SCENE--_A hall in the grounds. Several turnstiles leading to curtained
entrances._
SHOWMAN (_shouting_). Amphitrite, the Marvellous Floatin' Goddess Just
about to commence! This way for the Mystic Gallery--three illusions for
threepence! Atalanta, the Silver Queen of the Moon; the Oriental Beauty
in the Table of the Sphinx, and the Wonderful Galatea, or Pygmalion's
Dream. Only threepence! This way for the Mystic Marvel o' She! Now
commencing!
A FEMALE SIGHTSEER (_with the air of a person making an original
suggestion_) Shall we go in, just to see what it's like?
MALE DITTO. May as well, now we _are_ 'ere. (_To preserve
himself from any suspicion of credulity_). Sure to be a take-in o' some
sort.
[Illustration: "COME AN LOOK! ALAHA-BA-LI-BOO!"]
[_They enter a dim apartment, in which two or three people are
leaning over a barrier in front of a small Stage; the Curtain
is lowered, and a Pianist is industriously pounding away at a
Waltz._
THE F. S. (_with an uncomfortable giggle_). Not much to see _so_ far, is
there?
HER COMPANION. Well, they ain't begun yet.
[_The Waltz ends, and the Curtain rises, disclosing a_ CAVERN
SCENE. AMPHITRE, _in blue tights, rises through the floor_.
AMPHITRE (_in the Gallic tongue_). Mesdarms et Messures, j'ai l'honnoor
de vous sooayter le bong jour! (_Floats, with no apparent support, in
the air, and performs various graceful evolutions, concluding by
reversing herself completely._) Bong swore, Mesdarms et messures, mes
remercimongs!
[_She dives below, and the Curtain descends._
THE F. S. Is that all? I don't see nothing in _that_!
HER COMP. (_who, having paid for admission, resents this want of
appreciation_). Why, she was off the ground the 'ole of the time, wasn't
she? I'd just like to see _you_ turnin' and twisting about in the air as
easy as she did with nothing to 'old on by!
THE F. S. I didn't notice she was off the ground--yes that _was_ clever.
I never thought o' that before. Let's go and see the other things now.
HER COMP. Well, if you don't see nothing surprising in 'em till they're
all over, you might as well stop outside, _I_ should ha' thought.
THE F. S. Oh, but I'll notice more next time--you've got to get _used_
to these things, you know.
[_They enter the Mystic Gallery, and find themselves in a dim
passage, opposite a partitioned compartment, in which is a
glass case, supported on four pedestals, with a silver crescent
at the back. The illusions--to judge from a sound of scurrying
behind the scenes--have apparently been taken somewhat
unawares._
THE FEMALE SIGHTSEER (_anxious to please_). They've done that 'alf-moon
very well, haven't they?
VOICE OF SHOWMAN (_addressing the Illusions_). Now then, 'urry up
there--we're all waiting for you.
[_The face of "Atalanta, the Silver Queen of the Moon," appears
strongly illuminated, inside the glass-box, and regards the
spectators with an impassive contempt--greatly to their
confusion._
THE MALE S. (_in a propitiatory tone_). Not a bad-looking girl, is she?
ATALANTA, THE QUEEN OF THE MOON (_to the_ ORIENTAL BEAUTY _in next
compartment_). Polly, when these people are gone, I wish you'd fetch me
my work!
[_The Sightseers move on, feeling crushed. In the second
compartment the upper portion of a female is discovered, calmly
knitting in the centre of a small table, the legs of which are
distinctly visible._
THE FEMALE S. Why, wherever has the _rest_ of her got to?
THE ORIENTAL BEAUTY (_with conscious superiority_). That's what you've
got to find out.
[_They pass on to interview "Galatea, or Pygmalion's Dream," whose
compartment is as yet enveloped in obscurity._
A Youthful Showman (_apparently on familiar terms with all the
Illusions_). Ladies and Gentlemen, I shell now 'ave the honour of
persentin' to you the wonderful Galatear or Livin' Statue; you will 'ave
an oppertoonity of 'andling the bust for yourselves, which will warm
before your eyes into living flesh, and the lovely creecher live and
speak. 'Ere, look sharp, earn't yer! (_To_ GALATEA.)
PYGMALION'S DREAM (_from the Mystic gloom_). Wait a bit till I've done
warming my 'ands. Now you can turn the lights up ... there, you've bin
and turned 'em _out_ now, stoopid!
THE Y. S. Don't you excite yourself. I know what I'm doin'. (_Turns the
lights up, and reveals a large terra-cotta Bust._) At my request, this
young lydy will now perceed to assoom the yew and kimplexion of life
itself. Galatear, will you oblige us by kindly coming to life?
[_The Bust vanishes, and is replaced by a decidedly earthly
Young Woman in robust health._
THE Y. S. Thenk you. That's all I wanted of yer. Now, will you kindly
return to your former styte?
[_The Young Woman transforms herself into a hideous Skull._
THE Y. S. (_in a tone of remonstrance_). No--no, not that ridiklous
fice! We don't want to see what yer will be--it's very _loike_ yer, I
know but still--(_the skull changes to the Bust._) Ah, that's more the
stoyle! (_Takes the Bust by the neck and hands it round for
inspection._) And now, thenking you for your kind attention, and on'y
'orskin one little fyvour of you, that is, that you will not reveal 'ow
it is done, I will now bid you a very good evenin', Lydies and
Gentlemen!
THE F. S. (_outside_). It's wonderful how they can do it all for
threepence, isn't it? We haven't seen _She_ yet!
HER COMP. What! 'aven't you seen wonders enough? Come on, then. But you
_are_ going it you know!
[_They enter a small room, at the further end of which are a
barrier and proscenium with drawn hangings._
THE EXHIBITOR (_in a confidential tone, punctuated by bows_). I will not
keep you waiting, Ladies and Gentlemen, but at once proceed with a few
preliminary remarks. Most of you, no doubt, have read that celebrated
story by Mr. Rider 'Aggard, about a certain _She-who-must-be-obeyed_,
and who dwelt in a place called Kor, and you will also doubtless
remember how she was in the 'abit of repairing at certain intervals, to
a cavern, and renooing her youth in a fiery piller. On one occasion,
wishing to indooce her lover to foller her example, she stepped into the
flame to encourage him--something went wrong with the works, and she was
instantly redooced to a cinder. I fortunately 'appened to be near at the
time (you will escuse a little wild fib from a showman, I'm sure!) I
'appened to be porsin by, and was thus enabled to secure the ashes of
the Wonderful SHE, which--(_draws hangings and reveals a shallow metal
Urn suspended_ _in the centre of scene_) are now before you enclosed in
that little urn. She--where are you?
SHE (_in a full sweet voice from below_). I am 'ere!
SHOWMAN. Then appear!
[_The upper portion of an exceedingly comely_ YOUNG PERSON
_emerges from the mouth of the Urn_.
THE F. S. (_startled_). Lor, she give me quite a turn!
SHOWMAN. Some people think this is all done by mirrors, but it is not
so; it is managed by a simple arrangement of light and shade. She will
now turn slowly round, to convince you that she is really inside the urn
and not merely beyind it. (_She turns round condescendingly._) She will
next pass her 'ands completely round her, thereby demonstrating the
utter impossibility of there being any wires to support her. Now she
will rap on the walls on each side of her, proving to you that she is no
reflection, but a solid reality, after which she will tap the bottom of
the urn beneath her so that you may see it really is what it purports to
be. (SHE _performs all these actions in the most obliging manner_.) She
will now disappear for a moment. (SHE _sinks into the Urn_.) Are you
still there, She?
SHE (_from the recess of the Urn_). Yes.
SHOWMAN. Then will you give us some sign of your presence? (_a hand and
arm are protruded and waved gracefully_). Thank you. Now you can come up
again. (SHE _reappears_.) She will now answer any questions any lady or
gentleman may like to put to her, always provided you won't ask her how
it is done--for I'm sure she wouldn't give me away, _would_ you, She?
SHE(_with a slow bow and gracious smile_). Certingly not.
THE F. S. (_to her_ COMPANION). Ask her something--do.
HER COMP. Go on! _I_ ain't got anything to ask her--ask her yourself!
A BOLDER SPIRIT (_with interest_). Are your _feet_ warm?
SHE. Quite--thenks.
THE SHOWMAN. HOW old are you, She?
SHE (_impressively_). Two theousand years.
'ARRY. And quite a young thing, too!
A SPECTATOR (_who has read the Novel_). 'Ave you 'eard from Leo Vincey
lately?
SHE (_coldly_). I don't know the gentleman.
SHOWMAN. If you have no more questions to ask her, She will now retire
into her Urn thenking you all for your kind attendance this morning,
which will conclude the entertainment.
[_Final disappearance of_ SHE. _The Audience pass out,
feeling--with perfect justice--that they have "had their
money's worth."_