SCENE--_A Village School-room. A Juvenile Treat is in
progress, and a Magic Lantern, hired for the occasion, "with
set of slides complete--to last one hour" is about to be
exhibited._
[Illustration]
_The Vicar's Daughter_ (_suddenly recognising the New Curate, who is
blinking unsuspectingly in the lantern rays_). Oh, Mr. TOOTLER, you've
just come in time to help us! The man with the lantern says he only
manages the slides, and can't do the talking part. And I've asked
lots of people, and no one will volunteer. _Would_ you mind just
explaining the pictures to the children? It's only a little Nursery
tale--_Valentine and Orson_--I chose that, because it's less
hackneyed, and has such an excellent _moral_, you know. I'm sure
you'll do it so _beautifully_!
_Mr. Tootler_ (_a shy man_). I--I'd do it with pleasure, I'm
sure--only I really don't know anything about _Valentine and Orson_!
_The V's D._ Oh, what _does_ that matter? I can tell you the outline
in two minutes. (_She tells him._) But it's got to last an hour, so
you must spin it out as much as ever you can.
[Illustration: The Young Heckler.]
_Mr. Tootler_ (_to himself_). Ought I to neglect such a golden
opportunity of winning these young hearts? No. (_Aloud._) I
will--er--do my best, and perhaps I had better begin at once, as
they seem to be getting--er--rather unruly at the further end of the
room. (_He clears his throat._) Children, you must be very quiet and
attentive, and then we shall be able, as we purpose this evening, to
show you some scenes illustrative of the--er--beautiful old story
of _Valentine and Orson_, which I doubt not is familiar to you all.
(_Rustic applause, conveyed by stamping and shrill cheers, after
which a picture is thrown on the screen representing a Village
Festival._) Here, children, we have a view of--er--(_with sudden
inspiration_)--Valentine's Native Village. It is--er--his birthday,
and Valentine, being a young man who is universally beloved on account
of his amiability and good conduct--(_To the Vicar's D._ "Is that
correct?" _The V.'s D._ "Quite, _quite_ correct!")--good conduct,
the villagers are celebrating the--er--auspicious event by general
rejoicings. How true it is that if we are only _good_, we may, young
as we are, count upon gaining the affection and esteem of all around
us! (_A Youthful Rustic, with a tendency to heckle._ "Ef 'ee plaze,
Zur, which on 'em be Valentoine?") Valentine, we may be very sure,
would not be absent on such an occasion, although, owing to the
crowd, we cannot distinguish him. But, wherever he is, however he
may be occupied, he little thinks that, before long, he will have
to encounter the terrible Orson, the Wild Man of the Woods! Ah,
dear children, we all have our Wild Man of the Woods to fight. With
_some_ of us it is--(_He improves the occasion._) Our next picture
represents--(_To Assistant._) Sure this comes next? Oh, they're all
numbered, are they? Very well--represents a forest--er--the home of
Orson. If we were permitted to peep behind one of those trunks, we
should doubtless see Orson himself, crouching in readiness to spring
upon the unsuspecting Valentine. So, often when we--&c., &c. The next
scene we shall show you represents the--er--burning of Valentine's
ship. Valentine has gone on a voyage, with the object of--er--finding
Orson. If the boat in the picture was only larger, we could no doubt
identify Valentine, sitting there undismayed, calmly confident that,
notwithstanding this--er--unfortunate interruption, he will be guided,
sooner or later, to his--er--goal. Yes, dear children, if we only have
patience, if we only have faith, &c., &c. Here we see--(_an enormous
Bison is suddenly depicted on the screen_) eh? oh, yes--here we have a
specimen of--er--Orson's _pursuits_. He chases the bison. Some of you
may not know what a bison is. It is a kind of hairy cow, and--(_He
describes the habits of these creatures as fully as he is able._ _The
Youthful Rustic_. "Theer baint nawone a-erntin' of 'un, Zur.") What?
Oh, but there _is_. Orson is pursuing him, only--er--the bison, being
a very fleet animal, has outrun his pursuer for the moment. Sometimes
we flatter ourselves that we have outrun _our_ pursuer--but,
depend upon it, &c., &c. But now let us see what Valentine is
about--(_Discovering, not without surprise, that the next picture is
a Scene in the Arctic Regions._) Well, you see, he has succeeded in
reaching the coast, and here he is--in a sledge drawn by a reindeer,
with nothing to guide him but the Aurora Borealis, hastening towards
the spot where he has been told he will find Orson. He doesn't
despair, doesn't lose heart--he is sure that, if he only keeps on, if
he--er--only continues, only perseveres--(_Aside._ What drivel I _am_
talking! _To Assistant_. I say, are there many _more_ of this sort?
because we don't seem to be getting on!)--Well, now we come to--(_a
Moonlight Scene, with a Cottage in Winter, appears_)--to the--ah--home
of Valentine's _mother_. You will observe a light in the casement. By
that light the good old woman is sitting, longing and praying for the
return of her gallant boy. Ah, dear children, what a thing a good old
mother is! (_To the Vicar's Daughter_. "I really can _not_ keep on
like this much longer. I'm positively certain these slides are out of
order!") _The V.'s D._ "Oh no; I'm sure it's _all_ right. Do _please_
go on. They're _so_ interested!" _The Young Heckler_. "'Ow bout
Valentoine, Zur?--wheer be 'ee?" Ah, where is Valentine, indeed? (_To
Ass._) Next slide--quick! (_Recognises with dismay a View of the Grand
Canal._) No--but, I say--_really_ I _can't_--Here we have Valentine at
Venice. He has reached that beautiful city,--well called the Queen of
the Adriatic,--at last! He contemplates it from his gondola, and yet
he has no heart just now to take in all the beauty of the scene. He
feels that he is still no nearer to finding Orson than before. (_The
Young Heckler_. "Naw moor be we, Zur. We ain't zeed _nayther_ on 'em
zo fur!" _Tumult, and a general demand for the instant production of
Orson or Valentine._) Now, children, children! this is very irregular.
You must allow me to tell this story my own way. You will see them
both in good time, if you only keep still! (_To Ass._) I can't stand
this any more. Valentine and Orson must be underneath the rest. Find
them, and shove them in quick. Never mind the numbering! (_The screen
remains blank while the Assistant fumbles._) Well, have you _got_
them?
_The Assistant_. No, Sir; I'm rather afraid they ain't _here_. Fact
is, they've sent me out with the wrong set o' slides. This ain't
_Valentine and Orson--it's a miscellaneous lot, Sir!_
[_Collapse of Curate as Scene closes in._
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