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._
THE VICAR'S DAUGHTER (_suddenly recognizing 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.
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_, you know. 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. I assure you that 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?
[Illustration: RECOGNISES WITH DISMAY A VIEW OF THE GRAND CANAL.]
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._
At a Music Hall.
SCENE.--_The auditorium of a Music Hall, the patrons of which
are respectable, but in no sense "smart." The occupants of the
higher-priced seats appear to have dropped in less for the
purpose of enjoying the entertainment than of discussing their
private affairs--though this does not prevent them from
applauding everything with generous impartiality._
THE CHAIRMAN. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Celebrated Character-Duettists
and Variety Artistes, the Sisters Silvertwang, will appear next!
[_They do; they have just sung a duet in praise of Nature with an
interspersed step-dance. "Oh, I love to 'ear the echo on the Moun-ting!"
(Tiddity-iddity-iddity-iddity-um!) "And to listen to the tinkle of the
Foun-ting!" (Tiddity, &c.)_
A WHITE-CAPPED ATTENDANT (_taking advantage of a pause, plaintively_).
Sengwidges, too-pence!
[Illustration: THE SISTERS SILVERTWANG.]
VOLUBLE LADY _in the Shilling Stalls_ (_telling her Male Companion an
interminable story with an evasive point_). No, but you 'ear what I'm
going to _tell_ you, because I'm coming to it presently. I can't
remember his name at this moment--something like Budkin, but it wasn't
that, somewhere near Bond Street, he is, or a street off there; a
Scotchman, but _that_ doesn't matter! (_Here she breaks off to hum the
Chorus of "Good Ole Mother-in-Law!" which is being sung on the stage._)
Well, let me see--what was I telling you? Wait a minute, excuse _me_,
oh, yes,--_well_, there was this picture,--mind you, it's a lovely
_painting_, but the frame simply nothing,--not that I go by frames,
myself, o' course not, but I fetched it down to show him--oh, I know
what you'll say, but he must know _something_ about such things; he
knew my uncle, and I can tell you what he _is_--he's a florist, and
married nineteen years, and his wife's forty--years older than me, but
I've scarcely spoke to _her_, and no children, so I fetched it to show
him, and as soon as he sets eyes on it, he says----(FEMALE
"CHARACTER-COMIC" _on Stage_, _lugubriously_. "Ritolderiddle, ol de_ray_
ritolderiddle, olde-_ri_-_ido_!") I can't tell you _how_ old it is, but
'undreds of years, and Chinese, I shouldn't wonder, but we can't trace
its 'istry--that's what _he_ said, and if _he_ don't know, _nobody_
does, for it stands to reason he must be a judge, though nothing to
me,--when I say nothing, I mean all I know of him is that he used to
be----(TENOR VOCALIST ON STAGE. "My Sweetheart when a Bo-oy!") I always
like that song, don't you? Well, and this is what I was _wanting_ to
tell you, _she_ got to know what I'd done--how is more'n _I_ can tell
you, but she did, and she come straight in to where I was, and I see in
a minute she'd been drinking, for drink she does, from morning to night,
but I don't mind _that_, and her bonnet all on the back of her head, and
her voice that 'usky, she----(TENOR. "She sang a Song of Home Sweet
Home--a song that reached my heart!") And I couldn't be expected to put
up with _that_, you know, but I haven't 'alf told you yet--_well_, &c.,
&c.