The exterior of the Show is painted to represent a
Cottage, and bears the highly improbable name of "Polly
O'Gracious," with an even less credible announcement
that this is the identical "little cot where she was
born." Inside is an ordinary tent, with a rough platform
at the further end, whereon is an empty chair, at which
a group of small Boys, two or three young Women, and
some middle-aged Farm-labourers, have been solemnly and
patiently staring for the last quarter of an hour.
_First Farm Labourer_ (_to Second_). I bin in 'ere 'bout erf an hour, I
hev, and ain't seed nowt so fur!
_Second F. L._ Same 'ere! Seems to take 'em a proper good time a-gittin'
o' this 'ere baby claned up!
_First F. L._ Ah, it do. But look at the _size_ on her!
_Second F. L._ Size! They cudn't be no slower not with a hellyphant!
[The tedium is relieved by a very audible dispute
outside between the Driver of the Baby's Caravan and the
Wife of the Conjuror next door, who appears to have
excited the Driver's displeasure by consenting to take
the money in the absence of the Baby's proprietress.
_The Driver_ (_with dignity_). I consider it a bloomin' liberty, and a
downright piece of himpertinence, you comin' 'ere interferin' with with
my business--and so I tell yer!
_The Lady_ (_with more dignity_). I'm not taking no liberties with
nobody--she ast me to it, or I shoudn't _be_ 'ere--_I_ don't want to
take the money, not without bein' ast to do so. She come and ast me to
take her place while she was away, and in course _I_ wasn't goin' to say
no.
_Driver._ Don't you tork to me. I know what _you_ are, puttin' yerself
forward whenever yer can--a goin' tellin' the people on the road as you
was the Baby's mother!
_The Lady._ I never said no such thing! Why should I want to tell sech a
story for?
_Driver._ Arsk yourself--not me. And p'raps you never said you 'ad
valuable property in our waggin' neither.
_Lady_ (_apparently cut to the heart by this accusation_). It's a
false'ood! I never 'ad no valuable property in your waggin', nor yet
nobody else's; and I'll thank you to keep your distance, and not go
raggin' me.
_Driver_ (_edging nearer_), I'll keep _my_ distance. But don't you make
no mistake--I'm not to be _played_ with! I'm sick o' your goin's on. And
then(_reviving a rankling and mysterious grievance_) to think o' you a
comin' mincin' up on the road with yer(_mimicking_), "Oh, yus, Mrs.
FAIRCHILD, there's a blacksmith jest across the way!" What call 'ad you
got to shove _your_ nose in like that, eh? you're a interferin' cat,
that's what _you_ are!
[The Conjuror's Lady is moved to the verge of tears and
assault, and her wrath is only assuaged by the arrival
of the missing Proprietress, who patches up a temporary
peace; presently the hangings at the back are parted,
and an immensely stout child, dressed in an infant's
frock, waddles in, hoists herself on the platform and
into the chair, from which she regards the Spectators
with stolid composure; the small boys edge back, nudge
one another and snigger furtively; the girls say "Oh,
lor!" in a whisper, and a painful silence follows.
_A Middle-aged Labourer_ (_feeling the awkwardness of the situation_).
'Ow old may you be, Missy?
_The Giant Baby_ (_with a snap_). Ten!
[She gazes all round with the hauteur peculiar to a
phenomenon, and her visitors are only relieved from the
strain by the timely appearance of the Exhibitor, a
Mulatto lady, who gives a brief biographical sketch of
the Infant's career, with details of her weight and
measurements. Then Miss POLLY sings a stanza
of "Little Annie Rooney" in a phonographic manner,
dances a few ponderous steps, and identifies the most
sheepish youth in the audience--much to his
embarrassment--as her sweetheart, after which her
audience is permitted to shake hands with her and
depart.
* * * * *
A Prize Lottery.
A Young Man in a light suit, and a paste pin in a dirty
white necktie, has arrived with a chest, from which he
extracts a quantity of small parcels in coloured
tissue-paper.
_The Young Man_ (_as a group collects around him_). Now, I'm 'ere to
orfer those among yer who 'ave the courage to embark in speckilation an
unrivalled opportunity of enriching themselves at next to no expense.
Concealed in each o' these small porcels is a prize o' more or less
value, amongst them bein', I may tell yer, two 'undred threepenny
pieces, not to mention 'igher coins up to 'arf a sov'rin. Mind, I
promise nothing--I only say this: that those who show confidence in me
I'll reward beyond their utmost expectations.( _To an_ Agricultural
Labourer _in the circle._) 'Ere, you Sir, 'ave you ever seen me before
in all your life?
[Illustration:
"Concealed in each o' these small porcels is a prize o'
more or less value."]
_The Agricultural Labourer_ (_with a conscientious fear of committing
himself_). I _may_ 'ave.
_The Young Man._ You _may_ 'ave! '_Ave_ you? 'Ave _I_ ever seen _you_?
Come now!
_The Agr. L._ (_cautiously_). I carn't answer fur what you've _seen_,
Sir.
_The Y. M._ Well, are you a friend o' mine?
_The A. L._ (_after inward searchings_). Not as I'm aweer on.
_The Y. M._ Then take this packet.(_The_ A. L. _grins and hesitates._)
Give me a penny for it.(_The_ A. L. _hangs back._) Do as I _say_! (_His
tone is so peremptory that the_ A. L. _hastens to obey._) Now don't open
that till I tell you, and don't go away--or I shall throw the money
after yer. (_The_ A. L. _remains in meek expectation;_ Old Billy
Fairplay, _and a_ Spotty-faced Man, _happen to pass; and join the group
out of innocent curiosity._) Will _you_ give me a penny for this, Sir?
(_To the Spotty-faced One, who shakes his head._) To oblige Me! (_This
is said in such an insinuating tone, that it is impossible to resist
him._) Now you've shown your confidence in me, will you open that packet
and show the company what it contains.
_The Spotty-faced Man_ (_undoing the packet_). There's nothink inside o'
mine--it's a reg'lar do!
[_Roars of laughter._
_The Y. M._ Quite right--there _was_ nothink inside o' thet partickler
packet. I put it there a-purpose, as a test. But I don't want nobody to
go away dissatisfied with my manner o' doin' business, and, though I
ain't promised yer nothing, I'll show yer I'm better than my word, and
them as trusts me'll find no reason to repent of 'aving done so. 'Ere's
your original penny back, Sir, and one, two, _three_ more atop of
that--wait, I ain't done with yer yet--'ere's sixpence more, because
I've took a fancy to yer face--and _now_ I 'ope you're satisfied!
_The Sp.-F. M._ (_in an explanatory undertone to his neighbours_). I
knew it's on'y them as comes last thet gits left, d' yer see!
[_Several bystanders hasten to purchase._
_Old Billy Fairplay_ (_in an injured tone_). There ain't on'y a
three-penny-bit in mine!
_The Y. M._ 'Ark at 'im--there's a discontented ole josser for yer! I
carn't put 'arf a sov'rin' in _all_ o' the packets, not and make my
expenses. P'raps you'll 'ave better luck next time.
[_The packets are in more demand than ever._
_The Agr. L._ May I open this 'ere packet now, Master?
_The Y. M._ If you don't tell nobody what's in it, you may. I've sold as
many as I keer to a' ready.
_The Agr. L._ (_opening the parcel, and finding a toy-watch of the value
of one farthing sterling_). 'Ere, I'll give yer this back--'tain't no
good to me!
_The Y. M._ (_with concern_). I'm reelly very sorry, Sir, I've given you
a wrong 'un by mistake. I _quite_ fancied as----Allow me to apologise,
and, as a proof I 'aven't lost your good opinion, give me a penny for
this one.
[_He selects a packet with great care from the heap._
_The A. L._ You don't take me in no moor--I'd sooner make ye a _present_
o' the penny!
_The Y. M._ (_wounded_). Don't talk like that, Sir--you'll be sorry for
it afterwards! (_In a whisper._) It's all right _this_ time, s'elp me!
_The A. L._ I know as it's a kitch o' some sort ... --hows'ever, jest
this once. (_He purchases another packet, and is rewarded by an
eyeglass, constructed of cardboard and coloured gelatine, which he
flings into the circle in a fury._) 'Tis nobbut a darned swindle--and
I've done wi' ye! Ye're all a pack o' rogues together!
[Exit, amidst laughter from the rest, whose confidence,
however, has been rewarded by very similar results.
_The Y. M._ He don't know what he's lost by givin' way to his narsty
temper--but there, _I_ forgive 'im! (_He begins to replace the remaining
parcels in the chest; one packet escapes his notice, and is instantly
pounced upon by a sharp, but penniless urchin._) Now, Gentlemen, I'm
'ere reppersentin' two Charitable Institootions--the Blind Asylum, and
the Idjut Orfins--but I'm bloomin' sorry to say that, _this_ time, arter
I've deducted my little trifling commission, there'll be a bloomin'
little to 'and over to either o' them deservin' Sercieties; so, thenkin'
you all, and wishin' you bloomin' good luck, and 'appiness and
prosperity through life, I'll say good-bye to yer.
_The Sharp Urchin_ (_after retiring to a safe distance with his booty._)
Theer's _summat_ inside of 'un--I can 'ear un a-rartlin' ... 'ow many
_moor_ wrops! 'Tis money, fur sartin!... (_Removes the last wrapping._)
Nawthen but a silly owld cough-drop! (_He calls after the_ Young Man,
_who is retreating with_ Mr. Fairplay, _and his spotty friend._) I've a
blamed good mind to 'ave th' Lar on ye fur that, I hev--a chatin' foaks
i' sech a way! Why don't ye act honest?
[_Is left masticating the cough-lozenge in speechless
indignation._
* * * * *
"THE SINS OF SOCIETY."
READ yesterday, in the _Fortnightly_, this article by OUIDA. Resolved to
follow her teachings at once. Changed my "frightful, grotesque, and
disgraceful male costume" for the most picturesque garments I had--a
kilt, a blue blazer, and a yellow turban, which I once wore at a fancy
dress ball. Then strolled along Piccadilly to the Club. Rather cool.
Having abandoned "the most vulgar form of salutation, the shake-hands,"
bowed distantly to several men I had known for years--but they looked
another way. Met a policeman. "Hullo!" he said. "Come out o' that! Your
place is in the road." He mistook me for a sandwich-man! Explained that
I was advocating a new style of dress. "Where's yer trousers?" he asked.
"Trousers!" I cried. "Why, OUIDA"--but it was useless to explain to such
a fool--so I left him.
At the Club, immense astonishment. Again explained. Members tapped their
foreheads, and said I had better see the Doctor. Why? Then they all
avoided me. Grand chance to show my ability "to support solitude, and to
endure silence." Deuced dull, but it saved me from "the poisoned
atmosphere of crowded rooms." Began to feel hungry about lunch-time, but
happily remembered that "it is not luxury which is enervating, it is
over-eating." Exhausted, but virtuous. Remembered that I had to dine at
my aunt's. Awkward! Could I go in that dress? She is so prim, and so
prejudiced in favour of trousers. Also she is so rich, and I was her
heir. It needs money to obtain the luxury which the great teacher
advocates. Hurried home, and put on hateful evening dress. Avoided
hansoms, they being too much connected with one "ugly hurry-skurry," and
drove to my aunt's in a damp, dirty four-wheeler. Even the new moralist
herself would have been satisfied with the slowness of that.
At dinner sat between two charming women, evidently as clever as they
were beautiful. Suddenly remembered that we "lose the subtle and fine
flavours of our best dishes, because we consider ourselves obliged to
converse with somebody," and after that did not speak a word. Charming
women stared, and then each turned towards me a beautiful shoulder, and
I saw her face no more. Was just enjoying the flavours when I
recollected that nothing "can make even tolerable, artistically
speaking, the sight of men and women sitting bolt upright close together
taking their soup." We were long past the soup, but it was not too late.
I left the table at once, and reclined elegantly on the floor, with my
plate by my side. "AUGUSTUS," said my Aunt, "are you ill?" I shook my
head; I could not speak, for I was just enjoying an unusually subtle
flavour. Then one of the guests, a member of my Club, whispered to my
aunt, and tapped his forehead. Then she tapped her forehead, and all the
guests tapped their foreheads. I had finished that flavour, so I said,
"My dear Aunt, I am not mad, I----" "Then," said she, "you must be
intoxicated. Leave the house!" And, with the butler and the footmen
escorting me to the street-door, I was obliged to do so.
It is all over. I know that my Aunt will bequeath her fortune to the
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ancient Buildings among the
Jews, but I am consoled by the thought that I, at least, have followed
the noble teachings of the New Morality.
* * * * *
"WHEN FOUND MAKE A NOTE OF."--By Captain SCUTTLE, to
British East African Co.:--"Your Room is better than
your Company."
* * * * *