BOXES. Unsophisticated Small Child (/;/ much concern). Mother, is the Donkey really angry with the Queen ? Kindly Uncle {to prim little niece'). Well, Ada, enjoying it, eh ? Ada. As much as I ever do enjoy a Pantomime now. Uncle, thank you. Uncle {^rather crushed). Ha ! and Alick, what's your opinion of the fairies, now .'' Alick. I don't quite see what use they are — but they don't dance badly. How much do you suppose they get a week for it, Uncle .'' yriie Uncle resolves to go alone next year. IN THE DRESS CIRCLE. Old-fashioned Person [astounded at question of highly intelligent Small Boy). " Why does the Cat tell him to bathe .? " Why, do you mean to say you don't know the story of " Puss in Boots " 1 The Small Boy. No. It's no use swotting up that sort of thing — they never set it in Exams, you know ! IN THE PIT. The Pleased Pittite. Look at them windmills — all going round, you see, however they can do it all beats me ! The Alert Pittite (on the look out for topical allusions). See the old man trying to get on the donkey.? That's a skit on Buffalo Bill, that is ! ■ A Character on the Stage. " No. We won't fight, we'll show ourselves at the Aquarium — that pays better \Xxd.x\ figJiting I " At the Pantoniinie. 135 The a. p. {on the look out, &c). Haw-haw ! did }^'cai- that ? there s a take orf on Whiteley's, eh ! The Pleased Pittite. There's scenery, now ! Gauze, you see, 'oo ! 'ow beautiful ! Ha ! {smacks Ids lips) pretty, isn't it ? And the dresses — oh, dear, dear, the dresses are lovely — they reelly are I [He bursts out into these ejaculations throughout the whole piece. The Simple Pittite {referring to Miss Wadman, the hero). He's not much like his two brothers, is he ? She's supposed to be the Younger Brother, that's what she is, and that's her only friend, the Cat, yes, d'ye see ? and by-and-by, she'll come to a country overrun with mice. Thc\''ll do all that on the stage. His Wife. But that's Whittington, — this Is Puss in Boots / The S. p. Oh, it's pretty much the same sort o' thing. The a. p. That's good, eh ? The old King says the Waiters " get what they can," there's a good take-orf ! His Companion {beginning to Jin d hi7n a bore). A take-off of zuhat ? The a. p. Why, on these Specials, o' course — you should listen ! The Pleased Pittite. These are 'Aymakers coming on now — with their rakes an' all, you see, wonderful ! Oh {zvith a wriggle of delight) the dresses are too [And so on. THE HARLEQUINADE BEGINS. The p. p. Look at them walking on the street, 'ow natural tJiat is, now ! A Pittite {discovering a curious coincidence). That Chemist's got a queer name, ain't he ? " A. Pill,"— not a bad name for a chemist, eh ? he sells pills. \He considers this as a Joke of his otvn. Clown on the Stage {examining large piece of meat). Oh, I say, what's this } Tpie Simple P. {solemnl}). It's a flap of beef. [Clown makes a topical allusion zuith a bust of SlIAKSPEARE and a fitch of bacon. 136 Voces Popitli. The a. p. {laughing heartily'). There's another good take-orf, d'ye see ! Bacon was a great poet, too, yer know ! A Well-Informed P. No — no, it's about a discussion they've been getting up in the papers lately. The a. p. I dessay — I've not 'card of it, but I call it a good skit anyhow. \A string of Supers cross the stage, bearing advertisements of a nezv food in immense letters — whej'eupon our ALERT Pittite roars with laughter, snbseguetitly explaining that he considers it " a 'it at the ' Times ' neiuspaper." The Pleased Pittite {during a "■rally''). Ain't them vegetables natural they're throwing about ! I must say everything's beautifully got up 'ere, and the dresses reelly are • [ Words fail him as tisiial. IN THE GALLERY. \TJie Clown mentions Lord Salisbury — two Gallery Boys express political disapprobation in the usual ma?iner. First " G. B." But, I say, mate, didn't I 'e.^r you groanin' at Gladstone just now } Second " G. B." {indifferently). Werry likely. To tell yer the truth, I ain't a werr}^ 'igh opinion o' either on 'em. IN THE BOXES AGAIN. {Curtain falling, after uninterrupted performance lasting considerably over four Jiours) Several Unsophisticated Children. What — is that ». * tf ■X\ ■•■' *:%1|lf t^'j' "rsK ^i%i. ;•*<«