DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I notice that that eminent author, Mr. HENRY ARTHUR JONES,
has written a play called _The Bauble Shop_, in which he has introduced the
room of the Prime Minister in the House of Commons as one of his most
striking _tableaux_. I have not yet had the advantage of seeing what I feel
sure must be an admirable comedy, but in justice to myself I must ask you
to publish a portion of a piece of my own, which seems to me to bear some
resemblance to what I suppose I must call (as it has enjoyed priority of
production) the Criterion original. I call _my_ drama _The Walking
Gentleman, or the Young Premier_, and I beg to submit to you the last Scene
(a very short one) of the last Act. Here it is _in extenso_:--
SCENE.--ANGELINA'S _Boudoir_. ANGELINA _discovered waiting for_ EDWIN.
_Angelina_ (_anxiously_). And, will he never come! Ah! that House--that
House! With its blazing beacon from the Clock Tower; it----(_With a cry of
joy._) Ah, he is here!
_Edwin_ (_entering hurriedly and taking_ ANGELINA _in his arms_). My own
one! Yes, I say it advisedly, my own one! Mine--Mine--for ever!
_Ang._ Nay, EDWIN; you forget the claims the Government--the country--have
upon your time!
_Edw._ No, darling, I do not. The Division has been taken; it is all over.
At the last moment I rose in my place in the House, and made purposely one
of the most injudicious orations ever heard within those respected walls. I
disgusted friends, alienated adherents, and in every possible manner
strengthened the hands of the Opposition; and, darling we are beaten--yes,
beaten--by a thumping majority.
_Ang._ (_in tears_). Oh, EDWIN, EDWIN! I am so sorry!
_Edw._ Nay, do not weep. For thy dear sake I accepted the sacrifice. I am
no longer leader of the House, I am no longer head of the Administration,
and now I shall have ample leisure. Yes, darling, smile once more. Now I
shall have time to be married. Now I can speak with hope of a honeymoon!
(_Curtain._)
There, _Mr. Punch_! If that would not overwhelm the Stalls and Boxes with
painful emotion, and bring down the Pit and Gallery with thunders of
applause, I am a Dutchman!
Yours obediently,
GARRICK SHAKSPEARE SNOOKS.
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[Illustration: ON THE FREE LIST.]
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