"HE EXPECTED THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE TO SEE.""HE EXPECTED THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE TO SEE."
[One of the Judges holds up his stick as a signal; wild shouts of "Hoy-hoy! Whorr-oosh!" from within, as a Competitor dashes out and clears hedge and ditch by a foot or two. Deafening applause. A second horseman rides at it, and lands—if the word is allowable—neatly in the water. Roars of laughter as he scrambles out.
The Morbid Man.Call that a brook! It ain't a couple of inches deep—it's more mud than water! No fear (he means "no hope") of any on 'em getting a ducking over that!
[And so it turns out; the horses take the jump with more or less success, but without a single saddle being vacated. The proceedings terminate for the afternoon amidst demonstrations of hearty satisfaction from all butThe Morbid Man,who had expected there would have been "more to see."
The Hostessis receiving her Guests at the head of the staircase;aConscientiously Literal Manpresents himself.
Hostess(with a gracious smile, and her eyes directed to the people immediately behind him).Soglad you were able to come—how do youdo?
The Conscientiously Literal Man.Well, if you had asked me that question this afternoon, I should have said I was in for a severe attack of malarial fever—I had all the symptoms—but, about seven o'clock this evening, they suddenly passed off, and—
[Perceives, to his surprise, that his Hostess's attention is wandering, and decides to tell her the rest later in the evening.
Mr. Clumpsole.How do you do, Miss Thistledown? Can you give me a dance?
Miss Thistledown(who has danced with him before—once). With pleasure—let me see, the third extra after supper? Don't forget.
Miss Bruskleigh(to Major Erser). Afraid I can't give you anything just now—but if you see me standing about later on, you can come and ask me again, you know.
Mr. Boldover(glancing eagerly round the room as he enters, and soliloquising mentally). She ought to be here by this time, if she's coming—can't see her though—she's certainly not dancing. There's her sister over there with the mother. Shehasn'tcome, or she'd be with them. Poor-looking lot of girls here to-night—don't think much of this music—get away as soon as I can, nogoabout the thing!... Hooray! There she is, after all! Jolly waltz this is they're playing! How pretty she's looking—how prettyallthe girls are looking! If I can only get her togive me one dance, and sit out most of it somewhere! I feel as if I could talk to her to-night. By Jove, I'll try it!
[Watches his opportunity, and is cautiously making his way towards his divinity, when he is intercepted.
Mrs. Grappleton.Mr. Boldover, I do believe you were going tocutme! (Mr. B.protests and apologises.) Well,Iforgive you. I've been wanting to have another talk with you for ever so long. I've been thinking somuchof what you said that evening about Browning's relation to Science and the Supernatural. Suppose you take me down stairs for an ice or something, and we can have it out comfortably together.
[Dismay of Mr. B.,who has entirely forgotten any theories he may have advanced on the subject, but has no option but to comply;as he leaves the room withMrs. Grappletonon his arm, he has a torturing glimpse ofMiss Roundarm,apparently absorbed in her partner's conversation.
Mr. Senior Roppe(as he waltzes). Oh, you needn't feel convicted of extraordinary ignorance, I assure you, Miss Featherhead. You would be surprised if you knew how many really clever persons have found that simple little problem of nought divided by one too much for them. Would you have supposed, by the way, that there is a reservoir in Pennsylvania containing a sufficient number of gallons to supply all London for eighteen months? You don't quite realize it, I see. "How many gallons is that?" Well, let me calculate roughly—taking the population of London at four millions, and the average daily consumption for each individual at—no, I can't work it out with sufficient accuracy while I am dancing; suppose we sit down, and I'll do it for you on my shirt-cuff—oh, very well; then I'll work it out when I get home, and send you the result to-morrow, if you will allow me.
Mr. Culdersack(who has provided himself beforehand with a set of topics for conversation—to his partner, as they halt for a moment). Er—(consults some hieroglyphics on his cuff stealthily)—have you read Stanley's book yet?
Miss Tabula Raiser.No, I haven't. Is it interesting?
Mr. Culdersack.I can't say. I've not seen it myself. Shall we—er—?
[They take another turn.
"ER—" (CONSULTS SOME HIEROGLYPHICS ON HIS CUFF STEALTHILY)."ER—" (CONSULTS SOME HIEROGLYPHICS ON HIS CUFF STEALTHILY).
Mr. C.I suppose you have—er—been to the (hesitates between the Academy and the Military Exhibition—decides on latter topic as fresher) Military Exhibition?
Miss T. R.No—not yet. What do you think of it?
Mr. C.Oh—Ihaven't been either. Er—do you care to—?
[They take another turn.
Mr. C.(after third halt). Er—do you take any interest in politics?
Miss T. R.Not a bit.
Mr. C.(much relieved). No more do I. (Considers that he has satisfied all mental requirements.) Er—let me take you down stairs for an ice.
[They go.
Mrs. Grappleton(re-entering withMr. Boldover,after a discussion that has outlasted two ices and a plate of strawberries). Well, I thought you would have explained my difficulties better thanthat—oh, what adeliciouswaltz! Doesn't it set you longing to dance?
Mr. B.(who seesMiss Roundarmin the distance, disengaged). Yes, I really think I must—. [Preparing to escape.
Mrs. Grappleton.I'm getting such an old thing, that really I oughtn't to—but well, just thisonce, as my husband isn't here.
[Mr. Boldoverresigns himself to necessity once more.
First Chaperon(to second ditto). How sweet it is of your eldest girl to dance with that absurd Mr. Clumpsole! It's really toobadof him to make such an exhibition of her—one can't help smiling at them!
Second Ch.Oh, Ethel never can bear to hurt any one's feelings—so different from some girls! By the way, I've not seenyourdaughter dancing to-night—men who dance are so scarce nowadays—I suppose they think they have the right to be a little fastidious.
First Ch.Bella has been out so much this week, that she doesn't care to dance except with a really first-rate partner. She is not so easily pleased as your Ethel, I'm afraid.
Second Ch.Ethel isyoung, you see, and, when one is pressed so much to dance, one can hardly refuse,canone? When she has had as many seasons asBella, she will be less energetic, I dare say.
[Mr. Boldoverhas at last succeeded in approachingMiss Roundarm,and even in inducing her to sit out a dance with him;but, having led her to a convenient alcove, he finds himself totally unable to give any adequate expression to the rapture he feels at being by her side.
Mr. B.(determined to lead up to it somehow). I—I was rather thinking—(hemeantto say, "devoutly hoping,"but, to his own bitter disgust, it comes out like this)—I should meet you here to-night.
Miss R.Were you? Why?
Mr. B.(with a sudden dread of going too far just yet). Oh (carelessly), you know how onedoeswonder who will be at a place, and who won't.
Miss R.No, indeed, I don't—howdoes one wonder?
Mr. B.(with a vague notion of implying a complimentary exception in her case). Oh, well, generally—(with the fatal tendency of a shy man to a sweeping statement)—one may be pretty sure of meeting just the people one least wants to see, you know.
Miss R.And so you thought you would probably meet me. Isee.
Mr. B.(overwhelmed with confusion, and not in the least knowing what he says). No, no, I didn't think that—I hoped you mightn't—I mean, I was afraid you might—
[Stops short, oppressed by the impossibility of explaining.
Miss R.You are not very complimentary to-night, are you?
Mr. B.I can't pay compliments—toyou—I don't know how it is, but I never can talk to you as I can to other people!
Miss R.Are you amusing when you are with other people?
Mr. B.At all events I can find things to say tothem.
EnterAnother Man.
Another Man(toMiss R.). Our dance, I think?
Miss R.(who had intended to get out of it). I was wondering if you ever meant to come for it. (ToMr. B.,as they rise.) Now I sha'n't feel I am depriving the other people! (Perceives the speechless agony in his expression, and relents.) Well, you can have the next after this if you careabout it—onlydotry to think of something in the meantime! (As she goes off.) You will—won't you?
Mr. B.(to himself). She's given me another chance! If only I can rise to it. Let me see—what shall I begin with?Iknow—Supper!She hasn't been down yet.
His Hostess.Oh, Mr. Boldover, you're not dancing this—do be good and take some one down to supper—those poor Chaperons are dying for some food.
[Mr. B.takes down a Matron whose repast is protracted through three waltzes and a set of Lancers—he comes up to findMiss Roundarmgone,and the Musicians putting up their instruments.
Coachman at Door(to Linkman, asMr. B.goes down the steps). That's thelot, Jim!
[Mr. B.walks home, wishing the Park Gates were not shut, so as to render the Serpentine inaccessible.
IN THE SCULPTURE GALLERIES.
Sightseers discovered drifting languidly along in a state of depression, only tempered by the occasional exercise of the right of every free-born Briton to criticize whenever he fails to understand. The general tone is that of faintly amused and patronizing superiority.
A Burly Sightseerwith a red face(inspecting group representing "Mithras Sacrificing a Bull"). H'm; that may be Mithras's notion of making a clean job of it, but it ain'tmine!
A Woman(examining a fragment from base of sculptured column with a puzzled expression as she reads the inscription). "Lower portion of female figure—probably a Bacchante." Well, how they know who it's intended for, when there ain't more than a bit of her skirt left, beatsme!
Her Companion.Oh, I s'pose they've got to put a name to it o'somesort.
An Intelligent Artisan(out for the day with hisFIANCÉE—reading from pedestal). "Part of a group of As—Astrala—no,Astraga—lizontes"—that's whattheyare, yer see.
Fiancée.But whowerethey?
The I. A.Well, I can't tell yer—not for certain; but I expect they'd be the people who in'abited Astragalizontia.
Fiancée.Was that what they used to call Ostralia before it was discovered? (They come to the Clytie bust.) Why, if that isn't the samehead Mrs. Meggles has under a glass shade in her front window, only smaller—and hers is alabaster, too! But fancy them going and copying it, and I dare say without so much as a "by your leave," or a "thank you!"
"H'M; THAT MAY BE MITHRAS'S NOTION OF MAKING A CLEAN JOB OF IT, BUT IT AIN'T mine!""H'M; THAT MAY BE MITHRAS'S NOTION OF MAKING A CLEAN JOB OF IT, BUT IT AIN'T mine!"
The I. A.(reading). "Portrait of Antonia, sister-in-law of the Emperor Tiberius, in the character of Clytie turning into a sunflower."
Fiancée.Lor! They did queer things in those days, didn't they? (Stopping before another bust.) Who's that?
The I. A.'Ed of Ariadne.
Fiancée(slightly surprised). What!—not young Adney down our street? I didn't know as he'd been took in stone.
The I. A.How do you suppose they'd 'ave young Adney in among this lot—why, that's antique!
Fiancée.Well, I wasthinkingit looked more like a female. But if it's meant for old Mr. Teak the shipbuilder's daughter, it flatters her up considerable; and, besides, I always understood as her name was Betsy.
The I. A.No, no; what a girl you are for getting things wrong! that 'ed was cut out years and years ago!
Fiancée.Well, she's gone offsince, that's all; but I wonder at old Mr. Teak letting it go out of the family, instead of putting it on his mantelpiece along with the lustres, and the two chiny dogs.
The A. I.(with ungallant candour). 'Ark at you! Why you 'ain't much more sense nor a chiny dog yourself!
Moralizing Matron(before the Venus of Ostia). And to think of the poor ignorant Greeks worshipping a shameless hussey like that! It's a pity they hadn't some one to teach them more respectable notions! Well, well! it ought to make us thankfulwedon't live in those benighted times, that it ought!
A Connoisseur(after staring at a colossal Greek lion). A lion, eh? Well, it's another proof to my mind that the ancients hadn't got very far in the statuary line. Now, if youwantto see a stone lion done true to Nature, you've only to walk any day along the Euston Road.
A Practical Man.I dessay it's a fine collection, enough, but it'sa pity the things ain't more perfect.Ishould ha' thought, with so many odds and ends and rubbish lying about as is no use to nobody at present they might ha' used it up in mending some that only requires a 'arm 'ere or a leg there, or a 'ed and what not, to make 'em as good as ever. But ketchthem(he means the Officials) taking any extra trouble if they can help it!
His Companion.Ah, but yer see it ain't so easy fitting on bits that belonged to something different. You've got to look at itthatway.
The P. M.Idon't see no difficulty about it. Why, any stonemason could cut down the odd pieces to fit well enough, and they wouldn't have such a neglected appearance as they do now.
A Group has collected round a Gigantic Arm in red granite.
First Sightseer.There's aarmfor yer!
Second S.(a humourist). Yes; 'ow would yer like to 'avethatcome a punching your 'ed?
Third S.(thoughtfully). I expect they've put it up 'ere as a sarmple like.
The Moralizing Matron.How it makes one realize that there were giants in those days!
Her Friend.But surely the size must be alittleexaggerated, don't you think? Oh, isthisthe God Ptah?
[TheM. M.says nothing, but clicks her tongue to express a grieved pity, after which she passes on.
The Intelligent Artisanand hisFiancéehave entered the Nineveh Gallery, and are regarding an immense human-headed, winged bull.
The I. A.(indulgently). Rum-looking sort o' beast that 'ere.
Fiancée.Ye-es—I wonder if it's a likeness of some animal they used to 'ave then?
The I. A.Ididthink you was wider thanthat!—it's only imaginative. What 'ud be the good o' wings to a bull?
Fiancée(on her defence). You think you know so much—but it'sgot a man's 'ed, ain't it? and I know there used to be'orseswith 'alf a man where the 'ed ought to be, because I've seen their pictures—so there!
The I. A.I dunno what you've got whereyour'ed ought to be, torking such rot!
IN THE UPPER GALLERIES; ETHNOGRAPHICAL COLLECTION.
The Grim Governess(directing a scared small boy's attention to a particularly hideous mask). See, Henry, that's the kind of mask worn by savages!
Henry.Always—or only on the fifth of November, Miss Goole?
[He records a mental vow never to visit a Savage Island on Guy Fawkes's Day, and makes a prolonged study of the mask, with a view to future nightmares.
A Kind, but Dense Uncle(toNiece). All these curious things were made by cannibals,Ethel—savages who eat one another, you know.
Ethel(suggestively). But, I suppose, Uncle, they wouldn't eat one another if they had any one to give thembuns, would they?
[HerUnclediscusses the suggestion elaborately, but without appreciating the hint;theGovernesshas caught sight of a huge and hideous Hawaiian Idol, with a furry orange-coloured head, big mother-o'-pearl eyes, with black balls for the pupils, and a grinning mouth picked out with shark's teeth, to which she introduces the horrifiedHenry.
Miss Goole.Now, Henry, you see the kind of idol the poor savages say their prayers to.
Harry(tremulously). But n—not just before they go to bed, do they, Miss Goole?
AMONG THE MUMMIES.
The Uncle.That's King Rameses' mummy, Ethel.
Ethel.And what washername, Uncle?
The Governess(halting before a case containing a partially unrolledmummy, the spine and thigh of which are exposed to view). Fancy, Henry, that's part of an Egyptian who has been dead for thousands of years! Why, you're notfrightened, are you?
Harry(shaking). No, I'm not frightened, Miss Goole—only if you don't mind, I—I'd rather see a gentleman notquiteso dead. And there's one over there with a gold face and glass eyes, and he looked at me, and—please, Idon'tthink this is the place to bring such a little boy as me to!
A Party is examining a Case of Mummied Animals.
The Leader.Here you are, you see, mummy cats—don't they look comical all stuck up in a row there?
First Woman.Dear, dear—to think o' going to all that expense when they might have had 'em stuffed on a cushion! And monkeys, and dogs too—well, I'm sure, fancythatnow!
Second Woman.And there's a mummied crocodile down there. Idon'tsee what they'd want with a mummycrocodile, do you?
The Leader(with an air of perfect comprehension of Egyptian customs). Well, you see they took whatever they could get 'old of,theydid.
IN THE PREHISTORIC GALLERY.
Old Lady(toPoliceman) Oh, Policeman, can you tell me if there's any article here that's supposed to have belonged to Adam?
Policeman(a wag in his way). Well, Mum, we'ave'ad the 'andle of his spade, and the brim of his garden 'at, but they wore out last year and 'ad to be thrown away—things won't last for ever—even'ere, you know.
GOING OUT.
A Peevish Old Man.I ain't seen anything to call worth seeing,Iain't. In our Museum at 'ome they've a lamb with six legs, and hairy-light stones as big as cannon-balls; but there ain't none of that sort 'ere, and I'm dog-tired trapesing over these boards, I am!
His Daughter(a candid person). Ah, I ought to ha' known it warn't much good takingyouout to enjoy yourself—you're too old,youare!
Ethel's Uncle(cheerily). Well, Ethel, I think we've seen all there is to be seen, eh?
Ethel.There'soneroom we haven't been into yet, Uncle, dear.
Uncle.Ha—and what's that?
Ethel(persuasively). TheRefreshmentRoom.
[The hint is accepted at last.
OUTSIDE.
A crowd is staring stolidly at the gorgeously gilded and painted entrance, with an affectation of superior wisdom to that of the weaker-minded, who sneak apologetically up the steps from time to time. A tall-hatted orchestra have just finished a tune, and hung their brazen instruments up like joints on the hooks above them.
A Woman Carrying an Infant(to herHusband). Will 'ee goo in, Joe?
Joe(who is secretly burning to see the show). Naw. Sin it arl afoor arfen enough. Th' outside's th' best on it, I reckon.
His Wife(disappointed). Saw 'tis, and naw charge for lookin' at 'en neither.
The Proprietor.Ladies and Gentlemen, Re-mem-bar! This is positively the last opportunity of witnessing Denman's Celebrated Menagerie—the largest in the known world! The Lecturer is now describing the animals, after which Mlle. Cravache and Zambango, the famous African Lion-tamers, will go through their daring feats with forest-bred lions, tigers, bears, and hyenas, for the last time in this town. Remembar—the last performance this evening!
Joe(to hisWife). If ye'dliketo hev a look at 'em, I wun't say nay to et.
His Wife.I dunno as I care partickler 'bout which way 'tis.
Joe(annoyed). Bide where 'ee be then.
His Wife.Theer's th' child, Joe, to be sure.
Joe.Well we bain't a gooin' in, and so th' child wun't come to no 'arm, and theer's a hend on it!
His Wife.Nay, she'd lay in my arms as quiet as quiet. I wur on'y thinkin', Joe, as it 'ud be somethin' to tell her when she wur a big gell, as her daddy took her to see th' wild beasties afoor iver she could tark—that's arl I wur meanin', Joe. And they'll let 'er goo in free, too.
Joe.Ay, that'll be fine tellin's fur 'er, sure 'nough. Come arn, Missus, we'll tek th' babby in—happen she'll niver git th' chance again.
[They mount the steps eagerly.
INSIDE.
Joe's Wife(with a vague sense of being defrauded). I thart thee'rd ha' bin moor smell, wi' so many on 'em!
Joe.They doan't git naw toime for it, I reckon, allus on the rord as they be.
The Lecturer.Illow me to request yar kind hattention for a moment. (Stand back there, you boys, and don't beyave in such a silly manner!) We har now arrived at the Haswail, or Sloth Bear, described by Buffon as 'aving 'abits which make it a burden to itself. (Severely.) The Haswail. In the hajoinin' cage observe the Loocorricks, the hony hanimal to oom fear is habsolootly hunknown. When hattacked by the Lion, he places his 'ed between his fore-legs, and in that position awaits the honset of his would-be destroyer.
Joe's Wife.I thart it wur th'hostridgeas hacted that away.
Joe.Ostridges ain't gotten they long twisted harns as iverIheard on.
His Wife(stopping before another den). Oh, my blessed! 'Ere be a queer-lookin' critter, do 'ee look at 'en, Joe. What'llhebe now?
Joe.How do 'ee suppose as I be gooin' to tell 'ee the name of 'en? He'll likely be a sart of a 'arse. [Dubiously.
His Wife.They've a let' en git wunnerful ontidy fur sure. 'Ere, Mister (toStranger) can you tell us the name of that theer hanimal?
Stranger.That—oh, that's a Gnu.
Joe's Wife.He says it be a noo.
Joe.A noowhat?
His Wife.Why, a noohanimal, I s'pose.
Joe.Well, he bain't naw himprovement on th' hold 'uns, as I can see. They'd better ha' left it aloan if they couldn't do naw better nor'im. Dunno what things be coming to, hinventin' o' noo hanimals at this time o' day.
BEFORE ANOTHER CAGE.
A Boozed and Argumentative Rustic.I sez as that 'un's a fawks, an' I'm ready to prove it on anny man.
A Companion(soothingly). Naw, naw, 'e baint naw fawks. I dunno what 'tis,—but 'tain't naw fawks nawhow.
B. and A. Rustic.I tell 'ee'tisa fawks, I'm sure on it. (ToMild Visitor)Bain't'e a fawks, Master, eh?
Mild Visitor.Well, really, if you ask me, I should say it was a hyena.
The Rustic's Comp.A hyanna! ah, that's a deal moor like; saw 'tis!
The Rustic.A pianner? Do 'ee take me vur a vool? I'll knack th' 'ed arf o' the man as plays 'is priskies wi' me, I wull! Wheer be 'e? Let me get at 'en!
[Mild V.not being prepared to defend his opinion by personal combat, discreetly loses himself in crowd.
ON THE ELEPHANT'S BACK.
Second Boy.Sit a bit moor forrard, Billy, cann't 'ee!
First Boy.Cann't, I tell 'ee, I be sittin' on th' scruff of 'is neck as 'tis.
Third Boy.I can see my vaither, I can. 'Ere, vaither, vaither, look at me—see wheerIbe!
Fourth Boy(a candid friend). Shoot oop, cann't 'ee', ya young gozzle-'ead! Think ya vaither niver see a hass on a hellyphant afoor!
Fifth Boy.These yere helliphants be main straddly roidin'. I wish 'e wudn't waak honly waun haff of 'en at oncest, loike. What do 'ee mean, a kitchin' old o' me behind i' that way, eh, Jimmy Passons!
"I SEZ AS THAT UN'S A FAWKS, AN' I'M READY TO PROVE IT ON ANNY MAN.""I SEZ AS THAT UN'S A FAWKS, AN' I'M READY TO PROVE IT ON ANNY MAN."
Sixth Boy.You'dketch 'old 'o hanything if you was like me, a slidin' down th' helliphant's ta-ail.
Fifth Boy.If 'ee doan't let go o' me, I'll job th' helliphant's ribs, and make 'un gallop, I will, sonow, Jimmy Passons!
IN FRONT OF THE LIONS' DEN DURING PERFORMANCE.
Various Speakers.Wheer be pushin' to? Car that manners screouging like that!... I cann't see nawthen,Icann't wi' all they 'ats in front.... What be gooin' arn, do 'ee know?... A wumman gooin' in along 'o they lions and tigerses? Naw, ye niver mane it!... Bain't she a leatherin' of 'un too!... Now she be a kissin' of 'un—maakin' it oop loike.... John, you can see better nor me—what be she oop to now?... Puttin' 'er 'ed inside o' th' lion's? Aw, dear me, now—there's a thing to be doin' of! Well, I'd ruther it was 'er nor me, I knowthat.... They wun't do 'er naw 'arm, so long's she kips 'er heye on 'em.... What do 'ee taak so voolish vor? How's th' wumman to kip 'er heye on 'em, with 'er 'ed down wan on 'em's throat, eh?... Gracious alive! if iver I did!... Oh, I do 'ope she bain't gooin' to let off naw fire-arms, I be moor fear'd o' pistols nor any tigers.... Theer, she's out now! She be bold fur a female, bain't her?... She niver maade 'em joomp through naw bla-azin' 'oops, though.... What carl would she hev fur doin' that? Well, they've a drared 'er doin' of it houtside', that's arl I know.... An' they've a drared Hadam outside a naamin' of th' hanimals—but ye didn't expect to seethatdoon inside', did 'ee?... Bob, do 'ee look at old Muster Manders ovver theer by th' hellyphant. He's a maakin' of 'isself that familiar—putting biskuts 'tween his lips and lettin' th' hellyphant take 'em out wi's troonk!...Isee un—let un aloan, th' hold doitler, happen he thinks he's a feedin' his canary bird!
Before the effigy of Dr. Koch, who is represented in the act of examining a test-tube with the expression of bland blamelessness peculiar to Wax Models.
Well-informed Visitor.That's Dr. Koch, making his great discovery!
Unscientific V.What didhediscover?
Well-inf. V.Why, the Consumption Bacillus. He's got it in that bottle he's holding up.
Unsc. V.And what's the good of it, now hehasdiscovered it?
Well-inf. V.Good? Why, it's the thing that causesconsumption, you know!
Unsc. V.Then it's a pity he didn't leave it alone!
Before a Scene representing "The Home Life at Sandringham."
First Old Lady(with Catalogue). It says here that "the note the page is handingmayhave come from Sir Dighton Probyn, the Comptroller of the Royal Household." Fancythat!
Second Old Lady.He's brought it in in his fingers. Nowthat'sa thing I never allow inmyhouse. I always tell Sarah to bring all letters, and even circulars, in on a tray!
Before a Scene representing the late Fred Archer, on a rather quaint quadruped, on Ascot Racecourse.
A Sportsman.H'm—Archer, eh? Shouldn't have backed his mount inthatrace!
Before "The Library at Hawarden."
Gladstonian Enthusiast(toFriend,who, with the perverse ingenuity of patrons of Waxworks, has been endeavouring to identify the Rev. John Wesley among the Cabinet in Downing Street). Oh, never mind all that lot, Betsy; they're only theGover'ment! Here's dear Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone in this next! See, he's lookin' for something in a drawer of his side-board—ain't thatnatural? And only look—a lot of people have been leaving Christmas cards on him (a pretty and touching tribute of affection, which is eminently characteristic of a warm-hearted Public). I wish I'd thought o' bringing one with me!
Her Friend.So do I. We might send one 'ere by post—but it'll have to be a New Year Card now!
A Strict Old Lady(before next group). Who are these two? "Mr. 'Enery Irving, and Miss Ellen Terry inFaust, eh? No—I don't care to stop to see them—that's play-actin', that is—and I don't 'old with it nohow! What are these two parties supposed to be doin' of over here? What—Cardinal Newman and Cardinal Manning at the High Altar at the Oratory, Brompton! Come along, and don't encourage Popery by looking at such figures. Idid'ear as they'd got Mrs. Pearcey and the prambilator somewheres. Ishouldlike to see that, now.
IN THE CHILDREN'S GALLERY.
An Aunt(who finds the excellent Catalogue a mine of useful information). Look, Bobby, dear (reading). "Here we have Constantine's Cat, as seen in theNights of Straparola, an Italian romancist, whose book was translated into French in the year 1585—"
Bobby(disappointed). Oh, then itisn't Puss in Boots!
A Genial Grandfather(pausing before Crusoe and Friday). Well, Percy, my boy, you know whothatis, at all events—eh?
Percy.I suppose it is Stanley—but it's not very like.
THE G. G.Stanley!—Why, bless my soul, never heard ofRobinson Crusoeand his manFriday?
Percy.Oh, I'veheardof them, of course—they come in Pantomimes—but I like more grown-up sort of books myself, you know. Is this girl asleepShe?
"THAT'S PLAY-ACTIN', THAT IS—AND I DON'T 'OLD WITH IT NOHOW!""THAT'S PLAY-ACTIN', THAT IS—AND I DON'T 'OLD WITH IT NOHOW!"
The G. G.No—at least—well, I expect it'sThe Sleeping Beauty.You remember her, of course—all about the ball, and the glass slipper, and her father picking a rose when the hedge grew round the palace, eh?
Percy.Ah, you see, Grandfather, you had more time for general reading than we get. (He looks through a practicable cottage window.) Hallo, a Dog and a Cat. Not badly stuffed!
The G. G.Why, that must beOld Mother Hubbard. (Quoting from memory.) "Old Mother Hubbard sat in a cupboard, eating a Christmas pie—or abonewas it?"
Percy.Don't know. It's not inSelections from British Poetry, which we have to get up for "rep."
The Aunt(reading from Catalogue). "The absurd ambulations of this antique person, and the equally absurd antics of her dog, need no recapitulation." Here'sJack the Giant Killer, next. Listen, Bobby, to what it says about him here. (Reads.) "It is clearly the last transmutation of the old British legend told by Geoffrey of Monmouth, of Corineus, the Trojan, the companion of the Trojan Brutus, when he first settled in Britain. But more than this"—I hope you're listening, Bobby?—"morethan this, it is quite evident, even to the superficial student of Greek mythology, that many of the main incidents and ornaments are borrowed from the tales of Hesiod and Homer." Think of that, now!
[Bobbythinks of it, with depression.
The G. G.(before figure of Aladdin's Uncle selling new lamps for old). Here you are, you see! "Ali Baba," got 'em all here, you see. Never read yourArabian Nights, either! Is that the way they bring up boys nowadays!
Percy.Well, the fact is, Grandfather, that unless a fellow reads that kind of thing when he'syoung, he doesn't get a chance afterwards.
The Aunt(still quoting). "In the famous work," Bobby, "by which we know Masûdi, he mentions the Persian Hezar Afsane-um-um-um,—nor have commentators failed to notice that the occasion of the book written for the Princess Homai resembles the story told in the Hebrew Bible about Esther, her mother or grandmother, by some Persian Jew two or three centuries B.C." Well, I never knewthatbefore!... This isSindbad and the Old Man of the Sea—let's see what they say abouthim.(Reads.) "Both the story ofSindbadand the old Basque legend of Tartaro are undoubtedly borrowed from theOdysseyof Homer, whoseIliadandOdysseywere translated into Syriac in the reign of Harun-ur-Rashid." Dear, dear, how interesting, now! and, Bobby, whatdoyou think some one says aboutJack and the Beanstalk? He says—"This tale is an allegory of the Teutonic Al-fader, the red hen representing the all-producing sun; the moneybags, the fertilizing rain; and the harp, the winds." Well, I'm sure it seems likely enough, doesn't it?
[Bobbysuppresses a yawn;Percy'sfeelings are outraged by receiving a tin trumpet from the Lucky Tub; general move to the scene of the Hampstead Tragedy.
BEFORE THE HAMPSTEAD TABLEAUX.
Spectators.Dear, dear, there's thedresser, you see, and the window broken and all; it's wonderful how they candoit! And there's poor Mrs. 'Ogg—it's real butter and a real loaf she's cutting, and the poor baby, too!... Here's the actual casts taken after they were murdered. Oh, and there's Mrs. Pearcey wheeling the perambulator—it's theveryperambulator! No, not the very one—they've gotthatat the other place, and the piece of toffee the baby sucked. Have they really! Oh, wemusttry and go there, too, before the children's holidays are over. And this is all? Well, well, everything very nice, Iwillsay. But a pity they couldn't get therealperambulator!
IN THE AVENUE FACING THE ARENA.
An Unreasonable Old Lady(arriving breathless, with her grandson and niece). This'll be the place the balloon goes up from, I wouldn't miss it for anything! Put the child up on that bench, Maria; we'll stand about here till it begins.
Maria.ButIdon't see no balloon nor nothing.
[Which, as the foliage blocks out all but the immediate foreground is scarcely surprising.
The U. O. L.No more don't I—but it stands to reason there wouldn't be so many looking on if there wasn'tsomethingto see. We're well enough where we are, andI'm not going further to fare worse to please nobody; so you may do as youlikeabout it.
[Mariapromptly avails herself of this permission.
The U. O. L.(a little later). Well, it's time they didsomething, I'm sure. Why, the people seem all moving off! and where's that girl Maria got to? Ah, here you are! So you found you were no better off?—Nexttime, p'raps you'll believe what I tell you. Not that there's any War Balloon asIcan see!
Maria.Oh, there was a capital view from where I was—out in the open there.
The U. O. L.Why couldn't you say so before? Out in the open! Let's go there then—it's all the same tome!
Maria(with an undutiful giggle). It's all the same now—wherever you go, 'cause the balloon's gone up.
The U. O. L.Gone up! What are you telling me, Maria?
Maria.I see it go—it shot up ever so fast and quite steady, and the people in the car all waved their 'ats to us. I could see a arm a waving almost till it got out of sight.
The U. O. L.And me and this innercent waiting here on the seat like lambs, and never dreaming what was goin' on! Oh, Maria, however you'll reconcile it to your conscience,Idon't know!
Maria.Why, whatever are you pitching intomefor!The U. O. L.It's not that it's any partickler pleasure tome, seeing a balloon, though wedidget our tea done early to be in time for it—it's the sly deceitfulness of yourconduck, Maria, which is all the satisfaction I get for coming out with you,—it's the feeling that—well, there, I won'ttalkabout it!
[In pursuance of which virtuous resolve, she talks about nothing else for the remainder of the day, until the unfortunateMariawishes fervently that balloons had never been invented.
IN THE BUILDING.
An admiring group has collected before an enormous pin-cushion in the form of a fat star, and about the size of a Church-hassock.
First Soldier(to his Companion). Lot 'o work inthat, yer know!
Second Soldier.Yes. (Thoughtfully.) Not but what—(becoming critical)—if I'd been doin' itmyself, I should ha' chose pins with smaller 'eds on 'em.
First S.(regarding this as presumptuous). You may depend on it the man who madethat'ad his reasons for choosing the pins he did—but there's no pleasing some parties!
Second S.(apologetically). Well, I ain't denying theArtin it, am I?
First Woman.Idocall that 'andsome, Sarah. See, there's a star, and two 'arps, and a crownd, and I don't know what all—and all done in pins and beads! "Made by Bandsman Brown," too! [Reading placard.
Second W.Soldiers is that clever with their 'ands. Four pounds seems a deal to ask for it, though.
First W.But look at the weeks it must ha' took him to do! (Reading.)"Containing between ten and eleven thousand pins and beads, and a hundred and ninety-eight pieces of coloured cloth!" Why, the pins alone must ha' cost a deal of money.
Second W.Yes, it 'ud be a pity for it to go to somebody as 'ud want to take 'em out.First W.It ought to be bought up by Gover'ment, that it ought—they're well able to afford it.
A select party of Philistines, comprising a young Man, apparently in the Army, and hisMotherandSister,are examining Mr. Gilbert's Jubilee Trophy in a spirit of puzzled antipathy.
The Mother.Dear me, andthat'sthe Jubilee centrepiece, is it? What a heavy-looking thing. I wonder whatthatcost?
Her Son(gloomily). Cost? Why, about two days' pay for every man in the Service!
His Mother.Well, I call it a shame for the Army to be fleeced forthatthing. Are those creatures intended for mermaids, with their tails curled round that glass ball, I wonder? [She sniffs.
Her Daughter.I expect it will be crystal, Mother.
Her Mother.Very likely, my dear, but—glass or crystal—Isee no sense in it!
Daughter.Oh, it's absurd, of course—still, this figure isn't badly done. Is it supposed to represent St. George carrying the Dragon? Because they've made the Dragon no bigger than a salmon!
Mother.Ah, well, I hope Her Majesty will be better pleased with it than I am, that's all.
[After which they fall into ecstasies over an industrial exhibit consisting of a drain-pipe, cunningly encrusted with fragments of regimental mess-china set in gilded cement.
Before a large mechanical clock, representing a fortress, which is striking. Trumpets sound, detachments of wooden soldiers march in and out of gateways, and parade the battlements, clicking for a considerable time.
A Spectator(with a keen sense of the fitness of things). What—all that for on'y 'alf past five!
OVERHEARD IN THE AMBULANCE DEPARTMENT.
Spectators(passing in front of groups of models arranged in realistic surroundings). All the faces screwed up to suffering, you see!... What a nice patient expression that officer on the stretcher has! Yes, they've givenhima wax head—some of them are onlypapier-mâché.... Pity they couldn't get nearer their right size in 'elmets, though, ain't it?... There'sonechap's given up the ghost!... I know that stuffed elephant—he comes from the Indian Jungle at the Colinderies!... Idothink it's a pity they couldn't get something morelikea mule than this wooden thing! Why, it's quiteflat, and its ears are only leather, nailed on!... You can't tell, my dear; it may be a peculiar breed out there—cross between a towel-horse and a donkey-engine, don't you know!
IN THE INDIAN JUNGLE SHOOTING-GALLERY.
At the back, amidst tropical scenery, an endless procession of remarkably undeceptive rabbits of painted tin are running rapidly up and down an inclined plane. Birds jerk painfully through the air above, and tin rats, boars, tigers, lions, and ducks, all of the same size, glide swiftly along grooves in the middle distance. In front, Commissionnaires are busy loading rifles for keen sportsmen, who keep up a lively but somewhat ineffective fusillade.
'Arriet(to'Arry). They 'ave got it up beautiful, I must say. Do yougetanything for 'itting them?
'Arry.On'y the honour.
A Father(to intelligentSmall Boyin rear ofNervous Sportsman). No, I ain't seen him 'it anythingyet, my son; but you watch. That's a rabbit he's aiming at now.... Ah,missedhim!
Small Boy. 'Ow d'yerknowwhat the gentleman's a-aiming at, eh, Father?
Father.'Ow? Why, you notice which way he points his gun.
[The N. S. fires again—without results.
Small Boy.I sor that time, Father. He was a-aiming at one o' them ducks, an' he missed a rabbit! [The N. S. gives it up in disgust.