_Sightseers discovered drifting languidly along in a state of
depression, only tempered by the occasional exercise of the right of
every free-born Briton to criticise whenever he fails to understand.
The general tone is that of faintly amused and patronising
superiority._
[Illustration: Refused Admittance.]
_A Burly Sightseer, with a red face_ (_inspecting group representing
"Mithras Sacrificing a Bull"_). H'm; that may be MITHRAS's notion o'
making a clean job of it, but it ain't _mine_!
_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,
beats _me_!
_Her Companion_. Oh, I s'pose they've got to put a name to it of
_some_ sort.
_An Intelligent Artisan_ (_out for the day with his Fiancée--reading
from pedestal_). "Part of a group of As-Astrala--no,
As_traga_--lizontes"--that's what _they_ are, yer see.
_Fiancée_. But who _were_ they?
_The I.A._ Well, I can't tell yer--not for certain; but I expect they
'd be the people who in'abited Astragalizontia.
_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
same head 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 daresay without so much as a "by your leave," or a
"thank you!"
_The I.A._ (_reading_). "Portrait of ANTONIA, sister-in-law of
the Emperor TIBERIUS, in the character of Clytie turning into a
sunflower."
_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 was _thinking_ it looked more like a female. But if
it's meant for old Mr. TEAK, the shipbuilder's daughter, it flatters
her up considerable; and, besides, _I_ always understood as her name
was BETSY.
_The I.A._ No, no; what a girl you are for getting things wrong! that
'ed was cut out years and years ago!
_Fiancée_. Well, she's gone off _since_, that's all; but I wonder at
old Mr. TEAK letting it go out of the family, instead of putting it on
his mantelpiece along with the lustres and the two chiny dogs.
_The I.A._ (_with ungallant candour_). 'Ark at you! Why, you ain't
much more sense nor a chiny dog yourself!
_Moralising 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 someone to teach them more respectable notions! Well,
well! it ought to make us thankful _we_ don't live in those benighted
times, that it ought!
_A Connoisseur_ (_after staring at a colossal Greek lion_). A lion,
eh? Well, it's another proof to my mind that the ancients hadn't got
very far in the statuary line. Now, if you _want_ to 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's
a pity the things ain't more perfect. _I_ should 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 ketch _them_ (_he means the Officials_) taking any extra
trouble if they can help it!
_His Companion_. Ah, but yer see it ain't so easy fitting on bits that
belonged to something different. You've got to look at it _that_ way!
_The P.M._ _I_ don't see no difficulty about it. Why, any stonemason
could cut down the odd pieces to fit well enough, and they wouldn't
have such a neglected appearance as they do now.
_A Group has collected round a Gigantic Arm in red granite._
_First Sightseer_. There's a _arm_ for yer!
_Second S._ (_a humorist_). Yes; 'ow would yer like to 'ave _that_
come a punching your 'ed?
_Third S._ (_thoughtfully_). I expect they've put it up 'ere as a
sample, like.
_The Moralising Matron_. How it makes one realise that there were
giants in those days!
_Her Friend_. But surely the size must be a _little_ exaggerated,
don't you think? Oh, is _this_ the God Ptah?
[_The M.M. says nothing, but clicks her tongue to express a
grieved pity, after which she passes on._
_The_ Intelligent Artisan _and his_ Fiancée _have 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._ I _did_ think you was wider than _that_!--it's on'y
imaginative. What 'ud be the good o' wings to a bull?
_Fiancée_ (_on her defence_). You think you know so much--but it's got
a man's 'ed, hain't it? and I know there used to be _'orses_ with 'alf
a man where the 'ed ought to be, because I've seen their pictures--so
there!
_The I.A._ I dunno what you've got where _your_ 'ed ought to be,
torking such rot!