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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas, by 
+F. Anstey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas
+       Collected, Improved and Re-arranged from Punch
+
+Author: F. Anstey
+
+Release Date: March 4, 2012 [EBook #39045]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Fulvia Hughes and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+                    }
+                    } denotes a large curly bracket.
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+    By F. ANSTEY.
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+    YOUNG RECITER
+
+    Illustrated.
+
+    Price 3_s._ 6_d._
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+    Collected, Improved, and Re-Arranged
+
+    FROM "PUNCH."
+
+    BY F. ANSTEY,
+    AUTHOR OF "VICE VERSÂ," "MR. PUNCH'S YOUNG RECITER," &C
+
+    With Illustrations.
+
+    LONDON:
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., 9, BOUVERIE ST., E.C.
+    1892.
+
+
+
+
+    LONDON
+
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                          PAGE
+
+    INTRODUCTION                             3
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+
+            SONGS.
+
+    I.--THE PATRIOTIC                       15
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL              18
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY                23
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE IDYLLIC                        27
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC                31
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--THE CHIVALROUS                     37
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE              40
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA               47
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--THE DUETTISTS                      53
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION               59
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER               63
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC          69
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR        73
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+
+            DRAMAS.
+
+    I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER         79
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER                 86
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    III.--THE MAN-TRAP                      93
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE FATAL PIN                      99
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE           106
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--COMING OF AGE                     113
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--RECLAIMED!                       120
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    VIII.--JACK PARKER.                    132
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--UNDER THE HARROW                  139
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE          151
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS                   158
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER      166
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+[_The Illustrations are by Edward T. Reed; with others from "Punch."_]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: MUSIC HALL PROPRIETOR.]
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+The day is approaching, and may even now be within measurable distance,
+when the Music Halls of the Metropolis will find themselves under yet
+more stringent supervision than is already exercised by those active and
+intelligent guardians of middle-class morality, the London County
+Council. The moral microscope which detected latent indecency in the
+pursuit of a butterfly by a marionette is to be provided with larger
+powers, and a still more extended field. In other words, our far-sighted
+and vigilant County Councilmen, perceiving the futility of delaying the
+inspection of Variety Entertainments until such improprieties as are
+contained therein have been suffered to contaminate the public mind for
+a considerable period, are determined to nip these poison-flowers in the
+bud for the future; and, unless Mr. Punch is misinformed, will apply to
+Parliament at the earliest opportunity for clauses enabling them to
+require each item in every forthcoming performance to be previously
+submitted to a special committee for sanction and approval.
+
+The conscientious rigour with which they will discharge this new and
+congenial duty may perhaps be better understood after perusing the
+little prophetic sketch which follows; for Mr. Punch's Poet, when not
+employed in metrical composition, is a Seer of some pretensions in a
+small way, and several of his predictions have already been shamelessly
+plagiarised by the unscrupulous hand of Destiny. It is not improbable
+that this latest effort of his will receive a similar compliment,
+although this would be more gratifying if Destiny ever condescended to
+acknowledge such obligations. However, here is the forecast for what it
+is worth, a sum of incalculable amount:--
+
+
+POETIC LICENCES.
+
+A VISION OF THE NEAR FUTURE.
+
+     SCENE--_A Committee-room of the L. C. C.; Sub-Committee of
+     Censors, (appointed, under new regulations, to report on all
+     songs intended to be sung on the Music-hall Stage,) discovered
+     in session._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler_ (_retained for the Ballad-writers_). The next licence I
+have to apply for is for--well, (_with some hesitation_)--a composition
+which certainly borders on the--er--amorous--but I think, Sir, you will
+allow that it is treated in a purely pastoral and Arcadian spirit.
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_gravely_). There _are_ arcades, Mr. Wheedler, I may
+remind you, which are by no means pastoral. I cannot too often repeat
+that we are here to fulfil the mission entrusted to us by the Democracy,
+which will no longer tolerate in its entertainments anything that is
+either vulgar, silly, or offensive in the slightest degree.
+    [_Applause._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler._ Quite so. With your permission, Sir, I will read you the
+Ballad.
+    [_Reads._
+
+
+"MOLLY AND I.
+
+    "Oh! the day shall be marked in red letter----"
+
+  _The Chairman._ One moment, Mr. Wheedler, (_conferring with his
+colleagues_). "Marked with red letter"--isn't that a little--eh? liable
+to----You don't think they'll have read Hawthorne's book? Very well,
+then. Go on, Mr. Wheedler, please.
+
+  _Mr. W._ "'Twas warm, with a heaven so blue."
+
+  _First Censor._ Can't pass those two epithets--you must tone them down,
+Mr. Wheedler--_much_ too suggestive!
+
+  _Mr. W._ That shall be done.
+
+  _The Chairman._ And it ought to be "sky."
+
+  _Mr. W._ "When amid the lush meadows I met her,
+              My Molly, so modest and true!"
+
+  _Second Censor._ I object to the word "lush"--a direct incitement to
+intemperance!
+
+  _Mr. W._ I'll strike it out. (_Reads._)
+
+    "Around us the little kids rollicked,
+     Lighthearted were all the young lambs----"
+
+  _Second Censor._ Surely "kids" is _rather_ a vulgar expression, Mr.
+Wheedler? Make it "_children_," and I've no objection.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I have made it so. (_Reads._)
+
+    "They kicked up their legs as they frolicked"----
+
+  _Third Censor._ If that is intended to be done on the stage, I protest
+most strongly--a highly indecorous exhibition!
+     [_Murmurs of approval._
+
+  _Mr. W._ But they're only lambs!
+
+  _Third Censor._ Lambs, indeed! We are determined to put down _all_
+kicking in Music-hall songs, no matter _who_ does it! Strike that line
+out.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading_). "And frisked by the side of their dams."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_severely_). No profanity, Mr. Wheedler, _if_ you
+please!
+
+  _Mr. W._ Er--I'll read you the Refrain. (_Reads, limply._)
+
+    "Molly and I. With nobody nigh.
+      Hearts all a-throb with a rapturous bliss,
+    Molly was shy. And (at first) so was I,
+      Till I summoned up courage to ask for a kiss!"
+
+  _The Chairman._ "Nobody nigh," Mr. Wheedler? I don't quite like that.
+The Music Hall ought to set a good example to young persons. "Molly and
+I--_with her chaperon by_," is better.
+
+  _Second Censor._ And that last line--"asking for a kiss"--does the song
+state that they were formally engaged, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I--I believe it omits to mention the fact. But (_ingeniously_)
+it does not appear that the request was complied with.
+
+  _Second Censor._ No matter--it should never have been made. Have the
+goodness to alter that into--well, something of this kind. "And I always
+addressed her politely as "Miss." Then we _may_ pass it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading the next verse_).
+
+    "She wore but a simple sun-bonnet."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_shocked_). Now really, Mr. Wheedler, _really_, Sir!
+
+  _Mr. W._    "For Molly goes plainly attired."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_indignantly_). I should think so--_Scandalous_!
+
+  _Mr. W._    "Malediction I muttered upon it,
+               One glimpse of her face I desired."
+
+[Illustration: Licensing Day.]
+
+  _The Chairman._ I think my colleague's exception is perhaps just a
+_leetle_ far-fetched. At all events, if we substitute for the last
+couplet,
+
+    "Her dress is sufficient--though on it
+     She only spends what is strictly required."
+
+Eh, Mr. Wheedler? Then we work in a moral as well, you see, and avoid
+malediction, which can only mean bad language.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_doubtfully_). With all respect, I submit that it doesn't scan
+quite so well----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_sharply_). _I_ venture to think scansion may be
+sacrificed to propriety, _occasionally_, Mr. Wheedler--but pray go on.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_continuing_).
+
+    "To a streamlet we rambled together.
+      I carried her tenderly o'er.
+    In my arms--she's as light as a feather--
+      That sweetest of burdens I bore!"
+
+  _First Censor._ I really _must_ protest. No properly conducted young
+woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You must alter that, Mr.
+Wheedler!
+
+  _Second C._ And I don't know--but I rather fancy there's a
+"double-intender" in that word "light"--(_to colleague_)--it strikes
+me--eh?--what do _you_ think?----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_in a conciliatory manner_). I am inclined to agree to
+some extent--not that I consider the words particularly objectionable in
+themselves, but we are men of the world, Mr. Wheedler, and as such we
+cannot shut our eyes to the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too
+apt to find significance in many apparently innocent expressions and
+phrases.
+
+  _Mr. W._ But, Sir, I understood from your remarks recently that the
+Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the nature of
+suggestiveness!
+
+  _The Ch._ Exactly so; and therefore we cannot allow their
+susceptibilities to be shocked. (_With a severe jocosity._) Molly and
+you, Mr. Wheedler, must either ford the stream like ordinary persons, or
+stay where you are.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_depressed._) I may as well read the last verse, I suppose:
+
+    "Then under the flickering willow
+      I lay by the rivulet's brink,
+    With her lap for a sumptuous pillow----"
+
+  _First Censor._ We can't have that. It is really _not_ respectable.
+
+  _The Ch._ (_pleasantly._) Can't we alter it slightly? "I'd brought a
+small portable pillow." No objection to _that_!
+
+     [_The other Censors express dissent in undertones._
+
+  _Mr. W._    "Till I owned that I longed for a drink."
+
+  _Third C._ No, no! "A drink"! We all know what _that_ means--alcoholic
+stimulant of some kind. At all events that's how the audience are
+certain to take it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_feebly_).
+
+    "So Molly her pretty hands hollowed
+      Into curves like an exquisite cup,
+    And draughts so delicious I swallowed,
+      That rivulet nearly dried up!"
+
+  _Third C._ Well, Mr. Wheedler, you're not going to defend _that_, I
+hope?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I'm not prepared to deny that it is silly--_very_ silly--but
+hardly--er--vulgar, I should have thought?
+
+  _Third C._ That is a question of taste, which we won't dispute. _I_ call
+it _distinctly_ vulgar. Why can't he drink out of his _own_ hands?
+
+  _The Ch._ (_blandly_). Allow me. How would _this_ do for the second
+line? "She had a collapsible cup." A good many people _do_ carry them. I
+have one myself. Is that all of your Ballad, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_with great relief._) That _is_ all, Sir.
+
+     [_Censors withdraw, to consider the question._
+
+  _The Ch._ (_after consultation with colleagues_). We have carefully
+considered this song, and we are all reluctantly of opinion that we
+cannot, consistently with our duty, recommend the Council to license
+it--even with the alterations my colleagues and myself have gone
+somewhat out of our way to suggest. The whole subject is too dangerous
+for a hall in which young persons of both sexes are likely to be found
+assembled; and the absence of any distinct assertion that the young
+couple--Molly and--ah--the gentleman who narrates the experience--are
+betrothed, or that their attachment is, in any way, sanctioned by their
+parents or guardians, is quite fatal. If we have another Ballad of a
+similar character from the same quarter, Mr. Wheedler, I feel bound to
+warn you that we may possibly consider it necessary to advise that the
+poet's licence should be cancelled altogether.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I will take care to mention it to my client, Sir. I understand
+it is his intention to confine himself to writing Gaiety burlesques in
+future.
+
+  _The Ch._ A very laudable resolution! I hope he will keep it.
+     [_Scene closes in._
+
+
+It is hardly possible that any Music-hall Manager or vocalist,
+irreproachable as he may hitherto have considered himself, can have
+taken this glimpse into a not very remote futurity without symptoms of
+uneasiness, if not of positive dismay. He will reflect that the ballad
+of "Molly and I," however reprehensible it may appear in the fierce
+light of an L. C. C. Committee Room, is innocuous, and even moral,
+compared to the ditties in his own _répertoire_. How, then, can he hope,
+when his hour of trial strikes, to confront the ordeal with an unruffled
+shirt-front, or a collar that shall retain the inflexibility of
+conscious innocence? And he will wish then that he had confined himself
+to the effusions of a bard who could not be blamed by the most
+censorious moralist.
+
+Here, if he will only accept the warning in time, is his best safeguard.
+He has only to buy this little volume, and inform his inquisitors that
+the songs and business with which he proposes to entertain an ingenuous
+public are derived from the immaculate pages of Mr. Punch. Whereupon
+censure will be instantly disarmed and criticism give place to
+congratulation. It is just possible, to be sure, that this somewhat
+confident prediction smacks rather of the Poet than the Seer, and that
+even the entertainment supplied by Mr. Punch's Music Hall may, to the
+Purist's eye, present features as suggestive as a horrid vulgar clown,
+or as shocking as a butterfly, an insect notorious for its frivolity.
+But then, so might the "songs and business" of the performing canary, or
+the innocent sprightliness of the educated flea, with its superfluity of
+legs, all absolutely unclad. At all events, the compiler of this
+collection ventures to hope that, whether it is fortunate enough to find
+favour or not with Music-hall "artistes," literary critics, and London
+County Councilmen, it contains nothing particularly objectionable to the
+rest of the British Public. And very likely, even in this modest
+aspiration, he is over-sanguine, and his little joke will be taken
+seriously. Earnestness is so alarmingly on the increase in these days.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    SONGS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PATRIOTIC.]
+
+I.--THE PATRIOTIC
+
+
+This stirring ditty--so thoroughly sound and practical under all its
+sentiment--has been specially designed to harmonise with the recently
+altered tone of Music-hall audiences, in which a spirit of enlightened
+Radicalism is at last happily discernible. It is hoped that, both in
+rhyme and metre, the verses will satisfy the requirements of this most
+elegant form of composition. The song is intended to be shouted through
+music in the usual manner by a singer in evening dress, who should carry
+a small Union Jack carelessly thrust inside his waistcoat. The title is
+short but taking:--
+
+
+ON THE CHEAP!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Of a Navy insufficient cowards croak, deah boys!
+    If our place among the nations we're to keep.
+    But with British beef, and beer, and hearts of oak, deah boys!--
+    (_With enthusiasm._) We can make a shift to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_With a common-sense air_.) Let us keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    While Britannia is the boss upon the deep,
+    She can wollop an invader, when he comes in his Armada,
+    If she's let alone to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    (_Affectionately._)
+    Johnny Bull is just as plucky as he _was_, deah boys!
+    (_With a knowing wink._) And he's wide awake--no error!--not asleep;
+    But he won't stump up for ironclads--becos, deah boys!
+    He don't see his way to get 'em--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    So keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    (_Gallantly._) And we'll chance what may happen on the deep!
+    For we can't be the losers if we save the cost o' cruisers,
+    And contentedly continue--On the Cheap!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    The British Isles are not the Conti-nong, deah boys!
+    (_Scornfully._) Where the Johnnies on defences spend a heap.
+    No! we're Britons, and we're game to jog along, deah boys!
+    (_With pathos._) In the old time-honoured fashion--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_Imploringly._) Ah! keep, deah boys! On the Cheap;
+    For the price we're asked to pay is pretty steep.
+    Let us all unite to dock it, keep the money in our pocket,
+    And we'll conquer or we'll perish--On the Cheap!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    If the Tories have the cheek to touch our purse, deah boys!
+    Their reward at the elections let 'em reap!
+    They will find a big Conservative reverse, deah boys!
+    If they can't defend the country--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    They must keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    Or the lot out of office we will sweep!
+    Bull gets rusty when you tax him, and his patriotic maxim
+    Is, "I'll trouble you to govern--On the Cheap!"
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_this to be sung shrewdly_).
+
+    If the Gover'ment ain't mugs they'll take the tip, deah boys!
+    Just to look a bit ahead before they leap,
+    And instead of laying down an extry ship, deah boys!
+    They'll cut down the whole caboodle--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus_ (_with spirit and fervour_).
+
+    And keep, deah boys! On the Cheap!
+    For we ain't like a bloomin' lot o' sheep.
+    When we want to "parry bellum,"[A]
+                     [_Union Jack to be waved here._
+    You may bet yer boots we'll tell 'em!
+    But we'll have the "bellum" "parried"--On the Cheap!
+
+This song, if sung with any spirit, should, _Mr. Punch_ thinks, cause a
+positive _furore_ in any truly patriotic gathering, and possibly go some
+way towards influencing the decision of the country, and consequently
+the fate of the Empire, in the next General Elections. In the meantime
+it is at the service of any Champion Music Hall Comique who is capable
+of appreciating it.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[A] Music-hall Latinity--"_Para bellum_."
+
+
+
+
+II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL.
+
+[Illustration: "--And the Post!"]
+
+
+In most respects, no doubt, the present example can boast no superiority
+to ditties in the same style now commanding the ear of the public. One
+merit, however, its author does claim for it. Though it deals with most
+of the burning questions of the hour, it can be sung anywhere with
+absolute security. This is due to a simple but ingenious method by which
+the political sentiment has been arranged on the reversible principle. A
+little alteration here and there will put the singer in close touch with
+an audience of almost any shade of politics. Should it happen that the
+title has been already anticipated, _Mr. Punch_ begs to explain that the
+remainder of this sparkling composition is entirely original; any
+similarity with previous works must be put down entirely to "literary
+coincidence." Whether the title is new or not, it is a very nice one,
+viz:--
+
+
+BETWEEN YOU AND ME--AND THE POST.
+
+(_To be sung in a raucous voice, and with a confidential air._)
+
+    I've dropped in to whisper some secrets I've heard.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Picked up on the wing by a 'cute little bird.
+    We are gentlemen 'ere--so the caution's absurd,
+    Still, you'll please to remember that every word
+              Is between you and me and the Post!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should dance_).
+
+      Between you and me and the Post! An 'int is sufficient at most.
+      I'd very much rather this didn't go farther,
+               than 'tween you and me and the Post!
+
+    At Lord Sorlsbury's table there's sech a to-do.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    When he first ketches sight of his dinner _menoo_,
+    And sees he's set down to good old Irish stoo--
+    Which he's sick of by this time--now, tell me, ain't _you_?
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     _(This happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Question is sure
+     to provoke loud laughter from an audience of Radical
+     sympathies. For Unionists, the words_ "Lord Sorlsbury's" _can be
+     altered by our patent reversible method into "the_ G. O. M.'s,"
+     _without at all impairing the satire.) Chorus, as before._
+
+    The G. O. M.'s hiding a card up his sleeve.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Any ground he has lost he is going to retrieve,
+    And what _his_ little game is, he'll let us perceive,
+    And he'll pip the whole lot of 'em, so I believe,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The hit will be made quite as palpably for the other side by
+     substituting_ "Lord Sorlsbury's," _&c., at the beginning of the
+     first line, should the majority of the audience be found to
+     hold Conservative views._)
+
+    Little Randolph won't long be left out in the cold.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If they'll let him inside the Conservative fold,
+    He has promised no longer he'll swagger and scold,
+    But to be a good boy, and to do as he's told,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The mere mention of_ Lord Randolph's _name is sufficient to
+     ensure the success of any song._)
+
+    Joey Chamberlain's orchid's a bit overblown,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     (_This is rather subtle, perhaps, but an M.-H. audience will
+     see a joke in it somewhere, and laugh._)
+
+    'Ow to square a round table I'm sure he has shown.
+
+     (_Same observation applies here._)
+
+    But of late he's been leaving his old friends alone,
+    And I fancy he's grinding an axe of his own,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_We now pass on to Topics of the Day, which we treat in a
+     light but trenchant fashion._)
+
+    On the noo County Councils they've too many nobs,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    For the swells stick together, and sneer at the mobs;
+    And it's always the rich man the poor one who robs.
+    We shall 'ave the old business--all jabber and jobs!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (N.B.--_This verse should not be read to the L. C. C. who might
+     miss the fun of it._)
+
+    There's a new rule for ladies presented at Court,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    High necks are allowed, so no colds will be cort,
+    But I went to the droring-room lately, and thort
+    Some old wimmen had dressed quite as low as they _ort_!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    By fussy alarmists we're too much annoyed,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If we don't want our neighbours to think we're afroid,
+                                               [_M.-H. rhyme._
+    Spending dibs on defence we had better avoid.
+    And give 'em instead to the poor unemployed.
+                                    [_M.-H. political economy._
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    This style of perlitical singing ain't hard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    As a "Mammoth Comique" on the bills I am starred,
+    And, so long as I'm called, and angcored, and hurrar'd,
+    I can rattle off rubbish like this by the yard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     [_Chorus, and dance off to sing the same song_--_with or
+     without alterations_--_in another place._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.]
+
+III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.
+
+
+The following example, although it gives a not wholly inadequate
+expression to what are understood to be the loftier aspirations of the
+most advanced and earnest section of the New Democracy, should not be
+attempted, as _yet_, before a West-End audience. In South or East
+London, the sentiment and philosophy of the song may possibly excite
+rapturous enthusiasm; in the West-End, though the tone is daily
+improving, they are not educated quite up to so exalted a level at
+present. Still, as an experiment in proselytism, it might be worth
+risking, even there. The title it bears is:--
+
+
+GIVEN AWAY--WITH A POUND OF TEA!
+
+VERSE I.--(_Introductory._)
+
+    Some Grocers have taken to keeping a stock
+    Of ornaments--such as a vase, or a clock--
+    With a ticket on each where the words you may see:
+    "To be given away--with a Pound of Tea!"
+
+_Chorus_ (_in waltz time_).
+
+                "Given away!"
+                That's what they say.
+    Gratis--a present it's offered you free.
+                Given away.
+                With nothing to pay,
+    "Given away--[_tenderly_]--with a Pound of Tea!"
+
+VERSE II.--(_Containing the moral reflection._)
+
+    Now, the sight of those tickets gave me an idear.
+    What it set me a-thinking you're going to 'ear:
+    I thought there were things that would possibly be
+    Better given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away." So much as to say, &c.
+
+VERSE III.--(_This, as being rather personal than general in its
+application, may need some apology. It is really put in as a graceful
+concession to the taste of an average Music-hall audience, who like to
+be assured that the Artists who amuse them are as unfortunate as they
+are erratic in their domestic relations._)
+
+    Now, there's my old Missus who sits up at 'ome--
+    And when I sneak _up_-stairs my 'air she will comb,--
+    I don't think I'd call it bad business if _she_
+    Could be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away!" That's what they say, &c.
+                                            [_Mutatis mutandis._
+
+VERSE IV.--(_Flying at higher game. The social satire here is perhaps
+almost too good-natured, seeing what intolerable pests all Peers are to
+the truly Democratic mind. But we must walk before we can run.
+Good-humoured contempt will do very well, for the present._)
+
+    Fair Americans snap up the pick of our Lords.
+    It's a practice a sensible Briton applords.
+        [_This will check any groaning at the mention of Aristocrats._
+    Far from grudging our Dooks to the pretty Yan-kee,--
+    (_Magnanimously_) Why, we'd give 'em away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give 'em away! So we all say, &c.
+
+VERSE V.--(_More frankly Democratic still._)
+
+    To-wards a Republic we're getting on fast;
+    Many old Institootions are things of the past.
+    (_Philosophically_) Soon the Crown 'll go, too, as an a-noma-lee,
+    And be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away!" Some future day, &c.
+
+VERSE VI.--(_Which expresses the peaceful proclivities of the populace
+with equal eloquence and wisdom. A welcome contrast to the era when
+Britons had a bellicose and immoral belief in the possibility of being
+called upon to defend themselves at some time!_)
+
+    We've made up our minds--though the Jingoes may jor--
+    Under no provocation to drift into war!
+    So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee
+    Is--Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give 'em away, &c.
+
+VERSE VII.--(_We cannot well avoid some reference to the Irish Question
+in a Music-hall ditty, but observe the logical and statesmanlike method
+of treating it here. The argument--if crudely stated--is borrowed from
+some advanced by our foremost politicians._)
+
+    We've also discovered at last that it's crule
+    To deny the poor Irish their right to 'Ome Rule!
+    So to give 'em a Parlyment let us agree--
+    (_Rationally_) Or they may blow us up with a Pound of their "Tea"!
+
+        [_A euphemism which may possibly be remembered and understood._
+
+        _Chorus_--Give it away, &c.
+
+VERSE VIII. (_culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the Coming
+Dawn_).
+
+    Iniquitous burdens and rates we'll relax:
+    For each "h" that's pronounced we will clap on a tax!
+                                          [_A very popular measure._
+    And a house in Belgraveyer, with furniture free,
+    Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea!
+
+  _Chorus, and dance off._--Given away! Ippipooray!
+      Gratis we'll get it for nothing and free!
+      Given away! Not a penny to pay!
+      Given away!--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+
+If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the imagination
+of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepresented
+by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters--a supposition _Mr.
+Punch_ must decline to entertain for a single moment.
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE IDYLLIC.
+
+
+The following ballad will not be found above the heads of an average
+audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any
+lady _artiste_.
+
+
+SO SHY!
+
+     _The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline
+     to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given the
+     signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will step
+     upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires, which
+     seems to come from a consciousness of being a favourite of the
+     public._
+
+    I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle,
+         [_Self-praise is a great recommendation--in Music-hall songs_.
+      So retiring and so timid and so coy.
+    If you ask me why so long I have lived single,
+      I will tell you--'tis because I am so shoy.
+
+     [_Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet
+     Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, I am--really, though you wouldn't think it to look at me,
+would you? But, for all that,--
+
+  _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle,
+            Going off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I blush;
+            Then turn paler than a lily,
+            For I'm such a little silly,
+          That I'm always in a flutter or a flush!
+
+     [_After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of
+     shrinking maidenly modesty._
+
+    I've a cottage far away from other houses,
+      Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh;
+    When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses,
+      For I _cannot_ cure myself of being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--A great girl like me, too! But there, it's no use trying,
+for--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson,
+      Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy,
+    For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson,
+      And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When he speaks to me, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Then said Chorley: "My pursuit there's no evyding.
+      Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy.
+    Do you love me? Tell me truly, little myding!"
+      But how _is_ a girl to answer when she's shoy?
+
+_Spoken_--For even if the conversation happens to be about nothing
+particular, it's just the same to me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+[Illustration: THE IDYLLIC.]
+
+    There we stood among the loilac and syringas,
+      More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy;
+                                      [_Arcadian for "buy."_
+    And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers,
+      And I couldn't tell him not to, being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--For, as I told you before,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing,
+      While I only heaved a gentle little soy;
+    Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in,
+      It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy!
+
+_Spoken_--People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As
+for me,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When they talk of love, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    So very soon to Church we shall be gowing,
+      While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy.
+    If obedience you do not hear me vowing,
+      It will only be because I am so shy.
+
+     [_We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, it will
+     be observed._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, and when I'm passing down the oil, on Chorley's arm, with
+everybody looking at me,--
+
+  _Chorus_--I am certain I shall wriggle,
+            And go off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I'll blush.
+            Going through the marriage service
+            Will be sure to mike me nervous,
+                        [_Note the freedom of the rhyme._
+          And to put me in a flutter and a flush!
+
+
+
+
+V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC.
+
+
+The history of a singer's latest love--whether fortunate or
+otherwise--will always command the interest and attention of a
+Music-hall audience. Our example, which is founded upon the very best
+precedents, derives an additional piquancy from the social position of
+the beloved object. Cultivated readers are requested not to shudder at
+the rhymes. _Mr. Punch's_ Poet does them deliberately and in cold blood,
+being convinced that without these somewhat daring concords, no ditty
+would have the slightest chance of satisfying the great ear of the
+Music-hall public.
+
+The title of the song is:--
+
+
+MASHED BY A MARCHIONESS.
+
+     _The singer should come on correctly and tastefully attired in
+     a suit of loud dittoes, a startling tie, and a white hat_--_the
+     orthodox costume (on the Music-hall stage) of a middle-class
+     swain suffering from love-sickness. The air should be of the
+     conventional jog-trot and jingle order, chastened by a
+     sentimental melancholy._
+
+    I've lately gone and lost my 'art--and where you'll never guess--
+    I'm regularly mashed upon a lovely Marchioness!
+    'Twas at a Fancy Fair we met, inside the Albert 'All;
+    So affable she smiled at me as I came near her stall!
+
+  _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour!
+              She'd an Uncle an Earl, and a Dook for her Pa--
+              Still there was no starchiness in that fair Marchioness,
+              As she stood at her stall in the Fancy Bazaar!
+
+    At titles and distinctions once I'd ignorantly scoff,
+    As if no bond could be betwixt the tradesman and the toff!
+    I held with those who'd do away with difference in ranks--
+    But that was all before I met the Marchioness of Manx!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A home was being started by some kind aristo-cràts,
+    For orphan kittens, born of poor, but well-connected cats;
+    And of the swells who planned a _Fête_ this object to assist,
+    The Marchioness of Manx's name stood foremost on the list.
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    I never saw a smarter hand at serving in a shop,
+    For every likely customer she caught upon the 'op!
+    And from the form her ladyship displayed at that Bazaar,
+    (_With enthusiasm_)--You might have took your oath she'd
+        been brought up behind a bar!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    In vain I tried to kid her that my purse had been forgot,
+    She spotted me in 'alf a jiff, and chaffed me precious hot!
+    A sov. for one regaliar she gammoned me to spend.
+    "You really can't refuse," she said, "I've bitten off the end!"
+
+[Illustration: THE AMATORY EPISODIC.]
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    "Do buy my crewel-work," she urged, "it goes across a chair,
+    You'll find it come in useful, as I see you 'ile your 'air!"
+    So I 'anded over thirty bob, though not a coiny bloke.
+    I couldn't tell a Marchioness how nearly I was broke!
+
+_Spoken_--Though I _did_ take the liberty of saying: "Make it fifteen
+bob, my lady!" But she said, with such a fascinating look--I can see it
+yet!--"Oh, I'm sure _you_'re not a 'aggling kind of a man," she says,
+"you haven't the face for it. And think of all them pore fatherless
+kittings," she says; "think what thirty bob means to _them_!" says she,
+glancing up so pitiful and tender under her long eyelashes at me. Ah,
+the Radicals may talk as they _like_, but----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A raffle was the next concern I put my rhino in:
+    The prize a talking parrot, which I didn't want to win.
+    Then her sister, Lady Tabby, shewed a painted milking stool,
+    And I bought it--though it's not a thing I sit on as a rule.
+
+_Spoken_--Not but what it was a handsome article in its way, too,--had a
+snow-scene with a sunset done in oil on it. "It will look lovely in your
+chambers," says the Marchioness; "it was ever so much admired at
+Catterwall Castle!" It didn't look so bad in my three-pair back, I must
+say, though unfortunately the sunset came off on me the very first time
+I happened to set down on it. Still think of the condescension of
+painting such a thing at all!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    The Marquis kept a-fidgeting and frowning at his wife,
+    For she talked to me as free as if she'd known me all my life!
+    I felt that I was in the swim, so wasn't over-awed,
+    But 'ung about and spent my cash as lavish as a lord!
+
+_Spoken_--It was worth all the money, I can tell you, to be chatting
+there across the counter with a real live Marchioness for as long as
+ever my funds would 'old out. They'd have held out much longer, only the
+Marchioness made it a rule never to give change--she couldn't break it,
+she said, not even for _me_. I wish I could give you an idea of how she
+smiled as she made that remark; for the fact is, when an aristocrat
+_does_ unbend--well,----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    Next time I meet the Marchioness a-riding in the Row,
+    I'll ketch her eye and raise my 'at, and up to her I'll go,
+    (_With sentiment_)--And tell her next my 'art I keep the stump
+        of that cigar
+    She sold me on the 'appy day we 'ad at her Bazaar!
+
+_Spoken_--And she'll be pleased to see me again, _I_ know! She's not one
+of your stuck-up sort; don't you make no mistake about it, the
+aristocracy ain't 'alf as bloated as people imagine who don't _know_
+'em. Whenever I hear parties running 'em down, I always say:
+
+         _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour, &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE CHIVALROUS.]
+
+VI.--THE CHIVALROUS.
+
+
+     _The singer (who should be a large man, in evening dress, with
+     a crumpled shirt-front) will come on the stage with a bearing
+     intended to convey at first sight that he is a devoted admirer
+     of the fair sex. After removing his crush-hat in an easy
+     manner, and winking airily at the orchestra, he will begin_:--
+
+
+WHY SHOULDN'T THE DARLINGS?
+
+    There's enthusiasm brimming in the breasts of all the women,
+      And they're calling for enfranchisement with clamour eloquent:
+    When some parties in a huff rage at the plea for Female Suffrage,
+      I invariably floor them with a simple argu-ment.
+
+_Chorus_ (_to be rendered with a winning persuasiveness_).
+
+        Why _shouldn't_ the darlings have votes? de-ar things!
+        On politics each of 'em dotes, de-ar things!
+        (_Pathetically._) Oh it _does_ seem so hard
+              They should all be debarred,
+        'Cause they happen to wear petticoats, de-ar things!
+
+    Nature all the hens to crow meant, I could prove it in a moment,
+      Though they've selfishly been silenced by the cockadoodle-doos.
+    But no man of sense afraid is of enfranchising the Ladies.
+      (_Magnanimously._) Let 'em put their pretty fingers into any
+           pie they choose!
+      _Spoken_--For----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They would cease to care for dresses, if we made them elec-tresses,
+      No more time they'd spend on needlework, nor at pianos strum;
+    Every dainty little Dorcas would be sitting on a Caucus,
+      Busy wire-pulling to produce the New Millenni-um!
+      _Spoken_--Oh!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    In the House we'll see them sitting soon, it will be only fitting
+      They should have an opportunity their country's laws to frame.
+    And the Ladies' legislation will be sure to cause sensation,
+      For they'll do away with everything that seems to them a shame!
+      _Spoken_--Then----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They will promptly clap a stopper on whate'er they deem improper,
+      Put an end to vaccination, landed property, and pubs;
+    And they'll fine Tom, Dick, and Harry, if they don't look
+           sharp and marry,
+      And for Kindergartens confiscate those nasty horrid Clubs!
+      _Spoken_--Ah!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They'll declare it's quite immoral to engage in foreign quarrel,
+      And that Britons never never will be warriors any more!
+    When our forces are abolished, and defences all demolished,
+      They will turn upon the Jingo tack, and want to go to war!
+      _Spoken_--So----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    (_With a grieved air._) Yet there's some who'd close such
+                 vistars to their poor down-trodden sistars,
+      And persuade 'em, if they're offered votes, politely to refuse!
+    Say they do not care about 'em, and would rather be without 'em--
+      Oh, I haven't common patience with such narrer-minded views!
+      _Spoken_--No!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    And it's females--that's the puzzle!--who petition for the muzzle,
+      Which I call it poor and paltry, and I think you'll say so too.
+    They are not in any danger. Let 'em drop the dog-in-manger!
+      If they don't require the vote themselves, there's other Ladies do!
+      _Spoken_--And----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+     [_Here the singer will gradually retreat backwards to the rear
+     of the stage, open his crush-hat, and extend it in an attitude
+     of triumph as the curtain descends._
+
+
+
+
+VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE.
+
+
+Any ditty which accurately reflects the habits and amusements of the
+people is a valuable human document--a fact that probably accounts for
+the welcome which songs in the following style invariably receive from
+Music-hall audiences generally. If--_Mr. Punch_ presumes--they conceived
+such pictures of their manner of spending a holiday to be unjustly or
+incorrectly drawn in any way, they would protest strongly against being
+so grossly misrepresented. As they do nothing of the sort, no apology
+can be needed for the following effusion, which several ladies now
+adorning the Music-hall stage could be trusted to render with immense
+effect. The singer should be young and charming, and attired as simply
+as possible. Simplicity of attire imparts additional piquancy to the
+words:--
+
+
+THE POOR OLD 'ORSE.
+
+    We 'ad a little outing larst Sunday arternoon;
+    And sech a jolly lark it was, I shan't forget it soon!
+    We borrered an excursion van to take us down to Kew,
+    And--oh, we did enjoy ourselves! I don't mind telling _you._
+
+     [_This to the Chef d'Orchestre, who will assume a polite
+     interest._
+
+     [_Here a little spoken interlude is customary._ Mr. P. _does not
+     venture to do more than indicate this by a synopsis, the
+     details can be filled in according to the taste and fancy of_
+     _the fair artiste:--"Yes, we did 'ave a time, I can assure
+     yer." The party: "Me and_ Jimmy 'Opkins;" _old_ "Pa Plapper."
+     _Asked because he lent the van. The meanness of his subsequent
+     conduct._ "Aunt Snapper;" _her imposing appearance in her
+     "cawfy-coloured front."_ Bill Blazer; _his "girl," and his
+     accordion._ Mrs. Addick _(of the fried-fish emporium round the
+     corner); her gentility--"Never seen out of her mittens, and
+     always the lady, no matter how much she may have taken." From
+     this work round by an easy transition to--_
+
+  _The Chorus_--For we _'ad_ to stop o' course,
+                Jest to bait the bloomin' 'orse,
+                So we'd pots of ale and porter
+                (Or a drop o' something shorter),
+                While he drunk his pail o' water,
+                He was sech a whale on water!
+                That more water than he oughter,
+                More water than he oughter,
+                            'Ad the poor old 'orse!
+
+_Second Stanza._
+
+    That 'orse he was a rum 'un--a queer old quadru-pèd,
+    At every public-'ouse he passed he'd cock his artful 'ed!
+    Sez I: "If he goes on like this, we shan't see Kew to-night!"
+    Jim 'Opkins winks his eye, and sez--"We'll git along all right!"
+
+        _Chorus_--Though we 'ave to stop of course,--&c., &c.
+                            [_With slight textual modifications._
+
+_Third Stanza._
+
+    At Kinsington we 'alted, 'Ammersmith, and Turnham Green,
+    The 'orse 'ad sech a thust on him, its like was never seen!
+    With every 'arf a mile or so, that animal got blown:
+    And we was far too well brought-up to let 'im drink alone!
+
+        _Chorus_--As we 'ad to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Fourth Stanza._
+
+    We stopped again at Chiswick, till at last we got to Kew,
+    But when we reached the Gardings--well, there was a fine to-do!
+    The Keeper, in his gold-laced tile, was shutting-to the gate,
+    Sez he: "There's no admittance now--you're just arrived too late!"
+
+     [_Synopsis of spoken Interlude: Spirited passage-at-arms
+     between_ Mr. Wm. Blazer _and the_ Keeper; _singular action of_ Pa
+     Plapper; _"I want to see yer Pagoder--bring out yer old Pagoder
+     as you're so proud on!"_ Mrs. Addick's _disappointment at not
+     being able to see the "Intemperate Plants," and the "Pitcher
+     Shrub," once more. Her subsidence in tears, on the floor of the
+     van._ Keeper _concludes the dialogue by inquiring why the party
+     did not arrive sooner. An' we sez_, "Well, it was like this,
+     ole cock robin--d'yer see?"
+
+        _Chorus_--We've 'ad to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Fifth Stanza._
+
+    "Don't fret," I sez, "about it, for they ain't got much to see
+    Inside their precious Gardings--so let's go and 'ave some tea!
+    A cup I seem to fancy now--I feel that faint and limp--
+    With a slice of bread-and-butter, and some creases, and a s'rimp!"
+
+     [_Description of the tea_:--"_And the s'rimps--well, I don't_
+     _want to say anything against the s'rimps--but it did strike me
+     they were feelin' the 'eat a little--s'rimps are liable to it,
+     and you can't prevent 'em." After tea. The only tune_ Mr. Blazer
+     _could play on his accordion. Tragic end of that instrument. How
+     the party had a "little more lush." Scandalous behaviour of_
+     "Bill Blazer's _girl." The company consume what will be
+     elegantly referred to as "a bit o' booze."_ Aunt Snapper _"gets
+     the 'ump." The outrage to her front. The proposal to
+     start--whereupon,_ "Mrs. Addick, _who was a'-settin' on the
+     geraniums in the winder, smilin' at her boots, which she'd just
+     took off because she said they stopped her breathing,"
+     protested that there was no hurry, considering that_--
+
+        _Chorus, as before_--We've got to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Sixth Stanza._
+
+    But when the van was ordered, we found--what _do_ yer think?
+
+     [_To the_ Chef d'Orchestre, _who will affect complete ignorance._
+
+    That miserable 'orse 'ad been an' took too much to drink!
+    He kep' a reeling round us, like a circus worked by steam,
+    And, 'stead o' keeping singular, he'd turned into a team!
+
+     [_Disgust of the party:_ Pa Plapper _proposes to go back to the
+     inn for more refreshment, urging--_
+
+  _Chorus_--We must wait awhile o' course,
+            Till they've sobered down the 'orse.
+            Just another pot o' porter
+            Or a drop o' something shorter,
+            While our good landlady's daughter
+            Takes him out some soda-warter.
+            For he's 'ad more than he oughter,
+            He's 'ad more than he oughter,
+                          'As the poor old 'orse!
+
+_Seventh Stanza._
+
+    So, when they brought the 'orse round, we started on our way:
+    'Twas 'orful 'ow the animal from side to side would sway!
+    Young 'Opkins took the reins, but soon in slumber he was sunk--
+    (_Indignantly._) When a interfering Copper ran us in for being drunk!
+
+     [_Attitude of various members of the party. Unwarrantable
+     proceeding on the part of the_ Constable. _Remonstrance by_ Pa
+     Plapper _and the company generally in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, can't yer shee? o' coursh
+            Tishn't us--it ish the 'orsh!
+            He's a whale at swilling water,
+            We've 'ad only ale and porter,
+            Or a drop o' something shorter.
+            You le'mme go, you shnorter!
+            Don' you tush me till you oughter!
+            Jus' look 'ere--to cut it shorter--
+                          Take the poor old 'orsh!
+
+     [_General adjournment to the Police-station. Interview with the_
+     Magistrate _on the following morning._ Mr. Hopkins _called upon to
+     state his defence, replies in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, your wushup sees, o' course,
+            It was all the bloomin' 'orse!
+            He _would_ 'ave a pail o' water
+            Every 'arf a mile (or quarter),
+            Which is what he didn't oughter!
+            He shall stick to ale or porter,
+            With a drop o' something shorter,
+            I'm my family's supporter--
+                          Fine the poor old 'orse!
+
+     [_The_ Magistrate's _view of the case. Concluding remark that,
+     notwithstanding the success of the excursion, as a whole--it
+     will be some time before the singer consents to go upon any
+     excursion with a horse of such bibulous tendencies as those of
+     the quadruped they drove to Kew._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DRAMATIC SCENA.]
+
+VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA.
+
+
+This is always a popular form of entertainment, demanding, as it does,
+even more dramatic than vocal ability on the part of the artist. A song
+of this kind is nothing if not severely moral, an frequently depicts the
+downward career of an incipient drunkard with all the lurid logic of a
+Temperance Tract. _Mr. Punch_, however, is inclined to think that the
+lesson would be even more appreciated and taken to heart by the
+audience, if a slightly different line were adopted such as he has
+endeavoured to indicate in the following example:--
+
+
+THE DANGER OF MIXED DRINKS.
+
+     _The singer should have a great command of facial expression,
+     which he will find greatly facilitated by employing (as indeed
+     is the usual custom) coloured limelight at the wings._
+
+_First Verse (to be sung under pure white light)._
+
+    He (_these awful examples are usually, and quite properly,
+       anonymous_) was once as nice a fellow as you could desire
+       to meet,
+    Partial to a pint of porter, always took his spirits neat;
+    Long ago a careful mother's cautions trained her son to shrink
+    From the meretricious sparkle of an aërated drink.
+
+
+_Refrain (showing the virtuous youth resisting temptation. N.B. The
+refrain is intended to be spoken through music._ NOT _sung_.)
+
+        Here's a pub that's handy.
+          Liquor up with you?
+        Thimbleful of brandy?
+          Don't mind if I do.
+        Soda-water? No, Sir.
+          Never touch the stuff.
+        Promised mother--so, Sir.
+                         (_With an upward glance._)
+          'Tisn't good enough!
+
+_Second Verse._ (_Primrose light for this._)
+
+    Ah, how little we suspected, as we saw him in his bloom,
+    What a demon dogged his footsteps, luring to an awful doom!
+    Vain his mother's fond monitions; soon a friend, with fiendish laugh,
+    Tempts him to a quiet tea-garden, plies him there with shandy-gaff!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrating the first false step_).
+
+        Why, it's just the mixture
+          I so long have sought!
+        Here I'll be a fixture
+          Till I've drunk the quart!
+        Just the stuff to suit yer.
+          Waiter, do you hear?
+        Make it, for the future,
+          _Three_ parts ginger-beer!
+
+_Third Verse_ (_requiring violet-tinted slide_).
+
+    By-and-by, the ale discarding, ginger-beer he craves alone.
+    Undiluted he procures it, buys it bottled up in stone.
+
+(_The earthenware bottles are said by connoisseurs to contain liquor of
+superior strength and quality._)
+
+    From his lips the foam he brushes--crimson overspreads his brow.
+    To his brain the ginger's mounting! Could his mother see him now!
+
+_Refrain_ (_depicting the horrors of a solitary debauch poisoned by
+remorse_).
+
+        Shall I have another?
+          Only ginger-pop!
+        (_Wildly._) Ah! I promised mother
+          Not to touch a drop!
+        Far too much I'm tempted.
+          (_Recklessly._) Let me drink my fill!
+        That's the fifth I've emptied--
+          Oh, I feel so ill!
+
+        [_Here the singer will stagger about the boards._
+
+_Fourth Verse._ (_Turn on lurid crimson ray for this._)
+
+    Next with drinks they style "teetotal" he his manhood must degrade;
+    Swilling effervescent syrups--"ice-cream-soda," "raspberry-ade,"
+    Koumiss tempts his jaded palate--payment he's obliged to bilk--
+    Then, reduced to destitution, finds forgetfulness in--milk!
+
+_Refrain_ (_indicating rapid moral deterioration_).
+
+        What's that on the railings?
+                        [_Point dramatically at imaginary area._
+          Milk--and in a can!
+        Though I have my failings,
+          I'm an honest man.
+                            [_Spark of expiring rectitude here._
+        I can _not_ resist it.      [_Pantomime of opening can._
+          That celestial blue!
+        Has the milkman missed it?          [_Melodramatically._
+          _I_'ll be missing too!
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_in pale blue light_).
+
+    Milk begets a taste for water, so comparatively cheap,
+    Every casual pump supplies him, gratis, with potations deep;
+    He at every drinking-fountain pounces on the pewter cup,
+    Conscious of becoming bloated, powerless to give it up!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrative of utter loss of self-respect_).
+
+        "Find one straight before me?"
+          Bobby, you're a trump!
+        Faintness stealing o'er me--
+          Ha--at last--a pump!
+        If that little maid 'll
+          Just make room for one,
+        I could grab the ladle
+          After she has done.
+
+     _The last verse is the culminating point of this moral
+     drama:--The miserable wretch has reached the last stage. He
+     shuts himself up in his cheerless abode, and there, in shameful
+     secrecy, consumes the element for which he is powerless to
+     pay--the inevitable Nemesis following._
+
+_Sixth Verse_ (_All lights down in front. Ghastly green light at
+wings_).
+
+    Up his sordid stairs in secret to the cistern now he steals,
+    Where, amidst organic matter, gambol microscopic eels;
+    Tremblingly he turns the tap on--not a trickle greets the trough!
+    For the stony-hearted turncock's gone and cut his water off!
+
+_Refrain_ (_in which the profligate is supposed to demand an explanation
+from the turncock, with a terrible dénoûment_).
+
+        "Rate a quarter owing,
+          Comp'ny stopped supply."
+        "Set the stream a-flowing,
+          Demon--or you die!"
+        "Mercy!--ah! you've choked me!"
+                       [_In hoarse, strangled voice as the turncock._
+        "_Will_ you turn the plug?"          [_Savagely as the hero._
+          "No!"                              [_Faintly, as turncock._
+
+     [_Business of flinging a corpse on stage, and regarding it
+     terror-stricken. A long pause; then, in a whisper,_--
+
+                                "The fool provoked me!
+    (_With a maniac laugh._) Horror! I'm a Thug!"
+
+     [_Here the artist will die, mad, in frightful agony, and rise
+     to bow his acknowledgments._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DUETTISTS.]
+
+IX.--THE DUETTISTS.
+
+
+The "Duet and Dance" form so important a feature in Music-hall
+entertainments, that they could hardly, with any propriety, be neglected
+in a model compilation such as _Mr. Punch's_, and it is possible that he
+may offer more than one example of this blameless diversion. For some
+reason or other, the habit of singing in pairs would seem to induce a
+pessimistic tone of mind in most Music-hall _artistes_, and--why, _Mr.
+Punch_ does not pretend to say--this cynicism is always more marked when
+the performers are of the softer sex. Our present study is intended to
+fulfil the requirements of the most confirmed female sceptic, and,
+though the Message of the Music Halls may have been given worthier and
+fuller expression by pens more practised in such compositions, _Mr.
+Punch_ is still modestly confident that this ditty, with all its
+shortcomings, can be sung in any Music Hall in the Metropolis without
+exciting any sentiment other than entire approval of the teaching it
+conveys. One drawback, indeed, it has, but that concerns the performers
+alone. For the sake of affording contrast and relief, it was thought
+expedient that one of the fair duettists should profess an optimism
+which may--perhaps must--tend to impair her popularity. A conscientious
+_artiste_ may legitimately object, for the sake of her professional
+reputation, to present herself in so humiliating a character as that of
+an _ingénue_, and a female "Juggins"; and it does seem as if the
+Cynical Sister must inevitably monopolise the sympathies of an
+enlightened audience. However, this difficulty is less formidable than
+it appears; it should be easy for the Unsophisticated Sister to convey a
+subtle suggestion here and there, possibly in the incidental dance
+between the verses, that she is not really inferior to her partner in
+smartness and knowledge of the world. But perhaps it would be the
+fairest arrangement if the Sisters could agree to alternate so
+ungrateful a _rôle._
+
+
+RHINO!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+  _First Sister_ (_placing three of the fingers of her left hand
+on her heart, and extending her right arm in timid appeal_).
+
+    Dear sister, of late I'm beginning to doubt
+      If the world is as black as they paint it.
+    It mayn't be as bad as some try to make out----
+
+  _Second Sister_ (_with an elaborate mock curtsy._)
+    That _is_ a discovery! _Mayn't_ it?
+
+  _First S._ (_abashed_).
+    I'm sure there are sev'ral who aren't a bad lot,
+    And some sort of principle seem to have got,
+    For they act on the square----
+
+  _Second S._                    Don't you talk tommy-rot!
+    It's done for advertisement, _ain't_ it?
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Why, there's nobody at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _First S._    Are you sure of it?
+
+  _Second S._                    I'm telling you, and _I_ know,
+              The principle they act upon's whatever pays 'em best.
+                And the only real religion now is--Rhino!
+
+     [_The last word must be rendered with full metallic effect. A
+     step-dance, expressive of conviction on one part and incipient
+     wavering on the other, should be performed between the verses._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _First S._ (_returning, shaken, to the charge_).
+             Some _un_married men lead respectable lives.
+
+  _Second S._ (_decisively_). Well, I've never happened to meet them!
+
+  _First S._ There are husbands who're always polite to their wives.
+
+  _Second S._ Of course--if their better halves beat them!
+
+  _First S._ Some tradesmen have consciences, so I've heard said;
+             Their provisions are never adulteratèd,
+             But they treat all their customers fairly instead.
+
+  _Second S._ 'Cause they don't find it answer to cheat them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._  {What?
+              {
+  _Second S._ {No,--They're none of 'em at bottom any better
+          than the rest.
+
+  _Second S._         I'm speaking from experience, and _I_ know.
+             If you could put a window-pane in everybody's breast
+                   You'd see on all the hearts was written--"Rhino!"
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _First S._ There are girls you can't tempt with a title or gold.
+
+  _Second S._ There may be--but I've never seen one.
+
+  _First S._ Some much prefer love in a cottage, I'm told.
+
+  _Second S._ (_putting her arms a-kimbo_).
+              If you swallow _that_, you're a green one!
+              They'll stick to their lover so long as he's cash,
+              When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier mash.
+              A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash--
+                When it comes to the point, she's a keen one!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._ Then, are none of us at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _Second S._ (_cheerfully_). Not a bit; I am a girl myself and _I_ know.
+
+  _First S._ You'd surely never give your hand to someone you detest?
+
+  _Second S._ Why _rather_--if he's rolling in the Rhino!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor.
+
+  _Second S._ It's chiefly with tracts they present them.
+
+  _First S._ Still, some self-denial I'm sure they endure?
+
+  _Second S._ It's their hobby, and seems to content them.
+
+  _First S._ But don't they go into those horrible slums?
+
+  _Second S._ Sometimes--with a flourish of trumpets and drums.
+
+  _First S._ I've heard they've collected magnificent sums.
+
+  _Second S._ And nobody knows how they've spent them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Oh, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
+                They are only bigger hypocrites, as _I_ know;
+              They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest,
+                When so many fools are ready with the Rhino!
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone.
+
+  _Second S._ (_compassionately_). Whoever's been gammoning _you_ so?
+
+  _First S._ They wouldn't seek office for ends of their own?
+
+  _Second S._ What else would induce 'em to do so?
+
+  _First S._ But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifice.
+
+  _Second S._ I'd do it myself at a quarter the price.
+              There's pickings for all, and they needn't ask twice,
+                For they're able to put on the screw so!
+
+_Refrain_ (_together_).
+
+    No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
+      They may kid to their constituents--but _I_ know;
+    Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may suggest,
+      They regulate their actions by the Rhino!
+
+     [_Here the pair will perform a final step-dance, indicative of
+     enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly
+     sympathy, amidst enthusiastic applause._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: DISINTERESTED PASSION.]
+
+X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION.
+
+
+When a Music-hall singer does not treat of the tender passion in a
+rakish and knowing spirit, he is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly
+ideal in its noble indifference to all social distinctions. So amiable a
+tendency deserves encouragement, and _Mr. Punch_ has much pleasure in
+offering the following little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique
+who may happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be sung by
+a scion of the nobility, and the _artiste_ will accordingly present
+himself in a brown "billy-cock" hat, a long grey frock-coat,
+fawn-coloured trousers, white "spats," and primrose, or green,
+gloves--the recognised attire of a Music-hall aristocrat. A
+powerful,--though not necessarily tuneful,--voice is desirable for the
+adequate rendering of this ditty; any words it is inconvenient to sing,
+can always be spoken.
+
+
+ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    When first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow--
+      A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack!
+    And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid's arrow,
+      For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack.
+
+_Refrain_ (_throaty, but tender_).
+
+        She's only a little Plebeian!
+          And I'm a Patrician swell!
+        But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her,
+          No eloquence ever can tell!
+        Only a fried-fish vend-ar!
+          Selling her saucers of whilks,
+                       [_Almost defiant stress on the word "whilks."_
+        But, for me, she's as slend-ar--far more true and tend-ar,
+          Than if she wore satins and silks!
+
+     [_The grammar of the last two lines is shaky, but the
+     Lion-Comique must try to put up with that, and, after all, does
+     sincere emotion ever stop to think about grammar? If it does,
+     Music-hall audiences don't--which is the main point._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I longed before her little feet to grovel in the gutter:
+      I vowed, unless I won her as a wife, 'twould drive me mad!
+    Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to utter,
+      For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whispered, "Speak to Dad!"
+
+        _Refrain_--For she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, but brawny,
+      A noble type, when sober, of the British artisan;
+    I grasped his honest hand, and didn't mind its being horny:
+      "Behold!" I cried, "a suitor for your daughter, Mary Ann!"
+
+        _Refrain_--Though she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    "You ask me, gov'nor, to resign," said he, "my only treasure,
+      And so a toff her fickle heart away from me has won!"
+    He turned to mask his manly woe behind a pewter measure--
+      Then, breathing blessings through the beer, he said; "All
+              right, my son!
+
+        _Refrain_--If she's only a little Plebeian,
+                     And you're a Patrician swell,"--&c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+     (_The author flatters himself that, in quiet sentiment and
+     homely pathos he has seldom done anything finer than the two
+     succeeding stanzas._)
+
+    Next I sought my noble father in his old ancestral castle,
+      And at his gouty foot my love's fond offering I laid--
+    A simple gift of shellfish, in a neat brown-paper parcel!
+      "Ah, Sir!" I cried, "if you could know, you'd love my little maid!"
+
+        _Refrain_--True, she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear-drop twinkle;
+      That artless present overcame his stubborn Norman pride!
+    And when I made him taste a whilk, and try a periwinkle,
+      His last objections vanished--so she's soon to be my bride!
+
+        _Refrain_--Ah! she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Now heraldry's a science that I haven't studied much in,
+      But I mean to ask the College--if it's not against their rules--
+    That three periwinkles proper may be quartered on our 'scutcheon,
+      With a whilk regardant, rampant, on an oyster-knife, all gules!
+
+        _Refrain_--As she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+This little ditty, which has the true, unmistakable ring about it, and
+will, _Mr. Punch_ believes, touch the hearts of any Music-hall audience,
+is entirely at the service of any talented _artiste_ who will undertake
+to fit it with an appropriate melody, and sing it in a spirit of
+becoming seriousness.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.
+
+
+This ditty is designed to give some expression to the passionate
+enthusiasm for nature which is occasionally observable in the Music-hall
+songstress. The young lady who sings these verses will of course appear
+in appropriate costume; viz., a large white hat and feathers, a crimson
+sunshade, a pink frock, high-heeled sand-shoes, and a liberal extent of
+black silk stockings. A phonetic spelling has been adopted where
+necessary to bring out the rhyme, for the convenience of the reader
+only, as the singer will instinctively give the vowel-sounds the
+pronunciation intended by the author.
+
+
+THE JOYS OF THE SEA-SIDE.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Oh, I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue horizing,
+      When the scorching sun is blyzing down on sands, and ships, and sea!
+    And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little diggers,
+      Or to listen to the niggers, when they choose to come to me!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should sway in waltz-time_).
+
+        For I'm offully fond of the _Sea_!-side!
+        If I'd only my w'y I would _de_-cide
+            To dwell evermore,
+            By the murmuring shore,
+        With the billows a-blustering _be_-side!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the dorning!
+      And to sally forth a-prorning--e'en if nothing back you bring!
+    Some young men who like fatigue 'll go and try to pot a sea-gull,
+      What's the odds if it's illegal, or the bird they only wing?
+
+        _Chorus_--For it's one of the sports of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    Then what j'y to go a bything--though you'll swim, if you're
+           a sly thing,
+      Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot upon the sand!
+    When you're tired of old Poseidon, there's the pier to promenide on,
+      Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the programme of the band.
+
+        _Chorus_--For there's always a band at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev'ral parties go out siling!
+      Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches about,
+    To the sound of concertiner,--till they're gradually greener,
+      And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled stout.
+
+[Illustration: THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.]
+
+        _Chorus_--And they cry, "Put us back on the _Sea_-side!" &c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+    There is pleasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and going roiding!
+      (If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or mishap,)
+    Or about the rocks you ramble; over boulders slip and scramble;
+      Or sit down and do a gamble, playing "Loo" or "Penny Nap."
+
+        _Chorus_--"Penny Nap" is the gyme for the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Then it's lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of the mewn in,
+      With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation can begin!
+    As along the sands you're strowling, till the hour of ten is towling,
+      And your Ma, severely scowling, asks "Wherever you have bin!"
+
+        _Chorus_--Then you answer "I've been by the _Sea_-side!" &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the restless winds be mowning,
+      With the breakers' thunder drowning all the laughter and the glee;
+    And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors you will
+              not ventcher,
+      But you'll read the volumes lent yer by the Local Libraree!
+
+        _Chorus_--For there's sure to be one at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Eighth Verse._
+
+    If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronise the dramer,
+      Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty-four;
+    And a duty none would skirk is to attend the strolling circus,
+      For they'd all be in the workhouse, should their antics cease
+               to dror!
+
+        _Chorus_--And they're part of the joys of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Encore Verse_ (_to be used only in case of emergency_).
+
+    Well, I reelly must be gowing--I've just time to make my bow in--
+      But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so long.
+    And if, like me, you're pining for the breezes there's some brine in,
+      Why, I'll trouble you to jine in with the chorus to my song!
+
+        _Chorus_ (_all together_)--Oh, we're offully fond of the
+                    _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.]
+
+XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.
+
+
+A Music-hall audience will always be exceedingly susceptible to
+pathos--so long as they clearly understand that the song is not intended
+to be of a comic nature. However, there is very little danger of any
+misapprehension in the case of our present example, which is as natural
+and affecting a little song as any that have been moving the Music Halls
+of late. The ultra-fastidious may possibly be repelled by what they
+would term the vulgarity of the title,--"The Night-light Ever Burning by
+the Bed"--but, although it is true that this humble luminary is now more
+generally called a "Fairy Lamp," persons of true taste and refinement
+will prefer the homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only
+contains three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall
+pathos, the authors probably feeling that the audience could not stand
+any more. It should be explained that the "tum-tum" at the end of
+certain lines is not intended to be sung--it is merely an indication to
+the orchestra to pinch their violins in a _pizzicato_ manner. The singer
+should either come on as a serious black man--for burnt cork is a
+marvellous provocative of pathos--or as his ordinary self. In either
+case he should wear evening dress, with a large brilliant on each hand.
+
+
+THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING BY THE BED.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I've been thinking of the home where my early years were spent,
+      'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And to go there once again has been often my intent,
+      But the railway fare's expensive, so I can't! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Still I never can forget that night when last we met:
+      "Oh, promise me--whate'er you do!" she said, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    "Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest,
+      Keep a night-light always burning by your bed!" (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_pianissimo._)
+
+                And my eyes are dim and wet;
+                For I seem to hear them yet--
+    Those solemn words at parting that she said: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                "Now, mind you burn a night-light,
+                --'Twill last until it's quite light--
+      In a saucerful of water by your bed!" (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried,
+      As she gave me all the halfpence that she had: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And through the world e'er since I have wandered far and wide,
+      And been gradually going to the bad! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Many a folly, many a crime I've committed in my time,
+      For a lawless and a chequered life I've led! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_.)
+    Still I've kept the promise sworn--flannel next my skin I've worn,
+      And I've always burnt a night-light by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain._
+
+                All unhallowed my pursuits,
+                (Oft to bed I've been in boots!)
+    Still o'er my uneasy slumber has been shed (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                The moderately bright light
+                Afforded by a night-light,
+          In a saucerful of water by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Third Verse._ (_To be sung with increasing solemnity._)
+
+    A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw;
+      In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counterpane in awe,
+      And I trembled--for my conscience isn't good! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    But her countenance was mild--so indulgently she smiled
+      That I knew there was no further need for dread! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest,
+      And the night-light in its saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_more pianissimo still._)
+
+                But ere a word she spoke,
+                I unhappily awoke!
+    And away, alas! the beauteous vision fled! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    (_In mournful recitation_)--There was nothing but the slight light
+                Of the melancholy night-light
+        That was burning in a saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.]
+
+XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.
+
+
+To be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal requisite is a
+uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in the
+neighbourhood of almost any barracks. Some slight acquaintance with the
+sword exercise and elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely
+essential. Furnished with these, together with a few commanding
+attitudes, and a song possessing a spirited, martial refrain, the
+Military Impersonator may be certain of an instant and striking success
+upon the Music-hall stage,--especially if he will condescend to avail
+himself of the ballad provided by _Mr. Punch_, as a vehicle for his
+peculiar talent. And--though we say it ourselves--it is a very nice
+ballad, to which Mr. McDougall himself would find it difficult to take
+exception. It is in three verses, too--the limit understood to be
+formally approved by the London County Council for such productions. It
+may be, indeed, that (save so far as the last verse illustrates the
+heroism of our troops in action--a heroism too real and too splendid to
+be rendered ridiculous, even by Military Impersonators), the song does
+_not_ convey a particularly accurate notion of the manner and pursuits
+of an officer in the Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever be
+accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any social type it may
+undertake to depict--with the single exception, perhaps, of the Common
+(or Howling) Cad. So that any lack of actuality here will be rather a
+merit than a blemish in the eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said
+so much, we will proceed to our ballad, which is called,--
+
+
+IN THE GUARDS!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I'm a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit "haw-haw;"
+    But when you're in the Guards you've got to show _esprit de corps_.
+                                       [_Pronounce "a spreedy core."_
+    We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all aristo-cràts,
+    When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy bearskin 'ats.
+
+_Chorus_ (_during which the Martial Star will march round the stage in
+military order._)
+
+        We're all "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Twisting silky long moustarches,
+                                 [_Suit the action to the word here._
+                            Bein' Guards! Doncher know?
+        While our band is playing Marches,
+                            For the Guards! Doncher know?
+        And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the cymbals,
+     while the Vocalist performs a military salute, as he passes to_--
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    With duchesses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses I'm thick;
+    From all the nobs I get invites--they say I am "so _chic_!"
+                                                [_Pronounce "chick."_
+    It often makes me laugh to read, whene'er I go off guard,
+    "Dear Bertie, come to my At Home!" on a coronetted card!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        For we're "Berties," "'Ughies," "Archies,"
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        With our silky long moustarches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Where's a regiment that marches
+                            Like the Guards? Doncher know?
+        All the darlings--bless 'em!--dote upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+     [_Here comes the Singer's great chance, and by merely taking a
+     little pains, he may make a tremendously effective thing out of
+     it. If he can manage to slip away between the verses, and
+     change his bearskin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and
+     kharkee tunic at the wings, it will produce an enormous amount
+     of enthusiasm, only he must not take_ more _than five minutes
+     over this alteration, or the audience--so curiously are British
+     audiences constituted--may grow impatient for his return._
+
+But hark! the trumpet sounds!... (_Here a member of the orchestra will
+oblige upon the trumpet._) What's this? ... (_The Singer will take a
+folded paper from his breast and peruse it with attention._) We're
+ordered to the front!
+     [_This should be shouted._
+
+    We'll show the foe how "Carpet-Knights" can face the battle's brunt!
+    They laugh at us as "Brummels"--but we'll prove ourselves "Bay-yards!"
+
+     [_Now the Martial Star will draw his sword and unfasten his
+     revolver-case, taking up the exact pose in which he is
+     represented upon the posters outside._
+
+As you were!... Form Square!... Mark Time!... Slope Arms!...
+now--'Tention!... (_These military evolutions should all be gone through
+by the Artist._) Forward, Guards!
+     [_To be yelled through music._
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        Onward every 'ero marches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        All the "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
+                            Of the Guards! Doncher know?
+        They may twist their long moustarches,
+                            For they're Guards! Doncher know?
+        Dandies? yes,--but dandy _lions_ are the Guards!
+                                                        Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Red fire and smoke at wings, as curtain falls upon the
+     Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new
+     attitude._
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.]
+
+I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _The Little Crossing-Sweeper_
+     By the unrivalled Variety Artist        Miss JENNY JINKS.
+
+    _The Duke of Dillwater_                  Mr. HENRY IRVING.
+      [_Specially engaged; Mr. Punch is sure that he will cheerfully
+          make some slight sacrifice for so good a cause, and he can
+          easily slip out and get back again between the Acts of "Henry
+          the 8th."_
+
+    _A Policeman_                            Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON.
+      [_Engaged, at enormous expense, during the entire run of this
+          piece._
+
+    _A Butler_ (_his original part_)         Mr. ARTHUR CECIL.
+
+    _Foot-passengers_, _Flunkeys_, _Burglars_.--By the celebrated
+                    Knockabout Quick-change Troupe.
+
+
+     SCENE I.--_Exterior of the_ Duke's _Mansion in Euston Square by
+     night. On the right, a realistic Moon (by kind permission of_
+     Professor HERKOMER) _is rising slowly behind a lamp-post. On
+     left centre, a practicable pillar-box, and crossing, with real
+     mud. Slow Music, as_ Miss JENNY JINKS _enters, in rags, with
+     broom. Various Characters cross the street, post letters, &c._;
+     Miss JINKS _follows them, begging piteously for a copper, which
+     is invariably refused, whereupon she assails them with choice
+     specimens of street sarcasm--which the Lady may be safely
+     trusted to improvise for herself_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny Jinks_ (_leaning despondently against pillar-box, on which a
+ray of limelight falls in the opposite direction to the Moon_).
+
+    Ah, this cruel London, so marble-'arted and vast,
+    Where all who try to act honest are condemned to fast!
+
+_Enter two_ Burglars, _cautiously_.
+
+  _First B._ (_to_ Miss J. J.)
+    We can put you up to a fake as will be worth your while,
+    For you seem a sharp, 'andy lad, and just our style!
+
+     [_They proceed to unfold a scheme to break into the Ducal
+     abode, and offer_ Miss J. _a share of the spoil, if she will
+     allow herself to be put through the pantry window_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_proudly_). I tell yer I won't 'ave nothink to do
+        with it, fur I ain't been used
+    To sneak into the house of a Dook to whom I 'aven't been introdooced!
+
+  _Second Burglar_ (_coarsely_). Stow that snivel, yer young
+        himp, we don't want none of that bosh!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_with spirit_). You hold _your_ jaw--for, when you
+        opens yer mouth, there ain't much o' yer face left to wash!
+
+     [_The_ Burglars _retire, baffled, and muttering_. Miss J.
+     _leans against pillar-box again--but more irresolutely_.
+
+    I've arf a mind to run after 'em, I 'ave, and tell 'em I'm game
+        to stand in!...
+    But, ah,--didn't my poor mother say as Burglary was a _Sin_!
+
+     [Duke _crosses stage in a hurry; as he pulls out his latchkey,
+     a threepenny-bit falls unregarded, except by the little_
+     Sweeper, _who pounces eagerly upon it_.
+
+    What's this? A bit o' good luck at last for a starvin' orfin boy!
+    What shall I buy? _I_ know--I'll have a cup of cawfy, and a
+        prime saveloy!
+    Ah,--_but it ain't mine_--and 'ark ... that music up in the air!
+
+          [_A harp is heard in the flies._
+
+    Can it be mother a-playin' on the 'arp to warn her boy to beware?
+    (_Awestruck._) There's a angel voice that is sayin' plain
+        (_solemnly_) "Him as prigs what isn't his'n,
+    Is sure to be copped some day--and then--his time he will
+        do in prison!"
+
+     [_Goes resolutely to the door, and knocks--The_ Duke _throws
+     open the portals_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ If yer please, Sir, was you aware as you've
+        dropped a thruppenny-bit?
+
+  _The Duke_ (_after examining the coin._) 'Tis the very piece I
+        have searched for everywhere! You rascal, you've _stolen it_!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_bitterly_). And _that's_ 'ow a Dook rewards honesty
+        in _this_ world!
+
+        [_This line is sure of a round of applause._
+
+  _The Duke_ (_calling off_). Policeman, I give this lad in
+        charge for a shameless attempt to rob,
+
+_Enter_ Policeman.
+
+    Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to the job!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_earnestly_). I've told yer the bloomin' truth,
+        I 'ave--or send I may die!
+    I'm on'y a Crossing-sweeper, Sir, but I'd scorn to tell yer a lie!
+    Give me a quarter of a hour--no more--just time to kneel down and pray,
+    As I used to at mother's knee long ago--then the Copper kin
+        lead me away.
+
+     [_Kneels in lime-light. The_ Policeman _turns away, and uses
+     his handkerchief violently; the_ Duke _rubs his eyes_.
+
+  _The Duke._ No, blow me if I can do it, for I feel my eyes are
+        all twitching!
+    (_With conviction._) If he's good enough to kneel by his
+        mother's side, he's good enough to be in my kitching!
+
+     [Duke _dismisses_ Constable, _and, after disappearing into the
+     Mansion for a moment, returns with a neat Page's livery, which
+     he presents to the little_ Crossing-sweeper.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_naïvely_). 'Ow much shall I ask for on this,
+        Sir? What! Yer don't mean to say they're for _me_!
+    Am I really to be a Page to one of England's proud aristocra-cee?
+
+        [_Does some steps._
+
+
+    _Mechanical change to_ SCENE II.--_State Apartment at the_
+    Duke's. _Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers. Suits of
+    genuine old armour. Statuary (lent by British and Kensington
+    Museums)._
+
+_Enter_ Miss J., _with her face washed, and looking particularly plump
+in her Page's livery. She wanders about stage_, _making any humorous
+comments that may occur to her on the armour and statuary. She might
+also play tricks on the Butler, and kiss the maids--all of which will
+serve to relieve the piece by delicate touches of comedy, and delight a
+discriminating audience._
+
+_Enter the_ Duke.
+
+    I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfortable here?    [_Kindly._
+
+  _Miss J. J._ Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life,
+        Sir, _I'll_ stick to yer, no fear!
+
+     [_In the course of conversation the_ Duke _learns with
+     aristocratic surprise, that the_ Page's _Mother was a Singer at
+     the Music Halls_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ What, don't know what a Music-'all's like? and you a Dook!
+Well, you _are_ a jolly old juggins! 'Ere, you sit down on this gilded
+cheer--that's the ticket--I'll bring you your champagne and your
+cigars--want a light? (_Strikes match on her pantaloons._) Now you're
+all comfortable.
+
+_The_ Duke _sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her way, while she
+introduces her popular Vocal Character Sketch, of which space only
+permits us to give a few specimen verses_.
+
+        First the Champion Comic
+          Steps upon the stage;
+        With his latest "Grand Success."
+          Sure to be the rage!
+        Sixty pounds a week he
+          Easily can earn;
+        Round the Music Halls he goes,
+          And does at each a "turn."
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    Undah the stors in a sweet shady dairl,
+    I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl,
+    And whethaw I kissed har yaw'd like me to tairl--
+                    Well, I'd rawthah you didn't inquiah!
+
+              All golden her hair is,
+            She's Queen of the Fairies,
+    And known by the name of the lovely Mariah,
+              She's a regular Venus,
+            But what passed between us,
+    I'd very much rawthah you didn't inquiah!
+
+        Next the Lady Serio,
+          Mincing as she walks;
+        If a note's too high for her,
+          She doesn't sing--she talks,
+        What she thinks about the men
+          You're pretty sure to learn,
+        She always has a hit at them,
+          Before she's done her "turn!"
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    You notty young men, ow! you notty young men!
+    You tell us you're toffs, and the real Upper Ten,
+    But behind all your ears is the mark of a pen!
+    So don't you deceive us, you notty young men!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_concluding_).
+             And such, Sir, are these entertainments grand,
+             In which Mirth and Refinement go 'and-in-'and!
+
+     [_As the_ Duke _is expressing his appreciation of the elevating
+     effect of such performances, the_ Butler _rushes in, followed
+     by two flurried_ Footmen.
+
+  _Butler._ Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but I come to
+        announce the fact
+          That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just been attacked!
+
+  _Duke._ Then we'll repel them--each to his weapons look!
+        I know how to defend my property, although I _am_ a Dook!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_snatching sword from one of the men-in-armour_).
+          With such a weapon I their hash will settle!
+          _You'll_ lend it, won't yer, old Britannia Metal?
+
+     [_Shouts and firing without; the_ Footmen _hide under sofa_.
+
+    Let flunkeys flee--though danger may encircle us,
+    A British Buttons ain't afeard of Burgulars!
+
+     [_Tremendous firing, during which the_ Burglars _are supposed
+     to be repulsed with heavy loss by the_ Duke, Butler, _and_
+     Page.
+
+  _Miss J._ 'Ere--I say, Dook, I saved yer life, didn't yer _know_?
+
+(_A parting shot, upon which she staggers back with a ringing scream_.)
+
+          The Brutes! they've been and shot me!... Mother!... Oh!
+
+     [_Dies in lime-light and great agony; the_ Footmen _come out
+     from under sofa and regard with sorrowing admiration the
+     lifeless form of the_ Little Crossing-sweeper, _which the_
+     Duke, _as curtain falls, covers reverently with the best
+     table-cloth_.
+
+
+
+
+II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+_A MUSICAL SPECTACULAR AND SENSATIONAL INTERLUDE._
+
+(_Dedicated respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C._)
+
+[Illustration: Joe!]
+
+
+The Music-hall Dramatist, like Shakspeare and Molière, has a right to
+take his material from any source that may seem good to him. _Mr.
+Punch_, therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the
+following piece upon the well-known poem of "The Purloiner," by the
+Sisters Jane and Ann Taylor, who were _not_, as might be too hastily
+concluded, "Song and Dance Duettists," but two estimable ladies, who
+composed "cautionary" verses for the young, and whose works are a
+perfect mine of wealth for Moral Dramatists. In this dramatic version
+the Author has tried to infuse something of the old Greek sense of an
+overruling destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral
+responsibility. Those who have the misfortune to be born with a
+propensity for illicit jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible
+results of failing to overcome it early in life.
+
+
+JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _Jam-Loving Joe._ By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic,
+    Miss CONNIE CURDLER.
+
+    _Joe's Mother_ (_the very part for Mrs. BANCROFT if she can
+    only be induced to make her reappearance_).
+
+    _John, a Gardener._ By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.
+
+    _Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend._ By Mr. BEERBOHM TREE (_who
+    has kindly consented to undertake the part_).
+
+    _Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy_ (_by kind
+    permission of_ Mr. D'OYLY CARTE).
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Store-room at sunset with view of exterior of Jam
+    Cupboard, and orchard in distance._
+
+_Enter_ JOE.
+
+     "As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought
+     no one saw but himself."--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_dreamily_.) 'Tis passing strange that I so partial am
+                  To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
+
+     [_HERE_ Miss CURDLER _will introduce her great humorous
+     Satirical Medley illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and
+     entitled,_ "Some little Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied;" _after
+     which, Enter_ JOE'S _Mother, followed by JOHN and the Chorus,
+     with baskets, ladders, &c., for gathering fruit_.
+
+     "His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe
+     pears and ripe plums."--_Poem._
+
+  _Joe's Mother_ (_with forced cheerfulness_)--
+
+    Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,
+    Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
+
+     [_Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the
+     right hand._
+
+  _Solo_--JOHN.
+
+    Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome--
+      Otherwise if eaten green.
+    Once I know a boy who stole some--
+
+     [_With a glance at JOE, who turns aside to conceal his
+     confusion._
+
+      His internal pangs were keen!
+
+  _Chorus_ (_virtuously_). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean,
+    Their internal pangs are keen!
+
+  _Joe's Mother_ (_aside_). By what misgivings is a mother tortured!
+    I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard.
+
+        [_She invites him with a gesture to follow._
+
+  _Joe_ (_earnestly_). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done.
+    Temptation it is ever best to shun!
+
+  _Joe's M_. So laudable his wish, I would not cross it--
+    (_Mysteriously._) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet!
+
+  _Chorus._ Away we go tripping,
+            From boughs to be stripping
+            Each pear, plum, and pippin
+                Pomona supplies!
+            When homeward we've brought 'em,
+            Those products of Autumn,
+            We'll carefully sort 'em
+                  (_One of our old Music-hall rhymes_),
+                According to size!    [_Repeat as they caper out._
+
+     [JOE'S Mother, _after one fond, lingering look behind, follows:
+     the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance.
+     Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines key of
+     jam-cupboard door._
+
+  _Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried
+         That cupboard--just to see what's kept inside?
+
+             [_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._
+
+       There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,
+       For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!
+
+             [_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._
+
+       And yet (_hesitating_) who knows?--a pill ... perchance--a powder!
+       (_Desperately._) What then? To scorn I'll laugh them--even louder!
+
+     [_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud
+     clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet (painted by_ HAWES
+     CRAVEN). JOE _mounts chair to explore shelves._
+
+     "How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood
+     on the shelf!"--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_speaking with mouth full and back to audience_).
+    'Tis raspberry--of all the jams my favourite;
+    I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!
+    And finish up with currants from this shelf ...
+    Who'll ever see me?
+
+  _The_ Demon _of the Jam Closet (rising slowly from an immense
+  pot of preserves_).    No one--but Myself!
+
+     [_The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare (courteously lent
+     by the Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties); weird
+     music_; JOE _turns slowly and confronts the_ Demon _with
+     awestruck eyes._ N.B.--_Great opportunity for powerful acting
+     here._
+
+  _The Demon (with a bland sneer_). Pray don't mind _me_--I
+        will await your leisure.
+
+  _Joe_ (_automatically_). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not
+        the pleasure.
+      Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened?
+
+  _The Demon_ (_quietly_). My name is "Jim-Jam;" occupation--fiend.
+
+  _Joe,_ (_cowering limply on his chair_). O Mr. Fiend, I
+          _know_ it's very wrong of me!
+
+  _Demon_ (_politely_). Don't mention it--but please to come "along of" me?
+
+  _Joe_ (_imploringly_). Do let me off this once,--ha! you're relenting,
+        You smile----
+
+  _Demon_ (_grimly_). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
+
+          [_Catches_ JOE's _ankle, and assists him to descend._
+
+  _Joe_. You'll drive me mad!
+
+  _Demon_ (_carelessly_).    I _may_--before I've done with you!
+
+  _Joe_. What do you want?
+
+  _Demon_ (_darkly_).   To have a little fun with you!
+      Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen.
+
+     [_Chases him round and round stage, and proceeds to smear him
+     hideously with jam._
+
+  _Joe_ (_piteously_). Oh, don't! I feel _so_ sticky. _What_ a mess I'm in!
+
+  _Demon_ (_with affected sympathy_).    That _is_ the worst of
+          jam--it's apt to stain you.
+
+     [_To_ JOE, _as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces
+     of his crime._
+
+    I see you're busy--so I'll not detain you!
+
+     [_Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh.
+     Cupboard-doors close with a clang; all lights down._ JOE
+     _stands gazing blankly for some moments, and then drags himself
+     off stage. His Mother and_ JOHN, _with Pear-and-Plum-gatherers
+     bearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back of Scene, in
+     faint light of torches._
+
+[Illustration: The Demon!]
+
+_Re-enter_ JOE _bearing a candle and wringing his hands._
+
+  _Joe._ Out, jammed spot! What--will these hands _never_ be clean? Here's
+the smell of the raspberry jam still! All the powders of Gregory cannot
+unsweeten this little hand ... (_Moaning._) Oh, oh, oh!
+
+     [_This passage has been accused of bearing too close a
+     resemblance to one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the
+     coincidence is purely accidental, as the Dramatist is not in
+     the habit of reading such profane literature._
+
+  _Joe's Mother._ Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!
+      See--stains on all his fingers, and his thumbs!
+
+     "What Joe was about, His mother found out, When she look'd at
+     his fingers and thumbs."--_Poem again._
+
+Nay, Joseph--'tis your mother ... speak to her!
+
+  _Joe_ (_tonelessly, as before_). Lady, I know you not (_touches lower
+part of waistcoat_); but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have jam
+in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay me in a
+plain white jelly-pot, with a parchment cover, and on the label
+write--but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone ... there are
+strange things in _some_ cupboards! Demons should keep in the dust-bin.
+(_With a ghastly smile._) I know not what ails me, but I am not feeling
+at all well.
+
+     [JOE'S Mother _stands a few steps from him, with her hands
+     twisted in her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror._
+
+  _Joe_ (_to the Chorus_). I would shake hands with you all, were not my
+fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it is made of.
+Hush! if Jim-Jam comes again, tell him that I am not at home.
+Loo-loo-loo!
+
+  _All_ (_with conviction_). Some shock has turned his brine!
+
+  _Joe_ (_sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair._) My
+curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits.
+
+     [_Laughs vacantly; all gather round him, shaking their heads,
+     his_ Mother _falls fainting at his feet as curtain falls upon a
+     strong and moral, though undeniably gloomy dénoûment._
+
+
+
+
+III.--THE MAN-TRAP.
+
+
+This Drama, which, like our last, has been suggested by a poem of the
+Misses Taylor, will be found most striking and impressive in
+representation upon the Music-hall stage. The dramatist has ventured to
+depart somewhat from the letter, though not the spirit, of the original
+text, in his desire to enforce the moral to the fullest possible extent.
+Our present piece is intended to teach the great lesson that an
+inevitable Nemesis attends apple-stealing in this world, and that Doom
+cannot be disarmed by the intercession of the evil-doer's friends,
+however well-meaning.
+
+
+THE MAN-TRAP!
+
+_A THRILLING MORAL MUSICAL SENSATION SKETCH IN ONE SCENE._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _William_ (_a Good Boy_)                       Mr. HARRY NICHOLLS.
+    _Thomas_ (_a Bad Boy_)                         Mr. HERBERT CAMPBELL.
+             (_Who have kindly offered their services._)
+    _Benjamin_ (_neither one thing nor the other_) Mr. SAMUEL SUPER.
+    _The Monster Man-Trap_                         Mr. GEORGE CONQUEST.
+
+
+     SCENE.--_An elaborate set, representing, on extreme left, a
+     portion of the high road, and wall dividing it from an orchard;
+     realistic apple- and pear-trees laden with fruit. Time, about
+     four o'clock on a hot afternoon. Enter_ WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS,
+     _hand-in-hand, along road; they ignore the dividing wall, and
+     advance to front of stage._
+
+_Duet._--WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Wm._ I'm a reg'lar model boy, I am; so please make no mistake.
+          It's Thomas who's the bad 'un--_I'm_ the good!
+
+  _Thos._ Yes, I delight in naughtiness for naughtiness's sake,
+            And I wouldn't be like William if I could!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+  _Wm._ Ever since I could toddle, my conduct's been model,
+          There's, oh, such a difference between me and him!
+
+  _Thos._ While still in the cradle, I orders obeyed ill,
+            And now I've grown into a awful young limb!
+
+                       { he's }
+  _Together._ Yes, now { I've } grown into a awful young limb.
+           I've made up my mind not to imitate _him_!
+
+        [_Here they dance._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ If someone hits him in the eye, he always hits them back!
+          When _I_ am struck, my Ma I merely tell!
+        On passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a whack!
+
+  _Thos._ (_impenitently_). And jolly fun it is to hear 'em yell!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ He's always cribbing coppers--which he spends on lollipops.
+
+  _Thos._   (A share of which _you_'ve never yet refused!)
+
+  _Wm._ A stone he'll shy at frogs and toads, and anything that hops!
+
+  _Thos._   (While you look on, and seem to be amused!)
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ As soon as school is over, Thomas goes a hunting squirr'ls,
+          Or butterflies he'll capture in his hat!
+
+  _Thos._ _You_ play at Kissing in the Ring with all the little girls!
+
+  _Wm._ (_demurely_). Well, Thomas, I can see no harm in _that_!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Thomas, if you don't reform, you'll come to some bad end!
+
+  _Thos._   Oh, William, put your head inside a bag!
+
+  _Wm._ No, Thomas, that I cannot--till you promise to amend!
+
+  _Thos._   Why, William, what a chap you are to nag!
+
+     [_Chorus and dance._ THOMAS _returns to road, and regards the
+     apple-trees longingly over top of wall._
+
+  _Thos._ Hi, William, look ... what apples! there--don't _you_ see?
+          And pears--my eye! just _ain't_ they looking juicy!
+
+  _Wm._   Nay, Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin,
+          _I_ will walk on, and visit Benjamin!
+
+     [_Exit_ WILLIAM (L. 2 E.), _while THOMAS proceeds to scale the
+     wall and climb the boughs of the nearest pear-tree.
+     Melodramatic Music._ The Monster Man-trap _stealthily emerges
+     from long grass below, and fixes a baleful eye on the
+     unconscious_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Thos._ I'll fill my pockets, and on pears I'll feast!
+
+            [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and staggers._
+
+          Oh, lor--whatever is that hugly beast!
+          Hi, help, here! call him off!...
+
+  _The Monster._         'Tis vain to holler--
+          My horders are--all trespassers to swoller!
+          You just come down--I'm waiting 'ere to ketch you.
+      (_Indignantly._) You _don't_ expect I'm coming up to fetch you!
+
+  _Thos._ (_politely._) Oh, not if it would inconvenience _you_, Sir!
+      (_In agonised aside._) I feel my grip grow every moment looser!
+
+     [_The_ Monster, _in a slow, uncouth manner, proceeds to
+     scramble up the tree._
+
+          Oh, here's a go! The horrid thing can _climb_!
+          Too late I do repent me of my crime!
+
+     [_Terrific sensation chase!_ The Monster Man-trap _leaps from
+     bough to bough with horrible agility, and eventually secures
+     his prey, and leaps with it to the ground._
+
+  _Thos._ (_in the_ Monster's _jaws_). I'm sure you seem a kind,
+          good-natured creature--
+      You will not harm me?
+
+  _Monster._          No--I'll only eat yer!
+
+     [THOMAS _slowly vanishes down its cavernous jaws; faint yells
+     are heard at intervals--then nothing but a dull champing sound;
+     after which, dead silence. The_ Monster _smiles, with an air of
+     repletion._
+
+_Re-enter_ WILLIAM, _from_ R., _with_ BENJAMIN.
+
+  _Benjamin._ I'm very glad you came--but where is Thomas?
+
+  _Wm._ (_severely_). Tom is a wicked boy, and better from us,
+      For on the road he stopped to scale a wall!...
+
+         [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and starts._
+
+      What's _that_?
+
+  _Benj._       It will not hurt _good_ boys at all--
+        It's only Father's Man-trap--why so pale?
+
+  _Wm._ The self-same tree! ... the wall that Tom _would_ scale!
+          Where's Thomas _now_? Ah, Tom, the wilful pride of you.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _affects an elaborate unconsciousness._
+
+[Illustration: Up a Tree!]
+
+  _Benj._ (_with sudden enlightenment_). Man-trap, I do believe
+          poor Tom's inside of you!
+        That sort of smile's exceedingly suspicious.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _endeavours to hide in the grass._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Monster, give him back--'tis true he's vicious,
+        And had no business to go making free with you!
+        But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you!
+
+     [WILLIAM _and_ BENJAMIN _kneel in attitudes of entreaty on
+     either side of the_ Man-trap, _which shows signs of increasing
+     emotion as the song proceeds._
+
+  _Benjamin_ (_sings_).
+
+      Man-trap, bitter our distress is
+        That you have unkindly penned
+      In your innermost recesses
+        One who used to be our friend!
+
+  _William_ (_sings_).
+
+      In his downward course arrest him!
+        (He may take a virtuous tack);
+      Pause awhile, ere you digest him,
+        Make an effort--bring him back!
+
+     [_The_ Man-trap _is convulsed by a violent heave_; WILLIAM and
+     BENJAMIN _bend forward in an agony of expectation, until a
+     small shoe and the leg of_ THOMAS'S _pantaloons are finally
+     emitted from the_ Monster's _jaws._
+
+  _Benj._ (_exultantly_). See, William, now he's coming ... here's
+          his shoe for you!
+
+  _The Man-trap_ (_with an accent of genuine regret). I'm sorry--but
+          that's all that I can do for you!_
+
+  _Wm._ (_raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding
+      them sorrowfully at arm's length_).
+      He's met the fate which moralists all promise is
+      The end of such depraved careers as Thomas's!
+      Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it _be_-time!
+      (_More brightly_). But now to wash our hands--'tis nearly tea-time!
+
+     [_Exeunt_ WILLIAM and BENJAMIN, _to wash their hands, as
+     Curtain falls. N.B. This finale is more truly artistic, and in
+     accordance with modern dramatic ideas, than the conventional
+     "picture."_
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE FATAL PIN.
+
+
+Our present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious kind, and is,
+perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a Music-hall audience of
+the present day. When the fusion between the Theatres and the Music
+Halls is complete--when Miss Bessie Bellwood sings "_What Cheer, 'Ria?_"
+at the Lyceum, and Mr. Henry Irving gives his compressed version of
+_Hamlet_ at the Trocadero; when there is a general levelling-up of
+culture, and removal of prejudice--then, and not till then, will this
+powerful little play meet with the appreciation which is its due. The
+main idea is suggested by the Misses Taylor's well-known poem, _The
+Pin_, though the dramatist has gone further than the poetess in working
+out the notion of Nemesis.
+
+
+THE FATAL PIN.
+
+_A TRAGEDY._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _Emily Heedless._ By either Miss VESTA TILLEY or Mrs. BERNARD BEERE.
+
+    _Peter Paragon._ Mr. FORBES ROBERTSON or Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS
+        (only he mustn't sing "_The Good Young Man who Died_").
+
+    _First and Second Bridesmaids._ Miss MAUDE MILLETT and Miss
+    ANNIE HUGHES.
+
+
+     SCENE.--EMILY'S _Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a screen
+     and sofa,_ C. _Door_, R., _leading to_ EMILY'S _Bed-chamber.
+     Door,_ L. EMILY _discovered in loose wrapper, and reclining in
+     uncomfortable position on sofa._
+
+  _Emily_ (_dreamily_). This day do I become the envied bride
+    Of Peter, justly surnamed Paragon;
+    And much I wonder what in me he found
+    (He, who Perfection so personifies)
+    That he could condescend an eye to cast
+    On faulty feather-headed Emily!
+    How solemn is the stillness all around me!
+
+        [_A loud bang is heard behind screen._
+
+    Methought I heard the dropping of a pin!--
+    Perhaps I should arise and search for it....
+    Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself,
+    Since I am, by my settlements, to have
+    A handsome sum allowed for pin-money?
+    Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin,
+    I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner.
+    Go, then, and join the great majority
+    Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood--
+    My bliss is too supreme at such an hour
+    To heed such infidelities as thine.
+
+        [_Falls into a happy reverie._
+
+_Enter_ First and Second Bridesmaids.
+
+  _First and Second Bridesmaids._ What, how now, Emily--not yet attired?
+    Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon!
+
+     [_They hurry her off by_ R. _door, just as_ PETER PARAGON
+     _enters_ L. _in bridal array. N.B.--The exigencies of the Drama
+     are responsible for his making his appearance here, instead of
+     waiting, as is more usual, at the church._
+
+  _Peter_ (_meditatively_). The golden sands of my celibacy
+    Are running low--soon falls the final grain!
+    Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn.
+    My Emily is not without her faults
+    "_Was_ not without them," I should rather say,
+    For during ten idyllic years of courtship,
+
+[Illustration: "It is a Pin!"]
+
+    By precept and example I have striven
+    To mould her to a helpmate fit for me.
+    Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete.
+    She stands redeemed from all her giddiness!
+
+        [_Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an exclamation._
+
+    Ha! What is this? I'm wounded ... agony!
+    With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed!
+    I'll summon help (_with calm courage_)--yet, stay, I would not dim
+    This nuptial day by any sombre cloud.
+    I'll bear this stroke alone--and now to probe
+    The full extent of my calamity.
+
+     [_Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to be concealed
+     by the screen from all but the audience, and proceeds to remove
+     his boot._
+
+    Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin!
+    I must know more of this--for it is meet
+    Such criminal neglect should be exposed.
+    Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment
+    Who's proved to be responsible for this!--
+    But soft, I hear a step.
+
+     [_Enter_ First _and_ Second Bridesmaids, _who hunt diligently
+     upon the carpet without observing_ Peter's _presence._
+
+  _Emily's Voice_ (_within_). Oh, search, I pray you.
+    It _must_ be there--my own ears heard it fall!
+
+        [PETER _betrays growing uneasiness._
+
+  _The Bridesmaids._ Indeed, we fail to see it anywhere!
+
+  _Emily_ (_entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large rent in
+her train_).
+
+    You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help.
+    It must be found, or I am all undone!
+    In vain my cushion I have cut in two
+    'Twas void of all but stuffing ... Gracious Heavens,
+    To think that all my future bliss depends
+    On the evasive malice of a pin!
+
+        [PETER _behind screen, starts violently._
+
+  _Peter_ (_aside_). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart!
+
+     [Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his
+     hand.
+
+    You seem in some excitement, Emily?
+
+  _Emily_ (_wildly_). _You_, Peter!... tell me--have you found a pin?
+
+  _Peter_ (_with deadly calm_). Unhappy girl--I _have_!
+          (_To_ Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile,
+      And should we need you, we will summon you.
+
+     [_Exeunt_ Bridesmaids; EMILY _and_ PETER _stand facing each
+     other for some moments in dead silence._
+
+    The pin is found--for I have trodden on it,
+    And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life.
+    Speak, Emily, what is that maid's desert
+    Whose carelessness has led to this mishap?
+
+  _Emily_ (_in the desperate hope of shielding herself_).
+    Why, should the fault he traced to any maid,
+    Instant dismissal shall be her reward,
+    With a month's wages paid in lieu of notice!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with a passionless severity_).
+    From your own lips I judge you, Emily.
+    Did they not own just now that you had heard
+    The falling of a pin--yet heeded not?
+    Behold the outcome of your negligence!
+
+        [_Extends his injured foot._
+
+  _Emily_.   Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well!
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly withdrawing foot_).   Keep your caresses till
+        I ask for them.
+    My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet,
+    And by that disregarded pin is pricked
+    The iridescent bubble of Illusion!
+
+  _Emily_ (_slowly_). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend.
+
+  _Peter._ Have patience and I will be plainer yet.
+    Mine is a complex nature, Emily;
+    Magnanimous, but still methodical.
+    An injury I freely can forgive,
+    Forget it (_striking his chest_), never! She who leaves about
+    Pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot,
+    Will surely plant a thorn within the side
+    Of him whose fate it is to be her husband!
+
+  _Emily_ (_dragging herself towards him on her knees_).
+    Have pity on me, Peter; I was mad!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with emotion_). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul,
+    Who, for the sake of temporary ease,
+    Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine!
+    You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why?
+    Because, forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin!
+    Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin
+    Had served you to secure your gaping train,
+    Your self-respect--and Me.
+
+  _Emily_ (_wailing_). What have I done?
+
+  _Peter_. I will not now reproach you, Emily,
+    Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole,
+    The pain of which increases momently.
+    I part from you in friendship, and in proof,
+    That fated instrument I leave with you
+
+     [_Presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically._
+
+    Which the frail link between us twain has severed.
+    I can dispense with it, for in my cuff
+
+     [_Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins'-heads is
+     perceptible._
+
+    I carry others 'gainst a time of need.
+    My poor success in life I trace to this
+    That never yet I passed a pin unheeded.
+
+  _Emily._ And is that all you have to say to me?
+
+  _Peter._ I think so--save that I shall wish you well,
+    And pray that henceforth you may bear in mind
+    What vast importance lies in seeming trifles.
+
+  _Emily_ (_with a pale smile_). Peter, your lesson is already learned,
+    For precious has this pin become for me,
+    Since by its aid I gain oblivion--thus!    [_Stabs herself._
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly._) Nay, these are histrionics, Emily.
+
+        [_Assists her to sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ I'd skill enough to find a vital spot.
+    Do not withdraw it yet--my time is short,
+    And I have much to say before I die.
+    (_Faintly._) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone;
+    Give my canary chickweed now and then.
+    ... I think there is no more--ah, one last word--
+    (_Earnestly_)--Warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake,
+    And then the pastrycook may take it back!
+
+  _Peter_ (_deeply moved_). Would you had shown this
+        thoughtfulness before!    [_Kneels by the sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see
+    That I was never worthy of you, Peter.
+
+  _Peter_ (_gently_). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now.
+    You did your best to be so, Emily!
+
+  _Emily._ A blessing on you for those generous words!
+    Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot?
+
+  _Peter._ The agony decidedly abates,
+    And I can almost bear a boot again.
+
+  _Emily._ Then I die happy!... Kiss me, Peter ... ah!
+
+        [_Dies_.
+
+  _Peter._ In peace she passed away. I'm glad of that,
+    Although that peace was purchased by a lie.
+    I shall not bear a boot for many days!
+    Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child,
+    Has paid the penalty of heedlessness!
+
+     [_Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly
+     mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the house._
+
+
+
+
+V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE.
+
+_A MELODRAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE._
+
+_Suggested by "The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll," by the Misses Jane and
+Ann Taylor._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _Blanchidine,_ } By the celebrated Sisters STILTON, the Champion
+    _Brunette._    }      Duettists and Clog-Dancers.
+
+    _Fanny Furbelow._ By Miss SYLVIA SEALSKIN (_by kind permission of
+                             the Gaiety Management_).
+
+    _Frank Manly._ By Mr. HENRY NEVILLE.
+
+
+    SCENE--_A sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens, between the
+    Serpentine and Round Pond._
+
+_Enter_ BLANCHIDINE _and_ BRUNETTE, _with their arms thrown
+affectionately around one another._ BLANCHIDINE _is carrying a large and
+expressionless wooden doll._
+
+_Duet and Step-dance._
+
+  _Bl._ Oh, I do adore BRUNETTE! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity,
+    tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap!
+
+  _Br._ BLANCHIDINE'S the sweetest pet! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Together._        When the sun is high,
+                     We come out to ply,
+                     Nobody is nigh,
+                     All is mirth and j'y!
+                     With a pairosol,
+                     We'll protect our doll,
+                     Make a mossy bed
+                     For her wooden head!
+
+     [_Combination step-dance during which both watch their feet
+     with an air of detached and slightly amused interest, as if
+     they belonged to some other persons._
+
+    Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack;
+    clackity-clickity, clickity-clackity, clackity-clickity-_clack_!
+
+        [_Repeat ad. lib._
+
+  _Bl._ (_apologetically to Audience_). Her taste in dress is rather plain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Br._ (_in pitying aside_). It _is_ a pity she's so vain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Bl._              'Tis a shime to smoile,
+                     But she's shocking stoyle,
+                     It is quite a troyal,
+                     Still--she mikes a foil!
+
+  _Br._              Often I've a job
+                     To suppress a sob,
+                     She is such a snob,
+                     When she meets a nob!
+
+        [_Step-dance as before._
+
+     [N.B.--_In consideration of the well-known difficulty that most
+     popular Variety-Artists experience in the metrical delivery of
+     decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written
+     as they will most probably be spoken._
+
+  _Bl._ (_looking off with alarm_). Why, here comes Fanny
+        Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in!
+    She'll find me with Brunette--it's _too_ embarrassing!
+
+        [_Aside._
+
+    (_To Brunette._) Brunette, my love, I know _such_ a pretty
+        game we'll play at--
+    Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at.
+    (The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend.)
+    And _you_ shall take her there--(_hypocritically_)--you're
+        such a friend!
+
+  _Br._ (_with simplicity_). Oh, yes, that _will_ be splendid, Blanchidine,
+    And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!
+
+     [BLAN. _resigns the wooden doll to_ BRUN., _who skips off with
+     it_, L., _as_ FANNY FURBELOW _enters_ R., _carrying a
+     magnificent wax doll_.
+
+  _Fanny_ (_languidly_). Ah, howdy do--_isn't_ this heat too
+    frightful? And so you're quite alone?
+
+  _Bl._ (_nervously._) Oh, _quite_--oh yes, I always am alone,
+    when there's nobody with me.
+
+     [_This is a little specimen of the Lady's humorous "gag," at
+     which she is justly considered a proficient._
+
+  _Fanny_ (_drawling_).      Delightful!
+    When I was wondering, only a little while ago,
+    If I should meet a creature that I know;
+    Allow me--my new doll, the Lady Minnie!
+
+        [_Introducing doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_rapturously_). Oh, what a perfect love!
+
+  _Fanny._                  She ought to be--for a guinea!
+    Here, you may nurse her for a little while.
+    Be careful, for her frock's the latest style.
+
+        [_Gives_ BLAN. _the wax doll_.
+
+    She's the best wax, and has three changes of clothing--
+    For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing.
+
+  _Bl._ (_hastily_). Oh, so have _I_--they're not to be endured!
+
+_Re-enter_ BRUNETTE _with the wooden doll, which she tries to press
+upon_ BLANCHIDINE, _much to the latter's confusion_.
+
+  _Br._ I've brought poor Timburina back, completely cured!
+    Why, aren't you pleased? Your face is looking _so_ cloudy!
+
+  _F._ (_haughtily_). Is she a friend of _yours_--this little
+        dowdy?    [_Slow music._
+
+  _Bl._ (_after an internal struggle_). Oh, no, what an idea!
+    Why, I don't even know her by name!
+    Some vulgar child ...
+
+        [_Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel._
+
+  _Br._ (_indignantly_). Oh, what a horrid shame!
+    I see _now_ why you sent us to the Serpentine!
+
+  _Bl._ (_heartlessly_). There's no occasion to flare up like turpentine.
+
+  _Br._ (_ungrammatically_). I'm _not_! Disown your doll, and
+        thrust me, too, aside!
+    The one thing left for both of us is--suicide!
+    Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes--
+    (_Bitterly._) Well, the Round Pond a handy place to perish is!
+
+        [_Rushes off stage with wooden doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_making a feeble attempt to follow_). Come back,
+    Brunette; don't leave me thus, in charity!
+
+  _F._ (_with contempt_). Well, I'll be off--since you seem to
+        prefer vulgarity.
+
+  _Bl._ No, stay--but--ah, she said--what if she _meant_ it?
+
+  _F._ Not she! And, if she did, _we_ can't prevent it.
+
+  _Bl._ (_relieved_). That's true--we'll play, and think no more about her.
+
+  _F._ (_sarcastically_). We may _just_ manage to get on without her!
+    So come----(_Perceives doll lying face upwards on path._)
+    You odious girl, what have you done?
+    Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun!
+    'Twas done on purpose--oh, you _thing_ perfidious!    [_Stamps._
+    You _knew_ she'd melt, and get completely hideous!
+    Don't answer _me_, Miss--I wish we'd never met.
+    You're only fit for persons like Brunette!
+
+        [_Picks up doll, and exit in passion._
+
+_Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by_ BLANCHIDINE, _to
+Melodramatic Music_.
+
+  _Bl._ Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not give now to have
+homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden-headed Timburina back again!
+_She_ wouldn't melt in the sun.... Where are they now? Great Heavens!
+that threat--that rash resolve ... I remember all! 'Twas in the
+direction of the Pond they vanished. (_Peeping anxiously between
+trees._) Are they still in sight? ... Yes, I see them? Brunette has
+reached the water's edge ... What is she purposing! Now she kneels on
+the rough gravel; she is making Timburina kneel too! How calm and
+resolute they both appear! (_Shuddering._) I dare not look further--but
+ah, I must--_I must_!... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an instant in
+the bright sunlight: and now the ripples have closed, smiling, over her
+little black stockings!... Help!--save her, somebody!--help!... Joy! a
+gentleman has appeared on the scene--how handsome, how brave he looks!
+He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure he
+removes his coat--oh, _don't_ trouble about folding it up!--and why,
+_why_ remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost? Now,
+with many injunctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, who
+retires, overcome by emotion. And now--oh, gallant, heroic soul!--now he
+is sending his toy-terrier into the seething water! (_Straining_
+_eagerly forward._) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out--he has reached the
+spot ... oh, he has passed it!--he is trying to catch a duck! Dog, dog,
+_is_ this a time for pursuing ducks? At last he understands--he dives
+... he brings up--agony! a small tin cup! Again ... _this_ time,
+surely--what, only an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still
+the Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes--no, yes, it
+_is_ Timburina! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes! But Brunette?
+Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom? Ha, she, too, is
+rescued--saved--ha-ha-ha!--saved, saved, saved!
+
+        [_Swoons hysterically amid deafening applause._
+
+[Illustration: "Saved--ha-ha-ha!"]
+
+  _Enter_ FRANK MANLY _supporting_ BRUNETTE, _who carries_ TIMBURINA.
+
+  _Bl._ (_wildly_). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette?
+
+  _Br._ Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even _wet_!
+
+  _Frank_ (_modestly_). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty,
+    When in distress, is every hero's duty!
+
+  _Bl._ Brunette, forgive--I'm cured of all my folly!
+
+  _Br._ (_heartily_). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!
+
+     [_Grand Trio and Step-dance, with "tippity-tappity," and
+     "clickity-clack" refrain as finale._
+
+
+
+
+VI.--COMING OF AGE.
+
+
+Our present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate upon the
+Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race _will_ tell in the long
+run, despite--but, on second thoughts, it does not _quite_ prove that,
+though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental--at least,
+that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that _Mr.
+Punch_ is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory
+which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic
+study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a
+democratic audience.
+
+
+COMING OF AGE.
+
+_A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DRAMA IN ONE ACT._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+    _The Earl of Burntalmond._
+
+    _The Countess of Burntalmond (his wife)._
+
+    _Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye (their son and heir)._
+
+    _The Lady Rose Caramel (niece to the Earl)._
+
+    _Horehound_            } Travelling as "The Celebrated Combination
+    _Mrs. Horehound_       }   Korffdropp Troupe," in their refined and
+    _Coltsfoot Horehound_  }   elegant Drawing-room Entertainment.
+
+    _Tenantry._
+
+
+     SCENE--_The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners,
+     mottoes, decorations, &c. On the steps_, R., _the Earl,_
+     supported by his wife, son, and niece, is discovered in the act
+     of concluding a speech to six tenantry, who display all the
+     enthusiasm that is reasonably to be expected at nine-pence a
+     night.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_patting_ Lord BULLSAYE'S _shoulder_). I might say more,
+Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord Bullsaye, here--I might dwell
+on his extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, the variety of
+his tastes, and the singular attraction he has for children of all
+ages--but I forbear. I will merely announce that on this day--the day he
+has selected for attaining his majority--he has gratified us all by
+plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady Rose Caramel, with whose dulcet
+and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural
+affinity.
+     [_Cheers._
+
+  _Lord Bullsaye_ (_aside to_ Lady R.). Ah, Rose, would such happiness
+could last! But my heart misgives me strangely--why, I know not.
+
+  _Lady R._ Say not so, dear Bullsaye--have you not just rendered me the
+happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?
+
+  _Lord B._ 'Tis true--and yet, and yet--pooh, let me snatch the present
+hour!
+     [_Snatches it._
+
+  _The Earl._ And now, let the Revels commence.
+
+_Enter the_ Korffdropp Troupe, _who give their marvellous Entertainment,
+entitled, "The Three Surprise Packets;" after which_--
+
+  _Horehound._ This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment,
+Lords, Ladies, _and_ Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires
+to change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the
+hoppertoonity of a short pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my
+right.
+
+        [_Exit_ Mrs. HOREHOUND.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_graciously_). I will hear you, fellow! (_Aside._) Strange
+how familiar his features seem to me!
+
+  _Horeh._ The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of
+the _wrong heir_. (_Sensation--i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg
+to the other, and murmur feebly._) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years
+ago--(_slow music_)--I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper,
+'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame
+day, and my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the
+youthful lord. Well--(_tells a long, and not entirely original, story;
+marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green
+and magenta bows, &c., &c._) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at
+a moment's notice----
+
+  _The Earl_ (_haughtily_). I did, upon discovering that you were in the
+habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within
+your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.
+
+  _Horeh._ I swore to be avenged, and so--(_common form again; the shifted
+bows_)--consequently, as a moment's reflection will convince you, the
+young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful
+son, while the real Viscount is--(_presenting_ COLTSFOOT, _who advances
+modestly on his hands_)--'ere!
+
+        [_Renewed sensation._
+
+  _The Earl._ This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (_To_ Lord
+B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent
+imposition--a gilded _lie_?
+
+  _Lord B._ Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my
+best excuse!
+
+  _The E._ Nothing can excuse the fact that you--you, a low-born son of
+the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education,
+which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (_To_ COLTSFOOT.)
+Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for
+these years of injustice and neglect!
+
+  _Colts._ Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it
+'ud be a _beginning_, like.
+
+  _The E._ You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first
+remove that incongruous garb.
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to _you_ now, young
+feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_with emotion, to_ Countess). Mother, can you endure to
+behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority?
+
+  _Countess_ (_coldly_). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired
+as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to_ Lady R.). Rose, _you_, at least, have not changed? Tell
+me you will love me still even on the precarious summit of an acrobat's
+pole!
+
+  _Lady Rose_ (_scornfully_). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the
+lower orders is perfectly appalling!
+
+  _The Earl_ (_to_ Countess, _as_ Lord B. _and_ COLTSFOOT _retire to
+exchange costumes_). At last, Pauline, I understand why I could never
+feel towards Bullsaye the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached
+myself for a coldness I could not overcome.
+
+  _Countess._ And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of
+recovering our son--of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. Never
+yet has our line boasted an heir who can feed himself from a fork
+strapped on to his dexter heel!
+
+  _The E._ (_with emotion_). Our beloved, boneless boy!
+
+     [_Re-enter_ COLTSFOOT _in modern dress, and_ Lord B. _in
+     tights_.
+
+  _Colts._ Don't I look slap-up--O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I _am_ 'aving a
+beano!
+
+  _All._ What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!
+
+  _The E._ My dear boy, let me present you to your _fiancée_. Rose, my
+love, this is your _legitimate_ lover.
+
+  _Colts._ Oh, all right, _I've_ no objections--on'y there'll be ructions
+with the young woman in the tight-rope line as I've been keepin' comp'ny
+with--that's all!
+
+  _The E._ Your foster-brother will act as your substitute there.
+(_Proudly._) _My_ son must make no _mésalliance_!
+
+  _Rose_ (_timidly_). And, if it would give you any pleasure, I'm sure I
+could soon learn the tight-rope!
+
+  _Colts._ Not at _your_ time o' life, Miss, and besides, 'ang it, now I'm
+a lord, I can't have my wife doin' nothing low!
+
+  _The E._ Spoken like a true Burntalmond! And now let the revels
+re-commence.
+
+[Illustration: Lord B. in tights.]
+
+        [_Re-enter_ Mrs. Horehound.
+
+  _Horeh._ (_to_ Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can't you--what are
+you 'ere _for_?
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to the_ Earl). Since it is your command, I obey, though it
+is ill tumbling with a heavy heart!
+
+        [_Turns head over heels laboriously._
+
+  _Colts._ Call _that_ a somersault? 'Ere, 'old my 'at (_giving tall hat
+to_ Lady R.) _I'll_ show yer 'ow to do a turn.
+
+        [_Throws a triple somersault._
+
+  _All._ What condescension! How his aristocratic superiority is betrayed,
+even in competition with those to the manner born!
+
+  _Mrs. Horeh._ (_still in ignorance of the transformation_). Halt! I have
+kept silence till now--even from my husband, but the time has come when
+I _must_ speak. Think you that if he were indeed a lord, he could turn
+such somersaults as those? No--no. I will reveal all. (_Tells same old
+story--except that she herself from ambitious motives transposed the
+infants' bows._) Now, do with me what you will!
+
+  _Horeh._ Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong I
+designed to effect!
+
+  _The E._ (_annoyed_). This is a serious matter, reflecting as it does
+upon the legitimacy of my lately recovered son. What proof have you,
+woman, of your preposterous allegation?
+
+  _Mrs. H._ None, my lord,--but these--
+
+        [_Exhibits two faded bunches of ribbon._
+
+  _The E._ I cannot resist such overwhelming evidence, fight against it as
+I may.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_triumphantly_). And so--oh, Father, Mother, Rose--dear, dear
+Rose--I am no acrobat, after all!
+
+  _The E._ (_sternly_). Would you were anything half so serviceable to the
+community, Sir! I have no superstitious reverence for rank, and am, I
+trust, sufficiently enlightened to discern worth and merit--even beneath
+the spangled vest of the humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as
+our acquaintance has been, has already endeared himself to all hearts,
+while you have borne a trifling reverse of fortune with sullen
+discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has perfected himself in a
+lofty and distinguished profession during years spent by _you_, Sir, in
+idly cumbering the earth of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him to suffer
+by a purely accidental coincidence? Never! I owe him reparation, and it
+shall be paid to the uttermost penny. From this day, I adopt him as my
+eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, and all other real and personal
+effects. See, Robert Henry, that you treat your foster-brother as your
+senior in future!
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). Way-oh, ole matey, I don't bear no malice, _I_
+don't! Give us your dooks.
+     [_Offering hand._
+
+  _The C._ Ah, Bullsaye, try to be worthy of such generosity!
+
+        [Lord B. _grasps_ COLTSFOOT'S _hand in silence_.
+
+  _Lady Rose._ And pray, understand that, whether Mr. Coltsfoot be
+viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference whatever to the
+disinterested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him.
+
+        [_Gives her hand to_ COLTSFOOT, _who squeezes it with ardour_.
+
+  _Colts._ (_pleasantly_). Well, Father, Mother, your noble Herlship and
+Lady, foster-brother Bullsaye, and my pretty little sweetart 'ere, what
+do you all say to goin' inside and shunting a little garbage, and
+shifting a drop or so of lotion, eh?
+
+  _The E._ A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us make these ancient
+walls the scene of the blithest--ahem!--_beano_ they have ever yet
+beheld!
+
+     [_Cheers from Tenantry, as the_ Earl _leads the way into the
+     Castle with_ Mrs. HOREHOUND, _followed by_ HOREHOUND _with the_
+     Countess _and_ COLTSFOOT _with_ Lady ROSE, Lord BULLSAYE,
+     _discomfited and abashed, entering last as Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VII.--RECLAIMED!
+
+OR, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GRANDMOTHER.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Lady Belledame_ (_a Dowager of the deepest dye_).
+
+    _Monkshood_ (_her Steward, and confidential Minion_).
+
+    _Little Elfie_ (_an Angel Child_). This part has been specially
+        constructed for that celebrated Infant Actress, Banjoist, and
+        Variety Comédienne, Miss BIRDIE CALLOWCHICK.
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Panelled Room at Nightshade Hall._
+
+  _Lady Belledame_ (_discovered preparing parcels_). Old and unloved!--yes
+the longer I live, the more plainly do I perceive that I am _not_ a
+popular old woman. Have I not acquired the reputation in the County of
+being a witch? My neighbour, Sir Vevey Long, asked me publicly only the
+other day "when I would like my broom ordered," and that minx, Lady
+Violet Powdray, has pointedly mentioned old cats in my hearing!
+Pergament, my family lawyer, has declined to act for me any longer,
+merely because Monkshood rack-rented some of the tenants a little too
+energetically in the Torture Chamber--as if in these hard times one was
+not justified in putting the screw on! Then the villagers scowl when I
+pass; the very children shrink from me--[_A childish Voice outside
+window,_ "Yah, 'oo sold 'erself to Old Bogie for a pound o' tea an' a
+set o' noo teeth?"]--that is, when they do not insult me by suggestions
+of bargains that are not even businesslike! No matter--I will be avenged
+upon them all--ay, all! 'Tis Christmas-time--the season at which
+sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. For once I, too, will
+distribute a few seasonable presents.... (_Inspecting parcels._) Are my
+arrangements complete? The bundle of choice cigars, in each of which a
+charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexterously inserted? The lip-salve,
+made up from my own prescription with corrosive sublimate by a venal
+chemist in the vicinity? The art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen
+of the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? The sweets compounded
+with sugar of lead? The packet of best ratsbane? Yes, nothing has been
+omitted. Now to summon my faithful Monkshood.... Ha! he is already at
+hand.
+
+        [_Chord as_ MONKSHOOD _enters_.
+
+  _Monkshood._ Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage is a small
+bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests the favour of a
+personal interview.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_reproachfully_). And you, who have been with me all these
+years, and know my ways, omitted to let loose the bloodhounds? You grow
+careless, Monkshood!
+
+  _Monks._ (_wounded_). Your Ladyship is unjust--I _did_ unloose the
+bloodhounds; but the ferocious animals merely sat up and begged. The
+child had took the precaution to provide herself with a bun!
+
+  _Lady B._ No matter, she must be removed--I care not how.
+
+  _Monks._ There may be room for one more--a little one--in the old well.
+The child mentioned that she was your Ladyship's granddaughter, but I
+presume that will make no difference?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disquieted_). What!--then she must be the child of my only
+son Poldoodle, whom, for refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely
+accused of adulterating milk, and transported beyond the seas! She
+comes hither to denounce and reproach me! Monkshood, she must not leave
+this place alive--you hear?
+
+  _Monks._ I require no second bidding--ha, the child ... she comes!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _trips in with touching
+     self-confidence._
+
+  _Elfie_ (_in a charming little Cockney accent_). Yes, Grandma, it's
+me--little Elfie, come all the way from Australia to see you, because I
+thought you must be sow lownly all by yourself! My Papa often told me
+what a long score he owed you, and how he hoped to pay you off if he
+lived. But he went out to business one day--Pa was a bushranger, you
+know, and worked--oh, _so_ hard; and never came back to his little
+Elfie, so poor little Elfie has come to live with you!
+
+  _Monks._ Will you have the child removed now, my Lady?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_undecidedly_). Not now--not yet; I have other work for you.
+These Christmas gifts, to be distributed amongst my good friends and
+neighbours (_handing parcels_). First, this bundle of cigars to Sir
+Vevey Long with my best wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco may
+find them sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Violet Powdray, with
+my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night. The plant
+you will take to the little Pergaments--'twill serve them for a
+Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a barrel of beer, which you
+will see broached upon the village green; these sweetmeats for
+distribution among the most deserving of the school-children.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_throwing her arms around Lady B.'s neck_). I _do_ like you,
+Grandma, you have such a kind face! And oh, what pains you must have
+taken to find something that will do for everybody!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disengaging herself peevishly_). Yes, yes, child. I trust
+that what I have chosen will indeed do for everybody,--but I do not
+like to be messed about. Monkshood, you know what you have to do.
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, I am sure he does, Grandma! See how benevolently he smiles.
+You're such a good old man, you will take care that all the poor people
+are fed, _won't_ you?
+
+[Illustration: Little Elfie.]
+
+  _Monks._ (_with a sinister smile_). Ah! Missie, I've 'elped to settle a
+many people's 'ash in my time!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_innocently_). What, do they all get hash? How nice! I like
+hash,--but what else do you give them?
+
+  _Monks._ (_grimly_). Gruel, Missie. (_Aside._) I must get out of this,
+or this innocent child's prattle will unman me!
+
+        [_Exit with parcels._
+
+  _Elfie._ You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me sing you one of
+the songs with which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in happier days.
+
+  _Lady B._ No, no, some other time. (_Aside._) Pshaw! why should I dread
+the effect of her simple melodies? (_Aloud._) Sing, child, if you will.
+
+  _Elfie._ How glad I am that I brought my banjo!    [_Sings._
+
+    _Dar is a lubly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff;
+    She'll dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir breff.
+    When she sits down to supper, ebery coloured gemple-man,
+    As she gets her upper lip o'er a plate o' "possom dip," cries,
+        "Woa, Lucindy Ann!"_ (Chorus, dear Granny!)
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy Ann!
+    At de rate dat you are stuffin, you will nebber leave us nuffin;
+         so woa, Miss Sindy Ann!_
+
+  _To Lady B._ (_who, after joining in chorus with deep emotion, has burst
+into tears_). Why, you are _weeping_, dear Grandmother!
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, 'tis nothing, child--but have you no songs which are less
+sad?
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation ditties more cheerful than
+that. (_Sings._)
+
+    _Oh, I hear a gentle whisper from de days ob long ago,
+      When I used to be a happy darkie slave.
+                                            [Trump-a-trump!
+    But now I'se got to labour wif the shovel an' de hoe--
+      For ole Massa lies a sleepin' in his grave!
+                                            [Trump-trump!_
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Poor ole Massa!   Poor ole Massa!_   (Pianissimo.)   _Poor ole
+    Massa, that I nebber more shall see!
+    He was let off by de Jury, Way down in old Missouri--But
+    dey lynched him on a persimmon tree._
+
+  _Elfie._ You smile at last, dear Grandma! I would sing to you again, but
+I am so very, very sleepy!
+
+  _Lady B._ Poor child, you have had a long journey. Rest awhile on this
+couch, and I will arrange this screen so as to protect your slumbers.
+     [_Leads little_ ELFIE _to couch_.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_sleepily_). Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks.... Now I shall go to
+sleep, and dream of you, and the dogs, and angels. I so often dream
+about angels--but that is generally after supper, and to-night I have
+had no supper.... But never mind.... Good night, Grannie, good night ...
+goo'ni' ... goo ... goo!
+     [_She sinks softly to sleep._
+
+  _Lady B._ And I was about to set the bloodhounds upon this little
+sunbeam! 'Tis long since these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet
+as hers. (_Croons._) "Woa, Lucindy" &c. "Dey tried him by a Jury, way
+down in ole Missouri, an' dey hung him to a possumdip tree!" (_Goes to
+couch, and gazes on the little sleeper._) How peacefully she slumbers!
+What a change has come over me in one short hour!--my withered heart is
+sending up green shoots of tenderness, of love, and hope! Let me try
+henceforth to be worthy of this dear child's affection and respect.
+(_Turns, and sees_ MONKSHOOD.) Ha, Monkshood! Then there is time yet!
+Those parcels ... quick, quick!--the parcels!----
+
+  _Monks_ (_impassively_). Have been left as you instructed, my Lady.
+
+     [_Chord._ Lady B. _staggers back, gasping, into chair. Little_
+     ELFIE _awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in a hoarse whisper_). You--you have left the parcels ...
+all--_all?_ Tell me--how were they received? Speak low--I would not
+that yonder child should awake and hear!
+
+  _Little Elfie_ (_behind the screen, very wide awake indeed_). Dear, good
+old Grannie--she would conceal her generosity--even from _me_!
+(_Loudly._) She little thinks that I am overhearing all!
+
+  _Monks._ I could have sworn I heard whispering.
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, you are mistaken--'twas but the wind in the old wainscot.
+(_Aside._) He is quite capable of destroying that innocent child; but
+old and attached servant as he is, there are liberties I still know how
+to forbid. (_To_ M.) Your story--quick!
+
+  _Monks._ First, I delivered the cigars to Sir Vevey Long, whom I found
+under his verandah. He seemed surprised and gratified by the gift,
+selected a weed, and was proceeding to light it, whilst he showed a
+desire to converse familiarly with me. 'Astily excusing myself, I drove
+away, when----
+
+  _Lady B._ When _what_? Do not torture a wretched old woman!
+
+  _Monks._ When I heard a loud report behind me, and, in the portion of a
+brace, two waistcoat-buttons, and half a slipper, which hurtled past my
+ears, I recognised all that was mortal of the late Sir Vevey. You mixed
+them cigars uncommon strong, m'Lady.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Can it be? But no, no. I will _not_ believe it. I am
+sure that dear Granny meant no harm!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a grim pride she cannot wholly repress_). I have
+devoted some study to the subject of explosives. 'Tis another triumph to
+the Anti-tobacconists. And what of Lady Violet Powdray--did she apply
+the salve?
+
+  _Monks._ Judging from the 'eartrending 'owls which proceeded from
+Carmine Cottage, the salve was producing the desired result. Her
+Ladyship, 'owever, terminated her sufferings somewhat prematoor by
+jumping out of a top winder just as I was taking my departure----
+
+  _Lady B._ She should have died hereafter--but no matter ... and the
+Upas-tree?----
+
+  _Monks._----was presented to the Pergaments, who unpacked it, and loaded
+its branches with toys and tapers; after which Mr. Pergament, Mrs. P.,
+and all the little Pergaments joined 'ands, and danced round it in
+light'arted glee. (_In a sombre tone._) They little knoo as how it was
+their dance of death!
+
+  _Lady B._ That knowledge will come! And the beer, Monkshood--you saw it
+broached?
+
+  _Monks._ Upon the village green; the mortality is still spreading, it
+being found impossible to undo the knots in which the victims have tied
+themselves. The sweetmeats were likewise distributed, and the floor of
+the hinfant-school now resembles one vast fly-paper.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a touch of remorse_). The children too! Was not my
+little Elfie once an infant? Ah me, ah me!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Once--but that was long, long ago. And, oh, _how_
+disappointed I am in poor dear Grandmama!
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, you should not have done these things--you should
+have saved me from myself. You _must_ have known how greatly all this
+would increase my unpopularity in the neighbourhood.
+
+  _Monks._ (_sulkily_). And this is my reward for obeying orders! Take
+care, my Lady. It suits you now to throw me aside like a--(_casting
+about for an original simile_)--like a old glove, because this innocent
+grandchild of yours has touched your flinty 'art. But where will _you_
+be when she learns----?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in agony_). Ah, no, Monkshood, good, faithful Monkshood,
+she must never know that! Think, Monkshood, you would not tell her that
+the Grandmother to whom she looks up with such touching, childlike love,
+was a--_homicide_--you would not do that?
+
+  _Monks._ Some would say even 'omicide was not too black a name for all
+you've done. (Lady BELLEDAME _shudders_.) I might tell Miss Elfie how
+you've blowed up a live Baronet, corrosive sublimated a gentle Lady,
+honly for 'aving, in a moment of candour, called you a hold cat, and
+distributed pison in a variety of forms about this smiling village; and,
+if that don't inspire her with distrust, I don't know the nature of
+children, that's all! I might tell her, I say, and, if I'm to keep my
+mouth shut, I shall expect it to be considered in my wages.
+
+  _Lady B._ I knew you had a good heart! I will pay you
+anything--anything, provided you shield my guilt from her ... wait, you
+shall have gold, gold, Monkshood, gold!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _suddenly comes from behind screen;
+     limelight on her. The other two shrink back._
+
+  _Elfie._ Do not give that bad old man money, Grandmother, for it will
+only be wasted.
+
+  _Lady B._ Speak, child!--how much do you know?
+
+  _Elfie._ All!    [_Chord._ Lady B. _collapses on chair_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with an effort_). And now, Elfie, that you know, you scorn
+and hate your poor old Grandmother--is it not so?
+
+  _Elfie._ It is wrong to hate one's Grandmother, whatever she does. At
+first when I heard, I was very, very sorry. I _did_ think it was most
+unkind of you. But now, oh, I _can't_ believe that you had not some
+good, wise motive, in acting as you did!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in conscience-stricken aside_). Even _this_ cannot shatter
+her artless faith ... Oh, wretch, wretch!
+
+        [_Covers her face._
+
+  _Monks._ Motive--I believe you there, Missie. Why, she went and insured
+all their lives aforehand, _she_ did.
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, in pity hold your peace!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_her face beaming_). I knew it--I was sure of it! Oh, Granny,
+my dear, kind old Granny, you insured their lives first, so that no real
+harm could possibly happen to them--oh, I am so happy!
+
+[Illustration: "Good-bye, Good-bye!"]
+
+  _Lady B._ (_aside_). What shall I say? Merciful Powers, what _shall_ I
+say to her?
+     [_Disturbed sounds without._
+
+  _Monks._ I don't know what you'd better _say_, but I can tell you what
+your Ladyship had better _do_--and that is, take your 'ook while you
+can. Even now the outraged populace approaches, to wreak a hawful
+vengeance upon your guilty 'ed!
+     [_Melodramatic music._
+
+  _Lady B._ (_distractedly_). A mob! I cannot face them--they will tear me
+limb from limb. At my age I could not survive such an indignity as that!
+Hide me, Monkshood--help me to escape!
+
+  _Monks._ There is a secret underground passage, known only to myself,
+communicating with the nearest railway station. I will point it out, and
+personally conduct your Ladyship--for a consideration--one thousand
+pounds down.
+
+        [_The noise increases._
+
+  _Elfie._ No, Granny, don't trust him! Be calm and brave. Await the mob
+here. Leave it all to me. I will explain everything to them--how you
+meant no ill,--how, at the very time they thought you were meditating an
+injury, you were actually spending money in insuring all their lives.
+When I tell them _that_----
+
+  _Monks._ Ah, you tell 'em that, and see. It's too late now--they are
+here!
+
+     [_Shouts without._ Lady B. _crouches on floor. Little_ ELFIE
+     _goes to the window, throws open the shutters, and stands on
+     balcony in her fluttering white robe, and the limelight_.
+
+  _Elfie._ Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches!--(Lady B.
+_groans_)--and banners, too! I think they have a band.... Who is that
+tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on horseback, and the lady in a
+pony-trap, with, oh, such a beautiful complexion! There is an
+inscription on one of the flags--I can read it quite plainly. "_Thanks
+to the generous Donor!_" (That must be _you_, Grandmother!) And there
+are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking for a
+speech. (_Speaking off._) "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my
+Grandmama is not at all well, but she wishes me to say she wishes you a
+Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like your presents so much.
+Good-bye, _good_-bye!" (_Returning down Stage._) Now they have gone
+away, Granny.... They did look so grateful!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_bewildered_). What is this! Sir Vevey, Lady Violet,--alive,
+well? This deputation of gratitude? Am I mad, dreaming--or what does it
+all mean?
+
+  _Monks._ (_doggedly_). It means that the sight of this 'ere angel child
+recalled me to a sense of what I might be exposin' myself to by carrying
+out your Ladyship's commands; and so I took the liberty of substitootin
+gifts more calculated to inspire gratitude in their recipients--that's
+what it means.
+
+  _Lady B._ Wretch!--then you have disobeyed me? You leave this day month!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_pleading_). Nay, Grandmother, bear with him, for has not his
+disobedience spared you from acts that you might some day have
+regretted?... There, Mr. Butler, Granny forgives you--see, she holds out
+her hand, and here's mine; and now----
+
+  _Lady B._ (_smiling tenderly_). Now you shall sing us "_Woa, Lucinda!_"
+
+     [_Little_ ELFIE _fetches her banjo, and sings, "Woa, Lucinda!"
+     her Grandmother and the aged Steward joining in the dance and
+     chorus, and embracing the child, to form picture as Curtain
+     falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.--JACK PARKER;
+
+OR, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Jack Parker_ ("_was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole
+                  employ._"--_Vide_) Miss JANE TAYLOR.
+
+    _Miss Lydia Banks_ ("_though very young, Will never do what's
+                       rude or wrong._"--_Ditto._)
+
+    _Farmer Banks_        }  By the Brothers GRIFFITHS.
+    _Farmer Banks's Bull_ }
+
+    _Chorus of Farm Hands._
+
+
+     SCENE.--_A Farmyard._ R. _a stall from which the head of the
+     Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter_ Farmer BANKS _with
+     a cudgel_.
+
+  _Farmer B._ (_moodily_). When roots are quiet, and cereals are dull,
+    I vent my irritation on the Bull.
+
+        [_We have_ Miss TAYLOR'S _own authority for this rhyme_.
+
+    Come hup, you beast!
+
+     [_Opens stall and flourishes cudgel--the Bull comes forward
+     with an air of deliberate defiance._
+
+    Oh, turning narsty, is he?
+
+        [_Apologetically to Bull._
+
+    Another time will do! I see you're busy!
+
+     [_The Bull, after some consideration, decides to accept this
+     retractation, and retreats with dignity to his stall, the door
+     of which he carefully fastens after him. Exit_ Farmer BANKS,
+     L., _as_ LYDIA BANKS _enters_ R. _accompanied by Chorus. The
+     Bull exhibits the liveliest interest in her proceedings, as he
+     looks on, with his forelegs folded easily upon the top of the
+     door._
+
+_Song_--LYDIA BANKS (_in Polka time_).
+
+    I'm the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung;
+    Unnaturally good for one so young--
+    A pattern for the people that I go among,
+    With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue.
+    And I often feel afraid that I shan't live long,
+    For I never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull beats time_).
+      As a general rule, one _doesn't_ live long,
+      If you never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    My words are all with wisdom fraught,
+    To make polite replies I've sought;
+    And learned by independent thought,
+    That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought.
+    So wonderfully well have I been taught,
+    That I turn my toes as children ought!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull dances_).
+      This moral lesson she's been taught--
+      She turns her toes as children ought!
+
+  _Lydia_ (_sweetly_). Yes, I'm the Farmer's daughter--Lydia Banks;
+    No person ever caught me playing pranks!
+    I'm loved by all the live-stock on the farm,
+
+        [_Ironical applause from the Bull._
+
+    Pigeons I've plucked will perch upon my arm,
+    And pigs at my approach sit up and beg.
+
+        [_Business by Bull._
+
+    For me the partial peacock saves his egg,
+    No sheep e'er snaps if _I_ attempt to touch her,
+    Lambs _like_ it when I lead them to the butcher!
+    Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed,
+    While rabbits flutter twittering round my head,
+    And, as befits a dairy-farmer's daughter,
+    What milk I get I supplement with water,
+
+     [_A huge Shadow is thrown on the road outside_; LYDIA _starts_.
+
+    Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker?
+    That bullet head! those ears! it is----Jack Parker!
+
+     [_Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay, as_ JACK _enters with a
+     reckless swagger_.
+
+_Song_--JACK PARKER.
+
+    I'm loafing about, and I very much doubt
+    If my excellent Ma is aware that I'm out;
+    My time I employ in attempts to annoy,
+    And I'm not what you'd call an agreeable boy!
+        I shoe the cats with walnut-shells;
+          Tin cans to curs I tie;
+        Ring furious knells at front-door bells--
+          Then round the corner fly!
+    'Neath donkeys' tails I fasten furze,
+      Or timid horsemen scare;
+    If chance occurs, I stock with burrs
+      My little Sister's hair!
+
+        [_The Bull shakes his head reprovingly._
+
+    Such tricks give me joy without any alloy,
+    But they do not denote an agreeable boy!
+
+     [_As_ JACK PARKER _concludes, the Bull ducks cautiously below
+     the half-door, while_ LYDIA _conceals herself behind the pump_,
+     L.C.
+
+  _Jack_ (_wandering about stage discontentedly_). I thought at least
+        there'd be _some_ beasts to badger here!
+    Call this a farm--there ain't a blooming spadger here!
+
+        [_Approaches stall--Bull raises head suddenly._
+
+    A bull! This is a lark I've long awaited!
+    He's in a stable, so he should be baited.
+
+     [_The Bull shows symptoms of acute depression at this jeu de
+     mots_; LYDIA _comes forward indignantly_.
+
+  _Lydia._ I _can't_ stand by and see that poor bull suffer!
+    Excitement's sure to make his beef taste tougher!
+
+        [_The Bull emphatically corroborates this statement._
+
+    Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor; fractured skulls
+    Invariably come from teasing bulls!
+    So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet;
+    For if the bull gets out--why, then you'll catch it.
+
+  _Jack._ A fractured skull? Yah, don't believe a word of it!
+
+     [_Raises latchet: chord; Bull comes slowly out, and crouches
+     ominously_; JACK _retreats, and takes refuge on top of pump:
+     the Bull, after scratching his back with his off foreleg, makes
+     a sudden rush at_ LYDIA.
+
+  _Lydia_ (_as she evades it_). Here, help!--it's chasing me!--it's
+        too absurd of it!
+    Go away, Bull--with _me_ you have no quarrel!
+
+     [_The Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep sense of
+     duty._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_impatiently_). You stupid thing, you're _ruining_ the moral!
+
+        [_The Bull persists obstinately in his pursuit._
+
+  _Jack_ (_from top of pump_). Well dodged, Miss Banks! although
+        the Bull I'll back!
+
+        [_Enter_ Farm-hands.
+
+  _Lydia._ Come quick--this Bull's mistaking me for Jack!
+
+  _Jack._ He knows his business best, I shouldn't wonder.
+
+  _Farm-hands_ (_philosophically_). He ain't the sort of Bull
+        to make a blunder.
+
+        [_They look on._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_panting._) Such violent exercise will soon exhaust me!
+
+        [_The Bull comes behind her._
+
+    Oh, Bull, it _is_ unkind of you ... you've _tossed_ me!
+
+     [_Falls on ground, while the Bull stands over her, in readiness
+     to give the coup de grace_; LYDIA _calls for help_.
+
+  _A Farm-hand_ (_encouragingly_). Nay, Miss, he seems moor
+        sensible nor surly--
+    He knows as how good children perish early!
+
+     [_The Bull nods in acknowledgment that he is at last
+     understood, and slaps his chest with his forelegs._
+
+  _Lydia._ Bull, I'll turn naughty, if you'll but be lenient!
+    Goodness, I see, is sometimes inconvenient.
+    I promise you henceforth I'll _try_, at any rate,
+    To act like children who are unregenerate!
+
+[Illustration: On top of the Pump.]
+
+     [_The Bull, after turning this over, decides to accept a
+     compromise._
+
+  _Jack._ And, Lydia, when you ready for a lark are,
+    Just give a chyhike to your friend--Jack Parker!
+
+        [_They shake hands warmly._
+
+
+FINALE.
+
+  _Lydia._ I thought to slowly fade away so calm and beautiful.
+      (Though I didn't mean to go just yet);
+    But you get no chance for pathos when you're chivied by a bull!
+      (So I thought I wouldn't go just yet.)
+    For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get
+    By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you!
+      That I thought I wouldn't go just yet!
+
+  _Chorus._ We hear, with some regret,
+      That she doesn't mean to go just yet.
+      But a Bull with horns that hurt you
+      Is a poor return for virtue,
+      So she's wiser not to go just yet!
+
+     [_The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives a forehoof each to_
+     LYDIA _and_ JACK, _who dance wildly round and round as the
+     Curtain falls_.
+
+[N.B.--Music-hall Managers are warned that the morality of this
+particular Drama may possibly be called in question by some members of
+the L. C. C.]
+
+
+
+
+IX.--UNDER THE HARROW.
+
+_A CONVENTIONAL COMEDY-MELODRAMA, IN TWO ACTS._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Baronet)._
+
+    _Verbena Puddock (his Daughter)._
+
+    _Lord Bleshugh (her Lover)._
+
+    _Spiker (a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer)._
+
+    _Blethers (an ancient and attached Domestic)._
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+    SCENE--_The Morning Room at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-le-Hole;
+    large window open at back, with heavy practicable sash._
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury's birthday to-day--his birthday!--and the
+gentry giving of him presents. Oh, Lor! if they only knew what _I_ could
+tell 'em!... Ah, and _must_ tell, too, before long--but not yet--not
+yet!
+     [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH _and_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verb._ Yes, Papa is forty to-day; (_innocently_) fancy living to _that_
+age! The tenants have presented him with a handsome jar of mixed
+pickles, with an appropriate inscription. Papa is loved and respected by
+every one. And I--well, I have made him a little housewife, containing
+needles and thread ... See!
+     [_Shows it._
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_tenderly_). I say, I--I wish you would make _me_ a
+little housewife!
+
+        [_Comedy love-dialogue omitted owing to want of space._
+
+  _Verb._ Oh, do look!--there's Papa crossing the lawn with, oh, such a
+horrid man following him!
+
+  _Lord B._ Regular bounder. Shocking bad hat!
+
+  _Verb._ Not so bad as his boots, and _they_ are not so bad as his face!
+Why doesn't Papa order him to go away? Oh, he is actually inviting him
+in!
+
+_Enter_ Sir POSHBURY, _gloomy and constrained, with_ SPIKER, _who is
+jaunty, and somewhat over familiar._
+
+  _Spiker_ (_sitting on the piano, and dusting his boots with his
+handkerchief_). Cosy little shanty you've got here, Puddock--very tasty!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_with a gulp_). I am--ha--delighted that you approve of it!
+Ah, Verbena!
+     [_Kisses her on forehead._
+
+  _Spiker._ Your daughter, eh? Pooty gal. Introduce me.
+
+        [_Sir_ POSH. _introduces him--with an effort._
+
+  _Verbena_ (_coldly_). How do you do? Papa, did you know that the
+sashline of this window was broken? If it is not mended, it will fall on
+somebody's head, and perhaps kill him!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_absently_). Yes--yes, it shall be attended to; but leave us,
+my child, go. Bleshugh, this--er--gentleman and I have business of
+importance to discuss.
+
+  _Spiker._ Don't let us drive you away, Miss; your Pa and me are only
+talking over old times, that's all--eh, Posh?
+
+  _Sir P._ (_in a tortured aside_). Have a care, Sir, don't drive me too
+far! (_To_ VERB.) Leave us, I say. (Lord B. _and_ VERB. _go out, raising
+their eyebrows._) Now, Sir, what is this secret you profess to have
+discovered?
+
+  _Spiker._ Oh, a mere nothing. (_Takes out a cigar._) Got a light about
+you? Thanks. Perhaps you don't recollect twenty-seven years ago this
+very day, travelling from Edgware Road to Baker Street, by the
+Underground Railway?
+
+  _Sir P._ Perfectly; it was my thirteenth birthday, and I celebrated the
+event by a visit to Madame Tussaud's.
+
+[Illustration: Spiker Introduced.]
+
+  _Spiker._ Exactly; it was your thirteenth birthday, and you travelled
+second-class with a half-ticket--(_meaningly_)--on your thirteenth
+birthday.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_terribly agitated_). Fiend that you are, how came you to
+learn this?
+
+  _Spiker._ Very simple. I was at that time in the temporary position of
+ticket-collector at Baker Street. In the exuberance of boyhood, you
+cheeked me. I swore to be even with you some day.
+
+  _Sir P._ Even if--if your accusation were well-founded, how are you
+going to prove it?
+
+  _Sp._ Oh, that's easy! I preserved the half-ticket, on the chance that I
+should require it as evidence hereafter.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_aside_). And so the one error of an otherwise blameless
+boyhood has found me out--at last! (_To_ SPIKER.) I fear you not; my
+crime--if crime indeed it was--is surely condoned by twenty-seven long
+years of unimpeachable integrity!
+
+  _Sp._ Bye-laws are Bye-laws, old Buck! there's no Statute of Limitations
+in criminal offences that ever _I_ heard of! Nothing can alter the fact
+that you, being turned thirteen, obtained a half-ticket by a false
+representation that you were under age. A line from me, even now,
+denouncing you to the Traffic Superintendent, and I'm very much
+afraid----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_writhing_). Spiker, my--my dear friend, you won't do
+that--you won't expose me? Think of my age, my position, my daughter!
+
+  _Sp._ Ah, now you've touched the right chord! I _was_ thinking of your
+daughter--a nice lady-like gal--I don't mind telling you she fetched me,
+Sir, at the first glance. Give me her hand, and I burn the compromising
+half-ticket before your eyes on our return from church after the
+wedding. Come, that's a fair offer!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_indignantly_). My child, the ripening apple of my failing
+eye, to be sacrificed to a blackmailing blackguard like you! Never while
+I live!
+
+  _Sp._ Just as you please; and, if you will kindly oblige me with writing
+materials, I will just drop a line to the Traffic Superintendent----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_hoarsely_). No, no; not _that_.... Wait, listen; I--I will
+speak to my daughter. I promise nothing; but if her heart is still her
+own to give, she may, (mind, I do not say she _will_,) be induced to
+link her lot to yours, though I shall not attempt to influence her in
+any way--in _any_ way.
+
+  _Sp._ Well, you know your own business best, old Cockalorum. Here comes
+the young lady, so I'll leave you to manage this delicate affair alone.
+Ta-ta. I shan't be far off.
+
+        [_Swaggers insolently out as_ VERB. _enters._
+
+  _Sir P._ My child, I have just received an offer for your hand. I know
+not if you will consent?
+
+  _Verb._ I can guess who has made that offer, and why. I consent with all
+my heart, dear Papa.
+
+  _Sir P._ Can I trust my ears! You consent? Noble girl!
+
+        [_He embraces her._
+
+  _Verb._ I was quite sure dear Bleshugh meant to speak, and I _do_ love
+him very much.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_starting_). It is not Lord Bleshugh, my child, but Mr. Samuel
+Spiker, the gentleman (for he is at heart a gentleman) whom I introduced
+to you just now.
+
+  _Verb._ I have seen so little of him, Papa, I cannot love him--you must
+really excuse me!
+
+  _Sir P._ Ah, but you will, my darling, you _will_--I know your unselfish
+nature--you will, to save your poor old dad from a terrible disgrace ...
+yes, _disgrace_, listen! Twenty-seven years ago--(_he tells her all_).
+Verbena, at this very moment, there is a subscription on foot in the
+county to present me with my photograph, done by an itinerant
+photographer of the highest eminence, and framed and glazed ready for
+hanging. Is that photograph never to know the nail which even now awaits
+it? Can you not surrender a passing girlish fancy, to spare your fond
+old father's fame? Mr. Spiker is peculiar, perhaps, in many ways--not
+quite of our _monde_--but he loves you sincerely, my child, and that is
+in itself a recommendation. Ah, I see--my prayers are vain ... be
+happy, then. As for me, let the police come--I am ready!
+     [_Weeps._
+
+  _Verb._ Not so, Papa; I will marry this Mr. Spiker, since it is your
+wish.
+     [Sir POSH. _dries his eyes._
+
+  _Sir P._ Here, Spiker, my dear fellow, it is all right. Come in. She
+accepts you.
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER.
+
+  _Sp._ Thought she would. Sensible little gal! Well, Miss, you shan't
+regret it. Bless you, we'll be as chummy together as a couple of little
+dicky-birds.
+
+  _Verb._ Mr. Spiker, let us understand one another. I will do my best to
+be a good wife to you--but chumminess is not mine to give, nor can I
+promise ever to be your dicky-bird.
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord B._ Sir Poshbury, may I have five minutes with you? Verbena, you
+need not go. (_Looking at_ SPIKER.) Perhaps this person will kindly
+relieve us of his presence.
+
+  _Sp._ Sorry to disoblige, old fellow, but I'm on duty where Miss Verbena
+is now, you see, as she's just promised to be my wife.
+
+  _Lord B._ _Your_ wife!
+
+  _Verb._ (_faintly_). Yes, Lord Bleshugh, his _wife_!
+
+  _Sir P._ Yes, my poor boy, _his_ wife!
+
+     [VERBENA _totters, and falls heavily in a dead faint,_ R.C.,
+     _upsetting a flower-stand;_ LORD BLESHUGH _staggers, and swoons
+     on sofa, C., overturning a table of knicknacks;_ SIR POSHBURY
+     _sinks into chair,_ L.C., _and covers his face with his hands._
+
+  _Sp._ (_looking down on them triumphantly_). Under the Harrow, by Gad!
+Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Curtain, and end of Act I._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+    SCENE--_Same as in Act I.; viz., the Morning-Room at Natterjack
+    Hall. Evening of same day. Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Another of Sir Poshbury's birthdays almost gone--and my
+secret still untold! (_Dodders._) I can't keep it up much longer.... Ha,
+here comes his Lordship--he does look mortal bad, that he do! Miss
+Verbena ain't treated him too well, from all I can hear, poor young
+feller!
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord Bleshugh._ Blethers, by the memory of the innumerable half-crowns
+that have passed between us, be my friend now--I have no others left.
+Persuade your young Mistress to come hither--you need not tell her _I_
+am here, you understand. Be discreet, and this florin shall be yours!
+
+  _Blethers._ Leave it to me, my lord. I'd tell a lie for less than that,
+any day, old as I am!
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ I cannot rest till I have heard from her own lips that the
+past few hours have been nothing but a horrible dream.... She is coming!
+Now for the truth!
+
+_Enter_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verbena._ Papa, did you want me? (_Recognises Lord B.--controls herself
+to a cold formality._) My lord, to what do I owe this--this unexpected
+intrusion?
+     [_Pants violently._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ Verbena, tell me, you cannot really prefer that seedy snob in
+the burst boots to me?
+
+  _Verb._ (_aside_). How can I tell him the truth without betraying dear
+Papa? No, I must lie, though it kills me. (_To Lord B._) Lord Bleshugh,
+I have been trifling with you. I--I never loved you.
+
+  _Lord B._ I see, and all the while your heart was given to a howling
+cad?
+
+  _Verb._ And if it was, who can account for the vagaries of a girlish
+fancy! We women are capricious beings, you know. (_With hysterical
+gaiety._) But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker--he has not _yet_ howled in
+_my_ presence--(_aside_)--though I very nearly did in _his_!
+
+  _Lord B._ And you really love him?
+
+  _Verb._ I--I love him. (_Aside._) My heart will break!
+
+  _Lord B._ Then I have no more to say. Farewell, Verbena! Be as happy as
+the knowledge that you have wrecked one of the brightest careers, and
+soured one of the sweetest natures in the county, will permit. (_Goes up
+stage, and returns._) A few days since you presented me with a cloth
+pen-wiper, in the shape of a dog of unknown breed. If you will kindly
+wait here for half-an-hour, I shall have much pleasure in returning a
+memento which I have no longer the right to retain, and there are
+several little things I gave you which I can take back with me at the
+same time, if you will have them put up in readiness.
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Verbena._ Oh, he is cruel, cruel! but I shall keep the little bone
+yard-measure, and the diamond pig--they are all I have to remind me of
+him!
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER, _slightly intoxicated._
+
+  _Spiker._ (_throwing himself on sofa without seeing Verb._) I don' know
+how it is, but I feel precioush shleepy, somehow. P'raps I _did_ partake
+lil' too freely of Sir Poshbury's gen'rous Burgundy. Wunner why they
+call it "gen'rous"--it didn't give _me_ anything--'cept a bloomin'
+headache! However, I punished it, and old Poshbury had to look on and
+let me. He-he! (_Examining his hand._) Who'd think, to look at thish
+thumb, that there was a real live Baronet squirmin' under it. But there
+ish!
+     [_Snores._
+
+[Illustration: Spiker spiked.]
+
+  _Verb._ (_bitterly_). And _that_ thing is my affianced husband Ah, no I
+cannot go through with it, he is _too_ repulsive! If I could but find a
+way to free myself without compromising poor Papa. The sofa-cushion!
+_Dare_ I? It would be quite painless.... Surely the removal of such an
+odious wretch cannot be _Murder_.... I will! (_Slow music. She gets a
+cushion, and presses it tightly over_ SPIKER'S _head._) Oh, I _wish_ he
+wouldn't gurgle like that, and how he does kick! He cannot even die like
+a gentleman! (SPIKER'S _kicks become more and more feeble and eventually
+cease._) How still he lies! I almost wish ... Mr. Spiker, Mr.
+Spi-ker!... no answer--oh, I really _have_ suffocated him! (_Enter_ Sir
+POSH.) You, Papa?
+
+  _Sir Posh._ What, Verbena, sitting with, hem--Samuel in the gloaming?
+(_Sings with forced hilarity._) "In the gloaming, oh, my darling!"
+that's as it should be--quite as it should be!
+
+  _Verb._ (_in dull strained accents_). Don't sing, Papa, I cannot bear
+it--just yet. I have just suffocated Mr. Spiker with a sofa-cushion.
+See!
+     [_Shows the body._
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Then I am safe--he will tell no tales now! But, my child,
+are you aware of the very serious nature of your act? An act of which,
+as a Justice of the Peace, I am bound to take some official cognizance!
+
+  _Verb._ Do not scold me, Papa. Was it not done for _your_ sake?
+
+  _Sir P._ I cannot accept such an excuse as that. I fear your motives
+were less disinterested than you would have me believe. And now,
+Verbena, what will _you_ do? As your father, I would gladly screen
+you--but, as a Magistrate, I cannot promise to be more than passive.
+
+  _Verb._ Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan--why should I not wheel
+this sofa to the head of the front-door steps, and tip it over? They
+will only think he fell down when intoxicated--for he _had_ taken far
+too much wine, Papa!
+
+  _Sir P._ Always the same quick-witted little fairy! Go, my child, but be
+careful that none of the servants see you. (VERB. _wheels the sofa and_
+SPIKER'S _body out,_ L.U.E.) My poor impulsive darling, I do hope she
+will not be seen--servants _do_ make such mischief! But there's an end
+of Spiker, at any rate. I should _not_ have liked him for a son-in-law,
+and with him, goes the only person who knows my unhappy secret!
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury, I have a secret to reveal which I can preserve
+no longer--it concerns something that happened many years ago--it is
+connected with your _birthday_, Sir Poshbury.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_quailing_). What, _another_! I must stop _his_ tongue at all
+hazards. Ah, the rotten sash-line! (_To_ BLETHERS.) I will hear you, but
+first close yonder window, the night-air is growing chill.
+
+     [BLETHERS _goes to window at back. Slow music. As he approaches
+     it,_ Lord BLESHUGH _enters_ (R 2 E), _and, with a smothered cry
+     of horror, drags him back by the coat-tails--just before the
+     window falls with a tremendous crash._
+
+  _Sir P._ Bleshugh! What have you done?
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_sternly_). Saved _him_ from an untimely end--and _you_
+from--crime!
+
+_Collapse of_ Sir P. _Enter_ VERBENA, _terrified._
+
+  _Verb._ Papa, Papa, hide me! The night-air and the cold stone steps have
+restored Mr. Spiker to life and consciousness! He is coming to denounce
+me--you--both of us! He is awfully annoyed!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_recklessly_). It is useless to appeal to me, child. I have
+enough to do to look after myself--now.
+
+        [_Enter_ SPIKER, _indignant._
+
+  _Spiker._ Pretty treatment for a gentleman, this! Look here, Poshbury,
+this young lady has choked me with a cushion, and then pitched me down
+the front steps--I might have broken my neck.
+
+  _Sir P._ It was an oversight which I lament, but for which I must
+decline to be answerable. You must settle your differences with her.
+
+  _Spiker._ And you too, old horse! _You_ had a hand in this, I know, and
+I'll pay you out for it now. My life ain't safe if I marry a girl like
+that, so I've made up my mind to split and be done with it!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_contemptuously_). If _you_ don't, Blethers _will_. So do your
+worst, you hound!
+
+  _Spiker._ Very well then; I will. (_To the rest._) I denounce this man
+for travelling with a half-ticket from Edgware Road to Baker Street on
+his thirteenth birthday, the 31st of March twenty-seven years ago this
+very day!
+     [_Sensation._
+
+  _Blethers._ Hear me! It was _not_ his thirteenth birthday; Sir
+Poshbury's birthday falls on the 1st of April--_to-morrow_! I was sent
+to register the birth, and, by a blunder, which I have repented bitterly
+ever since, unfortunately gave the wrong date. Till this moment I have
+never had the manliness or sincerity to confess my error, for fear of
+losing my situation.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_to_ SPIKER). Do you hear, you paltry knave? I was _not_
+thirteen. Consequently, I was under age, and the Bye-laws are still
+unbroken. Your hold over me is gone--gone for ever!
+
+  _Spiker._ H'm--Spiker spiked this time!
+
+        [_Retires up disconcerted._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ And you did not really love him, after all, Verbena?
+
+  _Verb._ (_with arch pride_). Have I not proved my indifference?
+
+  _Lord Bl._ But I forget--you admitted that you were but trifling with my
+affection--take back your pin-cushion!
+
+  _Verb._ Keep it. All that I did was done to spare my father!
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Who, as a matter of fact, was innocent--but I forgive you,
+child, for your unworthy suspicions. Bleshugh, my boy, you have saved me
+from unnecessarily depriving myself of the services of an old retainer.
+Blethers, I condone a dissimulation for which you have done much to
+atone. Spiker, you vile and miserable rascal, be off, and be thankful
+that I have sufficient magnanimity to refrain from giving you in charge.
+(SPIKER _sneaks off crushed._) And now, my children, and my faithful old
+servant, congratulate me that I am no longer----
+
+  _Verbena and Lord Bleshugh_ (_together_). Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Affecting Family Tableau and quick Curtain._
+
+
+
+
+X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE
+
+
+[Illustration: Tommy and Jane.]
+
+Once more we draw upon our favourite source of inspiration--the poems of
+the Misses Taylor. The dramatist is serenely confident that the new
+London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired
+official is appointed, will highly approve of this little piece on
+account of the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to teach,
+amongst other useful lessons, that--as the poem on which it is founded
+puts it--"Fruit in lanes is seldom good"; also, that it is not always
+prudent to take a hint: again, that constructive murder is distinctly
+reprehensible, and should never be indulged in by persons who cannot
+control their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often be
+averted by the exercise of a little _savoir vivre_.
+
+
+TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Tommy and his Sister Jane (Taylorian Twins, and awful examples)._
+
+    _Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story,
+        and slightly altered)._
+
+    _Old Farmer Copeer (skilled in the use of horse and cattle medicines)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_A shady lane; on the right, a gate, leading to the
+     farm; left, some bashes, covered with practicable scarlet
+     berries._
+
+_Enter the_ Wicked Uncle, _stealthily_.
+
+  _The W. U._ No peace of mind I e'er shall know again
+    Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane!
+    But--though a naughty--I'm a nervous nunky,
+    For downright felonies I'm far too funky!
+    I'd hire assassins--but of late the villains
+    Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin's!
+    Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage
+    (_Sympathetically_) For two poor orphans who are under age!
+    So (as I'd give no more than half a guinea)
+    I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny.
+    Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter,
+    And can't make up my mind to risk a halter.
+    (_Looking off._) Ha, in the distance, Jane and little Tom I see!
+    These berries--(_meditatively_)--why, it only needs diplomacy.
+    Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment!
+
+     [_Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as_ Jane _and_ Tom
+     _trip in, and regard him with innocent wonder._
+
+  _Jane._ Uncle, what _is_ the joke? Why all this merriment?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_in guilty confusion_). Not merriment, my
+        loves--a trifling spasm--
+    Don't be alarmed--your Uncle often has 'em!
+    I'm feeling better than I did at first--
+    _You're_ looking flushed, though not, I hope, with thirst?
+
+        [_Insidiously._
+
+_Song, by the_ Wicked Uncle.
+
+    The sun is scorching overhead;
+      The roads are dry and dusty;
+    And here are berries, ripe and red,
+      Refreshing when you're _thusty_!
+    They're hanging just within your reach,
+      Inviting you to clutch them!
+    But--as your Uncle--I beseech
+      You won't attempt to touch them?
+
+  _Tommy and Jane_ (_dutifully_). We'll do whatever you beseech, and not
+attempt to touch them!
+
+        [_Annoyance of_ W. U.
+
+  _The W. U._ Temptation (so I've understood)
+      A child, in order kept, shuns;
+    And fruit in lanes is seldom good
+      (With several exceptions).
+    However freely you partake,
+      It can't--as you are young--kill,
+    But should it cause a stomach-ache--
+      Well, don't you blame your Uncle!
+
+  _Tommy and Jane._ No, should it cause a stomach-ache, we will not blame
+our Uncle!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_aside_). They'll need no further personal assistance,
+    But take the bait when I am at a distance.
+    I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats,
+    (_With sentiment_) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets,
+    Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut!
+
+        [_Stealing off._
+
+  _Tommy._ What, Uncle, going?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with assumed jauntiness_). Just to get my hair
+        cut!    [_Goes._
+
+  _Tommy_ (_looking wistfully at the berries_). I say, they _do_ look
+        nice, Jane, such a lot too!
+
+  _Jane_ (_demurely_). Well, Tommy, Uncle never told us _not_ to.
+
+     [_Slow music; they gradually approach the berries, which they
+     pick and eat with increasing relish, culminating in a dance of
+     delight._
+
+_Duet_--TOMMY _and_ JANE (_with step-dance_).
+
+  _Tommy_ (_dancing, with his mouth full_). These berries ain't so
+        bad--although they've far too much acidity.
+
+  _Jane_ (_ditto_). To me, their only drawback is a dash of insipidity.
+
+  _Tommy_ (_rudely_). But, all the same, you're wolfing 'em
+        with wonderful avidity!
+
+  _Jane_ (_indignantly_). No, _that_ I'm not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_calmly_).                          But you _are_!
+
+  _Jane._                                                 And so are _you_!
+
+     [_They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries--after which
+     they gaze thoughtfully at each other._
+
+  _Jane._ This fruit is most refreshing--but it's curious how
+        it cloys on you!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with anxiety_). I wonder why all appetite for
+        dinner it destroys in you!
+
+  _Jane._ Oh, Tommy, aren't you half afraid you've ate
+        enough to poison you?
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not--so there now! &c., &c.
+
+        [_They dance as before._
+
+  _Tommy._ Jane, _is_ your palate parching up in horrible aridity?
+
+  _Jane._ It is, and in my throat's a lump of singular solidity.
+
+  _Tommy._ Then that is why you're dancing with such pokerlike rigidity.
+
+     [_Refrain as before; they dance with decreasing spirit, and
+     finally stop, and fan one another with their hats._
+
+  _Jane._ I'm better now that on my brow there is a little breeziness.
+
+  _Tommy._ My passing qualm is growing calm, and tightness
+        turns to easiness.
+
+  _Jane._ You seem to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness?
+
+     [_Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance--but suddenly sit
+     down side by side._
+
+  _Jane_ (_with a gasp_). I don't know what it is--but, oh, I
+        _do_ feel so peculiar!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with a gulp_). I've tumults taking place within
+        that I may say unruly are.
+
+  _Jane._ Why, Tommy, you are turning green--you really
+        and you _truly_ are!
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Jane._                              But you _are_!
+
+  _Tommy._                                 And so are _you_!
+
+     [_Melancholy music; to which_ TOMMY _and_ _Jane_, _after a few
+     convulsive movements, gradually become inanimate. Enter old_
+     Farmer COPEER _from gate, carrying a large bottle labelled
+     "Cattle Medicine."_
+
+  _Farmer C._ It's time I gave the old bay mare her drench.
+
+        [_Stumbles over the children._
+
+    What's here? A lifeless lad!--and little wench!
+    Been eating berries--where did they get _them_ idees?
+    For cows, when took so, I've the reg'lar remedies.
+    I'll try 'em here--and if their state the worse is,
+    Why, they shall have them balls I give my 'erses!
+
+        [_Carries the bodies off just before the_ W. U. _re-enters_.
+
+  _W. U._ The children--gone? yon bush of berries less full!
+    Hooray, my little stratagem's successful!
+
+        [_Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Farmer C._ Been looking for your little niece and nephew?
+
+  _The W. U._ Yes, searching for them everywhere--
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_ironically_).             Oh, _hev'_ you?
+    Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free, Sir.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_falling on his knees_). _I_ didn't poison them--it
+        wasn't _me_, Sir!
+
+  _Farmer C._ I thought as much--a constable I'll run for.
+
+        [_Exit._
+
+  _The W. U._ My wretched nerves again! _This_ time I'm done for!
+    Well, though I'm trapped, and useless all disguise is,
+    My case shall ne'er come on at the Assizes!
+
+     [_Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the
+     remaining berries, which produce an almost instantaneous
+     effect. Re-enter_ TOM _and_ JANE _from gate, looking pale and
+     limp. Terror of the_ Wicked Uncle _as he turns and recognises
+     them_.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with tremulous politeness_). The shades of
+        Jane and Tommy, I presume?
+
+        [_Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Jane and Tommy_ (_pointing to Farmer C._) His Cattle
+        Mixtures snatched us from the tomb!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with a flicker of hope_). Why, then the self-same
+        drugs will ease _my_ torments!
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_chuckling_). Too late! they've drunk the lot,
+        the little vormints!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_bitterly_). So out of life I must inglorious wriggle,
+    Pursued by Tommy's grin, and Jenny's giggle!
+
+     [_Dies in great agony, while_ TOMMY, JANE, _and_ Farmer COPEER
+     _look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS.
+
+"Miss Jenny and Polly had each a new dolly."--_Vide Poem._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Miss Jenny_  } By the Sisters LEAMAR.
+    _Miss Polly_  }
+
+    _The Soldier Doll_ } By the Two ARMSTRONGS.
+    _The Sailor Doll_  }
+
+
+     SCENE--_A Nursery. Enter_ Miss JENNY _and_ Miss POLLY, _who
+     perform a blameless step-dance with an improving chorus_.
+
+    Oh, isn't it jolly! we've each a new dolly,
+      And one is a Soldier, the other's a Tar;
+    We're fully contented with what's been presented,
+      Such good little children we both of us are!
+
+     [_They dance up to a cupboard, from which they bring out two
+     large Dolls, which they place on chairs._
+
+  _Miss J._ _Don't_ they look nice! Come, Polly, let us strive
+    To make ourselves believe that they're alive!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_addressing_ Sailor D.). I'm glad you're mine. I
+        dote on all that's nautical.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_opening his eyes suddenly_). Excuse me, Miss, your
+        sister's more _my_ sort o' gal.
+
+     [_Kisses his hand to_ Miss J., _who shrinks back, shocked and
+     alarmed_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Oh, Polly, _did_ you hear? I feel so shy!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_with mild self-assertion_). _I_ can say "Pa" and
+        "Ma"--and wink my eye.
+
+     [_Does so at_ Miss P., _who runs in terror to_ Miss J.'s
+     _side_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Why, both are showing signs of animation.
+
+  _Miss P._ Who'd think we had such strong imagination!
+
+  _The Soldier Doll_ (_aside to the Sailor D._). I say, old fellow,
+        we have caught their fancy--
+    In each of us they now a real man see!
+    Let's keep it up!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_dubiously._) D'ye think as we can _do_ it?
+
+  _The Soldier D._ You stick by me, and I will see you through it.
+    Sit up, and turn your toes out,--don't you loll;
+    Put on the Man, and drop the bloomin' Doll!
+
+     [_The_ Sailor DOLL _pulls himself together, and rises from
+     chair importantly_.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_in the manner of a Music-hall Chairman_)--
+
+    Ladies, with your kind leave, this gallant gent
+    Will now his military sketch present.
+
+     [Miss J. _and_ P. _applaud_: _the_ Soldier D., _after feebly
+     expostulating, is induced to sing_.
+
+_Song, by the_ Soldier Doll.
+
+    When I used to be displayed,
+    In the Burlington Arcade,
+    With artillery arrayed
+          Underneath.
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    I imagine that I made
+    All the Lady Dolls afraid,
+    I should draw my battle-blade
+          From its sheath,
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    For I'm Mars's gallant son,
+    And my back I've shown to none,
+    Nor was ever seen to run
+          From the strife!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+    Oh, the battles I'd have won,
+    And the dashing deeds have done,
+    If I'd ever fired a gun
+          In my life!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+_Refrain (to be sung marching round Stage)._
+
+    By your right flank, Wheel!
+    Let the front rank kneel!
+    With the bristle of the steel
+          To the foe.
+    Till their regiments reel,
+    At our rattling peal,
+    And the military zeal
+          We show!
+
+[Illustration: "Shoulder Hump!"]
+
+        [_Repeat, with the whole company marching round after him._
+
+  _The Soldier Doll._ My friend will next oblige--this jolly Jack Tar.
+    Will give his song and chorus in charàck-tar!
+
+        [_Same business with_ Sailor D.
+
+_Song, by the_ Sailor Doll.
+
+    In costume I'm
+    So maritime,
+    You'd never suppose the fact is,
+    That with the Fleet
+    In Regent Street,
+    I'd precious little naval practice!
+    There was saucy craft,
+    Rigged fore an' aft,
+    Inside o' Mr. Cre-mer's.
+    From Noah's Arks to Clipper-built barques,
+    Like-wise mechanical stea-mers.
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    But to navigate the Serpentine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    With clockwork, sails, or spirits of wine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    I did respeckfully decline,
+    So I was left in port to pine,
+    Which wasn't azactually the line
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Boy, Yeo-ho!
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Bo-oy!
+
+        Yes, there was lots
+        Of boats and yachts,
+        Of timber and of tin, too;
+        But one and all
+        Was far too small
+        For a doll o' my size to get into
+        I was too big
+        On any brig
+        To ship without disas-ter,
+        And it wouldn't never do
+        When the cap'n and the crew
+        Were a set 'o little swabs all plaster!
+
+_Chorus_--So to navigate the Serpentine, &c.
+
+    An Ark is p'raps
+    The berth for chaps
+    As is fond o' Natural Hist'ry.
+    But I sez to Shem
+    And the rest o' them,
+    "How you get along at all's a myst'ry!
+    With a Wild Beast Show
+    Let loose below,
+    And four fe-males on deck too!
+    I never could agree
+    With your happy fami-lee,
+    And your lubberly ways I objeck to."
+
+     [_Chorus. Hornpipe by the company, after which the_ Soldier
+     Doll _advances condescendingly to_ Miss JENNY.
+
+  _The Sold. D._ Invincible I'm reckoned by the Ladies,
+    But yield to you--though conquering my trade is!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_repulsing him_). Oh, go away, you great conceited thing, you!
+
+        [_The_ Sold. D. _persists in offering her attentions._
+
+  _Miss P._ (_watching them bitterly_). To be deserted by one's
+        doll _does_ sting you!
+
+        [_The_ Sailor D. _approaches._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_to_ Miss P.) Let _me_ console you, Miss, a Sailor Doll
+    As swears his 'art was ever true to Poll!
+
+(N.B.--_Good opportunity for Song here._)
+
+  _Miss P._ (_indignantly to_ Miss J.) Your Sailor's teasing me to
+        be his idol!
+    Do make him stop--(_spitefully_)--When you've _quite_ done
+        with _my_ doll!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_scornfully._) If you suppose _I_ want your wretched warrior,
+    I'm sorry _for_ you!
+
+  _Miss P._            I for you am sorrier.
+
+  _Miss J._ (_weeping_, R.). Polly preferred to me--what ignominy!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_weeping_, L.). My horrid Soldier jilting me for Jenny!
+
+        [_The two Dolls face one another_, C.
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_to_ Soldier D.). You've made her sluice her sky-lights
+        now, you swab!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_to_ Sailor D.). As you have broke her heart, I'll
+    break your nob!    [_Hits him._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_in a pale fury_). This insult must be blotted out in bran!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_fiercely_). Come on, I'll shed your sawdust--if I can!
+
+        [Miss J. _and_ P. _throw themselves between the combatants_.
+
+  _Miss J._ For any mess you make _we_ shall be scolded,
+    So wait until a drugget we've unfolded!
+
+        [_They lay down drugget on Stage._
+
+  _The Soldier D._ (_politely_). No hurry, Miss, _we_ don't object
+        to waiting.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). His valour--like my own--'s evaporating!
+    (_Defiantly to_ Soldier D.). On guard! You'll see how soon
+        I'll run you through!
+    (_Confidentially._) (If you will not prod _me_, I won't pink _you_.)
+
+  _The Soldier D._ Through your false kid my deadly blade I'll pass!
+    (_Confidentially._) (Look here, old fellow, don't you be a _hass_!)
+
+        [_They exchange passes at a considerable distance._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). Don't lose your temper now!
+
+  _Sold. D._        Don't get excited.
+    Do keep a little farther off!
+
+  _Sail. D._                      Delighted!
+
+        [_Wounds_ Soldier D. _by misadventure._
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_annoyed_). There now, you've gone and made upon
+        my wax a dent!
+
+  _Sail. D._ Excuse me, it was really quite an accident.
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_savagely_). Such clumsiness would irritate a saint!
+
+        [_Stabs Sailor Doll._
+
+  _Miss J. and P._ (_imploringly_). Oh, stop! the sight of sawdust
+        turns us faint!
+
+        [_They drop into chairs, swooning._
+
+  _Sail. D._ I'll pay you out for that!
+
+        [_Stabs Soldier D._
+
+  _Sold. D._                            Right through you've poked me!
+
+  _Sailor D._ So you have _me_!
+
+  _Sold. D._                  You shouldn't have provoked me!
+
+        [_They fall transfixed._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_faintly_). Alas, we have been led away by vanity.
+    Dolls shouldn't try to imitate humanity!    [_Dies._
+
+  _Soldier D._ For, if they do, they'll end like us, unpitied,
+    Each on the other's sword absurdly spitted!
+
+     [_Dies._ Miss J. _and_ P. _revive, and bend sadly over the
+     corpses_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny._ From their untimely end we draw this moral,
+    How wrong it is, even for dolls, to quarrel!
+
+  _Miss Polly._ Yes, Jenny, in the fate of these poor fellows see
+    What sad results may spring from female jealousy!
+
+        [_They embrace penitently as Curtain falls._
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER.
+
+(_Adapted freely from a well-known Poem in the "Struwwelpeter."_)
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Conrad (aged 6)._
+
+    _Conrad's Mother(47)._
+
+    _The Scissorman (age immaterial)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_An Apartment in the house of_ CONRAD'S _Mother, window
+     in centre at back, opening upon a quiet thoroughfare. It is
+     dusk, and the room is lighted only by the reflected gleam from
+     the street-lamps._ CONRAD _discovered half-hidden by left
+     window-curtain._
+
+  _Conrad_ (_watching street_). Still there! For full an hour
+        he has not budged
+    Beyond the circle of yon lamp-post's rays!
+    The gaslight falls upon his crimson hose,
+    And makes a steely glitter at his thigh,
+    While from the shadow peers a hatchet-face
+    And fixes sinister malignant eyes--
+    On whom? (_Shuddering._) I dare not trust myself to guess
+    And yet--ah, no--it cannot be myself!
+    I am so young--one is still young at six!--
+    What man can say that I have injured him?
+    Since, in my Mother's absence all the day
+    Engaged upon Municipal affairs,
+    I peacefully beguile the weary hours
+    By suction of consolatory thumbs.
+
+     [_Here he inserts his thumb in his mouth, but almost instantly
+     removes it with a start._
+
+    Again I meet those eyes! I'll look no more--
+    But draw the blind and shut my terror out.
+
+        [_Draws blind and lights candle; Stage lightens._
+
+    Heigho, I wish my Mother were at home!
+    (_Listening._) At last! I hear her latch-key in the door!
+
+     [_Enter_ CONRAD'S _Mother, a lady of strong-minded appearance,
+     rationally attired. She carries a large reticule full of
+     documents._
+
+  _Conrad's M._ Would, Conrad, that you were of riper years,
+    So you might share your Mother's joy to-day,
+    The day that crowns her long and arduous toil
+    As one of London's County Councillors!
+
+  _Conrad._ Nay, speak; for though my mind be immature,
+    One topic still can charm my infant ear,
+    That ever craves the oft-repeated tale.
+    I love to hear of that august assembly
+
+        [_His Mother lifts her bonnet solemnly._
+
+    In which my Mother's honoured voice is raised!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_gratified_). Learn, Conrad, then, that, after many months
+    Of patient "lobbying" (you've heard the term?)
+    The measure by my foresight introduced
+    Has triumphed by a bare majority!
+
+  _Con._ My bosom thrills with dutiful delight--
+    Although I yet for information wait
+    As to the scope and purpose of the statute.
+
+  _C.'s M._ You show an interest so intelligent
+    That well deserves it should be satisfied,
+    Be seated, Conrad, at your Mother's knee,
+    And you shall hear the full particulars.
+    You know how zealously I advocate
+    The sacred cause of Nursery Reform?
+    How through my efforts every infant's toys
+    Are carefully inspected once a month----?
+
+  _Con._ (_wearily_). Nay, Mother, you forget--I _have_ no toys.
+
+  _C.'s M._ Which brings you under the exemption clause.
+    But--to resume; how Nursery Songs and Tales
+    Must now be duly licensed by our Censor,
+    And any deviation from the text
+    Forbidden under heavy penalties?
+    All that you know. Well; with concern of late,
+    I have remarked among our infancy
+    The rapid increase of a baneful habit
+    On which I scarce can bring my tongue to dwell.
+
+        [_The Stage darker; blind at back illuminated._
+
+    Oh, Conrad, there are children--think of it!--
+    So lost to every sense of decency
+    That, in mere wantonness or brainless sloth,
+    They obstinately suck forbidden thumbs!
+
+        [CONRAD _starts with irrepressible emotion._
+
+    Forgive me if I shock your innocence!
+    (_Sadly._) Such things exist--but soon shall cease to be,
+    Thanks to the measure we have passed to-day!
+
+  _Con._ (_with growing uneasiness_). But how can statutes
+        check such practices?
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_patting his head_). Right shrewdly questioned,
+        boy! I come to that.
+    Some timid sentimentalists advised
+    Compulsory restraint in woollen gloves,
+    Or the deterrent aid of bitter aloes.
+    _I_ saw the evil had too deep a seat
+    To yield to such half-hearted remedies.
+    No; we must cut, ere we could hope to cure!
+    Nay, interrupt me not; my Bill appoints
+    A new official, by the style and title
+    Of "London County Council Scissorman,"
+    For the detection of young "suck-a-thumbs."
+
+     [_Here the shadow of a huge hand brandishing a gigantic pair of
+     shears appears upon the blind._
+
+  _Con._ (_hiding his face in his Mother's lap._) Ah, Mother,
+    see!... the scissors!... On the blind!
+
+  _C.'s M._ Why, how you tremble! You've no cause to fear.
+    The shadow of his grim insignia
+    Should have no terror--save for thumb-suckers.
+
+  _Con._ And what for _them_?
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_complacently_). A doom devised by me--
+    The confiscation of the culprit thumbs.
+    Thus shall our statute cure while it corrects,
+    For those who have no thumbs can err no more.
+
+     [_The shadow slowly passes on the blind_, CONRAD _appearing
+     relieved at its departure. Loud knocking without. Both start to
+     their feet._
+
+  _C.'s M._ Who knocks so loud at such an hour as this?
+
+  _A Voice._ Open, I charge ye. In the Council's name!
+
+  _C.'s M._ 'Tis the Official Red-legged Scissorman,
+    Who doubtless calls to thank me for the post.
+
+  _Con._ (_with a gloomy determination_). More like his business,
+        Madam, is with--Me!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_suddenly enlightened_). A Suck-a-thumb? ... you, CONRAD?
+
+  _C._ (_desperately_). Ay,--from birth!
+
+     [_Profound silence, as Mother and Son face one another. The
+     knocking is renewed._
+
+  _C.'s M._ Oh, this is horrible--it must not be!
+    I'll shoot the bolt and barricade the door.
+
+     [CONRAD _places himself before it, and addresses his Mother in
+     a tone of incisive irony_.
+
+  _Con._ Why, where is all the zeal you showed of late?
+    Is't thus that you the Roman Matron play?
+    Trick not a statute of your own devising.
+    Come, your official's waiting--let him in!
+
+        [C's M. _shrinks back appalled_.
+
+    So? you refuse!--(_throwing open door_)--then--enter, Scissorman!
+
+     [_Enter the_ Scissorman, _masked and in red tights, with his
+     hand upon the hilt of his shears._
+
+  _The S._ (_in a passionless tone_). Though sorry to create
+        unpleasantness,
+    I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman,
+    Which these own eyes have marked between his lips.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_frantically_). Thou minion of a meddling tyranny,
+    Go exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere!
+
+  _The S._ (_civilly_). I've duties here that must be first performed.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_wildly_). Take my two thumbs for his!
+
+  _The S._                                        'Tis not the law--
+    Which is a model of lucidity.
+
+  _Con._ (_calmly_). Sir, you speak well. My thumbs are forfeited,
+    And they alone must pay the penalty.
+
+  _The S._ (_with approval_). Right! Step with me into the outer hall,
+    And have the business done without delay.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_throwing herself between them._) Stay, I'm a
+        Councillor--this law was _mine_!
+    Hereby I do suspend the clause I drew.
+
+  _The S._ You should have drawn it milder.
+
+  _Con._                                    Must I teach
+    A parent laws were meant to be obeyed?
+      [_To Sc._] Lead on, Sir. (_To his Mother with cold courtesy._)
+        Madam,--may I trouble you?
+
+[Illustration: "My Conrad!"]
+
+     [_He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the_ Sc.;
+     _the door is shut and fastened from without._ C.'s M. _rushes
+     to door which she attempts to force without success._
+
+  _C.'s M._ In vain I batter at a senseless door,
+    I'll to the keyhole train my tortured ear.
+    (_Listening._) Dead silence! ... is it over--or, to come?
+    Hark! was not that the click of meeting shears?...
+    Again! and followed by the sullen thud
+    Of thumbs that drop upon linoleum!...
+
+     [_The door is opened and_ CONRAD _appears, pale but erect._
+     _N.B. The whole of this scene has been compared to one in "La
+     Tosca"--which, however, it exceeds in horror and intensity._
+
+  _C.'s M._ They send him back to me, bereft of both!
+    My CONRAD! What?--repulse a Mother's Arms!
+
+  _Con._ (_with chilling composure_). Yes, Madam, for between us ever more,
+    A barrier invisible is raised,
+    And should I strive to reach those arms again,
+    Two spectral thumbs would press me coldly back--
+    The thumbs I sucked in blissful ignorance,
+    The thumbs that solaced me in solitude,
+    The thumbs your County Council took from me,
+    And your endearments scarcely will replace!
+    Where, Madam, lay the sin in sucking them?
+    The dog will lick his foot, the cat her claw,
+    His paws sustain the hibernating bear--
+    And you decree no law to punish _them_!
+    Yet, in your rage for infantine reform,
+    You rushed this most ridiculous enactment--
+    Its earliest victim--your neglected son!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_falling at his feet_). Say, CONRAD, you will some day pardon
+me?
+
+  _Con._ (_bitterly, as he regards his maimed hands._) Aye--on the day
+these pollards send forth shoots!
+
+     [_His_ Mother _turns aside with a heartbroken wail_; CONRAD
+     _standing apart in gloomy estrangement as the Curtain
+     descends._
+
+
+
+
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Transcribers Notes:
+
+Some minor obvious punctuation and typographical errors have been
+corrected silently. Unclosed quotes have been left as they appear in the
+original.
+
+
+Changes made:
+
+    Pg 15 "With enthusiams [replaced with "enthusiasm"] We can make
+    a shift to do it"
+
+    Pg 66 "and the restless winds be mowning." [replaced full stop
+    with comma]
+
+    Pg 95 "The Monster Man-trap steathily" [replaced with
+    "stealthily"]
+
+    Pg 128 "Even _this_ cannot shatter her alrtess [replaced with
+    "artless"] faith"
+
+    Pg 131 "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmamma"
+    [replaced with "Grandmama" (used previously)]
+
+    Pg 156 "a constable I'll run for, [replaced comma with full stop.]"
+
+
+Both versions of the following words were used in the text:
+
+    latchkey, latch-key
+    limelight, lime-light
+    sashline, sash-line
+    selfsame, self-same
+
+
+All uncertain hyphenation left hyphenated:
+
+    Pg 25  a-noma-lee
+    Pg 38  elec-tresses
+    Pg 99  Bed-chamber
+    Pg 115 low-born
+    Pg 120 Christmas-time
+    Pg 164 sky-lights
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and
+Dramas, by F. Anstey
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***
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diff --git a/old/39045-8.zip b/old/39045-8.zip
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@@ -0,0 +1,5971 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas, by
+F. Anstey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas
+       Collected, Improved and Re-arranged from Punch
+
+Author: F. Anstey
+
+Release Date: March 4, 2012 [EBook #39045]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Fulvia Hughes and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+                    }
+                    } denotes a large curly bracket.
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+    By F. ANSTEY.
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+    YOUNG RECITER
+
+    Illustrated.
+
+    Price 3_s._ 6_d._
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH'S
+
+    MODEL MUSIC-HALL
+
+    SONGS & DRAMAS.
+
+    Collected, Improved, and Re-Arranged
+
+    FROM "PUNCH."
+
+    BY F. ANSTEY,
+    AUTHOR OF "VICE VERSA," "MR. PUNCH'S YOUNG RECITER," &C
+
+    With Illustrations.
+
+    LONDON:
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., 9, BOUVERIE ST., E.C.
+    1892.
+
+
+
+
+    LONDON
+
+    BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                          PAGE
+
+    INTRODUCTION                             3
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+
+            SONGS.
+
+    I.--THE PATRIOTIC                       15
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL              18
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY                23
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE IDYLLIC                        27
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC                31
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--THE CHIVALROUS                     37
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE              40
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA               47
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--THE DUETTISTS                      53
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION               59
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER               63
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC          69
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR        73
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+
+            DRAMAS.
+
+    I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER         79
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER                 86
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    III.--THE MAN-TRAP                      93
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IV.--THE FATAL PIN                      99
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE           106
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VI.--COMING OF AGE                     113
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    VII.--RECLAIMED!                       120
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    VIII.--JACK PARKER.                    132
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    IX.--UNDER THE HARROW                  139
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE          151
+
+        _Illustrations._
+
+    XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS                   158
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    XII.--CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER      166
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+[_The Illustrations are by Edward T. Reed; with others from "Punch."_]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: MUSIC HALL PROPRIETOR.]
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+The day is approaching, and may even now be within measurable distance,
+when the Music Halls of the Metropolis will find themselves under yet
+more stringent supervision than is already exercised by those active and
+intelligent guardians of middle-class morality, the London County
+Council. The moral microscope which detected latent indecency in the
+pursuit of a butterfly by a marionette is to be provided with larger
+powers, and a still more extended field. In other words, our far-sighted
+and vigilant County Councilmen, perceiving the futility of delaying the
+inspection of Variety Entertainments until such improprieties as are
+contained therein have been suffered to contaminate the public mind for
+a considerable period, are determined to nip these poison-flowers in the
+bud for the future; and, unless Mr. Punch is misinformed, will apply to
+Parliament at the earliest opportunity for clauses enabling them to
+require each item in every forthcoming performance to be previously
+submitted to a special committee for sanction and approval.
+
+The conscientious rigour with which they will discharge this new and
+congenial duty may perhaps be better understood after perusing the
+little prophetic sketch which follows; for Mr. Punch's Poet, when not
+employed in metrical composition, is a Seer of some pretensions in a
+small way, and several of his predictions have already been shamelessly
+plagiarised by the unscrupulous hand of Destiny. It is not improbable
+that this latest effort of his will receive a similar compliment,
+although this would be more gratifying if Destiny ever condescended to
+acknowledge such obligations. However, here is the forecast for what it
+is worth, a sum of incalculable amount:--
+
+
+POETIC LICENCES.
+
+A VISION OF THE NEAR FUTURE.
+
+     SCENE--_A Committee-room of the L. C. C.; Sub-Committee of
+     Censors, (appointed, under new regulations, to report on all
+     songs intended to be sung on the Music-hall Stage,) discovered
+     in session._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler_ (_retained for the Ballad-writers_). The next licence I
+have to apply for is for--well, (_with some hesitation_)--a composition
+which certainly borders on the--er--amorous--but I think, Sir, you will
+allow that it is treated in a purely pastoral and Arcadian spirit.
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_gravely_). There _are_ arcades, Mr. Wheedler, I may
+remind you, which are by no means pastoral. I cannot too often repeat
+that we are here to fulfil the mission entrusted to us by the Democracy,
+which will no longer tolerate in its entertainments anything that is
+either vulgar, silly, or offensive in the slightest degree.
+    [_Applause._
+
+  _Mr. Wheedler._ Quite so. With your permission, Sir, I will read you the
+Ballad.
+    [_Reads._
+
+
+"MOLLY AND I.
+
+    "Oh! the day shall be marked in red letter----"
+
+  _The Chairman._ One moment, Mr. Wheedler, (_conferring with his
+colleagues_). "Marked with red letter"--isn't that a little--eh? liable
+to----You don't think they'll have read Hawthorne's book? Very well,
+then. Go on, Mr. Wheedler, please.
+
+  _Mr. W._ "'Twas warm, with a heaven so blue."
+
+  _First Censor._ Can't pass those two epithets--you must tone them down,
+Mr. Wheedler--_much_ too suggestive!
+
+  _Mr. W._ That shall be done.
+
+  _The Chairman._ And it ought to be "sky."
+
+  _Mr. W._ "When amid the lush meadows I met her,
+              My Molly, so modest and true!"
+
+  _Second Censor._ I object to the word "lush"--a direct incitement to
+intemperance!
+
+  _Mr. W._ I'll strike it out. (_Reads._)
+
+    "Around us the little kids rollicked,
+     Lighthearted were all the young lambs----"
+
+  _Second Censor._ Surely "kids" is _rather_ a vulgar expression, Mr.
+Wheedler? Make it "_children_," and I've no objection.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I have made it so. (_Reads._)
+
+    "They kicked up their legs as they frolicked"----
+
+  _Third Censor._ If that is intended to be done on the stage, I protest
+most strongly--a highly indecorous exhibition!
+     [_Murmurs of approval._
+
+  _Mr. W._ But they're only lambs!
+
+  _Third Censor._ Lambs, indeed! We are determined to put down _all_
+kicking in Music-hall songs, no matter _who_ does it! Strike that line
+out.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading_). "And frisked by the side of their dams."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_severely_). No profanity, Mr. Wheedler, _if_ you
+please!
+
+  _Mr. W._ Er--I'll read you the Refrain. (_Reads, limply._)
+
+    "Molly and I. With nobody nigh.
+      Hearts all a-throb with a rapturous bliss,
+    Molly was shy. And (at first) so was I,
+      Till I summoned up courage to ask for a kiss!"
+
+  _The Chairman._ "Nobody nigh," Mr. Wheedler? I don't quite like that.
+The Music Hall ought to set a good example to young persons. "Molly and
+I--_with her chaperon by_," is better.
+
+  _Second Censor._ And that last line--"asking for a kiss"--does the song
+state that they were formally engaged, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I--I believe it omits to mention the fact. But (_ingeniously_)
+it does not appear that the request was complied with.
+
+  _Second Censor._ No matter--it should never have been made. Have the
+goodness to alter that into--well, something of this kind. "And I always
+addressed her politely as "Miss." Then we _may_ pass it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_reading the next verse_).
+
+    "She wore but a simple sun-bonnet."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_shocked_). Now really, Mr. Wheedler, _really_, Sir!
+
+  _Mr. W._    "For Molly goes plainly attired."
+
+  _First Censor_ (_indignantly_). I should think so--_Scandalous_!
+
+  _Mr. W._    "Malediction I muttered upon it,
+               One glimpse of her face I desired."
+
+[Illustration: Licensing Day.]
+
+  _The Chairman._ I think my colleague's exception is perhaps just a
+_leetle_ far-fetched. At all events, if we substitute for the last
+couplet,
+
+    "Her dress is sufficient--though on it
+     She only spends what is strictly required."
+
+Eh, Mr. Wheedler? Then we work in a moral as well, you see, and avoid
+malediction, which can only mean bad language.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_doubtfully_). With all respect, I submit that it doesn't scan
+quite so well----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_sharply_). _I_ venture to think scansion may be
+sacrificed to propriety, _occasionally_, Mr. Wheedler--but pray go on.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_continuing_).
+
+    "To a streamlet we rambled together.
+      I carried her tenderly o'er.
+    In my arms--she's as light as a feather--
+      That sweetest of burdens I bore!"
+
+  _First Censor._ I really _must_ protest. No properly conducted young
+woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You must alter that, Mr.
+Wheedler!
+
+  _Second C._ And I don't know--but I rather fancy there's a
+"double-intender" in that word "light"--(_to colleague_)--it strikes
+me--eh?--what do _you_ think?----
+
+  _The Chairman_ (_in a conciliatory manner_). I am inclined to agree to
+some extent--not that I consider the words particularly objectionable in
+themselves, but we are men of the world, Mr. Wheedler, and as such we
+cannot shut our eyes to the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too
+apt to find significance in many apparently innocent expressions and
+phrases.
+
+  _Mr. W._ But, Sir, I understood from your remarks recently that the
+Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the nature of
+suggestiveness!
+
+  _The Ch._ Exactly so; and therefore we cannot allow their
+susceptibilities to be shocked. (_With a severe jocosity._) Molly and
+you, Mr. Wheedler, must either ford the stream like ordinary persons, or
+stay where you are.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_depressed._) I may as well read the last verse, I suppose:
+
+    "Then under the flickering willow
+      I lay by the rivulet's brink,
+    With her lap for a sumptuous pillow----"
+
+  _First Censor._ We can't have that. It is really _not_ respectable.
+
+  _The Ch._ (_pleasantly._) Can't we alter it slightly? "I'd brought a
+small portable pillow." No objection to _that_!
+
+     [_The other Censors express dissent in undertones._
+
+  _Mr. W._    "Till I owned that I longed for a drink."
+
+  _Third C._ No, no! "A drink"! We all know what _that_ means--alcoholic
+stimulant of some kind. At all events that's how the audience are
+certain to take it.
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_feebly_).
+
+    "So Molly her pretty hands hollowed
+      Into curves like an exquisite cup,
+    And draughts so delicious I swallowed,
+      That rivulet nearly dried up!"
+
+  _Third C._ Well, Mr. Wheedler, you're not going to defend _that_, I
+hope?
+
+  _Mr. W._ I'm not prepared to deny that it is silly--_very_ silly--but
+hardly--er--vulgar, I should have thought?
+
+  _Third C._ That is a question of taste, which we won't dispute. _I_ call
+it _distinctly_ vulgar. Why can't he drink out of his _own_ hands?
+
+  _The Ch._ (_blandly_). Allow me. How would _this_ do for the second
+line? "She had a collapsible cup." A good many people _do_ carry them. I
+have one myself. Is that all of your Ballad, Mr. Wheedler?
+
+  _Mr. W._ (_with great relief._) That _is_ all, Sir.
+
+     [_Censors withdraw, to consider the question._
+
+  _The Ch._ (_after consultation with colleagues_). We have carefully
+considered this song, and we are all reluctantly of opinion that we
+cannot, consistently with our duty, recommend the Council to license
+it--even with the alterations my colleagues and myself have gone
+somewhat out of our way to suggest. The whole subject is too dangerous
+for a hall in which young persons of both sexes are likely to be found
+assembled; and the absence of any distinct assertion that the young
+couple--Molly and--ah--the gentleman who narrates the experience--are
+betrothed, or that their attachment is, in any way, sanctioned by their
+parents or guardians, is quite fatal. If we have another Ballad of a
+similar character from the same quarter, Mr. Wheedler, I feel bound to
+warn you that we may possibly consider it necessary to advise that the
+poet's licence should be cancelled altogether.
+
+  _Mr. W._ I will take care to mention it to my client, Sir. I understand
+it is his intention to confine himself to writing Gaiety burlesques in
+future.
+
+  _The Ch._ A very laudable resolution! I hope he will keep it.
+     [_Scene closes in._
+
+
+It is hardly possible that any Music-hall Manager or vocalist,
+irreproachable as he may hitherto have considered himself, can have
+taken this glimpse into a not very remote futurity without symptoms of
+uneasiness, if not of positive dismay. He will reflect that the ballad
+of "Molly and I," however reprehensible it may appear in the fierce
+light of an L. C. C. Committee Room, is innocuous, and even moral,
+compared to the ditties in his own _repertoire_. How, then, can he hope,
+when his hour of trial strikes, to confront the ordeal with an unruffled
+shirt-front, or a collar that shall retain the inflexibility of
+conscious innocence? And he will wish then that he had confined himself
+to the effusions of a bard who could not be blamed by the most
+censorious moralist.
+
+Here, if he will only accept the warning in time, is his best safeguard.
+He has only to buy this little volume, and inform his inquisitors that
+the songs and business with which he proposes to entertain an ingenuous
+public are derived from the immaculate pages of Mr. Punch. Whereupon
+censure will be instantly disarmed and criticism give place to
+congratulation. It is just possible, to be sure, that this somewhat
+confident prediction smacks rather of the Poet than the Seer, and that
+even the entertainment supplied by Mr. Punch's Music Hall may, to the
+Purist's eye, present features as suggestive as a horrid vulgar clown,
+or as shocking as a butterfly, an insect notorious for its frivolity.
+But then, so might the "songs and business" of the performing canary, or
+the innocent sprightliness of the educated flea, with its superfluity of
+legs, all absolutely unclad. At all events, the compiler of this
+collection ventures to hope that, whether it is fortunate enough to find
+favour or not with Music-hall "artistes," literary critics, and London
+County Councilmen, it contains nothing particularly objectionable to the
+rest of the British Public. And very likely, even in this modest
+aspiration, he is over-sanguine, and his little joke will be taken
+seriously. Earnestness is so alarmingly on the increase in these days.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    SONGS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PATRIOTIC.]
+
+I.--THE PATRIOTIC
+
+
+This stirring ditty--so thoroughly sound and practical under all its
+sentiment--has been specially designed to harmonise with the recently
+altered tone of Music-hall audiences, in which a spirit of enlightened
+Radicalism is at last happily discernible. It is hoped that, both in
+rhyme and metre, the verses will satisfy the requirements of this most
+elegant form of composition. The song is intended to be shouted through
+music in the usual manner by a singer in evening dress, who should carry
+a small Union Jack carelessly thrust inside his waistcoat. The title is
+short but taking:--
+
+
+ON THE CHEAP!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Of a Navy insufficient cowards croak, deah boys!
+    If our place among the nations we're to keep.
+    But with British beef, and beer, and hearts of oak, deah boys!--
+    (_With enthusiasm._) We can make a shift to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_With a common-sense air_.) Let us keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    While Britannia is the boss upon the deep,
+    She can wollop an invader, when he comes in his Armada,
+    If she's let alone to do it--On the Cheap!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    (_Affectionately._)
+    Johnny Bull is just as plucky as he _was_, deah boys!
+    (_With a knowing wink._) And he's wide awake--no error!--not asleep;
+    But he won't stump up for ironclads--becos, deah boys!
+    He don't see his way to get 'em--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    So keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    (_Gallantly._) And we'll chance what may happen on the deep!
+    For we can't be the losers if we save the cost o' cruisers,
+    And contentedly continue--On the Cheap!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    The British Isles are not the Conti-nong, deah boys!
+    (_Scornfully._) Where the Johnnies on defences spend a heap.
+    No! we're Britons, and we're game to jog along, deah boys!
+    (_With pathos._) In the old time-honoured fashion--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    (_Imploringly._) Ah! keep, deah boys! On the Cheap;
+    For the price we're asked to pay is pretty steep.
+    Let us all unite to dock it, keep the money in our pocket,
+    And we'll conquer or we'll perish--On the Cheap!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    If the Tories have the cheek to touch our purse, deah boys!
+    Their reward at the elections let 'em reap!
+    They will find a big Conservative reverse, deah boys!
+    If they can't defend the country--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    They must keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
+    Or the lot out of office we will sweep!
+    Bull gets rusty when you tax him, and his patriotic maxim
+    Is, "I'll trouble you to govern--On the Cheap!"
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_this to be sung shrewdly_).
+
+    If the Gover'ment ain't mugs they'll take the tip, deah boys!
+    Just to look a bit ahead before they leap,
+    And instead of laying down an extry ship, deah boys!
+    They'll cut down the whole caboodle--On the Cheap!
+
+_Chorus_ (_with spirit and fervour_).
+
+    And keep, deah boys! On the Cheap!
+    For we ain't like a bloomin' lot o' sheep.
+    When we want to "parry bellum,"[A]
+                     [_Union Jack to be waved here._
+    You may bet yer boots we'll tell 'em!
+    But we'll have the "bellum" "parried"--On the Cheap!
+
+This song, if sung with any spirit, should, _Mr. Punch_ thinks, cause a
+positive _furore_ in any truly patriotic gathering, and possibly go some
+way towards influencing the decision of the country, and consequently
+the fate of the Empire, in the next General Elections. In the meantime
+it is at the service of any Champion Music Hall Comique who is capable
+of appreciating it.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[A] Music-hall Latinity--"_Para bellum_."
+
+
+
+
+II.--THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL.
+
+[Illustration: "--And the Post!"]
+
+
+In most respects, no doubt, the present example can boast no superiority
+to ditties in the same style now commanding the ear of the public. One
+merit, however, its author does claim for it. Though it deals with most
+of the burning questions of the hour, it can be sung anywhere with
+absolute security. This is due to a simple but ingenious method by which
+the political sentiment has been arranged on the reversible principle. A
+little alteration here and there will put the singer in close touch with
+an audience of almost any shade of politics. Should it happen that the
+title has been already anticipated, _Mr. Punch_ begs to explain that the
+remainder of this sparkling composition is entirely original; any
+similarity with previous works must be put down entirely to "literary
+coincidence." Whether the title is new or not, it is a very nice one,
+viz:--
+
+
+BETWEEN YOU AND ME--AND THE POST.
+
+(_To be sung in a raucous voice, and with a confidential air._)
+
+    I've dropped in to whisper some secrets I've heard.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Picked up on the wing by a 'cute little bird.
+    We are gentlemen 'ere--so the caution's absurd,
+    Still, you'll please to remember that every word
+              Is between you and me and the Post!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should dance_).
+
+      Between you and me and the Post! An 'int is sufficient at most.
+      I'd very much rather this didn't go farther,
+               than 'tween you and me and the Post!
+
+    At Lord Sorlsbury's table there's sech a to-do.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    When he first ketches sight of his dinner _menoo_,
+    And sees he's set down to good old Irish stoo--
+    Which he's sick of by this time--now, tell me, ain't _you_?
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     _(This happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Question is sure
+     to provoke loud laughter from an audience of Radical
+     sympathies. For Unionists, the words_ "Lord Sorlsbury's" _can be
+     altered by our patent reversible method into "the_ G. O. M.'s,"
+     _without at all impairing the satire.) Chorus, as before._
+
+    The G. O. M.'s hiding a card up his sleeve.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    Any ground he has lost he is going to retrieve,
+    And what _his_ little game is, he'll let us perceive,
+    And he'll pip the whole lot of 'em, so I believe,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The hit will be made quite as palpably for the other side by
+     substituting_ "Lord Sorlsbury's," _&c., at the beginning of the
+     first line, should the majority of the audience be found to
+     hold Conservative views._)
+
+    Little Randolph won't long be left out in the cold.
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If they'll let him inside the Conservative fold,
+    He has promised no longer he'll swagger and scold,
+    But to be a good boy, and to do as he's told,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_The mere mention of_ Lord Randolph's _name is sufficient to
+     ensure the success of any song._)
+
+    Joey Chamberlain's orchid's a bit overblown,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     (_This is rather subtle, perhaps, but an M.-H. audience will
+     see a joke in it somewhere, and laugh._)
+
+    'Ow to square a round table I'm sure he has shown.
+
+     (_Same observation applies here._)
+
+    But of late he's been leaving his old friends alone,
+    And I fancy he's grinding an axe of his own,
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (_We now pass on to Topics of the Day, which we treat in a
+     light but trenchant fashion._)
+
+    On the noo County Councils they've too many nobs,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    For the swells stick together, and sneer at the mobs;
+    And it's always the rich man the poor one who robs.
+    We shall 'ave the old business--all jabber and jobs!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+     (N.B.--_This verse should not be read to the L. C. C. who might
+     miss the fun of it._)
+
+    There's a new rule for ladies presented at Court,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    High necks are allowed, so no colds will be cort,
+    But I went to the droring-room lately, and thort
+    Some old wimmen had dressed quite as low as they _ort_!
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    By fussy alarmists we're too much annoyed,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    If we don't want our neighbours to think we're afroid,
+                                               [_M.-H. rhyme._
+    Spending dibs on defence we had better avoid.
+    And give 'em instead to the poor unemployed.
+                                    [_M.-H. political economy._
+              Between you and me and the Post!      (_Chorus._)
+
+    This style of perlitical singing ain't hard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+    As a "Mammoth Comique" on the bills I am starred,
+    And, so long as I'm called, and angcored, and hurrar'd,
+    I can rattle off rubbish like this by the yard,
+              Between you and me and the Post!
+
+     [_Chorus, and dance off to sing the same song_--_with or
+     without alterations_--_in another place._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.]
+
+III.--A DEMOCRATIC DITTY.
+
+
+The following example, although it gives a not wholly inadequate
+expression to what are understood to be the loftier aspirations of the
+most advanced and earnest section of the New Democracy, should not be
+attempted, as _yet_, before a West-End audience. In South or East
+London, the sentiment and philosophy of the song may possibly excite
+rapturous enthusiasm; in the West-End, though the tone is daily
+improving, they are not educated quite up to so exalted a level at
+present. Still, as an experiment in proselytism, it might be worth
+risking, even there. The title it bears is:--
+
+
+GIVEN AWAY--WITH A POUND OF TEA!
+
+VERSE I.--(_Introductory._)
+
+    Some Grocers have taken to keeping a stock
+    Of ornaments--such as a vase, or a clock--
+    With a ticket on each where the words you may see:
+    "To be given away--with a Pound of Tea!"
+
+_Chorus_ (_in waltz time_).
+
+                "Given away!"
+                That's what they say.
+    Gratis--a present it's offered you free.
+                Given away.
+                With nothing to pay,
+    "Given away--[_tenderly_]--with a Pound of Tea!"
+
+VERSE II.--(_Containing the moral reflection._)
+
+    Now, the sight of those tickets gave me an idear.
+    What it set me a-thinking you're going to 'ear:
+    I thought there were things that would possibly be
+    Better given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away." So much as to say, &c.
+
+VERSE III.--(_This, as being rather personal than general in its
+application, may need some apology. It is really put in as a graceful
+concession to the taste of an average Music-hall audience, who like to
+be assured that the Artists who amuse them are as unfortunate as they
+are erratic in their domestic relations._)
+
+    Now, there's my old Missus who sits up at 'ome--
+    And when I sneak _up_-stairs my 'air she will comb,--
+    I don't think I'd call it bad business if _she_
+    Could be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away!" That's what they say, &c.
+                                            [_Mutatis mutandis._
+
+VERSE IV.--(_Flying at higher game. The social satire here is perhaps
+almost too good-natured, seeing what intolerable pests all Peers are to
+the truly Democratic mind. But we must walk before we can run.
+Good-humoured contempt will do very well, for the present._)
+
+    Fair Americans snap up the pick of our Lords.
+    It's a practice a sensible Briton applords.
+        [_This will check any groaning at the mention of Aristocrats._
+    Far from grudging our Dooks to the pretty Yan-kee,--
+    (_Magnanimously_) Why, we'd give 'em away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give 'em away! So we all say, &c.
+
+VERSE V.--(_More frankly Democratic still._)
+
+    To-wards a Republic we're getting on fast;
+    Many old Institootions are things of the past.
+    (_Philosophically_) Soon the Crown 'll go, too, as an a-noma-lee,
+    And be given away--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--"Given away!" Some future day, &c.
+
+VERSE VI.--(_Which expresses the peaceful proclivities of the populace
+with equal eloquence and wisdom. A welcome contrast to the era when
+Britons had a bellicose and immoral belief in the possibility of being
+called upon to defend themselves at some time!_)
+
+    We've made up our minds--though the Jingoes may jor--
+    Under no provocation to drift into war!
+    So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee
+    Is--Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea!
+
+        _Chorus_--Give 'em away, &c.
+
+VERSE VII.--(_We cannot well avoid some reference to the Irish Question
+in a Music-hall ditty, but observe the logical and statesmanlike method
+of treating it here. The argument--if crudely stated--is borrowed from
+some advanced by our foremost politicians._)
+
+    We've also discovered at last that it's crule
+    To deny the poor Irish their right to 'Ome Rule!
+    So to give 'em a Parlyment let us agree--
+    (_Rationally_) Or they may blow us up with a Pound of their "Tea"!
+
+        [_A euphemism which may possibly be remembered and understood._
+
+        _Chorus_--Give it away, &c.
+
+VERSE VIII. (_culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the Coming
+Dawn_).
+
+    Iniquitous burdens and rates we'll relax:
+    For each "h" that's pronounced we will clap on a tax!
+                                          [_A very popular measure._
+    And a house in Belgraveyer, with furniture free,
+    Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea!
+
+  _Chorus, and dance off._--Given away! Ippipooray!
+      Gratis we'll get it for nothing and free!
+      Given away! Not a penny to pay!
+      Given away!--with a Pound of Tea!
+
+
+If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the imagination
+of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepresented
+by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters--a supposition _Mr.
+Punch_ must decline to entertain for a single moment.
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE IDYLLIC.
+
+
+The following ballad will not be found above the heads of an average
+audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any
+lady _artiste_.
+
+
+SO SHY!
+
+     _The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline
+     to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given the
+     signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will step
+     upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires, which
+     seems to come from a consciousness of being a favourite of the
+     public._
+
+    I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle,
+         [_Self-praise is a great recommendation--in Music-hall songs_.
+      So retiring and so timid and so coy.
+    If you ask me why so long I have lived single,
+      I will tell you--'tis because I am so shoy.
+
+     [_Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet
+     Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, I am--really, though you wouldn't think it to look at me,
+would you? But, for all that,--
+
+  _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle,
+            Going off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I blush;
+            Then turn paler than a lily,
+            For I'm such a little silly,
+          That I'm always in a flutter or a flush!
+
+     [_After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of
+     shrinking maidenly modesty._
+
+    I've a cottage far away from other houses,
+      Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh;
+    When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses,
+      For I _cannot_ cure myself of being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--A great girl like me, too! But there, it's no use trying,
+for--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson,
+      Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy,
+    For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson,
+      And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When he speaks to me, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Then said Chorley: "My pursuit there's no evyding.
+      Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy.
+    Do you love me? Tell me truly, little myding!"
+      But how _is_ a girl to answer when she's shoy?
+
+_Spoken_--For even if the conversation happens to be about nothing
+particular, it's just the same to me.
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+[Illustration: THE IDYLLIC.]
+
+    There we stood among the loilac and syringas,
+      More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy;
+                                      [_Arcadian for "buy."_
+    And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers,
+      And I couldn't tell him not to, being shoy.
+
+_Spoken_--For, as I told you before,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing,
+      While I only heaved a gentle little soy;
+    Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in,
+      It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy!
+
+_Spoken_--People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As
+for me,--
+
+        _Chorus_--When they talk of love, I wriggle, &c.
+
+    So very soon to Church we shall be gowing,
+      While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy.
+    If obedience you do not hear me vowing,
+      It will only be because I am so shy.
+
+     [_We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, it will
+     be observed._
+
+_Spoken_--Yes, and when I'm passing down the oil, on Chorley's arm, with
+everybody looking at me,--
+
+  _Chorus_--I am certain I shall wriggle,
+            And go off into a giggle,
+          And as red as any peony I'll blush.
+            Going through the marriage service
+            Will be sure to mike me nervous,
+                        [_Note the freedom of the rhyme._
+          And to put me in a flutter and a flush!
+
+
+
+
+V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC.
+
+
+The history of a singer's latest love--whether fortunate or
+otherwise--will always command the interest and attention of a
+Music-hall audience. Our example, which is founded upon the very best
+precedents, derives an additional piquancy from the social position of
+the beloved object. Cultivated readers are requested not to shudder at
+the rhymes. _Mr. Punch's_ Poet does them deliberately and in cold blood,
+being convinced that without these somewhat daring concords, no ditty
+would have the slightest chance of satisfying the great ear of the
+Music-hall public.
+
+The title of the song is:--
+
+
+MASHED BY A MARCHIONESS.
+
+     _The singer should come on correctly and tastefully attired in
+     a suit of loud dittoes, a startling tie, and a white hat_--_the
+     orthodox costume (on the Music-hall stage) of a middle-class
+     swain suffering from love-sickness. The air should be of the
+     conventional jog-trot and jingle order, chastened by a
+     sentimental melancholy._
+
+    I've lately gone and lost my 'art--and where you'll never guess--
+    I'm regularly mashed upon a lovely Marchioness!
+    'Twas at a Fancy Fair we met, inside the Albert 'All;
+    So affable she smiled at me as I came near her stall!
+
+  _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour!
+              She'd an Uncle an Earl, and a Dook for her Pa--
+              Still there was no starchiness in that fair Marchioness,
+              As she stood at her stall in the Fancy Bazaar!
+
+    At titles and distinctions once I'd ignorantly scoff,
+    As if no bond could be betwixt the tradesman and the toff!
+    I held with those who'd do away with difference in ranks--
+    But that was all before I met the Marchioness of Manx!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A home was being started by some kind aristo-crats,
+    For orphan kittens, born of poor, but well-connected cats;
+    And of the swells who planned a _Fete_ this object to assist,
+    The Marchioness of Manx's name stood foremost on the list.
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    I never saw a smarter hand at serving in a shop,
+    For every likely customer she caught upon the 'op!
+    And from the form her ladyship displayed at that Bazaar,
+    (_With enthusiasm_)--You might have took your oath she'd
+        been brought up behind a bar!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    In vain I tried to kid her that my purse had been forgot,
+    She spotted me in 'alf a jiff, and chaffed me precious hot!
+    A sov. for one regaliar she gammoned me to spend.
+    "You really can't refuse," she said, "I've bitten off the end!"
+
+[Illustration: THE AMATORY EPISODIC.]
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    "Do buy my crewel-work," she urged, "it goes across a chair,
+    You'll find it come in useful, as I see you 'ile your 'air!"
+    So I 'anded over thirty bob, though not a coiny bloke.
+    I couldn't tell a Marchioness how nearly I was broke!
+
+_Spoken_--Though I _did_ take the liberty of saying: "Make it fifteen
+bob, my lady!" But she said, with such a fascinating look--I can see it
+yet!--"Oh, I'm sure _you_'re not a 'aggling kind of a man," she says,
+"you haven't the face for it. And think of all them pore fatherless
+kittings," she says; "think what thirty bob means to _them_!" says she,
+glancing up so pitiful and tender under her long eyelashes at me. Ah,
+the Radicals may talk as they _like_, but----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    A raffle was the next concern I put my rhino in:
+    The prize a talking parrot, which I didn't want to win.
+    Then her sister, Lady Tabby, shewed a painted milking stool,
+    And I bought it--though it's not a thing I sit on as a rule.
+
+_Spoken_--Not but what it was a handsome article in its way, too,--had a
+snow-scene with a sunset done in oil on it. "It will look lovely in your
+chambers," says the Marchioness; "it was ever so much admired at
+Catterwall Castle!" It didn't look so bad in my three-pair back, I must
+say, though unfortunately the sunset came off on me the very first time
+I happened to set down on it. Still think of the condescension of
+painting such a thing at all!
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    The Marquis kept a-fidgeting and frowning at his wife,
+    For she talked to me as free as if she'd known me all my life!
+    I felt that I was in the swim, so wasn't over-awed,
+    But 'ung about and spent my cash as lavish as a lord!
+
+_Spoken_--It was worth all the money, I can tell you, to be chatting
+there across the counter with a real live Marchioness for as long as
+ever my funds would 'old out. They'd have held out much longer, only the
+Marchioness made it a rule never to give change--she couldn't break it,
+she said, not even for _me_. I wish I could give you an idea of how she
+smiled as she made that remark; for the fact is, when an aristocrat
+_does_ unbend--well,----
+
+                               _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia, &c.
+
+    Next time I meet the Marchioness a-riding in the Row,
+    I'll ketch her eye and raise my 'at, and up to her I'll go,
+    (_With sentiment_)--And tell her next my 'art I keep the stump
+        of that cigar
+    She sold me on the 'appy day we 'ad at her Bazaar!
+
+_Spoken_--And she'll be pleased to see me again, _I_ know! She's not one
+of your stuck-up sort; don't you make no mistake about it, the
+aristocracy ain't 'alf as bloated as people imagine who don't _know_
+'em. Whenever I hear parties running 'em down, I always say:
+
+         _Chorus_--Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behaviour, &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE CHIVALROUS.]
+
+VI.--THE CHIVALROUS.
+
+
+     _The singer (who should be a large man, in evening dress, with
+     a crumpled shirt-front) will come on the stage with a bearing
+     intended to convey at first sight that he is a devoted admirer
+     of the fair sex. After removing his crush-hat in an easy
+     manner, and winking airily at the orchestra, he will begin_:--
+
+
+WHY SHOULDN'T THE DARLINGS?
+
+    There's enthusiasm brimming in the breasts of all the women,
+      And they're calling for enfranchisement with clamour eloquent:
+    When some parties in a huff rage at the plea for Female Suffrage,
+      I invariably floor them with a simple argu-ment.
+
+_Chorus_ (_to be rendered with a winning persuasiveness_).
+
+        Why _shouldn't_ the darlings have votes? de-ar things!
+        On politics each of 'em dotes, de-ar things!
+        (_Pathetically._) Oh it _does_ seem so hard
+              They should all be debarred,
+        'Cause they happen to wear petticoats, de-ar things!
+
+    Nature all the hens to crow meant, I could prove it in a moment,
+      Though they've selfishly been silenced by the cockadoodle-doos.
+    But no man of sense afraid is of enfranchising the Ladies.
+      (_Magnanimously._) Let 'em put their pretty fingers into any
+           pie they choose!
+      _Spoken_--For----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They would cease to care for dresses, if we made them elec-tresses,
+      No more time they'd spend on needlework, nor at pianos strum;
+    Every dainty little Dorcas would be sitting on a Caucus,
+      Busy wire-pulling to produce the New Millenni-um!
+      _Spoken_--Oh!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    In the House we'll see them sitting soon, it will be only fitting
+      They should have an opportunity their country's laws to frame.
+    And the Ladies' legislation will be sure to cause sensation,
+      For they'll do away with everything that seems to them a shame!
+      _Spoken_--Then----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They will promptly clap a stopper on whate'er they deem improper,
+      Put an end to vaccination, landed property, and pubs;
+    And they'll fine Tom, Dick, and Harry, if they don't look
+           sharp and marry,
+      And for Kindergartens confiscate those nasty horrid Clubs!
+      _Spoken_--Ah!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    They'll declare it's quite immoral to engage in foreign quarrel,
+      And that Britons never never will be warriors any more!
+    When our forces are abolished, and defences all demolished,
+      They will turn upon the Jingo tack, and want to go to war!
+      _Spoken_--So----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    (_With a grieved air._) Yet there's some who'd close such
+                 vistars to their poor down-trodden sistars,
+      And persuade 'em, if they're offered votes, politely to refuse!
+    Say they do not care about 'em, and would rather be without 'em--
+      Oh, I haven't common patience with such narrer-minded views!
+      _Spoken_--No!----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+    And it's females--that's the puzzle!--who petition for the muzzle,
+      Which I call it poor and paltry, and I think you'll say so too.
+    They are not in any danger. Let 'em drop the dog-in-manger!
+      If they don't require the vote themselves, there's other Ladies do!
+      _Spoken_--And----
+
+        _Chorus_--Why _shouldn't_ the darlings, &c.
+
+     [_Here the singer will gradually retreat backwards to the rear
+     of the stage, open his crush-hat, and extend it in an attitude
+     of triumph as the curtain descends._
+
+
+
+
+VII.--THE FRANKLY CANAILLE.
+
+
+Any ditty which accurately reflects the habits and amusements of the
+people is a valuable human document--a fact that probably accounts for
+the welcome which songs in the following style invariably receive from
+Music-hall audiences generally. If--_Mr. Punch_ presumes--they conceived
+such pictures of their manner of spending a holiday to be unjustly or
+incorrectly drawn in any way, they would protest strongly against being
+so grossly misrepresented. As they do nothing of the sort, no apology
+can be needed for the following effusion, which several ladies now
+adorning the Music-hall stage could be trusted to render with immense
+effect. The singer should be young and charming, and attired as simply
+as possible. Simplicity of attire imparts additional piquancy to the
+words:--
+
+
+THE POOR OLD 'ORSE.
+
+    We 'ad a little outing larst Sunday arternoon;
+    And sech a jolly lark it was, I shan't forget it soon!
+    We borrered an excursion van to take us down to Kew,
+    And--oh, we did enjoy ourselves! I don't mind telling _you._
+
+     [_This to the Chef d'Orchestre, who will assume a polite
+     interest._
+
+     [_Here a little spoken interlude is customary._ Mr. P. _does not
+     venture to do more than indicate this by a synopsis, the
+     details can be filled in according to the taste and fancy of_
+     _the fair artiste:--"Yes, we did 'ave a time, I can assure
+     yer." The party: "Me and_ Jimmy 'Opkins;" _old_ "Pa Plapper."
+     _Asked because he lent the van. The meanness of his subsequent
+     conduct._ "Aunt Snapper;" _her imposing appearance in her
+     "cawfy-coloured front."_ Bill Blazer; _his "girl," and his
+     accordion._ Mrs. Addick _(of the fried-fish emporium round the
+     corner); her gentility--"Never seen out of her mittens, and
+     always the lady, no matter how much she may have taken." From
+     this work round by an easy transition to--_
+
+  _The Chorus_--For we _'ad_ to stop o' course,
+                Jest to bait the bloomin' 'orse,
+                So we'd pots of ale and porter
+                (Or a drop o' something shorter),
+                While he drunk his pail o' water,
+                He was sech a whale on water!
+                That more water than he oughter,
+                More water than he oughter,
+                            'Ad the poor old 'orse!
+
+_Second Stanza._
+
+    That 'orse he was a rum 'un--a queer old quadru-ped,
+    At every public-'ouse he passed he'd cock his artful 'ed!
+    Sez I: "If he goes on like this, we shan't see Kew to-night!"
+    Jim 'Opkins winks his eye, and sez--"We'll git along all right!"
+
+        _Chorus_--Though we 'ave to stop of course,--&c., &c.
+                            [_With slight textual modifications._
+
+_Third Stanza._
+
+    At Kinsington we 'alted, 'Ammersmith, and Turnham Green,
+    The 'orse 'ad sech a thust on him, its like was never seen!
+    With every 'arf a mile or so, that animal got blown:
+    And we was far too well brought-up to let 'im drink alone!
+
+        _Chorus_--As we 'ad to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Fourth Stanza._
+
+    We stopped again at Chiswick, till at last we got to Kew,
+    But when we reached the Gardings--well, there was a fine to-do!
+    The Keeper, in his gold-laced tile, was shutting-to the gate,
+    Sez he: "There's no admittance now--you're just arrived too late!"
+
+     [_Synopsis of spoken Interlude: Spirited passage-at-arms
+     between_ Mr. Wm. Blazer _and the_ Keeper; _singular action of_ Pa
+     Plapper; _"I want to see yer Pagoder--bring out yer old Pagoder
+     as you're so proud on!"_ Mrs. Addick's _disappointment at not
+     being able to see the "Intemperate Plants," and the "Pitcher
+     Shrub," once more. Her subsidence in tears, on the floor of the
+     van._ Keeper _concludes the dialogue by inquiring why the party
+     did not arrive sooner. An' we sez_, "Well, it was like this,
+     ole cock robin--d'yer see?"
+
+        _Chorus_--We've 'ad to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Fifth Stanza._
+
+    "Don't fret," I sez, "about it, for they ain't got much to see
+    Inside their precious Gardings--so let's go and 'ave some tea!
+    A cup I seem to fancy now--I feel that faint and limp--
+    With a slice of bread-and-butter, and some creases, and a s'rimp!"
+
+     [_Description of the tea_:--"_And the s'rimps--well, I don't_
+     _want to say anything against the s'rimps--but it did strike me
+     they were feelin' the 'eat a little--s'rimps are liable to it,
+     and you can't prevent 'em." After tea. The only tune_ Mr. Blazer
+     _could play on his accordion. Tragic end of that instrument. How
+     the party had a "little more lush." Scandalous behaviour of_
+     "Bill Blazer's _girl." The company consume what will be
+     elegantly referred to as "a bit o' booze."_ Aunt Snapper _"gets
+     the 'ump." The outrage to her front. The proposal to
+     start--whereupon,_ "Mrs. Addick, _who was a'-settin' on the
+     geraniums in the winder, smilin' at her boots, which she'd just
+     took off because she said they stopped her breathing,"
+     protested that there was no hurry, considering that_--
+
+        _Chorus, as before_--We've got to stop, o' course, &c.
+
+_Sixth Stanza._
+
+    But when the van was ordered, we found--what _do_ yer think?
+
+     [_To the_ Chef d'Orchestre, _who will affect complete ignorance._
+
+    That miserable 'orse 'ad been an' took too much to drink!
+    He kep' a reeling round us, like a circus worked by steam,
+    And, 'stead o' keeping singular, he'd turned into a team!
+
+     [_Disgust of the party:_ Pa Plapper _proposes to go back to the
+     inn for more refreshment, urging--_
+
+  _Chorus_--We must wait awhile o' course,
+            Till they've sobered down the 'orse.
+            Just another pot o' porter
+            Or a drop o' something shorter,
+            While our good landlady's daughter
+            Takes him out some soda-warter.
+            For he's 'ad more than he oughter,
+            He's 'ad more than he oughter,
+                          'As the poor old 'orse!
+
+_Seventh Stanza._
+
+    So, when they brought the 'orse round, we started on our way:
+    'Twas 'orful 'ow the animal from side to side would sway!
+    Young 'Opkins took the reins, but soon in slumber he was sunk--
+    (_Indignantly._) When a interfering Copper ran us in for being drunk!
+
+     [_Attitude of various members of the party. Unwarrantable
+     proceeding on the part of the_ Constable. _Remonstrance by_ Pa
+     Plapper _and the company generally in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, can't yer shee? o' coursh
+            Tishn't us--it ish the 'orsh!
+            He's a whale at swilling water,
+            We've 'ad only ale and porter,
+            Or a drop o' something shorter.
+            You le'mme go, you shnorter!
+            Don' you tush me till you oughter!
+            Jus' look 'ere--to cut it shorter--
+                          Take the poor old 'orsh!
+
+     [_General adjournment to the Police-station. Interview with the_
+     Magistrate _on the following morning._ Mr. Hopkins _called upon to
+     state his defence, replies in_--
+
+  _Chorus_--Why, your wushup sees, o' course,
+            It was all the bloomin' 'orse!
+            He _would_ 'ave a pail o' water
+            Every 'arf a mile (or quarter),
+            Which is what he didn't oughter!
+            He shall stick to ale or porter,
+            With a drop o' something shorter,
+            I'm my family's supporter--
+                          Fine the poor old 'orse!
+
+     [_The_ Magistrate's _view of the case. Concluding remark that,
+     notwithstanding the success of the excursion, as a whole--it
+     will be some time before the singer consents to go upon any
+     excursion with a horse of such bibulous tendencies as those of
+     the quadruped they drove to Kew._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DRAMATIC SCENA.]
+
+VIII.--THE DRAMATIC SCENA.
+
+
+This is always a popular form of entertainment, demanding, as it does,
+even more dramatic than vocal ability on the part of the artist. A song
+of this kind is nothing if not severely moral, an frequently depicts the
+downward career of an incipient drunkard with all the lurid logic of a
+Temperance Tract. _Mr. Punch_, however, is inclined to think that the
+lesson would be even more appreciated and taken to heart by the
+audience, if a slightly different line were adopted such as he has
+endeavoured to indicate in the following example:--
+
+
+THE DANGER OF MIXED DRINKS.
+
+     _The singer should have a great command of facial expression,
+     which he will find greatly facilitated by employing (as indeed
+     is the usual custom) coloured limelight at the wings._
+
+_First Verse (to be sung under pure white light)._
+
+    He (_these awful examples are usually, and quite properly,
+       anonymous_) was once as nice a fellow as you could desire
+       to meet,
+    Partial to a pint of porter, always took his spirits neat;
+    Long ago a careful mother's cautions trained her son to shrink
+    From the meretricious sparkle of an aerated drink.
+
+
+_Refrain (showing the virtuous youth resisting temptation. N.B. The
+refrain is intended to be spoken through music._ NOT _sung_.)
+
+        Here's a pub that's handy.
+          Liquor up with you?
+        Thimbleful of brandy?
+          Don't mind if I do.
+        Soda-water? No, Sir.
+          Never touch the stuff.
+        Promised mother--so, Sir.
+                         (_With an upward glance._)
+          'Tisn't good enough!
+
+_Second Verse._ (_Primrose light for this._)
+
+    Ah, how little we suspected, as we saw him in his bloom,
+    What a demon dogged his footsteps, luring to an awful doom!
+    Vain his mother's fond monitions; soon a friend, with fiendish laugh,
+    Tempts him to a quiet tea-garden, plies him there with shandy-gaff!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrating the first false step_).
+
+        Why, it's just the mixture
+          I so long have sought!
+        Here I'll be a fixture
+          Till I've drunk the quart!
+        Just the stuff to suit yer.
+          Waiter, do you hear?
+        Make it, for the future,
+          _Three_ parts ginger-beer!
+
+_Third Verse_ (_requiring violet-tinted slide_).
+
+    By-and-by, the ale discarding, ginger-beer he craves alone.
+    Undiluted he procures it, buys it bottled up in stone.
+
+(_The earthenware bottles are said by connoisseurs to contain liquor of
+superior strength and quality._)
+
+    From his lips the foam he brushes--crimson overspreads his brow.
+    To his brain the ginger's mounting! Could his mother see him now!
+
+_Refrain_ (_depicting the horrors of a solitary debauch poisoned by
+remorse_).
+
+        Shall I have another?
+          Only ginger-pop!
+        (_Wildly._) Ah! I promised mother
+          Not to touch a drop!
+        Far too much I'm tempted.
+          (_Recklessly._) Let me drink my fill!
+        That's the fifth I've emptied--
+          Oh, I feel so ill!
+
+        [_Here the singer will stagger about the boards._
+
+_Fourth Verse._ (_Turn on lurid crimson ray for this._)
+
+    Next with drinks they style "teetotal" he his manhood must degrade;
+    Swilling effervescent syrups--"ice-cream-soda," "raspberry-ade,"
+    Koumiss tempts his jaded palate--payment he's obliged to bilk--
+    Then, reduced to destitution, finds forgetfulness in--milk!
+
+_Refrain_ (_indicating rapid moral deterioration_).
+
+        What's that on the railings?
+                        [_Point dramatically at imaginary area._
+          Milk--and in a can!
+        Though I have my failings,
+          I'm an honest man.
+                            [_Spark of expiring rectitude here._
+        I can _not_ resist it.      [_Pantomime of opening can._
+          That celestial blue!
+        Has the milkman missed it?          [_Melodramatically._
+          _I_'ll be missing too!
+
+_Fifth Verse_ (_in pale blue light_).
+
+    Milk begets a taste for water, so comparatively cheap,
+    Every casual pump supplies him, gratis, with potations deep;
+    He at every drinking-fountain pounces on the pewter cup,
+    Conscious of becoming bloated, powerless to give it up!
+
+_Refrain_ (_illustrative of utter loss of self-respect_).
+
+        "Find one straight before me?"
+          Bobby, you're a trump!
+        Faintness stealing o'er me--
+          Ha--at last--a pump!
+        If that little maid 'll
+          Just make room for one,
+        I could grab the ladle
+          After she has done.
+
+     _The last verse is the culminating point of this moral
+     drama:--The miserable wretch has reached the last stage. He
+     shuts himself up in his cheerless abode, and there, in shameful
+     secrecy, consumes the element for which he is powerless to
+     pay--the inevitable Nemesis following._
+
+_Sixth Verse_ (_All lights down in front. Ghastly green light at
+wings_).
+
+    Up his sordid stairs in secret to the cistern now he steals,
+    Where, amidst organic matter, gambol microscopic eels;
+    Tremblingly he turns the tap on--not a trickle greets the trough!
+    For the stony-hearted turncock's gone and cut his water off!
+
+_Refrain_ (_in which the profligate is supposed to demand an explanation
+from the turncock, with a terrible denoument_).
+
+        "Rate a quarter owing,
+          Comp'ny stopped supply."
+        "Set the stream a-flowing,
+          Demon--or you die!"
+        "Mercy!--ah! you've choked me!"
+                       [_In hoarse, strangled voice as the turncock._
+        "_Will_ you turn the plug?"          [_Savagely as the hero._
+          "No!"                              [_Faintly, as turncock._
+
+     [_Business of flinging a corpse on stage, and regarding it
+     terror-stricken. A long pause; then, in a whisper,_--
+
+                                "The fool provoked me!
+    (_With a maniac laugh._) Horror! I'm a Thug!"
+
+     [_Here the artist will die, mad, in frightful agony, and rise
+     to bow his acknowledgments._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE DUETTISTS.]
+
+IX.--THE DUETTISTS.
+
+
+The "Duet and Dance" form so important a feature in Music-hall
+entertainments, that they could hardly, with any propriety, be neglected
+in a model compilation such as _Mr. Punch's_, and it is possible that he
+may offer more than one example of this blameless diversion. For some
+reason or other, the habit of singing in pairs would seem to induce a
+pessimistic tone of mind in most Music-hall _artistes_, and--why, _Mr.
+Punch_ does not pretend to say--this cynicism is always more marked when
+the performers are of the softer sex. Our present study is intended to
+fulfil the requirements of the most confirmed female sceptic, and,
+though the Message of the Music Halls may have been given worthier and
+fuller expression by pens more practised in such compositions, _Mr.
+Punch_ is still modestly confident that this ditty, with all its
+shortcomings, can be sung in any Music Hall in the Metropolis without
+exciting any sentiment other than entire approval of the teaching it
+conveys. One drawback, indeed, it has, but that concerns the performers
+alone. For the sake of affording contrast and relief, it was thought
+expedient that one of the fair duettists should profess an optimism
+which may--perhaps must--tend to impair her popularity. A conscientious
+_artiste_ may legitimately object, for the sake of her professional
+reputation, to present herself in so humiliating a character as that of
+an _ingenue_, and a female "Juggins"; and it does seem as if the
+Cynical Sister must inevitably monopolise the sympathies of an
+enlightened audience. However, this difficulty is less formidable than
+it appears; it should be easy for the Unsophisticated Sister to convey a
+subtle suggestion here and there, possibly in the incidental dance
+between the verses, that she is not really inferior to her partner in
+smartness and knowledge of the world. But perhaps it would be the
+fairest arrangement if the Sisters could agree to alternate so
+ungrateful a _role._
+
+
+RHINO!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+  _First Sister_ (_placing three of the fingers of her left hand
+on her heart, and extending her right arm in timid appeal_).
+
+    Dear sister, of late I'm beginning to doubt
+      If the world is as black as they paint it.
+    It mayn't be as bad as some try to make out----
+
+  _Second Sister_ (_with an elaborate mock curtsy._)
+    That _is_ a discovery! _Mayn't_ it?
+
+  _First S._ (_abashed_).
+    I'm sure there are sev'ral who aren't a bad lot,
+    And some sort of principle seem to have got,
+    For they act on the square----
+
+  _Second S._                    Don't you talk tommy-rot!
+    It's done for advertisement, _ain't_ it?
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Why, there's nobody at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _First S._    Are you sure of it?
+
+  _Second S._                    I'm telling you, and _I_ know,
+              The principle they act upon's whatever pays 'em best.
+                And the only real religion now is--Rhino!
+
+     [_The last word must be rendered with full metallic effect. A
+     step-dance, expressive of conviction on one part and incipient
+     wavering on the other, should be performed between the verses._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _First S._ (_returning, shaken, to the charge_).
+             Some _un_married men lead respectable lives.
+
+  _Second S._ (_decisively_). Well, I've never happened to meet them!
+
+  _First S._ There are husbands who're always polite to their wives.
+
+  _Second S._ Of course--if their better halves beat them!
+
+  _First S._ Some tradesmen have consciences, so I've heard said;
+             Their provisions are never adulterated,
+             But they treat all their customers fairly instead.
+
+  _Second S._ 'Cause they don't find it answer to cheat them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._  {What?
+              {
+  _Second S._ {No,--They're none of 'em at bottom any better
+          than the rest.
+
+  _Second S._         I'm speaking from experience, and _I_ know.
+             If you could put a window-pane in everybody's breast
+                   You'd see on all the hearts was written--"Rhino!"
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _First S._ There are girls you can't tempt with a title or gold.
+
+  _Second S._ There may be--but I've never seen one.
+
+  _First S._ Some much prefer love in a cottage, I'm told.
+
+  _Second S._ (_putting her arms a-kimbo_).
+              If you swallow _that_, you're a green one!
+              They'll stick to their lover so long as he's cash,
+              When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier mash.
+              A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash--
+                When it comes to the point, she's a keen one!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _First S._ Then, are none of us at bottom any better than the rest!
+
+  _Second S._ (_cheerfully_). Not a bit; I am a girl myself and _I_ know.
+
+  _First S._ You'd surely never give your hand to someone you detest?
+
+  _Second S._ Why _rather_--if he's rolling in the Rhino!
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor.
+
+  _Second S._ It's chiefly with tracts they present them.
+
+  _First S._ Still, some self-denial I'm sure they endure?
+
+  _Second S._ It's their hobby, and seems to content them.
+
+  _First S._ But don't they go into those horrible slums?
+
+  _Second S._ Sometimes--with a flourish of trumpets and drums.
+
+  _First S._ I've heard they've collected magnificent sums.
+
+  _Second S._ And nobody knows how they've spent them!
+
+_Refrain._
+
+  _Second S._ Oh, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
+                They are only bigger hypocrites, as _I_ know;
+              They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest,
+                When so many fools are ready with the Rhino!
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _First S._ Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone.
+
+  _Second S._ (_compassionately_). Whoever's been gammoning _you_ so?
+
+  _First S._ They wouldn't seek office for ends of their own?
+
+  _Second S._ What else would induce 'em to do so?
+
+  _First S._ But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifice.
+
+  _Second S._ I'd do it myself at a quarter the price.
+              There's pickings for all, and they needn't ask twice,
+                For they're able to put on the screw so!
+
+_Refrain_ (_together_).
+
+    No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
+      They may kid to their constituents--but _I_ know;
+    Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may suggest,
+      They regulate their actions by the Rhino!
+
+     [_Here the pair will perform a final step-dance, indicative of
+     enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly
+     sympathy, amidst enthusiastic applause._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: DISINTERESTED PASSION.]
+
+X.--DISINTERESTED PASSION.
+
+
+When a Music-hall singer does not treat of the tender passion in a
+rakish and knowing spirit, he is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly
+ideal in its noble indifference to all social distinctions. So amiable a
+tendency deserves encouragement, and _Mr. Punch_ has much pleasure in
+offering the following little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique
+who may happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be sung by
+a scion of the nobility, and the _artiste_ will accordingly present
+himself in a brown "billy-cock" hat, a long grey frock-coat,
+fawn-coloured trousers, white "spats," and primrose, or green,
+gloves--the recognised attire of a Music-hall aristocrat. A
+powerful,--though not necessarily tuneful,--voice is desirable for the
+adequate rendering of this ditty; any words it is inconvenient to sing,
+can always be spoken.
+
+
+ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    When first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow--
+      A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack!
+    And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid's arrow,
+      For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack.
+
+_Refrain_ (_throaty, but tender_).
+
+        She's only a little Plebeian!
+          And I'm a Patrician swell!
+        But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her,
+          No eloquence ever can tell!
+        Only a fried-fish vend-ar!
+          Selling her saucers of whilks,
+                       [_Almost defiant stress on the word "whilks."_
+        But, for me, she's as slend-ar--far more true and tend-ar,
+          Than if she wore satins and silks!
+
+     [_The grammar of the last two lines is shaky, but the
+     Lion-Comique must try to put up with that, and, after all, does
+     sincere emotion ever stop to think about grammar? If it does,
+     Music-hall audiences don't--which is the main point._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I longed before her little feet to grovel in the gutter:
+      I vowed, unless I won her as a wife, 'twould drive me mad!
+    Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to utter,
+      For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whispered, "Speak to Dad!"
+
+        _Refrain_--For she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, but brawny,
+      A noble type, when sober, of the British artisan;
+    I grasped his honest hand, and didn't mind its being horny:
+      "Behold!" I cried, "a suitor for your daughter, Mary Ann!"
+
+        _Refrain_--Though she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    "You ask me, gov'nor, to resign," said he, "my only treasure,
+      And so a toff her fickle heart away from me has won!"
+    He turned to mask his manly woe behind a pewter measure--
+      Then, breathing blessings through the beer, he said; "All
+              right, my son!
+
+        _Refrain_--If she's only a little Plebeian,
+                     And you're a Patrician swell,"--&c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+     (_The author flatters himself that, in quiet sentiment and
+     homely pathos he has seldom done anything finer than the two
+     succeeding stanzas._)
+
+    Next I sought my noble father in his old ancestral castle,
+      And at his gouty foot my love's fond offering I laid--
+    A simple gift of shellfish, in a neat brown-paper parcel!
+      "Ah, Sir!" I cried, "if you could know, you'd love my little maid!"
+
+        _Refrain_--True, she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear-drop twinkle;
+      That artless present overcame his stubborn Norman pride!
+    And when I made him taste a whilk, and try a periwinkle,
+      His last objections vanished--so she's soon to be my bride!
+
+        _Refrain_--Ah! she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Now heraldry's a science that I haven't studied much in,
+      But I mean to ask the College--if it's not against their rules--
+    That three periwinkles proper may be quartered on our 'scutcheon,
+      With a whilk regardant, rampant, on an oyster-knife, all gules!
+
+        _Refrain_--As she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
+
+This little ditty, which has the true, unmistakable ring about it, and
+will, _Mr. Punch_ believes, touch the hearts of any Music-hall audience,
+is entirely at the service of any talented _artiste_ who will undertake
+to fit it with an appropriate melody, and sing it in a spirit of
+becoming seriousness.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.
+
+
+This ditty is designed to give some expression to the passionate
+enthusiasm for nature which is occasionally observable in the Music-hall
+songstress. The young lady who sings these verses will of course appear
+in appropriate costume; viz., a large white hat and feathers, a crimson
+sunshade, a pink frock, high-heeled sand-shoes, and a liberal extent of
+black silk stockings. A phonetic spelling has been adopted where
+necessary to bring out the rhyme, for the convenience of the reader
+only, as the singer will instinctively give the vowel-sounds the
+pronunciation intended by the author.
+
+
+THE JOYS OF THE SEA-SIDE.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    Oh, I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue horizing,
+      When the scorching sun is blyzing down on sands, and ships, and sea!
+    And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little diggers,
+      Or to listen to the niggers, when they choose to come to me!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the singer should sway in waltz-time_).
+
+        For I'm offully fond of the _Sea_!-side!
+        If I'd only my w'y I would _de_-cide
+            To dwell evermore,
+            By the murmuring shore,
+        With the billows a-blustering _be_-side!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the dorning!
+      And to sally forth a-prorning--e'en if nothing back you bring!
+    Some young men who like fatigue 'll go and try to pot a sea-gull,
+      What's the odds if it's illegal, or the bird they only wing?
+
+        _Chorus_--For it's one of the sports of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+    Then what j'y to go a bything--though you'll swim, if you're
+           a sly thing,
+      Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot upon the sand!
+    When you're tired of old Poseidon, there's the pier to promenide on,
+      Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the programme of the band.
+
+        _Chorus_--For there's always a band at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+    And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev'ral parties go out siling!
+      Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches about,
+    To the sound of concertiner,--till they're gradually greener,
+      And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled stout.
+
+[Illustration: THE PANEGYRIC PATTER.]
+
+        _Chorus_--And they cry, "Put us back on the _Sea_-side!" &c.
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+    There is pleasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and going roiding!
+      (If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or mishap,)
+    Or about the rocks you ramble; over boulders slip and scramble;
+      Or sit down and do a gamble, playing "Loo" or "Penny Nap."
+
+        _Chorus_--"Penny Nap" is the gyme for the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Sixth Verse._
+
+    Then it's lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of the mewn in,
+      With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation can begin!
+    As along the sands you're strowling, till the hour of ten is towling,
+      And your Ma, severely scowling, asks "Wherever you have bin!"
+
+        _Chorus_--Then you answer "I've been by the _Sea_-side!" &c.
+
+_Seventh Verse._
+
+    Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the restless winds be mowning,
+      With the breakers' thunder drowning all the laughter and the glee;
+    And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors you will
+              not ventcher,
+      But you'll read the volumes lent yer by the Local Libraree!
+
+        _Chorus_--For there's sure to be one at the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Eighth Verse._
+
+    If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronise the dramer,
+      Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty-four;
+    And a duty none would skirk is to attend the strolling circus,
+      For they'd all be in the workhouse, should their antics cease
+               to dror!
+
+        _Chorus_--And they're part of the joys of the _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+_Encore Verse_ (_to be used only in case of emergency_).
+
+    Well, I reelly must be gowing--I've just time to make my bow in--
+      But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so long.
+    And if, like me, you're pining for the breezes there's some brine in,
+      Why, I'll trouble you to jine in with the chorus to my song!
+
+        _Chorus_ (_all together_)--Oh, we're offully fond of the
+                    _Sea_-side! &c.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.]
+
+XII.--THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.
+
+
+A Music-hall audience will always be exceedingly susceptible to
+pathos--so long as they clearly understand that the song is not intended
+to be of a comic nature. However, there is very little danger of any
+misapprehension in the case of our present example, which is as natural
+and affecting a little song as any that have been moving the Music Halls
+of late. The ultra-fastidious may possibly be repelled by what they
+would term the vulgarity of the title,--"The Night-light Ever Burning by
+the Bed"--but, although it is true that this humble luminary is now more
+generally called a "Fairy Lamp," persons of true taste and refinement
+will prefer the homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only
+contains three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall
+pathos, the authors probably feeling that the audience could not stand
+any more. It should be explained that the "tum-tum" at the end of
+certain lines is not intended to be sung--it is merely an indication to
+the orchestra to pinch their violins in a _pizzicato_ manner. The singer
+should either come on as a serious black man--for burnt cork is a
+marvellous provocative of pathos--or as his ordinary self. In either
+case he should wear evening dress, with a large brilliant on each hand.
+
+
+THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING BY THE BED.
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I've been thinking of the home where my early years were spent,
+      'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And to go there once again has been often my intent,
+      But the railway fare's expensive, so I can't! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Still I never can forget that night when last we met:
+      "Oh, promise me--whate'er you do!" she said, (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    "Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest,
+      Keep a night-light always burning by your bed!" (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_pianissimo._)
+
+                And my eyes are dim and wet;
+                For I seem to hear them yet--
+    Those solemn words at parting that she said: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                "Now, mind you burn a night-light,
+                --'Twill last until it's quite light--
+      In a saucerful of water by your bed!" (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried,
+      As she gave me all the halfpence that she had: (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And through the world e'er since I have wandered far and wide,
+      And been gradually going to the bad! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    Many a folly, many a crime I've committed in my time,
+      For a lawless and a chequered life I've led! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_.)
+    Still I've kept the promise sworn--flannel next my skin I've worn,
+      And I've always burnt a night-light by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain._
+
+                All unhallowed my pursuits,
+                (Oft to bed I've been in boots!)
+    Still o'er my uneasy slumber has been shed (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+                The moderately bright light
+                Afforded by a night-light,
+          In a saucerful of water by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Third Verse._ (_To be sung with increasing solemnity._)
+
+    A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw;
+      In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counterpane in awe,
+      And I trembled--for my conscience isn't good! (_Tum_-tum!)
+    But her countenance was mild--so indulgently she smiled
+      That I knew there was no further need for dread! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest,
+      And the night-light in its saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+_Refrain_ (_more pianissimo still._)
+
+                But ere a word she spoke,
+                I unhappily awoke!
+    And away, alas! the beauteous vision fled! (_Tum_-tum-_tum_!)
+    (_In mournful recitation_)--There was nothing but the slight light
+                Of the melancholy night-light
+        That was burning in a saucer by my bed! (_Tum_-tum!)
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.]
+
+XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.
+
+
+To be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal requisite is a
+uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in the
+neighbourhood of almost any barracks. Some slight acquaintance with the
+sword exercise and elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely
+essential. Furnished with these, together with a few commanding
+attitudes, and a song possessing a spirited, martial refrain, the
+Military Impersonator may be certain of an instant and striking success
+upon the Music-hall stage,--especially if he will condescend to avail
+himself of the ballad provided by _Mr. Punch_, as a vehicle for his
+peculiar talent. And--though we say it ourselves--it is a very nice
+ballad, to which Mr. McDougall himself would find it difficult to take
+exception. It is in three verses, too--the limit understood to be
+formally approved by the London County Council for such productions. It
+may be, indeed, that (save so far as the last verse illustrates the
+heroism of our troops in action--a heroism too real and too splendid to
+be rendered ridiculous, even by Military Impersonators), the song does
+_not_ convey a particularly accurate notion of the manner and pursuits
+of an officer in the Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever be
+accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any social type it may
+undertake to depict--with the single exception, perhaps, of the Common
+(or Howling) Cad. So that any lack of actuality here will be rather a
+merit than a blemish in the eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said
+so much, we will proceed to our ballad, which is called,--
+
+
+IN THE GUARDS!
+
+_First Verse._
+
+    I'm a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit "haw-haw;"
+    But when you're in the Guards you've got to show _esprit de corps_.
+                                       [_Pronounce "a spreedy core."_
+    We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all aristo-crats,
+    When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy bearskin 'ats.
+
+_Chorus_ (_during which the Martial Star will march round the stage in
+military order._)
+
+        We're all "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Twisting silky long moustarches,
+                                 [_Suit the action to the word here._
+                            Bein' Guards! Doncher know?
+        While our band is playing Marches,
+                            For the Guards! Doncher know?
+        And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the cymbals,
+     while the Vocalist performs a military salute, as he passes to_--
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    With duchesses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses I'm thick;
+    From all the nobs I get invites--they say I am "so _chic_!"
+                                                [_Pronounce "chick."_
+    It often makes me laugh to read, whene'er I go off guard,
+    "Dear Bertie, come to my At Home!" on a coronetted card!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        For we're "Berties," "'Ughies," "Archies,"
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        With our silky long moustarches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        Where's a regiment that marches
+                            Like the Guards? Doncher know?
+        All the darlings--bless 'em!--dote upon the Guards,
+                                                  Bing-_Bang_!
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+     [_Here comes the Singer's great chance, and by merely taking a
+     little pains, he may make a tremendously effective thing out of
+     it. If he can manage to slip away between the verses, and
+     change his bearskin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and
+     kharkee tunic at the wings, it will produce an enormous amount
+     of enthusiasm, only he must not take_ more _than five minutes
+     over this alteration, or the audience--so curiously are British
+     audiences constituted--may grow impatient for his return._
+
+But hark! the trumpet sounds!... (_Here a member of the orchestra will
+oblige upon the trumpet._) What's this? ... (_The Singer will take a
+folded paper from his breast and peruse it with attention._) We're
+ordered to the front!
+     [_This should be shouted._
+
+    We'll show the foe how "Carpet-Knights" can face the battle's brunt!
+    They laugh at us as "Brummels"--but we'll prove ourselves "Bay-yards!"
+
+     [_Now the Martial Star will draw his sword and unfasten his
+     revolver-case, taking up the exact pose in which he is
+     represented upon the posters outside._
+
+As you were!... Form Square!... Mark Time!... Slope Arms!...
+now--'Tention!... (_These military evolutions should all be gone through
+by the Artist._) Forward, Guards!
+     [_To be yelled through music._
+
+_Chorus._
+
+        Onward every 'ero marches,
+                            In the Guards! Doncher know?
+        All the "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
+                            Of the Guards! Doncher know?
+        They may twist their long moustarches,
+                            For they're Guards! Doncher know?
+        Dandies? yes,--but dandy _lions_ are the Guards!
+                                                        Bing-_Bang_!
+
+     [_Red fire and smoke at wings, as curtain falls upon the
+     Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new
+     attitude._
+
+
+
+
+    MODEL MUSIC HALL.
+
+    DRAMAS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.]
+
+I.--THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _The Little Crossing-Sweeper_
+     By the unrivalled Variety Artist        Miss JENNY JINKS.
+
+    _The Duke of Dillwater_                  Mr. HENRY IRVING.
+      [_Specially engaged; Mr. Punch is sure that he will cheerfully
+          make some slight sacrifice for so good a cause, and he can
+          easily slip out and get back again between the Acts of "Henry
+          the 8th."_
+
+    _A Policeman_                            Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON.
+      [_Engaged, at enormous expense, during the entire run of this
+          piece._
+
+    _A Butler_ (_his original part_)         Mr. ARTHUR CECIL.
+
+    _Foot-passengers_, _Flunkeys_, _Burglars_.--By the celebrated
+                    Knockabout Quick-change Troupe.
+
+
+     SCENE I.--_Exterior of the_ Duke's _Mansion in Euston Square by
+     night. On the right, a realistic Moon (by kind permission of_
+     Professor HERKOMER) _is rising slowly behind a lamp-post. On
+     left centre, a practicable pillar-box, and crossing, with real
+     mud. Slow Music, as_ Miss JENNY JINKS _enters, in rags, with
+     broom. Various Characters cross the street, post letters, &c._;
+     Miss JINKS _follows them, begging piteously for a copper, which
+     is invariably refused, whereupon she assails them with choice
+     specimens of street sarcasm--which the Lady may be safely
+     trusted to improvise for herself_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny Jinks_ (_leaning despondently against pillar-box, on which a
+ray of limelight falls in the opposite direction to the Moon_).
+
+    Ah, this cruel London, so marble-'arted and vast,
+    Where all who try to act honest are condemned to fast!
+
+_Enter two_ Burglars, _cautiously_.
+
+  _First B._ (_to_ Miss J. J.)
+    We can put you up to a fake as will be worth your while,
+    For you seem a sharp, 'andy lad, and just our style!
+
+     [_They proceed to unfold a scheme to break into the Ducal
+     abode, and offer_ Miss J. _a share of the spoil, if she will
+     allow herself to be put through the pantry window_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_proudly_). I tell yer I won't 'ave nothink to do
+        with it, fur I ain't been used
+    To sneak into the house of a Dook to whom I 'aven't been introdooced!
+
+  _Second Burglar_ (_coarsely_). Stow that snivel, yer young
+        himp, we don't want none of that bosh!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_with spirit_). You hold _your_ jaw--for, when you
+        opens yer mouth, there ain't much o' yer face left to wash!
+
+     [_The_ Burglars _retire, baffled, and muttering_. Miss J.
+     _leans against pillar-box again--but more irresolutely_.
+
+    I've arf a mind to run after 'em, I 'ave, and tell 'em I'm game
+        to stand in!...
+    But, ah,--didn't my poor mother say as Burglary was a _Sin_!
+
+     [Duke _crosses stage in a hurry; as he pulls out his latchkey,
+     a threepenny-bit falls unregarded, except by the little_
+     Sweeper, _who pounces eagerly upon it_.
+
+    What's this? A bit o' good luck at last for a starvin' orfin boy!
+    What shall I buy? _I_ know--I'll have a cup of cawfy, and a
+        prime saveloy!
+    Ah,--_but it ain't mine_--and 'ark ... that music up in the air!
+
+          [_A harp is heard in the flies._
+
+    Can it be mother a-playin' on the 'arp to warn her boy to beware?
+    (_Awestruck._) There's a angel voice that is sayin' plain
+        (_solemnly_) "Him as prigs what isn't his'n,
+    Is sure to be copped some day--and then--his time he will
+        do in prison!"
+
+     [_Goes resolutely to the door, and knocks--The_ Duke _throws
+     open the portals_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ If yer please, Sir, was you aware as you've
+        dropped a thruppenny-bit?
+
+  _The Duke_ (_after examining the coin._) 'Tis the very piece I
+        have searched for everywhere! You rascal, you've _stolen it_!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_bitterly_). And _that's_ 'ow a Dook rewards honesty
+        in _this_ world!
+
+        [_This line is sure of a round of applause._
+
+  _The Duke_ (_calling off_). Policeman, I give this lad in
+        charge for a shameless attempt to rob,
+
+_Enter_ Policeman.
+
+    Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to the job!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_earnestly_). I've told yer the bloomin' truth,
+        I 'ave--or send I may die!
+    I'm on'y a Crossing-sweeper, Sir, but I'd scorn to tell yer a lie!
+    Give me a quarter of a hour--no more--just time to kneel down and pray,
+    As I used to at mother's knee long ago--then the Copper kin
+        lead me away.
+
+     [_Kneels in lime-light. The_ Policeman _turns away, and uses
+     his handkerchief violently; the_ Duke _rubs his eyes_.
+
+  _The Duke._ No, blow me if I can do it, for I feel my eyes are
+        all twitching!
+    (_With conviction._) If he's good enough to kneel by his
+        mother's side, he's good enough to be in my kitching!
+
+     [Duke _dismisses_ Constable, _and, after disappearing into the
+     Mansion for a moment, returns with a neat Page's livery, which
+     he presents to the little_ Crossing-sweeper.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_naively_). 'Ow much shall I ask for on this,
+        Sir? What! Yer don't mean to say they're for _me_!
+    Am I really to be a Page to one of England's proud aristocra-cee?
+
+        [_Does some steps._
+
+
+    _Mechanical change to_ SCENE II.--_State Apartment at the_
+    Duke's. _Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers. Suits of
+    genuine old armour. Statuary (lent by British and Kensington
+    Museums)._
+
+_Enter_ Miss J., _with her face washed, and looking particularly plump
+in her Page's livery. She wanders about stage_, _making any humorous
+comments that may occur to her on the armour and statuary. She might
+also play tricks on the Butler, and kiss the maids--all of which will
+serve to relieve the piece by delicate touches of comedy, and delight a
+discriminating audience._
+
+_Enter the_ Duke.
+
+    I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfortable here?    [_Kindly._
+
+  _Miss J. J._ Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life,
+        Sir, _I'll_ stick to yer, no fear!
+
+     [_In the course of conversation the_ Duke _learns with
+     aristocratic surprise, that the_ Page's _Mother was a Singer at
+     the Music Halls_.
+
+  _Miss J. J._ What, don't know what a Music-'all's like? and you a Dook!
+Well, you _are_ a jolly old juggins! 'Ere, you sit down on this gilded
+cheer--that's the ticket--I'll bring you your champagne and your
+cigars--want a light? (_Strikes match on her pantaloons._) Now you're
+all comfortable.
+
+_The_ Duke _sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her way, while she
+introduces her popular Vocal Character Sketch, of which space only
+permits us to give a few specimen verses_.
+
+        First the Champion Comic
+          Steps upon the stage;
+        With his latest "Grand Success."
+          Sure to be the rage!
+        Sixty pounds a week he
+          Easily can earn;
+        Round the Music Halls he goes,
+          And does at each a "turn."
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    Undah the stors in a sweet shady dairl,
+    I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl,
+    And whethaw I kissed har yaw'd like me to tairl--
+                    Well, I'd rawthah you didn't inquiah!
+
+              All golden her hair is,
+            She's Queen of the Fairies,
+    And known by the name of the lovely Mariah,
+              She's a regular Venus,
+            But what passed between us,
+    I'd very much rawthah you didn't inquiah!
+
+        Next the Lady Serio,
+          Mincing as she walks;
+        If a note's too high for her,
+          She doesn't sing--she talks,
+        What she thinks about the men
+          You're pretty sure to learn,
+        She always has a hit at them,
+          Before she's done her "turn!"
+
+        _Illustration._
+
+    You notty young men, ow! you notty young men!
+    You tell us you're toffs, and the real Upper Ten,
+    But behind all your ears is the mark of a pen!
+    So don't you deceive us, you notty young men!
+
+  _Miss J. J._ (_concluding_).
+             And such, Sir, are these entertainments grand,
+             In which Mirth and Refinement go 'and-in-'and!
+
+     [_As the_ Duke _is expressing his appreciation of the elevating
+     effect of such performances, the_ Butler _rushes in, followed
+     by two flurried_ Footmen.
+
+  _Butler._ Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but I come to
+        announce the fact
+          That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just been attacked!
+
+  _Duke._ Then we'll repel them--each to his weapons look!
+        I know how to defend my property, although I _am_ a Dook!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_snatching sword from one of the men-in-armour_).
+          With such a weapon I their hash will settle!
+          _You'll_ lend it, won't yer, old Britannia Metal?
+
+     [_Shouts and firing without; the_ Footmen _hide under sofa_.
+
+    Let flunkeys flee--though danger may encircle us,
+    A British Buttons ain't afeard of Burgulars!
+
+     [_Tremendous firing, during which the_ Burglars _are supposed
+     to be repulsed with heavy loss by the_ Duke, Butler, _and_
+     Page.
+
+  _Miss J._ 'Ere--I say, Dook, I saved yer life, didn't yer _know_?
+
+(_A parting shot, upon which she staggers back with a ringing scream_.)
+
+          The Brutes! they've been and shot me!... Mother!... Oh!
+
+     [_Dies in lime-light and great agony; the_ Footmen _come out
+     from under sofa and regard with sorrowing admiration the
+     lifeless form of the_ Little Crossing-sweeper, _which the_
+     Duke, _as curtain falls, covers reverently with the best
+     table-cloth_.
+
+
+
+
+II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+_A MUSICAL SPECTACULAR AND SENSATIONAL INTERLUDE._
+
+(_Dedicated respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C._)
+
+[Illustration: Joe!]
+
+
+The Music-hall Dramatist, like Shakspeare and Moliere, has a right to
+take his material from any source that may seem good to him. _Mr.
+Punch_, therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the
+following piece upon the well-known poem of "The Purloiner," by the
+Sisters Jane and Ann Taylor, who were _not_, as might be too hastily
+concluded, "Song and Dance Duettists," but two estimable ladies, who
+composed "cautionary" verses for the young, and whose works are a
+perfect mine of wealth for Moral Dramatists. In this dramatic version
+the Author has tried to infuse something of the old Greek sense of an
+overruling destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral
+responsibility. Those who have the misfortune to be born with a
+propensity for illicit jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible
+results of failing to overcome it early in life.
+
+
+JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _Jam-Loving Joe._ By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic,
+    Miss CONNIE CURDLER.
+
+    _Joe's Mother_ (_the very part for Mrs. BANCROFT if she can
+    only be induced to make her reappearance_).
+
+    _John, a Gardener._ By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.
+
+    _Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend._ By Mr. BEERBOHM TREE (_who
+    has kindly consented to undertake the part_).
+
+    _Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy_ (_by kind
+    permission of_ Mr. D'OYLY CARTE).
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Store-room at sunset with view of exterior of Jam
+    Cupboard, and orchard in distance._
+
+_Enter_ JOE.
+
+     "As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought
+     no one saw but himself."--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_dreamily_.) 'Tis passing strange that I so partial am
+                  To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
+
+     [_HERE_ Miss CURDLER _will introduce her great humorous
+     Satirical Medley illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and
+     entitled,_ "Some little Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied;" _after
+     which, Enter_ JOE'S _Mother, followed by JOHN and the Chorus,
+     with baskets, ladders, &c., for gathering fruit_.
+
+     "His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe
+     pears and ripe plums."--_Poem._
+
+  _Joe's Mother_ (_with forced cheerfulness_)--
+
+    Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,
+    Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
+
+     [_Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the
+     right hand._
+
+  _Solo_--JOHN.
+
+    Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome--
+      Otherwise if eaten green.
+    Once I know a boy who stole some--
+
+     [_With a glance at JOE, who turns aside to conceal his
+     confusion._
+
+      His internal pangs were keen!
+
+  _Chorus_ (_virtuously_). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean,
+    Their internal pangs are keen!
+
+  _Joe's Mother_ (_aside_). By what misgivings is a mother tortured!
+    I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard.
+
+        [_She invites him with a gesture to follow._
+
+  _Joe_ (_earnestly_). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done.
+    Temptation it is ever best to shun!
+
+  _Joe's M_. So laudable his wish, I would not cross it--
+    (_Mysteriously._) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet!
+
+  _Chorus._ Away we go tripping,
+            From boughs to be stripping
+            Each pear, plum, and pippin
+                Pomona supplies!
+            When homeward we've brought 'em,
+            Those products of Autumn,
+            We'll carefully sort 'em
+                  (_One of our old Music-hall rhymes_),
+                According to size!    [_Repeat as they caper out._
+
+     [JOE'S Mother, _after one fond, lingering look behind, follows:
+     the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance.
+     Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines key of
+     jam-cupboard door._
+
+  _Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried
+         That cupboard--just to see what's kept inside?
+
+             [_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._
+
+       There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,
+       For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!
+
+             [_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._
+
+       And yet (_hesitating_) who knows?--a pill ... perchance--a powder!
+       (_Desperately._) What then? To scorn I'll laugh them--even louder!
+
+     [_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud
+     clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet (painted by_ HAWES
+     CRAVEN). JOE _mounts chair to explore shelves._
+
+     "How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood
+     on the shelf!"--_Vide Poem._
+
+  _Joe_ (_speaking with mouth full and back to audience_).
+    'Tis raspberry--of all the jams my favourite;
+    I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!
+    And finish up with currants from this shelf ...
+    Who'll ever see me?
+
+  _The_ Demon _of the Jam Closet (rising slowly from an immense
+  pot of preserves_).    No one--but Myself!
+
+     [_The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare (courteously lent
+     by the Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties); weird
+     music_; JOE _turns slowly and confronts the_ Demon _with
+     awestruck eyes._ N.B.--_Great opportunity for powerful acting
+     here._
+
+  _The Demon (with a bland sneer_). Pray don't mind _me_--I
+        will await your leisure.
+
+  _Joe_ (_automatically_). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not
+        the pleasure.
+      Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened?
+
+  _The Demon_ (_quietly_). My name is "Jim-Jam;" occupation--fiend.
+
+  _Joe,_ (_cowering limply on his chair_). O Mr. Fiend, I
+          _know_ it's very wrong of me!
+
+  _Demon_ (_politely_). Don't mention it--but please to come "along of" me?
+
+  _Joe_ (_imploringly_). Do let me off this once,--ha! you're relenting,
+        You smile----
+
+  _Demon_ (_grimly_). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
+
+          [_Catches_ JOE's _ankle, and assists him to descend._
+
+  _Joe_. You'll drive me mad!
+
+  _Demon_ (_carelessly_).    I _may_--before I've done with you!
+
+  _Joe_. What do you want?
+
+  _Demon_ (_darkly_).   To have a little fun with you!
+      Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen.
+
+     [_Chases him round and round stage, and proceeds to smear him
+     hideously with jam._
+
+  _Joe_ (_piteously_). Oh, don't! I feel _so_ sticky. _What_ a mess I'm in!
+
+  _Demon_ (_with affected sympathy_).    That _is_ the worst of
+          jam--it's apt to stain you.
+
+     [_To_ JOE, _as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces
+     of his crime._
+
+    I see you're busy--so I'll not detain you!
+
+     [_Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh.
+     Cupboard-doors close with a clang; all lights down._ JOE
+     _stands gazing blankly for some moments, and then drags himself
+     off stage. His Mother and_ JOHN, _with Pear-and-Plum-gatherers
+     bearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back of Scene, in
+     faint light of torches._
+
+[Illustration: The Demon!]
+
+_Re-enter_ JOE _bearing a candle and wringing his hands._
+
+  _Joe._ Out, jammed spot! What--will these hands _never_ be clean? Here's
+the smell of the raspberry jam still! All the powders of Gregory cannot
+unsweeten this little hand ... (_Moaning._) Oh, oh, oh!
+
+     [_This passage has been accused of bearing too close a
+     resemblance to one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the
+     coincidence is purely accidental, as the Dramatist is not in
+     the habit of reading such profane literature._
+
+  _Joe's Mother._ Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!
+      See--stains on all his fingers, and his thumbs!
+
+     "What Joe was about, His mother found out, When she look'd at
+     his fingers and thumbs."--_Poem again._
+
+Nay, Joseph--'tis your mother ... speak to her!
+
+  _Joe_ (_tonelessly, as before_). Lady, I know you not (_touches lower
+part of waistcoat_); but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have jam
+in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay me in a
+plain white jelly-pot, with a parchment cover, and on the label
+write--but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone ... there are
+strange things in _some_ cupboards! Demons should keep in the dust-bin.
+(_With a ghastly smile._) I know not what ails me, but I am not feeling
+at all well.
+
+     [JOE'S Mother _stands a few steps from him, with her hands
+     twisted in her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror._
+
+  _Joe_ (_to the Chorus_). I would shake hands with you all, were not my
+fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it is made of.
+Hush! if Jim-Jam comes again, tell him that I am not at home.
+Loo-loo-loo!
+
+  _All_ (_with conviction_). Some shock has turned his brine!
+
+  _Joe_ (_sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair._) My
+curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits.
+
+     [_Laughs vacantly; all gather round him, shaking their heads,
+     his_ Mother _falls fainting at his feet as curtain falls upon a
+     strong and moral, though undeniably gloomy denoument._
+
+
+
+
+III.--THE MAN-TRAP.
+
+
+This Drama, which, like our last, has been suggested by a poem of the
+Misses Taylor, will be found most striking and impressive in
+representation upon the Music-hall stage. The dramatist has ventured to
+depart somewhat from the letter, though not the spirit, of the original
+text, in his desire to enforce the moral to the fullest possible extent.
+Our present piece is intended to teach the great lesson that an
+inevitable Nemesis attends apple-stealing in this world, and that Doom
+cannot be disarmed by the intercession of the evil-doer's friends,
+however well-meaning.
+
+
+THE MAN-TRAP!
+
+_A THRILLING MORAL MUSICAL SENSATION SKETCH IN ONE SCENE._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _William_ (_a Good Boy_)                       Mr. HARRY NICHOLLS.
+    _Thomas_ (_a Bad Boy_)                         Mr. HERBERT CAMPBELL.
+             (_Who have kindly offered their services._)
+    _Benjamin_ (_neither one thing nor the other_) Mr. SAMUEL SUPER.
+    _The Monster Man-Trap_                         Mr. GEORGE CONQUEST.
+
+
+     SCENE.--_An elaborate set, representing, on extreme left, a
+     portion of the high road, and wall dividing it from an orchard;
+     realistic apple- and pear-trees laden with fruit. Time, about
+     four o'clock on a hot afternoon. Enter_ WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS,
+     _hand-in-hand, along road; they ignore the dividing wall, and
+     advance to front of stage._
+
+_Duet._--WILLIAM _and_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Wm._ I'm a reg'lar model boy, I am; so please make no mistake.
+          It's Thomas who's the bad 'un--_I'm_ the good!
+
+  _Thos._ Yes, I delight in naughtiness for naughtiness's sake,
+            And I wouldn't be like William if I could!
+
+_Chorus._
+
+  _Wm._ Ever since I could toddle, my conduct's been model,
+          There's, oh, such a difference between me and him!
+
+  _Thos._ While still in the cradle, I orders obeyed ill,
+            And now I've grown into a awful young limb!
+
+                       { he's }
+  _Together._ Yes, now { I've } grown into a awful young limb.
+           I've made up my mind not to imitate _him_!
+
+        [_Here they dance._
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ If someone hits him in the eye, he always hits them back!
+          When _I_ am struck, my Ma I merely tell!
+        On passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a whack!
+
+  _Thos._ (_impenitently_). And jolly fun it is to hear 'em yell!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Third Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ He's always cribbing coppers--which he spends on lollipops.
+
+  _Thos._   (A share of which _you_'ve never yet refused!)
+
+  _Wm._ A stone he'll shy at frogs and toads, and anything that hops!
+
+  _Thos._   (While you look on, and seem to be amused!)
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fourth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ As soon as school is over, Thomas goes a hunting squirr'ls,
+          Or butterflies he'll capture in his hat!
+
+  _Thos._ _You_ play at Kissing in the Ring with all the little girls!
+
+  _Wm._ (_demurely_). Well, Thomas, I can see no harm in _that_!
+
+        [_Chorus._
+
+_Fifth Verse._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Thomas, if you don't reform, you'll come to some bad end!
+
+  _Thos._   Oh, William, put your head inside a bag!
+
+  _Wm._ No, Thomas, that I cannot--till you promise to amend!
+
+  _Thos._   Why, William, what a chap you are to nag!
+
+     [_Chorus and dance._ THOMAS _returns to road, and regards the
+     apple-trees longingly over top of wall._
+
+  _Thos._ Hi, William, look ... what apples! there--don't _you_ see?
+          And pears--my eye! just _ain't_ they looking juicy!
+
+  _Wm._   Nay, Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin,
+          _I_ will walk on, and visit Benjamin!
+
+     [_Exit_ WILLIAM (L. 2 E.), _while THOMAS proceeds to scale the
+     wall and climb the boughs of the nearest pear-tree.
+     Melodramatic Music._ The Monster Man-trap _stealthily emerges
+     from long grass below, and fixes a baleful eye on the
+     unconscious_ THOMAS.
+
+  _Thos._ I'll fill my pockets, and on pears I'll feast!
+
+            [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and staggers._
+
+          Oh, lor--whatever is that hugly beast!
+          Hi, help, here! call him off!...
+
+  _The Monster._         'Tis vain to holler--
+          My horders are--all trespassers to swoller!
+          You just come down--I'm waiting 'ere to ketch you.
+      (_Indignantly._) You _don't_ expect I'm coming up to fetch you!
+
+  _Thos._ (_politely._) Oh, not if it would inconvenience _you_, Sir!
+      (_In agonised aside._) I feel my grip grow every moment looser!
+
+     [_The_ Monster, _in a slow, uncouth manner, proceeds to
+     scramble up the tree._
+
+          Oh, here's a go! The horrid thing can _climb_!
+          Too late I do repent me of my crime!
+
+     [_Terrific sensation chase!_ The Monster Man-trap _leaps from
+     bough to bough with horrible agility, and eventually secures
+     his prey, and leaps with it to the ground._
+
+  _Thos._ (_in the_ Monster's _jaws_). I'm sure you seem a kind,
+          good-natured creature--
+      You will not harm me?
+
+  _Monster._          No--I'll only eat yer!
+
+     [THOMAS _slowly vanishes down its cavernous jaws; faint yells
+     are heard at intervals--then nothing but a dull champing sound;
+     after which, dead silence. The_ Monster _smiles, with an air of
+     repletion._
+
+_Re-enter_ WILLIAM, _from_ R., _with_ BENJAMIN.
+
+  _Benjamin._ I'm very glad you came--but where is Thomas?
+
+  _Wm._ (_severely_). Tom is a wicked boy, and better from us,
+      For on the road he stopped to scale a wall!...
+
+         [_Sees_ Man-trap, _and starts._
+
+      What's _that_?
+
+  _Benj._       It will not hurt _good_ boys at all--
+        It's only Father's Man-trap--why so pale?
+
+  _Wm._ The self-same tree! ... the wall that Tom _would_ scale!
+          Where's Thomas _now_? Ah, Tom, the wilful pride of you.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _affects an elaborate unconsciousness._
+
+[Illustration: Up a Tree!]
+
+  _Benj._ (_with sudden enlightenment_). Man-trap, I do believe
+          poor Tom's inside of you!
+        That sort of smile's exceedingly suspicious.
+
+        [_The_ Man-trap _endeavours to hide in the grass._
+
+  _Wm._ Ah, Monster, give him back--'tis true he's vicious,
+        And had no business to go making free with you!
+        But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you!
+
+     [WILLIAM _and_ BENJAMIN _kneel in attitudes of entreaty on
+     either side of the_ Man-trap, _which shows signs of increasing
+     emotion as the song proceeds._
+
+  _Benjamin_ (_sings_).
+
+      Man-trap, bitter our distress is
+        That you have unkindly penned
+      In your innermost recesses
+        One who used to be our friend!
+
+  _William_ (_sings_).
+
+      In his downward course arrest him!
+        (He may take a virtuous tack);
+      Pause awhile, ere you digest him,
+        Make an effort--bring him back!
+
+     [_The_ Man-trap _is convulsed by a violent heave_; WILLIAM and
+     BENJAMIN _bend forward in an agony of expectation, until a
+     small shoe and the leg of_ THOMAS'S _pantaloons are finally
+     emitted from the_ Monster's _jaws._
+
+  _Benj._ (_exultantly_). See, William, now he's coming ... here's
+          his shoe for you!
+
+  _The Man-trap_ (_with an accent of genuine regret). I'm sorry--but
+          that's all that I can do for you!_
+
+  _Wm._ (_raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding
+      them sorrowfully at arm's length_).
+      He's met the fate which moralists all promise is
+      The end of such depraved careers as Thomas's!
+      Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it _be_-time!
+      (_More brightly_). But now to wash our hands--'tis nearly tea-time!
+
+     [_Exeunt_ WILLIAM and BENJAMIN, _to wash their hands, as
+     Curtain falls. N.B. This finale is more truly artistic, and in
+     accordance with modern dramatic ideas, than the conventional
+     "picture."_
+
+
+
+
+IV.--THE FATAL PIN.
+
+
+Our present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious kind, and is,
+perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a Music-hall audience of
+the present day. When the fusion between the Theatres and the Music
+Halls is complete--when Miss Bessie Bellwood sings "_What Cheer, 'Ria?_"
+at the Lyceum, and Mr. Henry Irving gives his compressed version of
+_Hamlet_ at the Trocadero; when there is a general levelling-up of
+culture, and removal of prejudice--then, and not till then, will this
+powerful little play meet with the appreciation which is its due. The
+main idea is suggested by the Misses Taylor's well-known poem, _The
+Pin_, though the dramatist has gone further than the poetess in working
+out the notion of Nemesis.
+
+
+THE FATAL PIN.
+
+_A TRAGEDY._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _Emily Heedless._ By either Miss VESTA TILLEY or Mrs. BERNARD BEERE.
+
+    _Peter Paragon._ Mr. FORBES ROBERTSON or Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS
+        (only he mustn't sing "_The Good Young Man who Died_").
+
+    _First and Second Bridesmaids._ Miss MAUDE MILLETT and Miss
+    ANNIE HUGHES.
+
+
+     SCENE.--EMILY'S _Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a screen
+     and sofa,_ C. _Door_, R., _leading to_ EMILY'S _Bed-chamber.
+     Door,_ L. EMILY _discovered in loose wrapper, and reclining in
+     uncomfortable position on sofa._
+
+  _Emily_ (_dreamily_). This day do I become the envied bride
+    Of Peter, justly surnamed Paragon;
+    And much I wonder what in me he found
+    (He, who Perfection so personifies)
+    That he could condescend an eye to cast
+    On faulty feather-headed Emily!
+    How solemn is the stillness all around me!
+
+        [_A loud bang is heard behind screen._
+
+    Methought I heard the dropping of a pin!--
+    Perhaps I should arise and search for it....
+    Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself,
+    Since I am, by my settlements, to have
+    A handsome sum allowed for pin-money?
+    Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin,
+    I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner.
+    Go, then, and join the great majority
+    Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood--
+    My bliss is too supreme at such an hour
+    To heed such infidelities as thine.
+
+        [_Falls into a happy reverie._
+
+_Enter_ First and Second Bridesmaids.
+
+  _First and Second Bridesmaids._ What, how now, Emily--not yet attired?
+    Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon!
+
+     [_They hurry her off by_ R. _door, just as_ PETER PARAGON
+     _enters_ L. _in bridal array. N.B.--The exigencies of the Drama
+     are responsible for his making his appearance here, instead of
+     waiting, as is more usual, at the church._
+
+  _Peter_ (_meditatively_). The golden sands of my celibacy
+    Are running low--soon falls the final grain!
+    Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn.
+    My Emily is not without her faults
+    "_Was_ not without them," I should rather say,
+    For during ten idyllic years of courtship,
+
+[Illustration: "It is a Pin!"]
+
+    By precept and example I have striven
+    To mould her to a helpmate fit for me.
+    Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete.
+    She stands redeemed from all her giddiness!
+
+        [_Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an exclamation._
+
+    Ha! What is this? I'm wounded ... agony!
+    With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed!
+    I'll summon help (_with calm courage_)--yet, stay, I would not dim
+    This nuptial day by any sombre cloud.
+    I'll bear this stroke alone--and now to probe
+    The full extent of my calamity.
+
+     [_Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to be concealed
+     by the screen from all but the audience, and proceeds to remove
+     his boot._
+
+    Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin!
+    I must know more of this--for it is meet
+    Such criminal neglect should be exposed.
+    Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment
+    Who's proved to be responsible for this!--
+    But soft, I hear a step.
+
+     [_Enter_ First _and_ Second Bridesmaids, _who hunt diligently
+     upon the carpet without observing_ Peter's _presence._
+
+  _Emily's Voice_ (_within_). Oh, search, I pray you.
+    It _must_ be there--my own ears heard it fall!
+
+        [PETER _betrays growing uneasiness._
+
+  _The Bridesmaids._ Indeed, we fail to see it anywhere!
+
+  _Emily_ (_entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large rent in
+her train_).
+
+    You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help.
+    It must be found, or I am all undone!
+    In vain my cushion I have cut in two
+    'Twas void of all but stuffing ... Gracious Heavens,
+    To think that all my future bliss depends
+    On the evasive malice of a pin!
+
+        [PETER _behind screen, starts violently._
+
+  _Peter_ (_aside_). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart!
+
+     [Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his
+     hand.
+
+    You seem in some excitement, Emily?
+
+  _Emily_ (_wildly_). _You_, Peter!... tell me--have you found a pin?
+
+  _Peter_ (_with deadly calm_). Unhappy girl--I _have_!
+          (_To_ Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile,
+      And should we need you, we will summon you.
+
+     [_Exeunt_ Bridesmaids; EMILY _and_ PETER _stand facing each
+     other for some moments in dead silence._
+
+    The pin is found--for I have trodden on it,
+    And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life.
+    Speak, Emily, what is that maid's desert
+    Whose carelessness has led to this mishap?
+
+  _Emily_ (_in the desperate hope of shielding herself_).
+    Why, should the fault he traced to any maid,
+    Instant dismissal shall be her reward,
+    With a month's wages paid in lieu of notice!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with a passionless severity_).
+    From your own lips I judge you, Emily.
+    Did they not own just now that you had heard
+    The falling of a pin--yet heeded not?
+    Behold the outcome of your negligence!
+
+        [_Extends his injured foot._
+
+  _Emily_.   Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well!
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly withdrawing foot_).   Keep your caresses till
+        I ask for them.
+    My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet,
+    And by that disregarded pin is pricked
+    The iridescent bubble of Illusion!
+
+  _Emily_ (_slowly_). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend.
+
+  _Peter._ Have patience and I will be plainer yet.
+    Mine is a complex nature, Emily;
+    Magnanimous, but still methodical.
+    An injury I freely can forgive,
+    Forget it (_striking his chest_), never! She who leaves about
+    Pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot,
+    Will surely plant a thorn within the side
+    Of him whose fate it is to be her husband!
+
+  _Emily_ (_dragging herself towards him on her knees_).
+    Have pity on me, Peter; I was mad!
+
+  _Peter_ (_with emotion_). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul,
+    Who, for the sake of temporary ease,
+    Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine!
+    You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why?
+    Because, forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin!
+    Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin
+    Had served you to secure your gaping train,
+    Your self-respect--and Me.
+
+  _Emily_ (_wailing_). What have I done?
+
+  _Peter_. I will not now reproach you, Emily,
+    Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole,
+    The pain of which increases momently.
+    I part from you in friendship, and in proof,
+    That fated instrument I leave with you
+
+     [_Presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically._
+
+    Which the frail link between us twain has severed.
+    I can dispense with it, for in my cuff
+
+     [_Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins'-heads is
+     perceptible._
+
+    I carry others 'gainst a time of need.
+    My poor success in life I trace to this
+    That never yet I passed a pin unheeded.
+
+  _Emily._ And is that all you have to say to me?
+
+  _Peter._ I think so--save that I shall wish you well,
+    And pray that henceforth you may bear in mind
+    What vast importance lies in seeming trifles.
+
+  _Emily_ (_with a pale smile_). Peter, your lesson is already learned,
+    For precious has this pin become for me,
+    Since by its aid I gain oblivion--thus!    [_Stabs herself._
+
+  _Peter_ (_coldly._) Nay, these are histrionics, Emily.
+
+        [_Assists her to sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ I'd skill enough to find a vital spot.
+    Do not withdraw it yet--my time is short,
+    And I have much to say before I die.
+    (_Faintly._) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone;
+    Give my canary chickweed now and then.
+    ... I think there is no more--ah, one last word--
+    (_Earnestly_)--Warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake,
+    And then the pastrycook may take it back!
+
+  _Peter_ (_deeply moved_). Would you had shown this
+        thoughtfulness before!    [_Kneels by the sofa._
+
+  _Emily._ 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see
+    That I was never worthy of you, Peter.
+
+  _Peter_ (_gently_). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now.
+    You did your best to be so, Emily!
+
+  _Emily._ A blessing on you for those generous words!
+    Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot?
+
+  _Peter._ The agony decidedly abates,
+    And I can almost bear a boot again.
+
+  _Emily._ Then I die happy!... Kiss me, Peter ... ah!
+
+        [_Dies_.
+
+  _Peter._ In peace she passed away. I'm glad of that,
+    Although that peace was purchased by a lie.
+    I shall not bear a boot for many days!
+    Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child,
+    Has paid the penalty of heedlessness!
+
+     [_Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly
+     mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the house._
+
+
+
+
+V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE.
+
+_A MELODRAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE._
+
+_Suggested by "The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll," by the Misses Jane and
+Ann Taylor._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _Blanchidine,_ } By the celebrated Sisters STILTON, the Champion
+    _Brunette._    }      Duettists and Clog-Dancers.
+
+    _Fanny Furbelow._ By Miss SYLVIA SEALSKIN (_by kind permission of
+                             the Gaiety Management_).
+
+    _Frank Manly._ By Mr. HENRY NEVILLE.
+
+
+    SCENE--_A sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens, between the
+    Serpentine and Round Pond._
+
+_Enter_ BLANCHIDINE _and_ BRUNETTE, _with their arms thrown
+affectionately around one another._ BLANCHIDINE _is carrying a large and
+expressionless wooden doll._
+
+_Duet and Step-dance._
+
+  _Bl._ Oh, I do adore BRUNETTE! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity,
+    tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap!
+
+  _Br._ BLANCHIDINE'S the sweetest pet! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Together._        When the sun is high,
+                     We come out to ply,
+                     Nobody is nigh,
+                     All is mirth and j'y!
+                     With a pairosol,
+                     We'll protect our doll,
+                     Make a mossy bed
+                     For her wooden head!
+
+     [_Combination step-dance during which both watch their feet
+     with an air of detached and slightly amused interest, as if
+     they belonged to some other persons._
+
+    Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack;
+    clackity-clickity, clickity-clackity, clackity-clickity-_clack_!
+
+        [_Repeat ad. lib._
+
+  _Bl._ (_apologetically to Audience_). Her taste in dress is rather plain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Br._ (_in pitying aside_). It _is_ a pity she's so vain!
+        (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.
+
+  _Bl._              'Tis a shime to smoile,
+                     But she's shocking stoyle,
+                     It is quite a troyal,
+                     Still--she mikes a foil!
+
+  _Br._              Often I've a job
+                     To suppress a sob,
+                     She is such a snob,
+                     When she meets a nob!
+
+        [_Step-dance as before._
+
+     [N.B.--_In consideration of the well-known difficulty that most
+     popular Variety-Artists experience in the metrical delivery of
+     decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written
+     as they will most probably be spoken._
+
+  _Bl._ (_looking off with alarm_). Why, here comes Fanny
+        Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in!
+    She'll find me with Brunette--it's _too_ embarrassing!
+
+        [_Aside._
+
+    (_To Brunette._) Brunette, my love, I know _such_ a pretty
+        game we'll play at--
+    Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at.
+    (The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend.)
+    And _you_ shall take her there--(_hypocritically_)--you're
+        such a friend!
+
+  _Br._ (_with simplicity_). Oh, yes, that _will_ be splendid, Blanchidine,
+    And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!
+
+     [BLAN. _resigns the wooden doll to_ BRUN., _who skips off with
+     it_, L., _as_ FANNY FURBELOW _enters_ R., _carrying a
+     magnificent wax doll_.
+
+  _Fanny_ (_languidly_). Ah, howdy do--_isn't_ this heat too
+    frightful? And so you're quite alone?
+
+  _Bl._ (_nervously._) Oh, _quite_--oh yes, I always am alone,
+    when there's nobody with me.
+
+     [_This is a little specimen of the Lady's humorous "gag," at
+     which she is justly considered a proficient._
+
+  _Fanny_ (_drawling_).      Delightful!
+    When I was wondering, only a little while ago,
+    If I should meet a creature that I know;
+    Allow me--my new doll, the Lady Minnie!
+
+        [_Introducing doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_rapturously_). Oh, what a perfect love!
+
+  _Fanny._                  She ought to be--for a guinea!
+    Here, you may nurse her for a little while.
+    Be careful, for her frock's the latest style.
+
+        [_Gives_ BLAN. _the wax doll_.
+
+    She's the best wax, and has three changes of clothing--
+    For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing.
+
+  _Bl._ (_hastily_). Oh, so have _I_--they're not to be endured!
+
+_Re-enter_ BRUNETTE _with the wooden doll, which she tries to press
+upon_ BLANCHIDINE, _much to the latter's confusion_.
+
+  _Br._ I've brought poor Timburina back, completely cured!
+    Why, aren't you pleased? Your face is looking _so_ cloudy!
+
+  _F._ (_haughtily_). Is she a friend of _yours_--this little
+        dowdy?    [_Slow music._
+
+  _Bl._ (_after an internal struggle_). Oh, no, what an idea!
+    Why, I don't even know her by name!
+    Some vulgar child ...
+
+        [_Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel._
+
+  _Br._ (_indignantly_). Oh, what a horrid shame!
+    I see _now_ why you sent us to the Serpentine!
+
+  _Bl._ (_heartlessly_). There's no occasion to flare up like turpentine.
+
+  _Br._ (_ungrammatically_). I'm _not_! Disown your doll, and
+        thrust me, too, aside!
+    The one thing left for both of us is--suicide!
+    Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes--
+    (_Bitterly._) Well, the Round Pond a handy place to perish is!
+
+        [_Rushes off stage with wooden doll._
+
+  _Bl._ (_making a feeble attempt to follow_). Come back,
+    Brunette; don't leave me thus, in charity!
+
+  _F._ (_with contempt_). Well, I'll be off--since you seem to
+        prefer vulgarity.
+
+  _Bl._ No, stay--but--ah, she said--what if she _meant_ it?
+
+  _F._ Not she! And, if she did, _we_ can't prevent it.
+
+  _Bl._ (_relieved_). That's true--we'll play, and think no more about her.
+
+  _F._ (_sarcastically_). We may _just_ manage to get on without her!
+    So come----(_Perceives doll lying face upwards on path._)
+    You odious girl, what have you done?
+    Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun!
+    'Twas done on purpose--oh, you _thing_ perfidious!    [_Stamps._
+    You _knew_ she'd melt, and get completely hideous!
+    Don't answer _me_, Miss--I wish we'd never met.
+    You're only fit for persons like Brunette!
+
+        [_Picks up doll, and exit in passion._
+
+_Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by_ BLANCHIDINE, _to
+Melodramatic Music_.
+
+  _Bl._ Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not give now to have
+homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden-headed Timburina back again!
+_She_ wouldn't melt in the sun.... Where are they now? Great Heavens!
+that threat--that rash resolve ... I remember all! 'Twas in the
+direction of the Pond they vanished. (_Peeping anxiously between
+trees._) Are they still in sight? ... Yes, I see them? Brunette has
+reached the water's edge ... What is she purposing! Now she kneels on
+the rough gravel; she is making Timburina kneel too! How calm and
+resolute they both appear! (_Shuddering._) I dare not look further--but
+ah, I must--_I must_!... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an instant in
+the bright sunlight: and now the ripples have closed, smiling, over her
+little black stockings!... Help!--save her, somebody!--help!... Joy! a
+gentleman has appeared on the scene--how handsome, how brave he looks!
+He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure he
+removes his coat--oh, _don't_ trouble about folding it up!--and why,
+_why_ remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost? Now,
+with many injunctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, who
+retires, overcome by emotion. And now--oh, gallant, heroic soul!--now he
+is sending his toy-terrier into the seething water! (_Straining_
+_eagerly forward._) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out--he has reached the
+spot ... oh, he has passed it!--he is trying to catch a duck! Dog, dog,
+_is_ this a time for pursuing ducks? At last he understands--he dives
+... he brings up--agony! a small tin cup! Again ... _this_ time,
+surely--what, only an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still
+the Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes--no, yes, it
+_is_ Timburina! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes! But Brunette?
+Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom? Ha, she, too, is
+rescued--saved--ha-ha-ha!--saved, saved, saved!
+
+        [_Swoons hysterically amid deafening applause._
+
+[Illustration: "Saved--ha-ha-ha!"]
+
+  _Enter_ FRANK MANLY _supporting_ BRUNETTE, _who carries_ TIMBURINA.
+
+  _Bl._ (_wildly_). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette?
+
+  _Br._ Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even _wet_!
+
+  _Frank_ (_modestly_). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty,
+    When in distress, is every hero's duty!
+
+  _Bl._ Brunette, forgive--I'm cured of all my folly!
+
+  _Br._ (_heartily_). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!
+
+     [_Grand Trio and Step-dance, with "tippity-tappity," and
+     "clickity-clack" refrain as finale._
+
+
+
+
+VI.--COMING OF AGE.
+
+
+Our present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate upon the
+Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race _will_ tell in the long
+run, despite--but, on second thoughts, it does not _quite_ prove that,
+though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental--at least,
+that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that _Mr.
+Punch_ is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory
+which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic
+study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a
+democratic audience.
+
+
+COMING OF AGE.
+
+_A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DRAMA IN ONE ACT._
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+    _The Earl of Burntalmond._
+
+    _The Countess of Burntalmond (his wife)._
+
+    _Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye (their son and heir)._
+
+    _The Lady Rose Caramel (niece to the Earl)._
+
+    _Horehound_            } Travelling as "The Celebrated Combination
+    _Mrs. Horehound_       }   Korffdropp Troupe," in their refined and
+    _Coltsfoot Horehound_  }   elegant Drawing-room Entertainment.
+
+    _Tenantry._
+
+
+     SCENE--_The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners,
+     mottoes, decorations, &c. On the steps_, R., _the Earl,_
+     supported by his wife, son, and niece, is discovered in the act
+     of concluding a speech to six tenantry, who display all the
+     enthusiasm that is reasonably to be expected at nine-pence a
+     night.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_patting_ Lord BULLSAYE'S _shoulder_). I might say more,
+Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord Bullsaye, here--I might dwell
+on his extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, the variety of
+his tastes, and the singular attraction he has for children of all
+ages--but I forbear. I will merely announce that on this day--the day he
+has selected for attaining his majority--he has gratified us all by
+plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady Rose Caramel, with whose dulcet
+and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural
+affinity.
+     [_Cheers._
+
+  _Lord Bullsaye_ (_aside to_ Lady R.). Ah, Rose, would such happiness
+could last! But my heart misgives me strangely--why, I know not.
+
+  _Lady R._ Say not so, dear Bullsaye--have you not just rendered me the
+happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?
+
+  _Lord B._ 'Tis true--and yet, and yet--pooh, let me snatch the present
+hour!
+     [_Snatches it._
+
+  _The Earl._ And now, let the Revels commence.
+
+_Enter the_ Korffdropp Troupe, _who give their marvellous Entertainment,
+entitled, "The Three Surprise Packets;" after which_--
+
+  _Horehound._ This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment,
+Lords, Ladies, _and_ Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires
+to change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the
+hoppertoonity of a short pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my
+right.
+
+        [_Exit_ Mrs. HOREHOUND.
+
+  _The Earl_ (_graciously_). I will hear you, fellow! (_Aside._) Strange
+how familiar his features seem to me!
+
+  _Horeh._ The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of
+the _wrong heir_. (_Sensation--i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg
+to the other, and murmur feebly._) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years
+ago--(_slow music_)--I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper,
+'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame
+day, and my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the
+youthful lord. Well--(_tells a long, and not entirely original, story;
+marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green
+and magenta bows, &c., &c._) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at
+a moment's notice----
+
+  _The Earl_ (_haughtily_). I did, upon discovering that you were in the
+habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within
+your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.
+
+  _Horeh._ I swore to be avenged, and so--(_common form again; the shifted
+bows_)--consequently, as a moment's reflection will convince you, the
+young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful
+son, while the real Viscount is--(_presenting_ COLTSFOOT, _who advances
+modestly on his hands_)--'ere!
+
+        [_Renewed sensation._
+
+  _The Earl._ This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (_To_ Lord
+B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent
+imposition--a gilded _lie_?
+
+  _Lord B._ Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my
+best excuse!
+
+  _The E._ Nothing can excuse the fact that you--you, a low-born son of
+the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education,
+which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (_To_ COLTSFOOT.)
+Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for
+these years of injustice and neglect!
+
+  _Colts._ Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it
+'ud be a _beginning_, like.
+
+  _The E._ You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first
+remove that incongruous garb.
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to _you_ now, young
+feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_with emotion, to_ Countess). Mother, can you endure to
+behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority?
+
+  _Countess_ (_coldly_). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired
+as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to_ Lady R.). Rose, _you_, at least, have not changed? Tell
+me you will love me still even on the precarious summit of an acrobat's
+pole!
+
+  _Lady Rose_ (_scornfully_). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the
+lower orders is perfectly appalling!
+
+  _The Earl_ (_to_ Countess, _as_ Lord B. _and_ COLTSFOOT _retire to
+exchange costumes_). At last, Pauline, I understand why I could never
+feel towards Bullsaye the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached
+myself for a coldness I could not overcome.
+
+  _Countess._ And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of
+recovering our son--of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. Never
+yet has our line boasted an heir who can feed himself from a fork
+strapped on to his dexter heel!
+
+  _The E._ (_with emotion_). Our beloved, boneless boy!
+
+     [_Re-enter_ COLTSFOOT _in modern dress, and_ Lord B. _in
+     tights_.
+
+  _Colts._ Don't I look slap-up--O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I _am_ 'aving a
+beano!
+
+  _All._ What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!
+
+  _The E._ My dear boy, let me present you to your _fiancee_. Rose, my
+love, this is your _legitimate_ lover.
+
+  _Colts._ Oh, all right, _I've_ no objections--on'y there'll be ructions
+with the young woman in the tight-rope line as I've been keepin' comp'ny
+with--that's all!
+
+  _The E._ Your foster-brother will act as your substitute there.
+(_Proudly._) _My_ son must make no _mesalliance_!
+
+  _Rose_ (_timidly_). And, if it would give you any pleasure, I'm sure I
+could soon learn the tight-rope!
+
+  _Colts._ Not at _your_ time o' life, Miss, and besides, 'ang it, now I'm
+a lord, I can't have my wife doin' nothing low!
+
+  _The E._ Spoken like a true Burntalmond! And now let the revels
+re-commence.
+
+[Illustration: Lord B. in tights.]
+
+        [_Re-enter_ Mrs. Horehound.
+
+  _Horeh._ (_to_ Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can't you--what are
+you 'ere _for_?
+
+  _Lord B._ (_to the_ Earl). Since it is your command, I obey, though it
+is ill tumbling with a heavy heart!
+
+        [_Turns head over heels laboriously._
+
+  _Colts._ Call _that_ a somersault? 'Ere, 'old my 'at (_giving tall hat
+to_ Lady R.) _I'll_ show yer 'ow to do a turn.
+
+        [_Throws a triple somersault._
+
+  _All._ What condescension! How his aristocratic superiority is betrayed,
+even in competition with those to the manner born!
+
+  _Mrs. Horeh._ (_still in ignorance of the transformation_). Halt! I have
+kept silence till now--even from my husband, but the time has come when
+I _must_ speak. Think you that if he were indeed a lord, he could turn
+such somersaults as those? No--no. I will reveal all. (_Tells same old
+story--except that she herself from ambitious motives transposed the
+infants' bows._) Now, do with me what you will!
+
+  _Horeh._ Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong I
+designed to effect!
+
+  _The E._ (_annoyed_). This is a serious matter, reflecting as it does
+upon the legitimacy of my lately recovered son. What proof have you,
+woman, of your preposterous allegation?
+
+  _Mrs. H._ None, my lord,--but these--
+
+        [_Exhibits two faded bunches of ribbon._
+
+  _The E._ I cannot resist such overwhelming evidence, fight against it as
+I may.
+
+  _Lord B._ (_triumphantly_). And so--oh, Father, Mother, Rose--dear, dear
+Rose--I am no acrobat, after all!
+
+  _The E._ (_sternly_). Would you were anything half so serviceable to the
+community, Sir! I have no superstitious reverence for rank, and am, I
+trust, sufficiently enlightened to discern worth and merit--even beneath
+the spangled vest of the humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as
+our acquaintance has been, has already endeared himself to all hearts,
+while you have borne a trifling reverse of fortune with sullen
+discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has perfected himself in a
+lofty and distinguished profession during years spent by _you_, Sir, in
+idly cumbering the earth of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him to suffer
+by a purely accidental coincidence? Never! I owe him reparation, and it
+shall be paid to the uttermost penny. From this day, I adopt him as my
+eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, and all other real and personal
+effects. See, Robert Henry, that you treat your foster-brother as your
+senior in future!
+
+  _Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). Way-oh, ole matey, I don't bear no malice, _I_
+don't! Give us your dooks.
+     [_Offering hand._
+
+  _The C._ Ah, Bullsaye, try to be worthy of such generosity!
+
+        [Lord B. _grasps_ COLTSFOOT'S _hand in silence_.
+
+  _Lady Rose._ And pray, understand that, whether Mr. Coltsfoot be
+viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference whatever to the
+disinterested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him.
+
+        [_Gives her hand to_ COLTSFOOT, _who squeezes it with ardour_.
+
+  _Colts._ (_pleasantly_). Well, Father, Mother, your noble Herlship and
+Lady, foster-brother Bullsaye, and my pretty little sweetart 'ere, what
+do you all say to goin' inside and shunting a little garbage, and
+shifting a drop or so of lotion, eh?
+
+  _The E._ A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us make these ancient
+walls the scene of the blithest--ahem!--_beano_ they have ever yet
+beheld!
+
+     [_Cheers from Tenantry, as the_ Earl _leads the way into the
+     Castle with_ Mrs. HOREHOUND, _followed by_ HOREHOUND _with the_
+     Countess _and_ COLTSFOOT _with_ Lady ROSE, Lord BULLSAYE,
+     _discomfited and abashed, entering last as Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VII.--RECLAIMED!
+
+OR, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GRANDMOTHER.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Lady Belledame_ (_a Dowager of the deepest dye_).
+
+    _Monkshood_ (_her Steward, and confidential Minion_).
+
+    _Little Elfie_ (_an Angel Child_). This part has been specially
+        constructed for that celebrated Infant Actress, Banjoist, and
+        Variety Comedienne, Miss BIRDIE CALLOWCHICK.
+
+
+    SCENE--_The Panelled Room at Nightshade Hall._
+
+  _Lady Belledame_ (_discovered preparing parcels_). Old and unloved!--yes
+the longer I live, the more plainly do I perceive that I am _not_ a
+popular old woman. Have I not acquired the reputation in the County of
+being a witch? My neighbour, Sir Vevey Long, asked me publicly only the
+other day "when I would like my broom ordered," and that minx, Lady
+Violet Powdray, has pointedly mentioned old cats in my hearing!
+Pergament, my family lawyer, has declined to act for me any longer,
+merely because Monkshood rack-rented some of the tenants a little too
+energetically in the Torture Chamber--as if in these hard times one was
+not justified in putting the screw on! Then the villagers scowl when I
+pass; the very children shrink from me--[_A childish Voice outside
+window,_ "Yah, 'oo sold 'erself to Old Bogie for a pound o' tea an' a
+set o' noo teeth?"]--that is, when they do not insult me by suggestions
+of bargains that are not even businesslike! No matter--I will be avenged
+upon them all--ay, all! 'Tis Christmas-time--the season at which
+sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. For once I, too, will
+distribute a few seasonable presents.... (_Inspecting parcels._) Are my
+arrangements complete? The bundle of choice cigars, in each of which a
+charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexterously inserted? The lip-salve,
+made up from my own prescription with corrosive sublimate by a venal
+chemist in the vicinity? The art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen
+of the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? The sweets compounded
+with sugar of lead? The packet of best ratsbane? Yes, nothing has been
+omitted. Now to summon my faithful Monkshood.... Ha! he is already at
+hand.
+
+        [_Chord as_ MONKSHOOD _enters_.
+
+  _Monkshood._ Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage is a small
+bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests the favour of a
+personal interview.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_reproachfully_). And you, who have been with me all these
+years, and know my ways, omitted to let loose the bloodhounds? You grow
+careless, Monkshood!
+
+  _Monks._ (_wounded_). Your Ladyship is unjust--I _did_ unloose the
+bloodhounds; but the ferocious animals merely sat up and begged. The
+child had took the precaution to provide herself with a bun!
+
+  _Lady B._ No matter, she must be removed--I care not how.
+
+  _Monks._ There may be room for one more--a little one--in the old well.
+The child mentioned that she was your Ladyship's granddaughter, but I
+presume that will make no difference?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disquieted_). What!--then she must be the child of my only
+son Poldoodle, whom, for refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely
+accused of adulterating milk, and transported beyond the seas! She
+comes hither to denounce and reproach me! Monkshood, she must not leave
+this place alive--you hear?
+
+  _Monks._ I require no second bidding--ha, the child ... she comes!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _trips in with touching
+     self-confidence._
+
+  _Elfie_ (_in a charming little Cockney accent_). Yes, Grandma, it's
+me--little Elfie, come all the way from Australia to see you, because I
+thought you must be sow lownly all by yourself! My Papa often told me
+what a long score he owed you, and how he hoped to pay you off if he
+lived. But he went out to business one day--Pa was a bushranger, you
+know, and worked--oh, _so_ hard; and never came back to his little
+Elfie, so poor little Elfie has come to live with you!
+
+  _Monks._ Will you have the child removed now, my Lady?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_undecidedly_). Not now--not yet; I have other work for you.
+These Christmas gifts, to be distributed amongst my good friends and
+neighbours (_handing parcels_). First, this bundle of cigars to Sir
+Vevey Long with my best wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco may
+find them sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Violet Powdray, with
+my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night. The plant
+you will take to the little Pergaments--'twill serve them for a
+Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a barrel of beer, which you
+will see broached upon the village green; these sweetmeats for
+distribution among the most deserving of the school-children.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_throwing her arms around Lady B.'s neck_). I _do_ like you,
+Grandma, you have such a kind face! And oh, what pains you must have
+taken to find something that will do for everybody!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_disengaging herself peevishly_). Yes, yes, child. I trust
+that what I have chosen will indeed do for everybody,--but I do not
+like to be messed about. Monkshood, you know what you have to do.
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, I am sure he does, Grandma! See how benevolently he smiles.
+You're such a good old man, you will take care that all the poor people
+are fed, _won't_ you?
+
+[Illustration: Little Elfie.]
+
+  _Monks._ (_with a sinister smile_). Ah! Missie, I've 'elped to settle a
+many people's 'ash in my time!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_innocently_). What, do they all get hash? How nice! I like
+hash,--but what else do you give them?
+
+  _Monks._ (_grimly_). Gruel, Missie. (_Aside._) I must get out of this,
+or this innocent child's prattle will unman me!
+
+        [_Exit with parcels._
+
+  _Elfie._ You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me sing you one of
+the songs with which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in happier days.
+
+  _Lady B._ No, no, some other time. (_Aside._) Pshaw! why should I dread
+the effect of her simple melodies? (_Aloud._) Sing, child, if you will.
+
+  _Elfie._ How glad I am that I brought my banjo!    [_Sings._
+
+    _Dar is a lubly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff;
+    She'll dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir breff.
+    When she sits down to supper, ebery coloured gemple-man,
+    As she gets her upper lip o'er a plate o' "possom dip," cries,
+        "Woa, Lucindy Ann!"_ (Chorus, dear Granny!)
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy!   Woa, Lucindy Ann!
+    At de rate dat you are stuffin, you will nebber leave us nuffin;
+         so woa, Miss Sindy Ann!_
+
+  _To Lady B._ (_who, after joining in chorus with deep emotion, has burst
+into tears_). Why, you are _weeping_, dear Grandmother!
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, 'tis nothing, child--but have you no songs which are less
+sad?
+
+  _Elfie._ Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation ditties more cheerful than
+that. (_Sings._)
+
+    _Oh, I hear a gentle whisper from de days ob long ago,
+      When I used to be a happy darkie slave.
+                                            [Trump-a-trump!
+    But now I'se got to labour wif the shovel an' de hoe--
+      For ole Massa lies a sleepin' in his grave!
+                                            [Trump-trump!_
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    _Poor ole Massa!   Poor ole Massa!_   (Pianissimo.)   _Poor ole
+    Massa, that I nebber more shall see!
+    He was let off by de Jury, Way down in old Missouri--But
+    dey lynched him on a persimmon tree._
+
+  _Elfie._ You smile at last, dear Grandma! I would sing to you again, but
+I am so very, very sleepy!
+
+  _Lady B._ Poor child, you have had a long journey. Rest awhile on this
+couch, and I will arrange this screen so as to protect your slumbers.
+     [_Leads little_ ELFIE _to couch_.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_sleepily_). Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks.... Now I shall go to
+sleep, and dream of you, and the dogs, and angels. I so often dream
+about angels--but that is generally after supper, and to-night I have
+had no supper.... But never mind.... Good night, Grannie, good night ...
+goo'ni' ... goo ... goo!
+     [_She sinks softly to sleep._
+
+  _Lady B._ And I was about to set the bloodhounds upon this little
+sunbeam! 'Tis long since these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet
+as hers. (_Croons._) "Woa, Lucindy" &c. "Dey tried him by a Jury, way
+down in ole Missouri, an' dey hung him to a possumdip tree!" (_Goes to
+couch, and gazes on the little sleeper._) How peacefully she slumbers!
+What a change has come over me in one short hour!--my withered heart is
+sending up green shoots of tenderness, of love, and hope! Let me try
+henceforth to be worthy of this dear child's affection and respect.
+(_Turns, and sees_ MONKSHOOD.) Ha, Monkshood! Then there is time yet!
+Those parcels ... quick, quick!--the parcels!----
+
+  _Monks_ (_impassively_). Have been left as you instructed, my Lady.
+
+     [_Chord._ Lady B. _staggers back, gasping, into chair. Little_
+     ELFIE _awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in a hoarse whisper_). You--you have left the parcels ...
+all--_all?_ Tell me--how were they received? Speak low--I would not
+that yonder child should awake and hear!
+
+  _Little Elfie_ (_behind the screen, very wide awake indeed_). Dear, good
+old Grannie--she would conceal her generosity--even from _me_!
+(_Loudly._) She little thinks that I am overhearing all!
+
+  _Monks._ I could have sworn I heard whispering.
+
+  _Lady B._ Nay, you are mistaken--'twas but the wind in the old wainscot.
+(_Aside._) He is quite capable of destroying that innocent child; but
+old and attached servant as he is, there are liberties I still know how
+to forbid. (_To_ M.) Your story--quick!
+
+  _Monks._ First, I delivered the cigars to Sir Vevey Long, whom I found
+under his verandah. He seemed surprised and gratified by the gift,
+selected a weed, and was proceeding to light it, whilst he showed a
+desire to converse familiarly with me. 'Astily excusing myself, I drove
+away, when----
+
+  _Lady B._ When _what_? Do not torture a wretched old woman!
+
+  _Monks._ When I heard a loud report behind me, and, in the portion of a
+brace, two waistcoat-buttons, and half a slipper, which hurtled past my
+ears, I recognised all that was mortal of the late Sir Vevey. You mixed
+them cigars uncommon strong, m'Lady.
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Can it be? But no, no. I will _not_ believe it. I am
+sure that dear Granny meant no harm!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a grim pride she cannot wholly repress_). I have
+devoted some study to the subject of explosives. 'Tis another triumph to
+the Anti-tobacconists. And what of Lady Violet Powdray--did she apply
+the salve?
+
+  _Monks._ Judging from the 'eartrending 'owls which proceeded from
+Carmine Cottage, the salve was producing the desired result. Her
+Ladyship, 'owever, terminated her sufferings somewhat prematoor by
+jumping out of a top winder just as I was taking my departure----
+
+  _Lady B._ She should have died hereafter--but no matter ... and the
+Upas-tree?----
+
+  _Monks._----was presented to the Pergaments, who unpacked it, and loaded
+its branches with toys and tapers; after which Mr. Pergament, Mrs. P.,
+and all the little Pergaments joined 'ands, and danced round it in
+light'arted glee. (_In a sombre tone._) They little knoo as how it was
+their dance of death!
+
+  _Lady B._ That knowledge will come! And the beer, Monkshood--you saw it
+broached?
+
+  _Monks._ Upon the village green; the mortality is still spreading, it
+being found impossible to undo the knots in which the victims have tied
+themselves. The sweetmeats were likewise distributed, and the floor of
+the hinfant-school now resembles one vast fly-paper.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with a touch of remorse_). The children too! Was not my
+little Elfie once an infant? Ah me, ah me!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_aside_). Once--but that was long, long ago. And, oh, _how_
+disappointed I am in poor dear Grandmama!
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, you should not have done these things--you should
+have saved me from myself. You _must_ have known how greatly all this
+would increase my unpopularity in the neighbourhood.
+
+  _Monks._ (_sulkily_). And this is my reward for obeying orders! Take
+care, my Lady. It suits you now to throw me aside like a--(_casting
+about for an original simile_)--like a old glove, because this innocent
+grandchild of yours has touched your flinty 'art. But where will _you_
+be when she learns----?
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in agony_). Ah, no, Monkshood, good, faithful Monkshood,
+she must never know that! Think, Monkshood, you would not tell her that
+the Grandmother to whom she looks up with such touching, childlike love,
+was a--_homicide_--you would not do that?
+
+  _Monks._ Some would say even 'omicide was not too black a name for all
+you've done. (Lady BELLEDAME _shudders_.) I might tell Miss Elfie how
+you've blowed up a live Baronet, corrosive sublimated a gentle Lady,
+honly for 'aving, in a moment of candour, called you a hold cat, and
+distributed pison in a variety of forms about this smiling village; and,
+if that don't inspire her with distrust, I don't know the nature of
+children, that's all! I might tell her, I say, and, if I'm to keep my
+mouth shut, I shall expect it to be considered in my wages.
+
+  _Lady B._ I knew you had a good heart! I will pay you
+anything--anything, provided you shield my guilt from her ... wait, you
+shall have gold, gold, Monkshood, gold!
+
+     [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _suddenly comes from behind screen;
+     limelight on her. The other two shrink back._
+
+  _Elfie._ Do not give that bad old man money, Grandmother, for it will
+only be wasted.
+
+  _Lady B._ Speak, child!--how much do you know?
+
+  _Elfie._ All!    [_Chord._ Lady B. _collapses on chair_.
+
+  _Lady B._ (_with an effort_). And now, Elfie, that you know, you scorn
+and hate your poor old Grandmother--is it not so?
+
+  _Elfie._ It is wrong to hate one's Grandmother, whatever she does. At
+first when I heard, I was very, very sorry. I _did_ think it was most
+unkind of you. But now, oh, I _can't_ believe that you had not some
+good, wise motive, in acting as you did!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_in conscience-stricken aside_). Even _this_ cannot shatter
+her artless faith ... Oh, wretch, wretch!
+
+        [_Covers her face._
+
+  _Monks._ Motive--I believe you there, Missie. Why, she went and insured
+all their lives aforehand, _she_ did.
+
+  _Lady B._ Monkshood, in pity hold your peace!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_her face beaming_). I knew it--I was sure of it! Oh, Granny,
+my dear, kind old Granny, you insured their lives first, so that no real
+harm could possibly happen to them--oh, I am so happy!
+
+[Illustration: "Good-bye, Good-bye!"]
+
+  _Lady B._ (_aside_). What shall I say? Merciful Powers, what _shall_ I
+say to her?
+     [_Disturbed sounds without._
+
+  _Monks._ I don't know what you'd better _say_, but I can tell you what
+your Ladyship had better _do_--and that is, take your 'ook while you
+can. Even now the outraged populace approaches, to wreak a hawful
+vengeance upon your guilty 'ed!
+     [_Melodramatic music._
+
+  _Lady B._ (_distractedly_). A mob! I cannot face them--they will tear me
+limb from limb. At my age I could not survive such an indignity as that!
+Hide me, Monkshood--help me to escape!
+
+  _Monks._ There is a secret underground passage, known only to myself,
+communicating with the nearest railway station. I will point it out, and
+personally conduct your Ladyship--for a consideration--one thousand
+pounds down.
+
+        [_The noise increases._
+
+  _Elfie._ No, Granny, don't trust him! Be calm and brave. Await the mob
+here. Leave it all to me. I will explain everything to them--how you
+meant no ill,--how, at the very time they thought you were meditating an
+injury, you were actually spending money in insuring all their lives.
+When I tell them _that_----
+
+  _Monks._ Ah, you tell 'em that, and see. It's too late now--they are
+here!
+
+     [_Shouts without._ Lady B. _crouches on floor. Little_ ELFIE
+     _goes to the window, throws open the shutters, and stands on
+     balcony in her fluttering white robe, and the limelight_.
+
+  _Elfie._ Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches!--(Lady B.
+_groans_)--and banners, too! I think they have a band.... Who is that
+tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on horseback, and the lady in a
+pony-trap, with, oh, such a beautiful complexion! There is an
+inscription on one of the flags--I can read it quite plainly. "_Thanks
+to the generous Donor!_" (That must be _you_, Grandmother!) And there
+are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking for a
+speech. (_Speaking off._) "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my
+Grandmama is not at all well, but she wishes me to say she wishes you a
+Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like your presents so much.
+Good-bye, _good_-bye!" (_Returning down Stage._) Now they have gone
+away, Granny.... They did look so grateful!
+
+  _Lady B._ (_bewildered_). What is this! Sir Vevey, Lady Violet,--alive,
+well? This deputation of gratitude? Am I mad, dreaming--or what does it
+all mean?
+
+  _Monks._ (_doggedly_). It means that the sight of this 'ere angel child
+recalled me to a sense of what I might be exposin' myself to by carrying
+out your Ladyship's commands; and so I took the liberty of substitootin
+gifts more calculated to inspire gratitude in their recipients--that's
+what it means.
+
+  _Lady B._ Wretch!--then you have disobeyed me? You leave this day month!
+
+  _Elfie_ (_pleading_). Nay, Grandmother, bear with him, for has not his
+disobedience spared you from acts that you might some day have
+regretted?... There, Mr. Butler, Granny forgives you--see, she holds out
+her hand, and here's mine; and now----
+
+  _Lady B._ (_smiling tenderly_). Now you shall sing us "_Woa, Lucinda!_"
+
+     [_Little_ ELFIE _fetches her banjo, and sings, "Woa, Lucinda!"
+     her Grandmother and the aged Steward joining in the dance and
+     chorus, and embracing the child, to form picture as Curtain
+     falls_.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.--JACK PARKER;
+
+OR, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Jack Parker_ ("_was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole
+                  employ._"--_Vide_) Miss JANE TAYLOR.
+
+    _Miss Lydia Banks_ ("_though very young, Will never do what's
+                       rude or wrong._"--_Ditto._)
+
+    _Farmer Banks_        }  By the Brothers GRIFFITHS.
+    _Farmer Banks's Bull_ }
+
+    _Chorus of Farm Hands._
+
+
+     SCENE.--_A Farmyard._ R. _a stall from which the head of the
+     Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter_ Farmer BANKS _with
+     a cudgel_.
+
+  _Farmer B._ (_moodily_). When roots are quiet, and cereals are dull,
+    I vent my irritation on the Bull.
+
+        [_We have_ Miss TAYLOR'S _own authority for this rhyme_.
+
+    Come hup, you beast!
+
+     [_Opens stall and flourishes cudgel--the Bull comes forward
+     with an air of deliberate defiance._
+
+    Oh, turning narsty, is he?
+
+        [_Apologetically to Bull._
+
+    Another time will do! I see you're busy!
+
+     [_The Bull, after some consideration, decides to accept this
+     retractation, and retreats with dignity to his stall, the door
+     of which he carefully fastens after him. Exit_ Farmer BANKS,
+     L., _as_ LYDIA BANKS _enters_ R. _accompanied by Chorus. The
+     Bull exhibits the liveliest interest in her proceedings, as he
+     looks on, with his forelegs folded easily upon the top of the
+     door._
+
+_Song_--LYDIA BANKS (_in Polka time_).
+
+    I'm the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung;
+    Unnaturally good for one so young--
+    A pattern for the people that I go among,
+    With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue.
+    And I often feel afraid that I shan't live long,
+    For I never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull beats time_).
+      As a general rule, one _doesn't_ live long,
+      If you never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
+
+_Second Verse._
+
+    My words are all with wisdom fraught,
+    To make polite replies I've sought;
+    And learned by independent thought,
+    That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought.
+    So wonderfully well have I been taught,
+    That I turn my toes as children ought!
+
+_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull dances_).
+      This moral lesson she's been taught--
+      She turns her toes as children ought!
+
+  _Lydia_ (_sweetly_). Yes, I'm the Farmer's daughter--Lydia Banks;
+    No person ever caught me playing pranks!
+    I'm loved by all the live-stock on the farm,
+
+        [_Ironical applause from the Bull._
+
+    Pigeons I've plucked will perch upon my arm,
+    And pigs at my approach sit up and beg.
+
+        [_Business by Bull._
+
+    For me the partial peacock saves his egg,
+    No sheep e'er snaps if _I_ attempt to touch her,
+    Lambs _like_ it when I lead them to the butcher!
+    Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed,
+    While rabbits flutter twittering round my head,
+    And, as befits a dairy-farmer's daughter,
+    What milk I get I supplement with water,
+
+     [_A huge Shadow is thrown on the road outside_; LYDIA _starts_.
+
+    Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker?
+    That bullet head! those ears! it is----Jack Parker!
+
+     [_Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay, as_ JACK _enters with a
+     reckless swagger_.
+
+_Song_--JACK PARKER.
+
+    I'm loafing about, and I very much doubt
+    If my excellent Ma is aware that I'm out;
+    My time I employ in attempts to annoy,
+    And I'm not what you'd call an agreeable boy!
+        I shoe the cats with walnut-shells;
+          Tin cans to curs I tie;
+        Ring furious knells at front-door bells--
+          Then round the corner fly!
+    'Neath donkeys' tails I fasten furze,
+      Or timid horsemen scare;
+    If chance occurs, I stock with burrs
+      My little Sister's hair!
+
+        [_The Bull shakes his head reprovingly._
+
+    Such tricks give me joy without any alloy,
+    But they do not denote an agreeable boy!
+
+     [_As_ JACK PARKER _concludes, the Bull ducks cautiously below
+     the half-door, while_ LYDIA _conceals herself behind the pump_,
+     L.C.
+
+  _Jack_ (_wandering about stage discontentedly_). I thought at least
+        there'd be _some_ beasts to badger here!
+    Call this a farm--there ain't a blooming spadger here!
+
+        [_Approaches stall--Bull raises head suddenly._
+
+    A bull! This is a lark I've long awaited!
+    He's in a stable, so he should be baited.
+
+     [_The Bull shows symptoms of acute depression at this jeu de
+     mots_; LYDIA _comes forward indignantly_.
+
+  _Lydia._ I _can't_ stand by and see that poor bull suffer!
+    Excitement's sure to make his beef taste tougher!
+
+        [_The Bull emphatically corroborates this statement._
+
+    Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor; fractured skulls
+    Invariably come from teasing bulls!
+    So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet;
+    For if the bull gets out--why, then you'll catch it.
+
+  _Jack._ A fractured skull? Yah, don't believe a word of it!
+
+     [_Raises latchet: chord; Bull comes slowly out, and crouches
+     ominously_; JACK _retreats, and takes refuge on top of pump:
+     the Bull, after scratching his back with his off foreleg, makes
+     a sudden rush at_ LYDIA.
+
+  _Lydia_ (_as she evades it_). Here, help!--it's chasing me!--it's
+        too absurd of it!
+    Go away, Bull--with _me_ you have no quarrel!
+
+     [_The Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep sense of
+     duty._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_impatiently_). You stupid thing, you're _ruining_ the moral!
+
+        [_The Bull persists obstinately in his pursuit._
+
+  _Jack_ (_from top of pump_). Well dodged, Miss Banks! although
+        the Bull I'll back!
+
+        [_Enter_ Farm-hands.
+
+  _Lydia._ Come quick--this Bull's mistaking me for Jack!
+
+  _Jack._ He knows his business best, I shouldn't wonder.
+
+  _Farm-hands_ (_philosophically_). He ain't the sort of Bull
+        to make a blunder.
+
+        [_They look on._
+
+  _Lydia_ (_panting._) Such violent exercise will soon exhaust me!
+
+        [_The Bull comes behind her._
+
+    Oh, Bull, it _is_ unkind of you ... you've _tossed_ me!
+
+     [_Falls on ground, while the Bull stands over her, in readiness
+     to give the coup de grace_; LYDIA _calls for help_.
+
+  _A Farm-hand_ (_encouragingly_). Nay, Miss, he seems moor
+        sensible nor surly--
+    He knows as how good children perish early!
+
+     [_The Bull nods in acknowledgment that he is at last
+     understood, and slaps his chest with his forelegs._
+
+  _Lydia._ Bull, I'll turn naughty, if you'll but be lenient!
+    Goodness, I see, is sometimes inconvenient.
+    I promise you henceforth I'll _try_, at any rate,
+    To act like children who are unregenerate!
+
+[Illustration: On top of the Pump.]
+
+     [_The Bull, after turning this over, decides to accept a
+     compromise._
+
+  _Jack._ And, Lydia, when you ready for a lark are,
+    Just give a chyhike to your friend--Jack Parker!
+
+        [_They shake hands warmly._
+
+
+FINALE.
+
+  _Lydia._ I thought to slowly fade away so calm and beautiful.
+      (Though I didn't mean to go just yet);
+    But you get no chance for pathos when you're chivied by a bull!
+      (So I thought I wouldn't go just yet.)
+    For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get
+    By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you!
+      That I thought I wouldn't go just yet!
+
+  _Chorus._ We hear, with some regret,
+      That she doesn't mean to go just yet.
+      But a Bull with horns that hurt you
+      Is a poor return for virtue,
+      So she's wiser not to go just yet!
+
+     [_The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives a forehoof each to_
+     LYDIA _and_ JACK, _who dance wildly round and round as the
+     Curtain falls_.
+
+[N.B.--Music-hall Managers are warned that the morality of this
+particular Drama may possibly be called in question by some members of
+the L. C. C.]
+
+
+
+
+IX.--UNDER THE HARROW.
+
+_A CONVENTIONAL COMEDY-MELODRAMA, IN TWO ACTS._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Baronet)._
+
+    _Verbena Puddock (his Daughter)._
+
+    _Lord Bleshugh (her Lover)._
+
+    _Spiker (a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer)._
+
+    _Blethers (an ancient and attached Domestic)._
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+    SCENE--_The Morning Room at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-le-Hole;
+    large window open at back, with heavy practicable sash._
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury's birthday to-day--his birthday!--and the
+gentry giving of him presents. Oh, Lor! if they only knew what _I_ could
+tell 'em!... Ah, and _must_ tell, too, before long--but not yet--not
+yet!
+     [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH _and_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verb._ Yes, Papa is forty to-day; (_innocently_) fancy living to _that_
+age! The tenants have presented him with a handsome jar of mixed
+pickles, with an appropriate inscription. Papa is loved and respected by
+every one. And I--well, I have made him a little housewife, containing
+needles and thread ... See!
+     [_Shows it._
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_tenderly_). I say, I--I wish you would make _me_ a
+little housewife!
+
+        [_Comedy love-dialogue omitted owing to want of space._
+
+  _Verb._ Oh, do look!--there's Papa crossing the lawn with, oh, such a
+horrid man following him!
+
+  _Lord B._ Regular bounder. Shocking bad hat!
+
+  _Verb._ Not so bad as his boots, and _they_ are not so bad as his face!
+Why doesn't Papa order him to go away? Oh, he is actually inviting him
+in!
+
+_Enter_ Sir POSHBURY, _gloomy and constrained, with_ SPIKER, _who is
+jaunty, and somewhat over familiar._
+
+  _Spiker_ (_sitting on the piano, and dusting his boots with his
+handkerchief_). Cosy little shanty you've got here, Puddock--very tasty!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_with a gulp_). I am--ha--delighted that you approve of it!
+Ah, Verbena!
+     [_Kisses her on forehead._
+
+  _Spiker._ Your daughter, eh? Pooty gal. Introduce me.
+
+        [_Sir_ POSH. _introduces him--with an effort._
+
+  _Verbena_ (_coldly_). How do you do? Papa, did you know that the
+sashline of this window was broken? If it is not mended, it will fall on
+somebody's head, and perhaps kill him!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_absently_). Yes--yes, it shall be attended to; but leave us,
+my child, go. Bleshugh, this--er--gentleman and I have business of
+importance to discuss.
+
+  _Spiker._ Don't let us drive you away, Miss; your Pa and me are only
+talking over old times, that's all--eh, Posh?
+
+  _Sir P._ (_in a tortured aside_). Have a care, Sir, don't drive me too
+far! (_To_ VERB.) Leave us, I say. (Lord B. _and_ VERB. _go out, raising
+their eyebrows._) Now, Sir, what is this secret you profess to have
+discovered?
+
+  _Spiker._ Oh, a mere nothing. (_Takes out a cigar._) Got a light about
+you? Thanks. Perhaps you don't recollect twenty-seven years ago this
+very day, travelling from Edgware Road to Baker Street, by the
+Underground Railway?
+
+  _Sir P._ Perfectly; it was my thirteenth birthday, and I celebrated the
+event by a visit to Madame Tussaud's.
+
+[Illustration: Spiker Introduced.]
+
+  _Spiker._ Exactly; it was your thirteenth birthday, and you travelled
+second-class with a half-ticket--(_meaningly_)--on your thirteenth
+birthday.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_terribly agitated_). Fiend that you are, how came you to
+learn this?
+
+  _Spiker._ Very simple. I was at that time in the temporary position of
+ticket-collector at Baker Street. In the exuberance of boyhood, you
+cheeked me. I swore to be even with you some day.
+
+  _Sir P._ Even if--if your accusation were well-founded, how are you
+going to prove it?
+
+  _Sp._ Oh, that's easy! I preserved the half-ticket, on the chance that I
+should require it as evidence hereafter.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_aside_). And so the one error of an otherwise blameless
+boyhood has found me out--at last! (_To_ SPIKER.) I fear you not; my
+crime--if crime indeed it was--is surely condoned by twenty-seven long
+years of unimpeachable integrity!
+
+  _Sp._ Bye-laws are Bye-laws, old Buck! there's no Statute of Limitations
+in criminal offences that ever _I_ heard of! Nothing can alter the fact
+that you, being turned thirteen, obtained a half-ticket by a false
+representation that you were under age. A line from me, even now,
+denouncing you to the Traffic Superintendent, and I'm very much
+afraid----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_writhing_). Spiker, my--my dear friend, you won't do
+that--you won't expose me? Think of my age, my position, my daughter!
+
+  _Sp._ Ah, now you've touched the right chord! I _was_ thinking of your
+daughter--a nice lady-like gal--I don't mind telling you she fetched me,
+Sir, at the first glance. Give me her hand, and I burn the compromising
+half-ticket before your eyes on our return from church after the
+wedding. Come, that's a fair offer!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_indignantly_). My child, the ripening apple of my failing
+eye, to be sacrificed to a blackmailing blackguard like you! Never while
+I live!
+
+  _Sp._ Just as you please; and, if you will kindly oblige me with writing
+materials, I will just drop a line to the Traffic Superintendent----
+
+  _Sir P._ (_hoarsely_). No, no; not _that_.... Wait, listen; I--I will
+speak to my daughter. I promise nothing; but if her heart is still her
+own to give, she may, (mind, I do not say she _will_,) be induced to
+link her lot to yours, though I shall not attempt to influence her in
+any way--in _any_ way.
+
+  _Sp._ Well, you know your own business best, old Cockalorum. Here comes
+the young lady, so I'll leave you to manage this delicate affair alone.
+Ta-ta. I shan't be far off.
+
+        [_Swaggers insolently out as_ VERB. _enters._
+
+  _Sir P._ My child, I have just received an offer for your hand. I know
+not if you will consent?
+
+  _Verb._ I can guess who has made that offer, and why. I consent with all
+my heart, dear Papa.
+
+  _Sir P._ Can I trust my ears! You consent? Noble girl!
+
+        [_He embraces her._
+
+  _Verb._ I was quite sure dear Bleshugh meant to speak, and I _do_ love
+him very much.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_starting_). It is not Lord Bleshugh, my child, but Mr. Samuel
+Spiker, the gentleman (for he is at heart a gentleman) whom I introduced
+to you just now.
+
+  _Verb._ I have seen so little of him, Papa, I cannot love him--you must
+really excuse me!
+
+  _Sir P._ Ah, but you will, my darling, you _will_--I know your unselfish
+nature--you will, to save your poor old dad from a terrible disgrace ...
+yes, _disgrace_, listen! Twenty-seven years ago--(_he tells her all_).
+Verbena, at this very moment, there is a subscription on foot in the
+county to present me with my photograph, done by an itinerant
+photographer of the highest eminence, and framed and glazed ready for
+hanging. Is that photograph never to know the nail which even now awaits
+it? Can you not surrender a passing girlish fancy, to spare your fond
+old father's fame? Mr. Spiker is peculiar, perhaps, in many ways--not
+quite of our _monde_--but he loves you sincerely, my child, and that is
+in itself a recommendation. Ah, I see--my prayers are vain ... be
+happy, then. As for me, let the police come--I am ready!
+     [_Weeps._
+
+  _Verb._ Not so, Papa; I will marry this Mr. Spiker, since it is your
+wish.
+     [Sir POSH. _dries his eyes._
+
+  _Sir P._ Here, Spiker, my dear fellow, it is all right. Come in. She
+accepts you.
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER.
+
+  _Sp._ Thought she would. Sensible little gal! Well, Miss, you shan't
+regret it. Bless you, we'll be as chummy together as a couple of little
+dicky-birds.
+
+  _Verb._ Mr. Spiker, let us understand one another. I will do my best to
+be a good wife to you--but chumminess is not mine to give, nor can I
+promise ever to be your dicky-bird.
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord B._ Sir Poshbury, may I have five minutes with you? Verbena, you
+need not go. (_Looking at_ SPIKER.) Perhaps this person will kindly
+relieve us of his presence.
+
+  _Sp._ Sorry to disoblige, old fellow, but I'm on duty where Miss Verbena
+is now, you see, as she's just promised to be my wife.
+
+  _Lord B._ _Your_ wife!
+
+  _Verb._ (_faintly_). Yes, Lord Bleshugh, his _wife_!
+
+  _Sir P._ Yes, my poor boy, _his_ wife!
+
+     [VERBENA _totters, and falls heavily in a dead faint,_ R.C.,
+     _upsetting a flower-stand;_ LORD BLESHUGH _staggers, and swoons
+     on sofa, C., overturning a table of knicknacks;_ SIR POSHBURY
+     _sinks into chair,_ L.C., _and covers his face with his hands._
+
+  _Sp._ (_looking down on them triumphantly_). Under the Harrow, by Gad!
+Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Curtain, and end of Act I._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+    SCENE--_Same as in Act I.; viz., the Morning-Room at Natterjack
+    Hall. Evening of same day. Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Another of Sir Poshbury's birthdays almost gone--and my
+secret still untold! (_Dodders._) I can't keep it up much longer.... Ha,
+here comes his Lordship--he does look mortal bad, that he do! Miss
+Verbena ain't treated him too well, from all I can hear, poor young
+feller!
+
+_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
+
+  _Lord Bleshugh._ Blethers, by the memory of the innumerable half-crowns
+that have passed between us, be my friend now--I have no others left.
+Persuade your young Mistress to come hither--you need not tell her _I_
+am here, you understand. Be discreet, and this florin shall be yours!
+
+  _Blethers._ Leave it to me, my lord. I'd tell a lie for less than that,
+any day, old as I am!
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ I cannot rest till I have heard from her own lips that the
+past few hours have been nothing but a horrible dream.... She is coming!
+Now for the truth!
+
+_Enter_ VERBENA.
+
+  _Verbena._ Papa, did you want me? (_Recognises Lord B.--controls herself
+to a cold formality._) My lord, to what do I owe this--this unexpected
+intrusion?
+     [_Pants violently._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ Verbena, tell me, you cannot really prefer that seedy snob in
+the burst boots to me?
+
+  _Verb._ (_aside_). How can I tell him the truth without betraying dear
+Papa? No, I must lie, though it kills me. (_To Lord B._) Lord Bleshugh,
+I have been trifling with you. I--I never loved you.
+
+  _Lord B._ I see, and all the while your heart was given to a howling
+cad?
+
+  _Verb._ And if it was, who can account for the vagaries of a girlish
+fancy! We women are capricious beings, you know. (_With hysterical
+gaiety._) But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker--he has not _yet_ howled in
+_my_ presence--(_aside_)--though I very nearly did in _his_!
+
+  _Lord B._ And you really love him?
+
+  _Verb._ I--I love him. (_Aside._) My heart will break!
+
+  _Lord B._ Then I have no more to say. Farewell, Verbena! Be as happy as
+the knowledge that you have wrecked one of the brightest careers, and
+soured one of the sweetest natures in the county, will permit. (_Goes up
+stage, and returns._) A few days since you presented me with a cloth
+pen-wiper, in the shape of a dog of unknown breed. If you will kindly
+wait here for half-an-hour, I shall have much pleasure in returning a
+memento which I have no longer the right to retain, and there are
+several little things I gave you which I can take back with me at the
+same time, if you will have them put up in readiness.
+     [_Exit._
+
+  _Verbena._ Oh, he is cruel, cruel! but I shall keep the little bone
+yard-measure, and the diamond pig--they are all I have to remind me of
+him!
+
+_Enter_ SPIKER, _slightly intoxicated._
+
+  _Spiker._ (_throwing himself on sofa without seeing Verb._) I don' know
+how it is, but I feel precioush shleepy, somehow. P'raps I _did_ partake
+lil' too freely of Sir Poshbury's gen'rous Burgundy. Wunner why they
+call it "gen'rous"--it didn't give _me_ anything--'cept a bloomin'
+headache! However, I punished it, and old Poshbury had to look on and
+let me. He-he! (_Examining his hand._) Who'd think, to look at thish
+thumb, that there was a real live Baronet squirmin' under it. But there
+ish!
+     [_Snores._
+
+[Illustration: Spiker spiked.]
+
+  _Verb._ (_bitterly_). And _that_ thing is my affianced husband Ah, no I
+cannot go through with it, he is _too_ repulsive! If I could but find a
+way to free myself without compromising poor Papa. The sofa-cushion!
+_Dare_ I? It would be quite painless.... Surely the removal of such an
+odious wretch cannot be _Murder_.... I will! (_Slow music. She gets a
+cushion, and presses it tightly over_ SPIKER'S _head._) Oh, I _wish_ he
+wouldn't gurgle like that, and how he does kick! He cannot even die like
+a gentleman! (SPIKER'S _kicks become more and more feeble and eventually
+cease._) How still he lies! I almost wish ... Mr. Spiker, Mr.
+Spi-ker!... no answer--oh, I really _have_ suffocated him! (_Enter_ Sir
+POSH.) You, Papa?
+
+  _Sir Posh._ What, Verbena, sitting with, hem--Samuel in the gloaming?
+(_Sings with forced hilarity._) "In the gloaming, oh, my darling!"
+that's as it should be--quite as it should be!
+
+  _Verb._ (_in dull strained accents_). Don't sing, Papa, I cannot bear
+it--just yet. I have just suffocated Mr. Spiker with a sofa-cushion.
+See!
+     [_Shows the body._
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Then I am safe--he will tell no tales now! But, my child,
+are you aware of the very serious nature of your act? An act of which,
+as a Justice of the Peace, I am bound to take some official cognizance!
+
+  _Verb._ Do not scold me, Papa. Was it not done for _your_ sake?
+
+  _Sir P._ I cannot accept such an excuse as that. I fear your motives
+were less disinterested than you would have me believe. And now,
+Verbena, what will _you_ do? As your father, I would gladly screen
+you--but, as a Magistrate, I cannot promise to be more than passive.
+
+  _Verb._ Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan--why should I not wheel
+this sofa to the head of the front-door steps, and tip it over? They
+will only think he fell down when intoxicated--for he _had_ taken far
+too much wine, Papa!
+
+  _Sir P._ Always the same quick-witted little fairy! Go, my child, but be
+careful that none of the servants see you. (VERB. _wheels the sofa and_
+SPIKER'S _body out,_ L.U.E.) My poor impulsive darling, I do hope she
+will not be seen--servants _do_ make such mischief! But there's an end
+of Spiker, at any rate. I should _not_ have liked him for a son-in-law,
+and with him, goes the only person who knows my unhappy secret!
+
+_Enter_ BLETHERS.
+
+  _Blethers._ Sir Poshbury, I have a secret to reveal which I can preserve
+no longer--it concerns something that happened many years ago--it is
+connected with your _birthday_, Sir Poshbury.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_quailing_). What, _another_! I must stop _his_ tongue at all
+hazards. Ah, the rotten sash-line! (_To_ BLETHERS.) I will hear you, but
+first close yonder window, the night-air is growing chill.
+
+     [BLETHERS _goes to window at back. Slow music. As he approaches
+     it,_ Lord BLESHUGH _enters_ (R 2 E), _and, with a smothered cry
+     of horror, drags him back by the coat-tails--just before the
+     window falls with a tremendous crash._
+
+  _Sir P._ Bleshugh! What have you done?
+
+  _Lord Blesh._ (_sternly_). Saved _him_ from an untimely end--and _you_
+from--crime!
+
+_Collapse of_ Sir P. _Enter_ VERBENA, _terrified._
+
+  _Verb._ Papa, Papa, hide me! The night-air and the cold stone steps have
+restored Mr. Spiker to life and consciousness! He is coming to denounce
+me--you--both of us! He is awfully annoyed!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_recklessly_). It is useless to appeal to me, child. I have
+enough to do to look after myself--now.
+
+        [_Enter_ SPIKER, _indignant._
+
+  _Spiker._ Pretty treatment for a gentleman, this! Look here, Poshbury,
+this young lady has choked me with a cushion, and then pitched me down
+the front steps--I might have broken my neck.
+
+  _Sir P._ It was an oversight which I lament, but for which I must
+decline to be answerable. You must settle your differences with her.
+
+  _Spiker._ And you too, old horse! _You_ had a hand in this, I know, and
+I'll pay you out for it now. My life ain't safe if I marry a girl like
+that, so I've made up my mind to split and be done with it!
+
+  _Sir P._ (_contemptuously_). If _you_ don't, Blethers _will_. So do your
+worst, you hound!
+
+  _Spiker._ Very well then; I will. (_To the rest._) I denounce this man
+for travelling with a half-ticket from Edgware Road to Baker Street on
+his thirteenth birthday, the 31st of March twenty-seven years ago this
+very day!
+     [_Sensation._
+
+  _Blethers._ Hear me! It was _not_ his thirteenth birthday; Sir
+Poshbury's birthday falls on the 1st of April--_to-morrow_! I was sent
+to register the birth, and, by a blunder, which I have repented bitterly
+ever since, unfortunately gave the wrong date. Till this moment I have
+never had the manliness or sincerity to confess my error, for fear of
+losing my situation.
+
+  _Sir P._ (_to_ SPIKER). Do you hear, you paltry knave? I was _not_
+thirteen. Consequently, I was under age, and the Bye-laws are still
+unbroken. Your hold over me is gone--gone for ever!
+
+  _Spiker._ H'm--Spiker spiked this time!
+
+        [_Retires up disconcerted._
+
+  _Lord Bl._ And you did not really love him, after all, Verbena?
+
+  _Verb._ (_with arch pride_). Have I not proved my indifference?
+
+  _Lord Bl._ But I forget--you admitted that you were but trifling with my
+affection--take back your pin-cushion!
+
+  _Verb._ Keep it. All that I did was done to spare my father!
+
+  _Sir Posh._ Who, as a matter of fact, was innocent--but I forgive you,
+child, for your unworthy suspicions. Bleshugh, my boy, you have saved me
+from unnecessarily depriving myself of the services of an old retainer.
+Blethers, I condone a dissimulation for which you have done much to
+atone. Spiker, you vile and miserable rascal, be off, and be thankful
+that I have sufficient magnanimity to refrain from giving you in charge.
+(SPIKER _sneaks off crushed._) And now, my children, and my faithful old
+servant, congratulate me that I am no longer----
+
+  _Verbena and Lord Bleshugh_ (_together_). Under the Harrow!
+
+        [_Affecting Family Tableau and quick Curtain._
+
+
+
+
+X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE
+
+
+[Illustration: Tommy and Jane.]
+
+Once more we draw upon our favourite source of inspiration--the poems of
+the Misses Taylor. The dramatist is serenely confident that the new
+London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired
+official is appointed, will highly approve of this little piece on
+account of the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to teach,
+amongst other useful lessons, that--as the poem on which it is founded
+puts it--"Fruit in lanes is seldom good"; also, that it is not always
+prudent to take a hint: again, that constructive murder is distinctly
+reprehensible, and should never be indulged in by persons who cannot
+control their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often be
+averted by the exercise of a little _savoir vivre_.
+
+
+TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Tommy and his Sister Jane (Taylorian Twins, and awful examples)._
+
+    _Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story,
+        and slightly altered)._
+
+    _Old Farmer Copeer (skilled in the use of horse and cattle medicines)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_A shady lane; on the right, a gate, leading to the
+     farm; left, some bashes, covered with practicable scarlet
+     berries._
+
+_Enter the_ Wicked Uncle, _stealthily_.
+
+  _The W. U._ No peace of mind I e'er shall know again
+    Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane!
+    But--though a naughty--I'm a nervous nunky,
+    For downright felonies I'm far too funky!
+    I'd hire assassins--but of late the villains
+    Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin's!
+    Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage
+    (_Sympathetically_) For two poor orphans who are under age!
+    So (as I'd give no more than half a guinea)
+    I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny.
+    Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter,
+    And can't make up my mind to risk a halter.
+    (_Looking off._) Ha, in the distance, Jane and little Tom I see!
+    These berries--(_meditatively_)--why, it only needs diplomacy.
+    Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment!
+
+     [_Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as_ Jane _and_ Tom
+     _trip in, and regard him with innocent wonder._
+
+  _Jane._ Uncle, what _is_ the joke? Why all this merriment?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_in guilty confusion_). Not merriment, my
+        loves--a trifling spasm--
+    Don't be alarmed--your Uncle often has 'em!
+    I'm feeling better than I did at first--
+    _You're_ looking flushed, though not, I hope, with thirst?
+
+        [_Insidiously._
+
+_Song, by the_ Wicked Uncle.
+
+    The sun is scorching overhead;
+      The roads are dry and dusty;
+    And here are berries, ripe and red,
+      Refreshing when you're _thusty_!
+    They're hanging just within your reach,
+      Inviting you to clutch them!
+    But--as your Uncle--I beseech
+      You won't attempt to touch them?
+
+  _Tommy and Jane_ (_dutifully_). We'll do whatever you beseech, and not
+attempt to touch them!
+
+        [_Annoyance of_ W. U.
+
+  _The W. U._ Temptation (so I've understood)
+      A child, in order kept, shuns;
+    And fruit in lanes is seldom good
+      (With several exceptions).
+    However freely you partake,
+      It can't--as you are young--kill,
+    But should it cause a stomach-ache--
+      Well, don't you blame your Uncle!
+
+  _Tommy and Jane._ No, should it cause a stomach-ache, we will not blame
+our Uncle!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_aside_). They'll need no further personal assistance,
+    But take the bait when I am at a distance.
+    I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats,
+    (_With sentiment_) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets,
+    Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut!
+
+        [_Stealing off._
+
+  _Tommy._ What, Uncle, going?
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with assumed jauntiness_). Just to get my hair
+        cut!    [_Goes._
+
+  _Tommy_ (_looking wistfully at the berries_). I say, they _do_ look
+        nice, Jane, such a lot too!
+
+  _Jane_ (_demurely_). Well, Tommy, Uncle never told us _not_ to.
+
+     [_Slow music; they gradually approach the berries, which they
+     pick and eat with increasing relish, culminating in a dance of
+     delight._
+
+_Duet_--TOMMY _and_ JANE (_with step-dance_).
+
+  _Tommy_ (_dancing, with his mouth full_). These berries ain't so
+        bad--although they've far too much acidity.
+
+  _Jane_ (_ditto_). To me, their only drawback is a dash of insipidity.
+
+  _Tommy_ (_rudely_). But, all the same, you're wolfing 'em
+        with wonderful avidity!
+
+  _Jane_ (_indignantly_). No, _that_ I'm not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_calmly_).                          But you _are_!
+
+  _Jane._                                                 And so are _you_!
+
+     [_They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries--after which
+     they gaze thoughtfully at each other._
+
+  _Jane._ This fruit is most refreshing--but it's curious how
+        it cloys on you!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with anxiety_). I wonder why all appetite for
+        dinner it destroys in you!
+
+  _Jane._ Oh, Tommy, aren't you half afraid you've ate
+        enough to poison you?
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not--so there now! &c., &c.
+
+        [_They dance as before._
+
+  _Tommy._ Jane, _is_ your palate parching up in horrible aridity?
+
+  _Jane._ It is, and in my throat's a lump of singular solidity.
+
+  _Tommy._ Then that is why you're dancing with such pokerlike rigidity.
+
+     [_Refrain as before; they dance with decreasing spirit, and
+     finally stop, and fan one another with their hats._
+
+  _Jane._ I'm better now that on my brow there is a little breeziness.
+
+  _Tommy._ My passing qualm is growing calm, and tightness
+        turns to easiness.
+
+  _Jane._ You seem to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness?
+
+     [_Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance--but suddenly sit
+     down side by side._
+
+  _Jane_ (_with a gasp_). I don't know what it is--but, oh, I
+        _do_ feel so peculiar!
+
+  _Tommy_ (_with a gulp_). I've tumults taking place within
+        that I may say unruly are.
+
+  _Jane._ Why, Tommy, you are turning green--you really
+        and you _truly_ are!
+
+  _Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not, so _there_ now!
+
+  _Jane._                              But you _are_!
+
+  _Tommy._                                 And so are _you_!
+
+     [_Melancholy music; to which_ TOMMY _and_ _Jane_, _after a few
+     convulsive movements, gradually become inanimate. Enter old_
+     Farmer COPEER _from gate, carrying a large bottle labelled
+     "Cattle Medicine."_
+
+  _Farmer C._ It's time I gave the old bay mare her drench.
+
+        [_Stumbles over the children._
+
+    What's here? A lifeless lad!--and little wench!
+    Been eating berries--where did they get _them_ idees?
+    For cows, when took so, I've the reg'lar remedies.
+    I'll try 'em here--and if their state the worse is,
+    Why, they shall have them balls I give my 'erses!
+
+        [_Carries the bodies off just before the_ W. U. _re-enters_.
+
+  _W. U._ The children--gone? yon bush of berries less full!
+    Hooray, my little stratagem's successful!
+
+        [_Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Farmer C._ Been looking for your little niece and nephew?
+
+  _The W. U._ Yes, searching for them everywhere--
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_ironically_).             Oh, _hev'_ you?
+    Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free, Sir.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_falling on his knees_). _I_ didn't poison them--it
+        wasn't _me_, Sir!
+
+  _Farmer C._ I thought as much--a constable I'll run for.
+
+        [_Exit._
+
+  _The W. U._ My wretched nerves again! _This_ time I'm done for!
+    Well, though I'm trapped, and useless all disguise is,
+    My case shall ne'er come on at the Assizes!
+
+     [_Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the
+     remaining berries, which produce an almost instantaneous
+     effect. Re-enter_ TOM _and_ JANE _from gate, looking pale and
+     limp. Terror of the_ Wicked Uncle _as he turns and recognises
+     them_.
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with tremulous politeness_). The shades of
+        Jane and Tommy, I presume?
+
+        [_Re-enter Farmer C._
+
+  _Jane and Tommy_ (_pointing to Farmer C._) His Cattle
+        Mixtures snatched us from the tomb!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_with a flicker of hope_). Why, then the self-same
+        drugs will ease _my_ torments!
+
+  _Farmer C._ (_chuckling_). Too late! they've drunk the lot,
+        the little vormints!
+
+  _The W. U._ (_bitterly_). So out of life I must inglorious wriggle,
+    Pursued by Tommy's grin, and Jenny's giggle!
+
+     [_Dies in great agony, while_ TOMMY, JANE, _and_ Farmer COPEER
+     _look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain falls_.
+
+
+
+
+XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS.
+
+"Miss Jenny and Polly had each a new dolly."--_Vide Poem._
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Miss Jenny_  } By the Sisters LEAMAR.
+    _Miss Polly_  }
+
+    _The Soldier Doll_ } By the Two ARMSTRONGS.
+    _The Sailor Doll_  }
+
+
+     SCENE--_A Nursery. Enter_ Miss JENNY _and_ Miss POLLY, _who
+     perform a blameless step-dance with an improving chorus_.
+
+    Oh, isn't it jolly! we've each a new dolly,
+      And one is a Soldier, the other's a Tar;
+    We're fully contented with what's been presented,
+      Such good little children we both of us are!
+
+     [_They dance up to a cupboard, from which they bring out two
+     large Dolls, which they place on chairs._
+
+  _Miss J._ _Don't_ they look nice! Come, Polly, let us strive
+    To make ourselves believe that they're alive!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_addressing_ Sailor D.). I'm glad you're mine. I
+        dote on all that's nautical.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_opening his eyes suddenly_). Excuse me, Miss, your
+        sister's more _my_ sort o' gal.
+
+     [_Kisses his hand to_ Miss J., _who shrinks back, shocked and
+     alarmed_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Oh, Polly, _did_ you hear? I feel so shy!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_with mild self-assertion_). _I_ can say "Pa" and
+        "Ma"--and wink my eye.
+
+     [_Does so at_ Miss P., _who runs in terror to_ Miss J.'s
+     _side_.
+
+  _Miss J._ Why, both are showing signs of animation.
+
+  _Miss P._ Who'd think we had such strong imagination!
+
+  _The Soldier Doll_ (_aside to the Sailor D._). I say, old fellow,
+        we have caught their fancy--
+    In each of us they now a real man see!
+    Let's keep it up!
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_dubiously._) D'ye think as we can _do_ it?
+
+  _The Soldier D._ You stick by me, and I will see you through it.
+    Sit up, and turn your toes out,--don't you loll;
+    Put on the Man, and drop the bloomin' Doll!
+
+     [_The_ Sailor DOLL _pulls himself together, and rises from
+     chair importantly_.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_in the manner of a Music-hall Chairman_)--
+
+    Ladies, with your kind leave, this gallant gent
+    Will now his military sketch present.
+
+     [Miss J. _and_ P. _applaud_: _the_ Soldier D., _after feebly
+     expostulating, is induced to sing_.
+
+_Song, by the_ Soldier Doll.
+
+    When I used to be displayed,
+    In the Burlington Arcade,
+    With artillery arrayed
+          Underneath.
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    I imagine that I made
+    All the Lady Dolls afraid,
+    I should draw my battle-blade
+          From its sheath,
+                Shoulder Hump
+
+    For I'm Mars's gallant son,
+    And my back I've shown to none,
+    Nor was ever seen to run
+          From the strife!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+    Oh, the battles I'd have won,
+    And the dashing deeds have done,
+    If I'd ever fired a gun
+          In my life!
+                Shoulder Hump!
+
+_Refrain (to be sung marching round Stage)._
+
+    By your right flank, Wheel!
+    Let the front rank kneel!
+    With the bristle of the steel
+          To the foe.
+    Till their regiments reel,
+    At our rattling peal,
+    And the military zeal
+          We show!
+
+[Illustration: "Shoulder Hump!"]
+
+        [_Repeat, with the whole company marching round after him._
+
+  _The Soldier Doll._ My friend will next oblige--this jolly Jack Tar.
+    Will give his song and chorus in charack-tar!
+
+        [_Same business with_ Sailor D.
+
+_Song, by the_ Sailor Doll.
+
+    In costume I'm
+    So maritime,
+    You'd never suppose the fact is,
+    That with the Fleet
+    In Regent Street,
+    I'd precious little naval practice!
+    There was saucy craft,
+    Rigged fore an' aft,
+    Inside o' Mr. Cre-mer's.
+    From Noah's Arks to Clipper-built barques,
+    Like-wise mechanical stea-mers.
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    But to navigate the Serpentine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    With clockwork, sails, or spirits of wine,
+            Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
+    I did respeckfully decline,
+    So I was left in port to pine,
+    Which wasn't azactually the line
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Boy, Yeo-ho!
+    Of a rollicking Sailor Bo-oy!
+
+        Yes, there was lots
+        Of boats and yachts,
+        Of timber and of tin, too;
+        But one and all
+        Was far too small
+        For a doll o' my size to get into
+        I was too big
+        On any brig
+        To ship without disas-ter,
+        And it wouldn't never do
+        When the cap'n and the crew
+        Were a set 'o little swabs all plaster!
+
+_Chorus_--So to navigate the Serpentine, &c.
+
+    An Ark is p'raps
+    The berth for chaps
+    As is fond o' Natural Hist'ry.
+    But I sez to Shem
+    And the rest o' them,
+    "How you get along at all's a myst'ry!
+    With a Wild Beast Show
+    Let loose below,
+    And four fe-males on deck too!
+    I never could agree
+    With your happy fami-lee,
+    And your lubberly ways I objeck to."
+
+     [_Chorus. Hornpipe by the company, after which the_ Soldier
+     Doll _advances condescendingly to_ Miss JENNY.
+
+  _The Sold. D._ Invincible I'm reckoned by the Ladies,
+    But yield to you--though conquering my trade is!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_repulsing him_). Oh, go away, you great conceited thing, you!
+
+        [_The_ Sold. D. _persists in offering her attentions._
+
+  _Miss P._ (_watching them bitterly_). To be deserted by one's
+        doll _does_ sting you!
+
+        [_The_ Sailor D. _approaches._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_to_ Miss P.) Let _me_ console you, Miss, a Sailor Doll
+    As swears his 'art was ever true to Poll!
+
+(N.B.--_Good opportunity for Song here._)
+
+  _Miss P._ (_indignantly to_ Miss J.) Your Sailor's teasing me to
+        be his idol!
+    Do make him stop--(_spitefully_)--When you've _quite_ done
+        with _my_ doll!
+
+  _Miss J._ (_scornfully._) If you suppose _I_ want your wretched warrior,
+    I'm sorry _for_ you!
+
+  _Miss P._            I for you am sorrier.
+
+  _Miss J._ (_weeping_, R.). Polly preferred to me--what ignominy!
+
+  _Miss P._ (_weeping_, L.). My horrid Soldier jilting me for Jenny!
+
+        [_The two Dolls face one another_, C.
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_to_ Soldier D.). You've made her sluice her sky-lights
+        now, you swab!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_to_ Sailor D.). As you have broke her heart, I'll
+    break your nob!    [_Hits him._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_in a pale fury_). This insult must be blotted out in bran!
+
+  _Soldier D._ (_fiercely_). Come on, I'll shed your sawdust--if I can!
+
+        [Miss J. _and_ P. _throw themselves between the combatants_.
+
+  _Miss J._ For any mess you make _we_ shall be scolded,
+    So wait until a drugget we've unfolded!
+
+        [_They lay down drugget on Stage._
+
+  _The Soldier D._ (_politely_). No hurry, Miss, _we_ don't object
+        to waiting.
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). His valour--like my own--'s evaporating!
+    (_Defiantly to_ Soldier D.). On guard! You'll see how soon
+        I'll run you through!
+    (_Confidentially._) (If you will not prod _me_, I won't pink _you_.)
+
+  _The Soldier D._ Through your false kid my deadly blade I'll pass!
+    (_Confidentially._) (Look here, old fellow, don't you be a _hass_!)
+
+        [_They exchange passes at a considerable distance._
+
+  _The Sailor D._ (_aside_). Don't lose your temper now!
+
+  _Sold. D._        Don't get excited.
+    Do keep a little farther off!
+
+  _Sail. D._                      Delighted!
+
+        [_Wounds_ Soldier D. _by misadventure._
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_annoyed_). There now, you've gone and made upon
+        my wax a dent!
+
+  _Sail. D._ Excuse me, it was really quite an accident.
+
+  _Sold. D._ (_savagely_). Such clumsiness would irritate a saint!
+
+        [_Stabs Sailor Doll._
+
+  _Miss J. and P._ (_imploringly_). Oh, stop! the sight of sawdust
+        turns us faint!
+
+        [_They drop into chairs, swooning._
+
+  _Sail. D._ I'll pay you out for that!
+
+        [_Stabs Soldier D._
+
+  _Sold. D._                            Right through you've poked me!
+
+  _Sailor D._ So you have _me_!
+
+  _Sold. D._                  You shouldn't have provoked me!
+
+        [_They fall transfixed._
+
+  _Sailor D._ (_faintly_). Alas, we have been led away by vanity.
+    Dolls shouldn't try to imitate humanity!    [_Dies._
+
+  _Soldier D._ For, if they do, they'll end like us, unpitied,
+    Each on the other's sword absurdly spitted!
+
+     [_Dies._ Miss J. _and_ P. _revive, and bend sadly over the
+     corpses_.
+
+  _Miss Jenny._ From their untimely end we draw this moral,
+    How wrong it is, even for dolls, to quarrel!
+
+  _Miss Polly._ Yes, Jenny, in the fate of these poor fellows see
+    What sad results may spring from female jealousy!
+
+        [_They embrace penitently as Curtain falls._
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER.
+
+(_Adapted freely from a well-known Poem in the "Struwwelpeter."_)
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+    _Conrad (aged 6)._
+
+    _Conrad's Mother(47)._
+
+    _The Scissorman (age immaterial)._
+
+
+     SCENE--_An Apartment in the house of_ CONRAD'S _Mother, window
+     in centre at back, opening upon a quiet thoroughfare. It is
+     dusk, and the room is lighted only by the reflected gleam from
+     the street-lamps._ CONRAD _discovered half-hidden by left
+     window-curtain._
+
+  _Conrad_ (_watching street_). Still there! For full an hour
+        he has not budged
+    Beyond the circle of yon lamp-post's rays!
+    The gaslight falls upon his crimson hose,
+    And makes a steely glitter at his thigh,
+    While from the shadow peers a hatchet-face
+    And fixes sinister malignant eyes--
+    On whom? (_Shuddering._) I dare not trust myself to guess
+    And yet--ah, no--it cannot be myself!
+    I am so young--one is still young at six!--
+    What man can say that I have injured him?
+    Since, in my Mother's absence all the day
+    Engaged upon Municipal affairs,
+    I peacefully beguile the weary hours
+    By suction of consolatory thumbs.
+
+     [_Here he inserts his thumb in his mouth, but almost instantly
+     removes it with a start._
+
+    Again I meet those eyes! I'll look no more--
+    But draw the blind and shut my terror out.
+
+        [_Draws blind and lights candle; Stage lightens._
+
+    Heigho, I wish my Mother were at home!
+    (_Listening._) At last! I hear her latch-key in the door!
+
+     [_Enter_ CONRAD'S _Mother, a lady of strong-minded appearance,
+     rationally attired. She carries a large reticule full of
+     documents._
+
+  _Conrad's M._ Would, Conrad, that you were of riper years,
+    So you might share your Mother's joy to-day,
+    The day that crowns her long and arduous toil
+    As one of London's County Councillors!
+
+  _Conrad._ Nay, speak; for though my mind be immature,
+    One topic still can charm my infant ear,
+    That ever craves the oft-repeated tale.
+    I love to hear of that august assembly
+
+        [_His Mother lifts her bonnet solemnly._
+
+    In which my Mother's honoured voice is raised!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_gratified_). Learn, Conrad, then, that, after many months
+    Of patient "lobbying" (you've heard the term?)
+    The measure by my foresight introduced
+    Has triumphed by a bare majority!
+
+  _Con._ My bosom thrills with dutiful delight--
+    Although I yet for information wait
+    As to the scope and purpose of the statute.
+
+  _C.'s M._ You show an interest so intelligent
+    That well deserves it should be satisfied,
+    Be seated, Conrad, at your Mother's knee,
+    And you shall hear the full particulars.
+    You know how zealously I advocate
+    The sacred cause of Nursery Reform?
+    How through my efforts every infant's toys
+    Are carefully inspected once a month----?
+
+  _Con._ (_wearily_). Nay, Mother, you forget--I _have_ no toys.
+
+  _C.'s M._ Which brings you under the exemption clause.
+    But--to resume; how Nursery Songs and Tales
+    Must now be duly licensed by our Censor,
+    And any deviation from the text
+    Forbidden under heavy penalties?
+    All that you know. Well; with concern of late,
+    I have remarked among our infancy
+    The rapid increase of a baneful habit
+    On which I scarce can bring my tongue to dwell.
+
+        [_The Stage darker; blind at back illuminated._
+
+    Oh, Conrad, there are children--think of it!--
+    So lost to every sense of decency
+    That, in mere wantonness or brainless sloth,
+    They obstinately suck forbidden thumbs!
+
+        [CONRAD _starts with irrepressible emotion._
+
+    Forgive me if I shock your innocence!
+    (_Sadly._) Such things exist--but soon shall cease to be,
+    Thanks to the measure we have passed to-day!
+
+  _Con._ (_with growing uneasiness_). But how can statutes
+        check such practices?
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_patting his head_). Right shrewdly questioned,
+        boy! I come to that.
+    Some timid sentimentalists advised
+    Compulsory restraint in woollen gloves,
+    Or the deterrent aid of bitter aloes.
+    _I_ saw the evil had too deep a seat
+    To yield to such half-hearted remedies.
+    No; we must cut, ere we could hope to cure!
+    Nay, interrupt me not; my Bill appoints
+    A new official, by the style and title
+    Of "London County Council Scissorman,"
+    For the detection of young "suck-a-thumbs."
+
+     [_Here the shadow of a huge hand brandishing a gigantic pair of
+     shears appears upon the blind._
+
+  _Con._ (_hiding his face in his Mother's lap._) Ah, Mother,
+    see!... the scissors!... On the blind!
+
+  _C.'s M._ Why, how you tremble! You've no cause to fear.
+    The shadow of his grim insignia
+    Should have no terror--save for thumb-suckers.
+
+  _Con._ And what for _them_?
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_complacently_). A doom devised by me--
+    The confiscation of the culprit thumbs.
+    Thus shall our statute cure while it corrects,
+    For those who have no thumbs can err no more.
+
+     [_The shadow slowly passes on the blind_, CONRAD _appearing
+     relieved at its departure. Loud knocking without. Both start to
+     their feet._
+
+  _C.'s M._ Who knocks so loud at such an hour as this?
+
+  _A Voice._ Open, I charge ye. In the Council's name!
+
+  _C.'s M._ 'Tis the Official Red-legged Scissorman,
+    Who doubtless calls to thank me for the post.
+
+  _Con._ (_with a gloomy determination_). More like his business,
+        Madam, is with--Me!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_suddenly enlightened_). A Suck-a-thumb? ... you, CONRAD?
+
+  _C._ (_desperately_). Ay,--from birth!
+
+     [_Profound silence, as Mother and Son face one another. The
+     knocking is renewed._
+
+  _C.'s M._ Oh, this is horrible--it must not be!
+    I'll shoot the bolt and barricade the door.
+
+     [CONRAD _places himself before it, and addresses his Mother in
+     a tone of incisive irony_.
+
+  _Con._ Why, where is all the zeal you showed of late?
+    Is't thus that you the Roman Matron play?
+    Trick not a statute of your own devising.
+    Come, your official's waiting--let him in!
+
+        [C's M. _shrinks back appalled_.
+
+    So? you refuse!--(_throwing open door_)--then--enter, Scissorman!
+
+     [_Enter the_ Scissorman, _masked and in red tights, with his
+     hand upon the hilt of his shears._
+
+  _The S._ (_in a passionless tone_). Though sorry to create
+        unpleasantness,
+    I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman,
+    Which these own eyes have marked between his lips.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_frantically_). Thou minion of a meddling tyranny,
+    Go exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere!
+
+  _The S._ (_civilly_). I've duties here that must be first performed.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_wildly_). Take my two thumbs for his!
+
+  _The S._                                        'Tis not the law--
+    Which is a model of lucidity.
+
+  _Con._ (_calmly_). Sir, you speak well. My thumbs are forfeited,
+    And they alone must pay the penalty.
+
+  _The S._ (_with approval_). Right! Step with me into the outer hall,
+    And have the business done without delay.
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_throwing herself between them._) Stay, I'm a
+        Councillor--this law was _mine_!
+    Hereby I do suspend the clause I drew.
+
+  _The S._ You should have drawn it milder.
+
+  _Con._                                    Must I teach
+    A parent laws were meant to be obeyed?
+      [_To Sc._] Lead on, Sir. (_To his Mother with cold courtesy._)
+        Madam,--may I trouble you?
+
+[Illustration: "My Conrad!"]
+
+     [_He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the_ Sc.;
+     _the door is shut and fastened from without._ C.'s M. _rushes
+     to door which she attempts to force without success._
+
+  _C.'s M._ In vain I batter at a senseless door,
+    I'll to the keyhole train my tortured ear.
+    (_Listening._) Dead silence! ... is it over--or, to come?
+    Hark! was not that the click of meeting shears?...
+    Again! and followed by the sullen thud
+    Of thumbs that drop upon linoleum!...
+
+     [_The door is opened and_ CONRAD _appears, pale but erect._
+     _N.B. The whole of this scene has been compared to one in "La
+     Tosca"--which, however, it exceeds in horror and intensity._
+
+  _C.'s M._ They send him back to me, bereft of both!
+    My CONRAD! What?--repulse a Mother's Arms!
+
+  _Con._ (_with chilling composure_). Yes, Madam, for between us ever more,
+    A barrier invisible is raised,
+    And should I strive to reach those arms again,
+    Two spectral thumbs would press me coldly back--
+    The thumbs I sucked in blissful ignorance,
+    The thumbs that solaced me in solitude,
+    The thumbs your County Council took from me,
+    And your endearments scarcely will replace!
+    Where, Madam, lay the sin in sucking them?
+    The dog will lick his foot, the cat her claw,
+    His paws sustain the hibernating bear--
+    And you decree no law to punish _them_!
+    Yet, in your rage for infantine reform,
+    You rushed this most ridiculous enactment--
+    Its earliest victim--your neglected son!
+
+  _C.'s M._ (_falling at his feet_). Say, CONRAD, you will some day pardon
+me?
+
+  _Con._ (_bitterly, as he regards his maimed hands._) Aye--on the day
+these pollards send forth shoots!
+
+     [_His_ Mother _turns aside with a heartbroken wail_; CONRAD
+     _standing apart in gloomy estrangement as the Curtain
+     descends._
+
+
+
+
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Transcribers Notes:
+
+Some minor obvious punctuation and typographical errors have been
+corrected silently. Unclosed quotes have been left as they appear in the
+original.
+
+
+Changes made:
+
+    Pg 15 "With enthusiams [replaced with "enthusiasm"] We can make
+    a shift to do it"
+
+    Pg 66 "and the restless winds be mowning." [replaced full stop
+    with comma]
+
+    Pg 95 "The Monster Man-trap steathily" [replaced with
+    "stealthily"]
+
+    Pg 128 "Even _this_ cannot shatter her alrtess [replaced with
+    "artless"] faith"
+
+    Pg 131 "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmamma"
+    [replaced with "Grandmama" (used previously)]
+
+    Pg 156 "a constable I'll run for, [replaced comma with full stop.]"
+
+
+Both versions of the following words were used in the text:
+
+    latchkey, latch-key
+    limelight, lime-light
+    sashline, sash-line
+    selfsame, self-same
+
+
+All uncertain hyphenation left hyphenated:
+
+    Pg 25  a-noma-lee
+    Pg 38  elec-tresses
+    Pg 99  Bed-chamber
+    Pg 115 low-born
+    Pg 120 Christmas-time
+    Pg 164 sky-lights
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and
+Dramas, by F. Anstey
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL ***
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