+Scene+--_A Promenade Concert. Interval between Parts I. and II. Crowd
collecting before Platform_.
_Highly Respectable Matron (to female Friend)_. As to being _beautiful_,
it's not for me to say, but they're clean-limbed, healthy children,
thank Heaven! and what more do you want? (_The_ Friend _makes a
complimentary protest_.) Well, it may be so; but, to come back to her. I
don't like her present home so well as I did her first--not so tasty, to
my mind. She's got nice things about her, though, I _will_ say--a nice
sideboard, a nice ... (_Inventory follows here_.)
_The Friend (darkly)_. All the same, it's a constant wonder to me how
she can ever bring herself to sleep in _that_ bed!
_The H. R. M_. I couldn't myself; but (_charitably_) we've not all the
same feelings. (_Crush increases; Female Promenader with very yellow
hair passes, with apologies_.) "Excuse me, Madame" (_with attempt at
mimicry_); ah--and she _needs_ it! The orchestra's coming back now. I
didn't notice that young woman among them before--what's _she_ going to
play, I wonder?
_The Friend_. Whatever it is, she might look more pleasant over it!
_The H. R. M_. So she might--we can't all be good-looking, but we can
all be pleasant--but they wouldn't have engaged her here, if she hadn't
her gift!
_The Friend_. Oh, you may depend on it, she's got a gift--but I do call
her plain, myself.
_A Man with a very red nose (to Companion)_. And then, you see, I've
this special advantage--my _immense_ knowledge of the world. Think
there's time for another before they begin again, eh?
[_Companion is of that opinion; adjournment to bar of house_.
_Second Part begins; Lady Vocalist retiring after Song_.
_First Promenader_. Brayvo! Engcore! What, she won't sing no more--sssh!
[_Hisses furiously_.
_The H. R. M_. There's the orchestra themselves clapping her--and
_they'd_ know what's good.
_Her Friend_. She was dressed very nice, I thought.
_The H. R. M_. I never care to see hair done up that style myself.
+On the Platform.+
_Ladies of Chorus tripping up from below Stage for the Vocal Valse_.
_Ladies of Chorus (all together)_. Am I too black under the eyes, dear?
Mind where you're going, Miss, please! Treading on people's toes like
that--the great clumsy thing! I'm next to you, aren't I? I do feel so
funny, my dear, don't you? For goodness sake, don't go setting me on the
giggle _now_!
[_They range themselves modestly in a row at edge of platform_.
_Rude Person (in upper box with Punch squeak)_. Rooti-too-ti!
[_Roars of laughter_.
_Ladies of C. (indignantly)_. Beast! I wish they'd give him something to
make him rooti-toot, I do!
_Conductor-Composer (from behind)_. Now, Ladies, ready please--keep the
laugh steadier than you did last time, and wait for me at the repeat!
[_He taps on desk: each Lady of Chorus stiffens herself perceptibly and
makes a little grimace_.
_One Lady (in whisper)_, Oh, dear, I wish I was at home with my Ma!
[_Her companions giggle_.
_The H. R. M_. It's as much as they can do to sing for laughing--they're
_called_ "Laughing Beauties," though. I like this one's face up at this
end--she's so quiet and lady-like over it, and pretty too; they put all
the pretty ones in front, but there's one quite an old woman behind.
They're having all the fun down at the other end--how they are going on,
to be sure!
[_End of Vocal Valse: loud applause. Ladies of Chorus retire after_
encore _with air of graceful dignity_.
_The Person with the Squeak_. Goo'-bye, duckies!
[_Roars of laughter again: renewed indignation among Chorus_. Person
with Squeak _feels like_ +Sheridan+ _and_ +Theodore Hook+ _rolled into
one_.
+In the Grand Circle.+
_A Young Gentleman (who has set himself to form his_ fiancee's _mind,
but finds it necessary to proceed very gradually_). Now, +Caroline+,
tell me--isn't this better than if we had gone to the Circus?
_Caroline (from the provinces; unmusical; simple in her tastes)_. Yes,
+Joseph+, only--(_timidly_)--there's more of what I call variety in a
Circus--more going _on_, I mean.
_The Y. G. (with a sense of discouragement)_. I quite see your meaning,
dear, and it's an entirely true observation; still, you _do_ appreciate
this magnificent orchestra, don't you now?
_Caroline_. I should have liked it better with different coloured
curtains--maize is so trying.
_The Y. G. (mentally)_. I won't write home to them about it _just_ yet.
_Orchestra begins a "Musical Medley" with Overture to "Tannhaeuser."_
_The Y. G. (who has lost his programme)_. Now, +Caroline+--this is
+Wagner+--you'll like +Wagner+, darling, I'm sure.
_Caroline (startled)_. Shall I? Where is he? Will he come in here? Must
I speak to him?
_The Y. G_. No, no--he's _dead_--I mean, this is from his _Opera_--you
must listen to this.
[_He watches her face for the emotion he expects; "Tannhaeuser" melts
suddenly into "Tommy, Make Room for your Uncle."_
_Caroline (her face absolutely transfigured)_. Oh, +Joseph+,
dear--+Wagner's+ perfectly _lovely_!
_The Y. G. (gloomily)_. I see, I shall have to put you through a course
of +Bach+, +Caroline+!
_Caroline (alarmed)_. But there's nothing whatever the _matter_ with me,
+Joseph+! I'm not flushed am I?
[_Young Gentleman suppresses a groan_.
+In a Box.+
(_Musical Medley still in progress_.)
_A Lady (not much of an Opera-goer, who has been given a box at the last
moment, and has insisted on her husband turning out to escort her)_. It
was silly of you to drop that programme, +Robert+--I should like to know
what this piece is, it seems quite familiar--(_Orchestra playing
"Soldiers' March" from Faust_)--_I_ know--it's Faust, +Robert+,
_+Gounod's+ Faust_!
[_Much pleased with herself for recollecting an Opera she has only heard
once_.
_Robert (sleepily)_. _I_ know, my dear, all right.
[_Faust melts into air from "Pinafore."_
_His Wife_. Do you mean to say you don't remember that, +Robert+? how
exquisite +Patti+ was in the part, to be sure!
_Robert_. Umph!
[_"Pinafore" becomes "La ci darem"--which transforms itself without
warning into "Two Lovely Black Eyes."_
_The Lady_. There's nobody like +Gounod+! [_Clasps her hands_.
_Robert (captiously)_. +Gounod's+ all very well, I daresay, my dear; but
it don't seem to me he's altogether _original_. I've heard something
very like this tune before, and I'll swear it wasn't by him!
_The Lady_. That's very likely; _all_ the best airs get stolen nowadays,
and dressed up so as to be quite unrecognisable; but that's not
+Gounod's+ fault, is it?
[_Fans herself triumphantly, after vindicating her favourite
Composer_. +Robert+ _slumbers_.
+Behind the Platform.+
_Erratic Promenader_. Beg your pardon, Sir--tha' shtick, not
'tended meet _your_ eye, Sir--_'nother_ gerrilm'n's eye, Sir.
_Fair Promenader (to Lady Friend)_. And I'm sure I don't know
how it is, but I'm always crying now for just nothing at all, whenever
I'm alone.
_The Lady Friend_. That's because you give way to it, dear. Come
and have something to cheer you up--you'll be a different person
after it. [_Advice taken; prediction verified_.
_The Err. Prom_. I shay, here'sh lark! see tha' Bobby over there?
he thinksh I'm _tight_! (_Waltzes up to him solemnly_). Kn'ive
pleshure nexsht dansh you, Sir Charlesh?
_The Policeman (severely)_. You keep your 'ands off of me, will
you, and take yourself home--that's my advice to _you_!
_Err. Prom. (outraged)_. You 'pear me to under 'preshionthish is
Hy' Par' or Trafa----(_with an effort_)--Trafa-ralgarar Square. I'm
goin' teash you, free Briton not goin' put up with P'lice brurality!
[_Hits Policeman in the eye, and is removed, smiling feebly.
Scene changes_.
* * * * *
An Open Question.
Lord +Solly+, at Paddies presuming to rail,
Must sneer at their "brogue," which the Markis finds stale.
Does he think a poor fellow must fain be a rogue
Because, born in Erin, he speaks with a brogue?
Celtic ears finds the drawl of the Saxon Swell flat,
And a Cockney may chaff at the _patois_ of +Pat+.
But which is in fault--is it _really_ so clear?--
The Irishman's tongue, or the Englishman's ear?
* * *
In a recent case on appeal, +Hammond & Co.+ _v_. +Bussey+, Mr. Justice
+Bowen+ was understood (by Our Special Reporter) to say that a judgment
relating to coals must be decided by the principles of +Coke+. The
Master of the Rolls and Mr. Justice +Fry+ concurred; the latter
observing that in winter a coal merchant must always be a +Bussey+
person, though his Lordship admitted that this had nothing to do with
the case. The Master of the Rolls and Mr. Justice +Bowen+ at once
concurred.
* * * * *
[illustration-pointer] NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or
Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any
description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a
Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there
will be no exception.
Transcriber Notes:
Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_.
Passages in bold were indicated by =equal signs=.
Passages in small caps were indicated by +crosses+.
Throughout the document, the oe ligature was indicated by "[oe]", and the
letter E with a macron was indicated by [=E].