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[_The N. S. fires again--without results._
SMALL BOY. I sor that time, Father. He was a-aiming at one o' them ducks, an' he missed a rabbit! [_The N. S. gives it up in disgust._
[Ill.u.s.tration: "GO IN, JIM! YOU GOT YER MARKIN'-PAPER READY ANYHOW."]
_Enter a small party of 'Arries in high spirits._
FIRST 'ARRY. 'Ullo! _I_'m on to this. 'Ere Guv'nor', 'and us a gun.
_I_'ll show yer 'ow to shoot!
[_He takes up his position, in happy unconsciousness that playful companions have decorated his coat-collar behind with a long piece of white paper._
SECOND 'ARRY. Go in, Jim! You got yer markin'-paper ready anyhow.
[_Delighted guffaws from the other_ 'ARRIES, _in which_ JIM _joins vaguely_.
THIRD 'ARRY. I'll lay you can't knock a rabbit down!
JIM. I'll lay I can!
[_Fires. The procession of rabbits goes on undisturbed._
SECOND 'ARRY (_jocosely_). Never mind. You _peppered_ 'im. I sor the feathers floy!
THIRD 'ARRY. You'd ha' copped 'im if yer'd bin a bit quicker.
JIM (_annoyed_). They keep on movin' so, they don't give a bloke no chornce!
SECOND 'ARRY. 'Ave a go at that old owl.
[_Alluding to a tin representation of that fowl which remains stationary among the painted rushes._
THIRD 'ARRY. No--see if you can't git that stuffed bear. He's on'y a yard or two away!
AN IMPATIENT 'ARRY (_at doorway_). 'Ere, _come on_! Ain't you shot enough? Shake a leg, can't yer, Jim?
SECOND 'ARRY. He's got to kill one o' them rabbits fust. Or pot a tin lion, Jim? _You_ ain't afraid?
JIM. No; I'm goin' to git that owl. He's _quiet_ any way.
[_Fires. The owl falls prostrate._
SECOND 'ARRY. Got 'im! Owl's _orf_! Jim, old man, you must stand drinks round after this!
[_Exeunt_ 'ARRIES, _to celebrate their victory in a befitting fas.h.i.+on, as Scene closes in_.
At the French Exhibition.
CHORUS OF ARAB STALL-KEEPERS. Come an look! Alaha-ba-li-boo! Eet is verri cold to-day! I-ah-rish Brandi! 'Ere _Miss_! you com' 'ere! No pay for lookin'. Alf a price! Verri pritti, verri nah-ice, verri cheap verri moch! [_And so on._]
CHORUS OF BRITISH SALESWOMEN. _Will_ you allow me to show you this little novelty, Sir? _'Ave_ you seen the noo perfume sprinkler? Do come and try this noo puzzle--no 'arm in _lookin'_, Sir. Very nice little novelties 'ere, Sir! 'Eard the noo French Worltz, Sir? every article is very much reduced, &c., &c.
AT THE FOLIES-BERGeRE.
SCENE--_A hall in the grounds. Several turnstiles leading to curtained entrances._
SHOWMAN (_shouting_). Amphitrite, the Marvellous Floatin' G.o.ddess Just about to commence! This way for the Mystic Gallery--three illusions for threepence! Atalanta, the Silver Queen of the Moon; the Oriental Beauty in the Table of the Sphinx, and the Wonderful Galatea, or Pygmalion's Dream. Only threepence! This way for the Mystic Marvel o' She! Now commencing!
A FEMALE SIGHTSEER (_with the air of a person making an original suggestion_) Shall we go in, just to see what it's like?
MALE DITTO. May as well, now we _are_ 'ere. (_To preserve himself from any suspicion of credulity_). Sure to be a take-in o' some sort.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "COME AN LOOK! ALAHA-BA-LI-BOO!"]
[_They enter a dim apartment, in which two or three people are leaning over a barrier in front of a small Stage; the Curtain is lowered, and a Pianist is industriously pounding away at a Waltz._
THE F. S. (_with an uncomfortable giggle_). Not much to see _so_ far, is there?
HER COMPANION. Well, they ain't begun yet.
[_The Waltz ends, and the Curtain rises, disclosing a_ CAVERN SCENE. AMPHITRE, _in blue tights, rises through the floor_.
AMPHITRE (_in the Gallic tongue_). Mesdarms et Messures, j'ai l'honnoor de vous sooayter le bong jour! (_Floats, with no apparent support, in the air, and performs various graceful evolutions, concluding by reversing herself completely._) Bong swore, Mesdarms et messures, mes remercimongs!
[_She dives below, and the Curtain descends._
THE F. S. Is that all? I don't see nothing in _that_!
HER COMP. (_who, having paid for admission, resents this want of appreciation_). Why, she was off the ground the 'ole of the time, wasn't she? I'd just like to see _you_ turnin' and twisting about in the air as easy as she did with nothing to 'old on by!
THE F. S. I didn't notice she was off the ground--yes that _was_ clever.
I never thought o' that before. Let's go and see the other things now.
HER COMP. Well, if you don't see nothing surprising in 'em till they're all over, you might as well stop outside, _I_ should ha' thought.
THE F. S. Oh, but I'll notice more next time--you've got to get _used_ to these things, you know.
[_They enter the Mystic Gallery, and find themselves in a dim pa.s.sage, opposite a part.i.tioned compartment, in which is a gla.s.s case, supported on four pedestals, with a silver crescent at the back. The illusions--to judge from a sound of scurrying behind the scenes--have apparently been taken somewhat unawares._
THE FEMALE SIGHTSEER (_anxious to please_). They've done that 'alf-moon very well, haven't they?
VOICE OF SHOWMAN (_addressing the Illusions_). Now then, 'urry up there--we're all waiting for you.
[_The face of "Atalanta, the Silver Queen of the Moon," appears strongly illuminated, inside the gla.s.s-box, and regards the spectators with an impa.s.sive contempt--greatly to their confusion._
