/Ar- Punch's ODEL/AuSIC |iALL 50NGS /VND X)RA/AAS BY F. ^NSTEY (5ar«ell MttttieraUg ffithratg 3tt;ata, Nrtn lark FROM THE BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY COLLECTED BY BENNO LOEWY I854-19I9 BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY Xbe date shows when this Toiume was taken. To renew this book coot the call No. and give to the librarian. HOME USE RULES All books subject to recall All borrowers must regis- ter in the library to borrow books for home use. ■*■■" ' All bpoks must be re- ^ turned at end of college year for inspiection and fepairs. Limited books must be • returned within the four week limit and not renewed. Students must return all books before leaving town. Officers should arrange for the return of books wanted during their absence from „.....'. town. Volumes of periodicals r and of pamphlets are held in the library as much as possible. For special pur-,' poses they are given out tor a limited time. Borrowers should ilot Use their library privileges for •■•-• the benefit of other persons. Books of special value and gift books, when the giver wishes it, are not allowed to circulate. Readers are asked to re- port all cases of books '. marked or mutilated. Do not deface books by marks and writing. PR4729.G5iB6V"'™™"''-"'"'^ •''■•Punch's model music-hall songs and d 3 1924 013 476 019 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013476019 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC-HALL SONGS AND DRAMAS Mnsic-HALL Pbopuietoh. MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC-HALL SONGS AND DRAMAS COLLECTED, IMPROVED, AND RE-ARRANGED FROM "PUNCH" BY F. ANSTEY AUTHOR OF 'THE TINTED VENUS," "VICE VERSA," "A FALLEN IDOL," '■THE giant's robe," ETC. NEW YORK UNITED STATES^ BOOK gOMPANY c AND 7 East Sixteenth Street Chicago: 266 & 268 Wabash Ave. Copyright, 1892, BY UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY. lA II rights reserved^ CONTENTS Introduction SONGS. I. The Patriotic . 23 II. The Topical-Political 28 III. A Democratic Dittt 34 IV. The Idyllic . 39 V. The Amatory Episodic . 43 VI. The Chivalrous 49 VII. The Frankly Canaille . 54 VIII. The Dramatic Scena 62 IX. The Dhettists 69 X. Disinterested Passion . 76 XI. The Panegyric Patter 81 XII. The Plaintively Pathetic 87 XIII. The Military Impersonator 92 DRAMAS. I. The Little Crossino-Swebper II. Joe, The Jam-eater III. The Man-Trap IV. The Fatal Fix 108 117 125 CONTENTS. V. Brunette and Blanciiidine . VI. Coming of Age VII. Reclaimed! VIII. Jack Parker . IX. Under the Harroiv X. Tommy and Sister Jane XI. The Eivai. Dolls . XII. Conrad ; or, the TnuMBsncKER page 134 143 153 169 177 194 202 212 MODEL MUSIC HALL. INTRODUCTION. INTRODUCTION. The day is approaching, and may even now be within measurable distance, when tlie Music Halls of the Metropolis will find themselves under yet more stringent supervision than is already exer- cised by those active and intelligent guardians of middle-class moralit}'-, the London County Council. The moral microscope which detected latent inde- cency 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, per- ceiving 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 per- 9 10 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. forinance to be previously submitted to a special committee for sanction and. approval. The conscientious rigor with which they will discharge this new and congenial duty, may per- haps 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 shame- lessly plagiarized 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 obliga- tions. However, here is the forecast for what it is worth, a sum of incalculable amount : — POETIC LICENSES. A VISION OF THE NEAR FUTURE. Scene. — A committee-room of the L. C. C. ; Suh- Oommittee of Censors (appointed, under neiv regu- lations, to report on all songs intended to he sung on the Music-Hail Stage"), discovered in session. Me. Whebdlee (retained for the hallad-^vriters). The next license I have to apply for is for — well INTRODUCTION. 11 (^ivith some hesitation'), — a composition which cer- tainly borders on th — 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 intrusted 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 per- mission, sir, I will read you the ballad. {^Reads. "MOLLY AND I. " Oh I 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 12 MR. PUNCH'S MOnEL MUSIC BALL. — you must tone them down, Mr. Wheedler — much too suggestive ! Mr. W. That shall be done. The Chaieman. 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. (Beads.} " Around us the little kids rollicked, Light-hearted were all the young lambs — Second Censor. Surely " kids " is rather a vulgar expression, Mr. Wheedler ? Make it " chil- dren,'^ 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 de- termined to put down all kicking in Music-hall songs, no matter who does it ! Strike that line out. INTRODUCTION. 13 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. (Beads, 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. Wheed- ler? I don't quite like that. The Music Hall ought to set a good example to young per- sons. "Molly and I — -with her chaperon by" is better. Second Censor. And that last line — " ask- ing for a kiss " — does the song state that they were formally engaged, Mr. Wheedler? Me. W. I — I believe it omits to mention the fact. But (ingenuously).! it does not appear that the request was complied with. Second Censor. No matter — it should never had been made. Have the goodness to alter that into — well, something of this kind. " And I 11 MB. PUNCH 'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. always addressed her politely as " Miss." Then we may pass it. Me. W. (reading the next verse'). " She wore but a simple sun-bonnet." First Censor (^shocked'). Now really, Mr. Wheedler, really, sir ! Me. 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." The Chairman. I think my colleague's ex- ception 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 sub- mit that it doesn't scan quite so well — The Chairman (^sharply), /venture to think scansion may be sacrificed to propriety, occasionally, Mr. Wheedler — but pray go on. ■ Licensing Day. INTRODUCTION. 15 Mr. W . (continuiny'). " To a streamlet we rambled together, I carried her tenderl}- o'er. In my arms — she's as light as a feather — That sweetest of burdens I bore ! " First Censoe. I really must protest. No properly conducted young woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You must alter that, ^Ir. 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 aucUence is only too apt to find significance in many apparently innocent expressions and phrases. Mr. W. But, sir, I understood from your re- marks recently that the Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the nature of suggestive- ness ! 16 Mli. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 objec- tion 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 uj)! " INTRODUCTION. 17 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 collapsi- ble 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. \_Cen8ors 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, con- sistently with our duty, recommend the Council to license it — even with the alterations my col- leagues 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 18 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 license should be cancelled altogether. Mk. W. I will take care to mention it to my client, sir. . I understand it is his intention to confine himself to writing Gayety burlesques in future. The Ch. A very laudable resolution ! I hope he will keep it. [Scene closes in. It is hai'dly possible that any Music-hall Mana- ger 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 leprehensible it may appear in the fierce light of an L. V. C. Committee Room, is innocu- ous, and even moral, compared to the ditties in his own repertoire. How, then, can he hope, Avhen his hour of trial strikes, to confront the ordeal with an unruffled shirt-front, or a collar that shall INTRODUCTION. 19 retain the inflexibility of conscious innocence? And he will wish then that he had confined him- self 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 predic- tion 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 ven- tures to hope that, whether it is fortunate enough to find favor or not with Music-hall "artistes," literary critics, and London County Councilmen, 20 Mil PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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. Earn- estness is so alarmingly on the increase in these days. MODEL MUSIC HALL. SONGS. The Patbiotic, 1. — THE PATRIOTIC. This stirring ditty — so thoroughly sound and practical under all its sentiment — has been spe- cially designed to harmonize 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 tak- ing:— 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 ! 23 24 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Chorus. QWitJi a commorirsense air.) Let us keep, deah boys ! On the Cheap, While Britannia is the boss upon the deep. She can woUop 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 hap- pen on the deep ! For we can't be the losers if we save the cost o' cruisers, And contentedly continue — On the Cheap ! THE PATRIOTIC. 25 Third Verse. The British Isles are not the Couti-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 ! i^With pathos.) In the old time-honored 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 ! 26 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 he 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 fervor^. And keep, deah boys ! On the Cheap ! For we ain't like a bloomin' lot o' sheep. When we want to " parry helium," ^ [ Union Jack to he waved here. You may bet yer boots we'll tell 'em ! But we'll have the " bellum " " parried " — On the Cheap ! 1 Music-hall Latiuity — " P«ra Bellum." THE PATRIOTIC. 27 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. II.— THE TOPIOAL-POLITIOAL. 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 ques- tions 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. : — 28 -And the Post ! " THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 29 BETWEEN YOU AND ME - AND THE POST. (To he sung in a raucous voice, and with a confiden- tial 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 yoM ? Between you and me and the Post ! (This happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Ques- tion is sure to provoke loud laughter from an audience of Radical sympathies. For Unionists, 30 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. the words " Lord Sorlsbury's " can be altered hy 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," etc., 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 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.) THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 31 Joey Chamberlain's orchid's a bit overialown, Between you and me and the Post ! (^This is rather subtle, perhaps, hut an M. H. audience will see a joke in it somewhere, and laugh.'y 'Ow to square a round table I'm sure he hasshown. (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 fan of it.) 32 MB. PVNCB'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 ortf Between you and me and the Post ! (^Chorus. y By fussy alarmists we're too much annoyed. Between you and me and the Post ! If we don't want our neighbors 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, THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 33 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. III.— A DEMOCRATIC DITTY. The following example, although it gives a not wholly inadequate expression to what are under- stood to be the loftier aspirations of the most advanced and earnest section of the New Democ- racy, 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 OP TEA! Veese 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 ! " 84 A Democbatic Ditty. A DEMOCRATIC BITTY. 36 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 Veese 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, etc. Veese 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 domes- tic relations.) Now, there's my old Missus who sits up at 'ome — And when I sneak wp-stairs my 'air she will comb, — 36 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC BALL. 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, etc. [Mutatis mutandis. Veese 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. Q-ood-humored 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 Books 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, etc. Verse V. — (More frankly Democratic still.) To-wards a Republic we're getting on fast ; Many old institootions are things of the past. A DEMOCRATIC BITTY. 37 (^Philosophically.) Soon the Crown '11 go, too, as an arnorrialee, And be given away — with a Pound of Tek ! Chorus. — " Given away ! " Some future day, etc. Verse VI. — ( Which expresses the peaceful procliv- ities 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 them- selves 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, etc. Verse VII. — We cannot well avoid some refer- ence 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 I 38 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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, etc. Verse VIII. (culminating in a glorious 'prophetic hurst 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 nouse 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 favorably to the imagination of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepre- sented by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters — a supposition Mr. Punch must de- cline 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 con- structed to suit the capacities of almost any lady artiste. ' SO SHY! The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and inclined 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 favorite of the public. I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle, [^Self-praise is a great recommendation — in Music- hall soTigs. 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 pronuncia- tion. 39 40 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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! l^After each chorus an elaborate step dance, expres- sive 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, etc. Well, the other day I felt my flee 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. The Idyllic. THE IDYLLIC. 41 Spoken. — It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on me. Chorus. — When he speaks to me, I wriggle, etc. 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, etc. 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, etc. 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 ! 42 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Spoken. — People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As for me, — - Chorus. — "When they talk of love, I wriggle, etc. 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 delib- erately 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 conven- tional 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 ! 43 44 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. '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 behavior ! She'd an Uncle an Earl, and a Dook for her Pa — Still there was no starchiness in that fair Mar- chioness, 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, etc. A home was being started by some kind aristo-crats, For orphan kittens, born of poor, but well-con- nected cats ; And of the swells who planned a FSte this object to assist, The Marchioness of Manx's name stood foremost on the list. Chorus. — Don't tell me Belgravia, etc. The Amatory Episodic. THE AMATORY EPISODIC. 45 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, etc. 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 ofe the end ! " Chorus. — Don't tell me Belgravia, etc. " 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 ! 46 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Spoken. — Though I did take the liberty of say- ing, " Make it fifteen bob, my lady ! " But she said, with such a fascinating look — I can see it yet ! — " Oh, I'm sure you've 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, etc. 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, showed 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. THE AMATORY EPISODIC. 47 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, etc. 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, etc. 48 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Next time I meet the Marchioness arriding in the Row, I'll ketch her eye and raise my 'at, and up to her I'll go, ( With sentimenf) — 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, / know ! She's not one of your stuck-up sort ; don't you make no mistake about it, the aristoc- racy 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 behavior, etc. The Chivalrotjs. 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 hearing 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 clamor 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 persuasive- ness'). Why shouldn't the darlings have votes ? de-ar things ! On politics each of 'em dotes, de-ar things ! 49 50 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. (^Pathetically.') Oh it 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 cockadoodledoos . But no man of sense afraid is of enfranchising the Ladies. (^Magnanimously.') Let 'em put their pretty fingers into any pie they choose ! Spoken. — I^or — Chorus. — Why shouldn't the darlings, etc. They would cease to care for dresses, if we made them electresses. 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 Millen- ni-um ! Spoken. — Oh ! — Chorus. — Why shouldn't the darlings, etc. THE CaiVALROUS. 51 In the House we'll see them sitting soon, it will be only fitting, They should have an opportunity their coun- try's la\TS 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, etc. 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, etc. They'll declare it's quite immoral to engage in foreign quarrel. And that Britons never, never will be warriors any more ! 52 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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, etc. ( 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, etc. And it's females — that's the puzzle ! — who peti- tion for the muzzle, Which I call it poor and paltry, and I think you'll say so too. THE CHIVALROUS. 63 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, etc. [Here the singer will gradually retreat backwards to the rear of the stage., open Ms crush-hat, and ex- tend 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 inva- riably 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 effu- sion, which several ladies now adorning the Music- hall stage could be trusted to render with immense effect. The singer should be young and charm- ing, and attired as simply as possible. Sim- plicity of attire imparts additional piquancy to the words : — - THE POOR OLD 'ORSB. We 'ad a little outing larst Sunday arternoon ; And sech a jolly lark it was, I sha'n't forget it soon! 54 THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 55 We borrered an excursion van to take us down to Kew, And — oh, we did enjoy ourselves ! I don't mind telling you. [2%is to the Chef d' Orchestra, who will assume a polite interest. [Here a little spoken interlude is customary. Mr. P. does not venture to do more than indicate this hy 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-colored frontr Bill Blazer; his '■'• girl,^^ and his accord- ion. Mrs. Addick (of the fried fish emporium around 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. 56 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. So we'd pots of ale and porter (Or a drop o' something shorter), While he drunk his pail o' water, He was seeh a whale on water ! That more water than he oughter, More water than he oughter, 'Ad the old 'orse ! Second Stansa. That 'orse he was a rum 'un — a queer old quad- ru-ped. At every publie-'ouse he passed he'd cock his art- ful 'ed ! Sez I, " If he goes on like this, we sha'n't see Kew to-night ! " Jim 'Opkins winks his eye, and sez, " We'll git along all right ! " Chorus. — Though we 'ave to stop o' course, etc. [ With slight textual modifications. Third Stanza. At Kinsington we 'alted, Ammersmith, and Turn- ham Green, The 'orse 'ad sech a thust on him, its like was never seen ! THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 67 With every 'arf a mile or so, that animal got blown : And we was far too well broughf^up to let 'im drink alone ! Chorus. — As we 'ad to stop, o' course, etc. Fourth Stanza. We stopped again at Ghiswick, 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 Flapper ; " 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 subsi- dence 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, etc. 58 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 : — " Arid the scrimps — well, I don't want to say anything against the s'rimps — hut it did strike me they were feelin' the 'eat a little — s'rimps are liable to it, and you can't pre- vent '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 behavior of "Bill Blazer's girl." The company consume what will be ele- gantly referred to as "a hit 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 geraniu7ns 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, etc. The Fkankly Camaille. THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 59 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 naiserable '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 Flapper 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 ! 60 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 parti/. Un- warrantable proceeding on the part of the Con- stable. Remonstrance by Pa Flapper 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 shuorter ! Don' you tush me till you oughter ! Jus' look 'ere — to cut it shorter — Take the poor old 'orsh ! THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 61 [ Creneral adjournment to the Police-station. Inter- view 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 re- mark that, notwithstanding the success of the ex- cursion, 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. VIII. — THE DRAMATIC SOENA. 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, and frequently depicts the downward career of an incipient drunkard with all the lurid logic of a Temperance Tract. Mr. Punch, however, is in- clined 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 endeavored to indicate in the follow- ing example : — THE DANGER OF MIXSD DRINKS. The singer should have a great command of facial expression, which he will find greatly facilitated hy employing (tfs indeed is the usual eustorn) col- ored 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, 62 The Dramatic Scbna. THE DRAMATIC SCENA. 63 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 temp- tation. N. B. The refrain is intended to he 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 liis mother's fond monitions ; soon a friend, with fiendish laugh, Tempts him to a quiet tea-garden, plies him there with shandy-gaff ! 64 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 stufE 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. (2%e earthenware bottles are said by connoisseurs to contain liquor of superior strength and quality.) From his lips the foam he bruslies — crimson over- spreads 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 ! THE DRAMATIC SCENA. 65 ( 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 sirups — " ice-cream soda," " raspberryade," 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. 66 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. I cdiixnot resist it. [^Pantomime of opening can. That celestial blue ! Has the milkman missed it ? \_Melodramatically. J'll be missing too ! Fifth Verse (in pale hlueligM). 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 '11 Just make room for one, I could grab the ladle After she has done. THE DRAMATIC SCENA. 67 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 de- mand an explanation from the turncock, with a terrible denoiiment'). " Rate a quarter owing, Comp'ny stopped supply." " Set the stream a-flowing, Demon — or you die ! " " Mercy ! — ah ! you've choked me ! " [/m hoarse, strangled voice as the turncock. 68 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. " Will you turn the plug ? " [^Savagely as the hero. "No ! [Faintly, as turncock. [Business of flinging a corpse on stage, and regard- ing it terror-stricken. A long pause : then, in a ivhisper, — " 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. 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 pre- tend to say — this cynicism is always more marked Avhen 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 con- veys. One drawback, indeed, it has, but that con- cerns the performers alone. For the sake of affording contrast and relief, it was thought ex- 70 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. pedient that one of the fair duettists should pro- fess 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 ingSnue, and a female " Juggins ; " and it does seem as if the Cynical Sister must inevitably monopolize the sympathies of an enlightened audience. How- ever, this , difficulty is less formidable than it ap- pears ; it should be easy for the Unsophisticated Sister to convey a subtle suggestion here and tliere, 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 ungrate- ful a,r6le. 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 — The Dukttists. THE DUETTISTS. 71 Second Sister (with an elaborate mock courtesy^. 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, aint 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 /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 Mwmarried men lead respectable lives. Second S. (decisively). Well, I've never hap- pened to meet them ! 72 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 ! Me/rain. Firsts. fWhat? Second S. ( No, — They're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest. Second S. I'm speaking from experience, and / 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. Seconds. There may be — but I've never seen one. THE DUETTISTS. 73 First S. Some much prefer love in a cottage, I'm told. Second S. (^putting Tier 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 / know. First S. You'd surely never give your hand to some one 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 ? 74 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 trum- pets 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 / know ; They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest, When so many fools are ready with the Rhino I 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? THE DUETTISTS. 75 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, in- dicative of enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly sympathy, amidst enthu- siastic applause. 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 fol- loAving 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 pre- sent himself in a brown " billy-cock " hat, a long gray frock-coat, fawn-colored trousers, white "spats," and primrose, or green gloves — the recognized 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. 76 DlSINTEUBSTBD PASSION. DISINTERESTED PASSION. 77 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 snaclc ! 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, hut 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 " whilJcs." 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, 78 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 whis- pered, " Speak to Dad ! " Refrain. — For she's only a little Plebeian, etc. 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, etc. BISINTEliESTED PASSION. T9 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," etc. 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, etc. 80 MR. PUNCri'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Sixth Verse. Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear- drop twinkle ; That artless present overcame his stubborn Nor- man pride ! And when I made him taste a whilk, and try a periwinkle, His last objection vanished — so she's soon to be my bj'ide ! Refrain. — Ah ! she's only a little Plebeian, etc. 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, etc. This little ditty, which has the true unmistak- able 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 whicli is occasionally observable in the Music-hall song- stress. The young lady who sings these verses will of course appear in appropriate costume ; viz., a large white hat and feathei-s, a crimson sun- sliade, 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 leader only, as the singer will instinctively give the vowel-sounds the pronunciation intended by the author. THE JOYS OP THE SBA-SIDB. 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 ! 81 82 Mli. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 offuUy fond of the .Sea-side ! If I'd only my w'y, I would c^e-cide To dwell evermore, By the murmuring shore. With the billows a-blustering Je-side ! Second Verse. Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the doming ! And to sally forth a-prorning — e'en if nothing back you bring ! Some young men who like fatigue '11 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 I etc. The Panbgtbic Patteb. THE PANEGYRIC PATTER. 83 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 pro- gramme of the band. Chorus. — For there's always a band at the Seor side ! etc. 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 gradu- ally greener. And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled stout. Chorus. — And they cry, " Put us back on the Sea- Bide ! " etc. 84 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 bowlders 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 ! etc. 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 " Wher- ever you have bin ! " Chorus. — Then you answer " I've been by the /Sea- side ! " etc. THE PANEGYRIC PATTER. 85 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 ! etc. Eighth Verse. If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronize the dramer, Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty-four ! And a duty none would shirk 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, ! etc. 86 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Encore Verse (to he 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 offuUy fond of the /Sea-side ! etc. XII. — THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC. A Music-hall audience will always be exceed- ingly 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 mov- ing 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 sim- plicity of its earlier name. The song only contains three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall pathos, the authors prob- ably 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 81 88 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC UALL. 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. Mrst Verse. I've been thinking of the home where my early years were spent, 'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt {Tum- tum-fMTO.'), And to go there once again has been often my intent. But the railway fare's expensive, so I can't! (yMW^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-tnm !) The Plaintively Pathetic. ■ THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC. 89 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-txxra-tum !) : " Now, mind you burn a night-light, — 'Twill last until it's quite light — In a saucerful of water by your bed ! " (^Mm-tum !) Second Verse. I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried, As she gave me all the half-pence that she had. (^Tum-ium-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 checkered life I've led ! ( Tumrtura-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 ! (TwOT-tum!) 90 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Refrain. All unhallowed my pursuits, (Oft to bed I've been in boots ! ) Still o'er my uneasy slumber has been shed (Tum- tum-tMwi /) The moderately bright light Afforded by a night-light, In a saucerful of water by my bed ! {TumAMva. !) Third Verse. {To he sung with increasing solemnity.') A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw ; In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood ! ( Tumrtum-tum /) And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counter- pane 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-txua-tum /) She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest. And the night-light in its saucer by my bed! {Tum-tuna !) THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC. 91 Refrain (more pianissimo stilV). But ere a word she spoke, I unhappily awoke ! And away, alas! the beauteous vision fled! (Twm- tum-^wm /) {In mournful recitation). — There was nothing but the slight light Of the melancholy night-light That was burning in a saucer by my bed ! (yMTO-tum!) XIII. — THE MILITARY IMPER- SONATOR. To be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal requisite is a uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in the neighborhood 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 Imper- sonator 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 our- selves, 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 illus- trates the- heroism of our troops in action — a 02 fT\ \ The Military Impersonatou. THE MILITARY IMPERSONATER. 93 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-cr&,ts. When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy bearskin 'ats. 94 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Chorus (^during which the Martial Star will march round the stage in military order~). We're all " ' Ughies," " Berties," " Ai-chies," In the Guards ! Doncher know ? Twisting silky long mustarches, \_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, "Riag-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 coro- netted card ! THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR. '95 Chorus. For we're " Berties," " 'Ughies," " Archies," In the Guards ! Doncher know ? With our silky long mustarches, 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, Wi.ng-Bang ! Third Verse. [Here comes the singer'' s great chance, and, hy 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 bear- skin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and kharkee tunic at the wings, it will produce an enormous ainount of enthusiasm, only he must not take more than five minutes over this alteration, or the audience — so curiously are British audiences con- stituted — m,ay grow impatient for his return. But hark ! the trumpet sounds ! . . . {Here a member of the orchestra will oblige upon the trumr pet.') What's this ? . . . {The singer will take a folded paper from his breast and peruse it with attention.') We're ordered to the front ! 96 MR. PUNCB'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. \_This should he 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 un- fasten his revolver-case, taking up the exact poss in which he is represented upon the posters out- side. As you were ! . . . Form Square ! . . . Mark Time! . . . Slope Arms ! . . . now — 'Tention! . . . (^These military evolutions should all he gone through hy the artist.') Forward, Guards ! \To he 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 mustarches. For thej'^'re Guards ! Doncher know ? Dandies ? yes, — but dandy lions are the Guards ! Bing-5a?i^ / \_Jted fire and smoke at wings, as curtc^in falls upon the Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new attitude. MODEL MUSIC HALL. DRAMA S. / 1 \ The Little Crossing-Sweeper. I. — THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER. ( . . Miss Jenny Jikns. Dkamatis Persons. The Little Crossing-Sweeper. By the unrivalled Variety Artist '■ The Duke or Dillwateb . . . 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 Eighth." A Policeman Mr. Eutland Bakbington [Engaged, at enormous expense, during the entire run of this piece. A Butler (his original part) .... Mb. Arthur Cecil. Foot-Passbngers, Flunkeys, Burglars. — By the cele- brated Knockabout Quick-change Troupe. Scene I. — Exterior of the Duke's mansion in Huston Square hy night. On the right, a realis- tic moon (hy Jcind permission of Professor Hbrkombe) is rising slowly behind a lamp-post. On left centre, a practicable pillar-box, and cross- ing, with real mud. Slow music, as Miss Jenny Jinks enters, in rags, with broom. Various char- acters cross the street, post letters, etc.; Miss Jinks follows them, begging piteously for a cop- 100 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. per, which is invariably refused, whereupon she assails them with choice specimens of street sar- casm — which the lady may he safely trusted to improvise for herself. Miss Jenny Jinks (leaning despondently against pillar-hox, 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 BuEGLARS 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 ! TBE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPE. 101 Second Bueglae (coarsely^. Stow that snivel, yer young himp, we don't want none of that bosh! Miss J. J. (with spirif). You hold your jaw — for, when you opens yer mouth, thare ain't much o' yer face left to wash ! [The Btjeglaes retire, baffled, and muttering. Miss J. leans against pillar-box again — hut 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! [DxJKB crosses stage in a hurry ; as he pulls out his latchkey, a threepenny bit falls unregarded, except by the little SwEBPEE, 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 airCt 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? 102 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. (^Awestruck.) There's a angel voice that is sayin' plain (^solemnli/'), " Him as prigs what isn't his'n ; Is sure to be copped some day — and then — his time he will do in prison ! " l_Groes resolutely to the door, and knocks. The DxJKE throivs 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 how a Dook rewards honesty in this world! l^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 ! THE LITTLE CEOSSING-SWEEPEB. 103 Give me a quarter of an 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 limelight. The POLICEMAN turns away, and uses his handkerchief violently; the DxJKB 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 ! [Dtjke dismisses Constable, and, after disap- pearing into the mansion for a moment, returns with a neat pagers livery, which he presents to the little Ceossing-sweepbr. 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 armor. Statu- ary (lent hy British and Kensington Museums). 104 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Enter Miss J., with her face washed, and looking particularly plump in her page's livery. She wanders about stage, making any humorous com- ments that may occur to her on the armor 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 comfort- able here ? [Kindly. Miss J. J. Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life, sir. III stick to yer, no fear! \_In the course of conversation the Dtjkb 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 hght ? (^Strikes match on her pantaloons.^ Now you're all comfortable. THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER. 105 The Duke sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her way, while she introduces her popular Vocal Char- acter 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 ! 106 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Next the Lady Seiio, 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. (^eonduding'). 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 BuTLEE rushes in, followed hy two flurried Footmen. Btjtlee. Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but I come to announce the fact That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just been attacked ! THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPEIi. 107 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. J. (^snatching sword from one of the men- in-armor^. 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 Bueglaes are supposed to be repulsed with heavy loss by the Dtjke, Butler, and Page. Miss J. J. 'Ere — I say, Dook, I saved yer life, didn't yer know ? (J. parting shot, upon which she staggers bach with a ringing scream.^ The Brutes ! they've been and shot me ! . . . Mother ... Oh! \^Dies in limelight and great agony ; the Footmen come out from under sofa and regard with sorrow- ing admiration the lifeless form of the Little Ceossing-sweepek, 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. McBougall and the L. a c.) The Music-hall Dramatist, like Shakspeare and Moli^re, 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 xvell-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 "cau- tionary" 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 prevail- ing ideas of moral responsibility. Those who have the misfortune to be born with a propensity 108 Joe I JOE, THE JAM-EATER. 109 for illicit jam, may learn from our drama the terrible results of failing to overcome it early in life. JOB, THE JAM-BATBE. Dkamatis PeBSONjE. Jam-Loving Joe. By that renowned Melodramatic Serio- comic, Miss Connie Cubdlbr. Job's Motheb {the very part for Mbs. Bancboft, if she can only he induced to make her reappearance). John, a Gabdenee. By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu. Jim-Jam, the Febmentation Fiend. By Mb. Beebbohm TBKB(!c/io has kindly consented to undertake the part). Chobus op Plum and Peab GAiHEREBs/j-om the Savoy (by kind permission of Mb. D'Oyly Cabte). Scene. — The Store-room at sunset, with view of exterior of Jam Cupboard, and orchard in dis- tance. 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 neighborhood of Jam ! 110 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. {^Here Miss Cukdlbr 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, etc., for gathering fruit. " His Mother and Jolm, 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 hold- ing up the right hand. Solo. — John. Fruit, when gathered ripe is wholesome — Otherwise if eaten green. Once I knew a boy who stole some — [ With a glance at Job, who turns aside to conceal his confusion. His internal pangs were keen ! Choeus (virtuously). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean, Their internal pangs are keen ! JOE, THE JAM-EATER. Ill Joe's Mothee Qiside). 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. Job (earnestly^. Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done. Temptation it is ever best to shun ! Joe's Mother. 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 (Owe of our old Music-hall rhymes'). According to size ! [Repeat as they caper out. [Joe's Mothee, after one fond, lingering look be- hind, follows : the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance. Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines key of jam-cuphoard door. 112 Mli. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Joe. At last I am alone ! Suppose I tried That cupboard — -just to see -what's kept inside? [^Seems drawn towards it hy gome fatal fascination. There might be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake, For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache ! [^Lauffhs 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 Hawbs 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 favorite ; 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 My- self! JOE, THE JAM-EATER. 113 [The cupboard is lit by an infernal glare (^cour- teously lent by the Lyceum Management from " Faust " properties) ; weird music. JoE turns slowly, and confronts the Demon with awestruck eyes. N.B. — Grreat 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 fer- menting ! \^Ca,tches Joe's ankle, and assists Mm to descend. Joe. You'll drive me mad ! Demon (carelessly). I may— before I've done with you I 114 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Joe. What do you want? Demon {darkly'). To have a little fun with you ! Of fiendish humor now I'll give a specimen. [Chases him round and round stage., and proceeds to smear him hideously with jam. Joe Qpiteously'). 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 endeavors to. remove the traces of crime. I see you're busy — so I'll not detain you ! [ Vanishes down stair-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. Sis Mother and John, with pear and plum gath- erers hearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back of scene, in faint light of torches. 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 Demon ! JOE, THE JAM-EATER. 115 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 pro- fane 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 Angers and thumbs." — Poevi 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 parch- ment 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. 116 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. [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 M.OTB.EB. falls fainting at his feet as curtain falls upon a strong and moral, though undeniably gloomy dSnoHment. III. — THE MAN-TRAP. This drama, which, like our last, has been sug- gested by a poem of the Misses Taylor, will be found most striking and impressive in representa- tion 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 can- not 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. Dkamatis Personje. William (a Good Boy) . . Me. Haeby Nicholls. Thomas (a Bad Boy) . . Me. Heebeijt Campbell. {Who have kindly offered their services.) Benjamin (neither one thing nor the other), Mb. Samuel SUPBE. The Monsteb Man-Trap . Me. Geoege Conquest. 117 118 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Scene. — An elaborate set, representing, on extreme left, a portion of the highroad, 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 — Fm the good I Thos. Yes, I delight in naughtiness, for iiaughti- ness'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 ! f he's ) grown into a awful Together. Yes, now ^ t, r t i (. 1 ve J young limb. ''ve made up my mind not to imitate him! l^Here they dance. TBE MAN-TRAP. 119 Second Verse. Wm. If some one hits him in the eye, he always hits them back ! When / am struck, my Ma I merely tell ! On passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a 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. 120 MK. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 prom- ise 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 gou see ? And pears — my eye ! just ain't they looking juicy ! Wm. Nay, Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin, / will walk on, and visit Benjamin ! [^xit William (l. 2 e.), while Thomas proceeds to scale the wall and climb the boughs of the near- est pear-tree. Melodramatic Music. The Mon- ster Man-teap 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 Mak-trap, and staggers. Oh, lor — whatever is that hugly beast ! Hi, help, here ! call him off ! . . . THE MAN-TRAP. 121 The Monster. 'Tis vain to holler — My borders are — all trespassers to swoUer ! 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 agonized 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 ! Th6*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 122 ME. PUNCS'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. but a dull champing sound; after which, dead silence. The Monstek smiles, with an air of repletion. Re-enter William, from e., 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 thatf 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. 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 endeavors to hide in the grass. Wm. Ah, Monster, give him back — 'tis true he's vicious. TUE MAN-TEA P. 123 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 en- treaty on either side of the Man-tbap, which shows signs of increasing emotion as the song proceeds. Benjamin (sings). Man-trap, bitter our distress is. That you liave 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 bacli ! The Man-tkap is convulsed hy a violent heave ; William and Benjamin hend 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 com- ing . . . 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! 124 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Wm. (raising the shoe and the leg of pantaloons, and holding them sorrowfully/ at arrns length'). He's met the fate which moralists all prom- ise is The end of such depraved careers as Thomas's ! Oh, Benjamin, take warning by it 6e-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.^^ ly. — THE FATAL PIN. Otte 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, Riaf'' at the Lyceum, and Mr. Henry Irving gives his com- pressed version of Hamlet at the Trocadero ; when there is a general levelling-up of culture, and re- moval 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. Dr.AMATis Persons. Emily Heedless. By either Miss Vesta Tillet or Mks. Bernard Beere. Pbteb Paragon. Mb. Forbes Robertson oi- Mb. Arthur Roberts (only he mustn't sing " The Good Toung Man who Died"). First and Second Bridesmaids. Miss Maude Millett and Miss Annie Hughes. 125 126 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Scene. — Emily's Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a screen and sofa, C. Door, B.., leading to Emily's Bed-chamber. Door, L. Emily discov- ered in loose ivrapper, and reclining in uncomfort- able 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 revery. 'It is a Pin ! ' THE FATAL PIN. 127 ^nter 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 B,. 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. By precept and example I have striven To mould her to a helpmate fit for me. Now, thank the gods, my labors are complete. She stands redeemed from all her giddiness ! l^ffere he steps upon the pin, and utters an exolor mation. 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 128 MR. PUNCB'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 he con- cealed hy the screen from all hut the audience, and proceeds to remove his hoot. 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 housemaid'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 any- where ! 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, THE FATAL PIN. 129 'Twasvoidof 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 a while, 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 be traced to any maid, 130 Mli. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 j^our negligence ! \_Uztends 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 compre- hend. 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 ! THE FATAL PIN. 181 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, Wlio, 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 ? Petek. 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 a 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 132 MR. PUNCH 'S MODEL MUSIC IIA\L. 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 ma}'- 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. TBE FATAL PIN. 133 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 I [^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 mom, and she, poor child. Has paid the penalty of heedlessness ! \^Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly mistaken, there will not he a dry eye in the house. v. — BRUNETTE AND BLANOHIDINE. A MELODRAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE. Suggested by " The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll," by the Misses Jane and Ann Taylor. Dramatis Person^e. Blanchidine / By the celebrated Sisters Stii.ton, tlie Bkunette. S Champion Duettists and Clog-Dancers. Fanny Fukbei.ow. By Miss Sylvia Sealskin (by kind permission of The Gaykty Management). Frank Manly. By Mr. IIenuy 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 expression- less ivooden doll. Duet and Step-dance. Bl. Oh, I do adore Brunette! (^Dances.') Tip- pity-tappity, tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap ! 1.34 BRUNETTE AND ISLANCHIDINE. 135 Br. Blanchidine's the sweetest pet! (^Dances.) Tippity-tappity, etc. 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 ! \_Co'mbination 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-cZacA / [^Repeat ad. lib. Bl. (apologetically to audience). Her taste iu dress is rather plain ! (Dances.) Tippity- tappity, etc. Bk. (in pitying aside). It is a pity she's so vain ! (Dances.) Tippity-tappity, etc. 136 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC BALL. Bl. 'Tis a shime to smoile, But she's shocking stoyle, It is quite a troyal, Still — she mikes a foil ! Be. Often I've a job To suppress a sob, She is such a snob, When she meets a nob ! \_Step-dance as before. [iV. B. — In consideration of the well-known diffi- culty 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 embar- rassing ! \^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. BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE. 137 (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 Bkxjn., 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 pro- ficient. 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 ! 138 Jl/iJ. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Here, you may nurse her for a little while. Be careful, for her frock's the latest style. [Crives Blan. the wax doll. She's the best wax, and has three changes of cloth- ing— For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing. Bl. (hastily'). Oh, so have / — they're not to be endured ! Re-enter Bbunette with the wooden doll, which she tries to press upon Blanchidine, much to the latter^s confusion. Be. I've brought poor Timburina back, com- pletely 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! Whj', I don't even know her by name ! Some vulgar child. . . . [Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel. Be. (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. BEUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE. 139 Bk. (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 ! \_Muishes 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, ive 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 ! 140 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Don't answer me, Miss — I wish we'd never met. You're only fit for persons like Brunette ! l^Picks up doll, and exit in passion. Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, hy Blanch- IDINE, to Melodramatic Music. Bl. Gone ! Ah, I am rightly punished ! What would I not give now to have homely little Bru- nette, 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 hetiveen 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 BRUNETTE AND BLANCUIDINE. 141 a glance ! With quiet composure he removes his coat — oh, dorCt trouble about folding it up ! — and why, why remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost ? Now, with many in- junctions, 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 I And still the Round Pond holds its dread secret ! Once more . . . yes — no, yes, it is Tim- burina ! 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. Enter Frank Manly supporting Brunette, who carries Timburina. Bl. (wildly'). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette ? 142 MK. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Br. Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even tvet! 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 ! [ G-rand Trio and Step-dance, with " tippity-tappity" and " clickity-clack " refrain as finale. " Saved-Ha-Ha-Ha ! " VI. — COMING OP 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 accu- racy 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 demo- cratic audience. COMING OF AGE. A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DRAMA IN ONE ACT. Dramatis Pekson^. The Eabl op Bubntai.mond. The Countess of Burntalmond (his wife). Robert Henry Viscount Bullsayb (their son and heir). The Lady Rose Caramel (niece to the Earl). 1 Travelling as " Tlie Celebrated HOREHOUND . . r, ,,. .• x^ aj rn „ Combination Koritdropp Iroupe, Mrs. Horehound . }■ j^ jjjgjr refined and elegant Draw- CoLTSFOOT Horehound j ing-room Entertainment. Tenantry. 143 144 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Scene. — The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Cas- tle ; banners, mottoes, decorations, etc. 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 enthu- siasm that is reasonably to be expected at ninepence a night. The Earl {patting Lord BuLLSAYE'ssAowWe?-). 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 cling- ing 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 ? COMING OF AGE. 146 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 mar- vellous Entertainment, entitled, " The Three Sur- prise Packets ; " after which — HoREHOUND. This will conclude the first por- tion of our Entertainment, Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen ; and, while my wife and pardner re- tires to change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the hoppertoonity of a short pus- sonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my > right. [^Exit Mrs. Horehocnd. The Earl (^graciously~). I will hear you, fel- low ! (^Aside.") Strange how familiar his features seem to me ! HoREH. The fact is, your Lordship's celebrat- ing the coming of hage of the wrong heir. (Sen- sation — 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 self-same day, and my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the youthful lord. Well 146 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. — (tells a long, and not entirely original, story ; mar- vellous resemblance between infants, only distinguish- able by green and magenta bows, etc., etc.^, soon after, your Lordship discharged me at a moment's notice ■ — The Earl (haughtily'). I did, upon discover- ing 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) -r— conse- quently, 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 Vis- count is — (presenting Coltsfoot, who advances modestly on his hands) — 'ere ! l^Renewed sensation. The Earl. This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (To Lord B.) And so, sir, it ap- pears 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 monopo- lized the training, the tenderness and education, COMING OF AGE. 147 which were the due of your Patrician foster- brother. (To Coltsfoot.) Approach, my in- jured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for these years of injustice and neglect ! Colts. Well, Guv'nor, if you 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 contrarj^, 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 presump- tuous 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 148 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 onto 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 gayety and unforced ani- mation ! The E. My dear boy, let me present you to your fiancSe. Rose, my love, this is your legiti- mate 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 LOED B. IN TIGHTS. COMING OF AGE. 149 substitute there. (^ProudlyS) My son must make no misalliance ! 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 recommence. {Re-enter Mrs. Horehound. HoREH. (to Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can't you — what are you 'ere for ? Lord B. ( io the ^arl). Since it is your com- mand, 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 ~ aristo- cratic superiority is betrayed, even in competition with those to the manner born ! Mrs. Horeh. (still in ignorance of the trans- formation'). 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 150 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 ! HoEEH. Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong 1 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 acro- bat, 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 COMING OF AGE. 151 trifling reverse of fortune with sullen discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has perfected himself in a lofty and distinguished profession during years spent by «/om, 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, / don't ! Give us your dooks. \^Offering hand. The C. Ah, Bullsaye, try to be worthy of such generosity ! [LoBD 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 dis- interested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him. [ G-ives her hand to Coltsfoot, who squeezes it with ardor. Colts, {pleasantly^. Well, Father, Mother, 152 PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. your noble Herlship and Lady, foster-brother BuUsaye, and my pretty little sweet'art '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 Eael leads the way into the Castle with Mrs. Hoeehound, followed ly Hoeehound with the Cotjntess and Colts- foot with Lady Rose, Loed Bullsaye, dis- comfited and abashed, entering last as Curtain falls. VII. - RECLAIMED ; OE, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GEAND- MOTHEE. 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 Callowciiiok. Scene — The Panelled Room at Nightshade Hall. Lady Bblledame (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 neighbor, 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 133 154 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 — [-4 childish voice out- side 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 ar- rangements 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 iirt 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 Monks- hood. . . . Ha I he is already at hand. • [ Chord as Monkshood enters. Monkshood. Your Ladyship, a child, whose RECLAIMED. 155 sole luggage is a small bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests the favor 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 ! 156 Mli. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. ^Chord. Little Elfie trips in with touchinff self- confidence. Elfie (in a charming little Cockney accent). Yes, Grandma, it's me — little Elfie, come al>tlie 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 bush- ranger, 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 neighbors (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 Little Elfib. BEC'LAIMED. 157 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 ? 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 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 ! \^Ein.t with parcels. Elfie. You seem so sad and troubled. Grand- ma. Let me sing you one of the songs with 158 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in hap- pier days. Lady B. No, no, some other time. (^Aside.^ Pshaw ! why should I dread the effect of her sim- ple melodies ? (^Aloud.^ Sing, child, if you will. Elfie. How glad I am that I brought my banjo ! \_Sings. Bar is a luhly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff; iSheHl dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir hreff. When she sits down to supper, ehery colored 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 nehher leave us nvffin ; so woa, Miss Sindy Ann ! To Laby B. (who, after joining in chorus with deep emotion, has burst into tears'). Why, you are weeping, dear Grandmother ! DECLAIMED. 159 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-Or-trump ! But now /'se got to labor wif the shovel arC 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 jour- ney. Rest a while 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 160 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 blood- hounds upon this little sunbeam ! 'Tis long since these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet as hers. (^Croons.} *' Woa, Lucindy," etc. " 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 I Those parcels . . . quick, quick ! — the parcels I — Monks, (impassively^. Have been left as you instructed, my Lady. [^ Chord. Lady B. staggers back, gasping, into chair. Little Elpib awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes. Lady B. (in a hoarse whisper^. You — you have left the parcels . . .all — all ? Tell me — how RECLAIMED. 161 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 veranda. 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 tvhat? 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 recognized all that was mortal of the late 162 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC BALL. 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 re- press'). 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 pre- matoor 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? RECLAIMED. 163 Monks. Upon the village green ; the mortality is still spreading, it being found impossible to undo the knots in which the vi'ctims have tied them- selves. The sweetmeats likewise were distributed, and the floor of the hinfanl-school now resembles one vast fly-paper. Lady B. (with a touch of remorse'). The chil- dren 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 Grandmamma ! 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 neighborhood. 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 ! 164 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 candor, 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. RECLAIMED. 165 Lady B. Speak, child! — how much do you know ? Elfie. All ! \^Chord. Lady B. collapses on chair. Lady B. (^with an efforf). And now, Elfie, that you know, you scorn and hate youi* 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 afore- hand, 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 ! Lady B. (aside). What shall I say? Merciful Powers, what shall I say to her ? [^Disturbed sounds without. 166 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 1 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 consid- eration — one thousand pounds down. [2%e 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 every tiling 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 ! ^§-____-^- "Good-bye, Good-bye!' RECLAIMED. 167 [^Shouts without. Lady B. crouches on floor. Little Elfib 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 ban- ners, 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 inscrip- tion on one of the flags — I can read it quite plainly, " Thanks to the generous Donor ! " (That must be you. Grandmother !) And there are chil- dren who dance, and scatter flowers. They are ask- ing for a speech. (^Speaking off.) " If you please. Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmamma 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-by, good-hj ! " (^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 deputa- tion of gratitude ? Am I mad, dreaming — or what does it all mean ? Monks, (doggedly). It means that the sight of 168 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 ! Elfib (^ pleadingly^. 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 Elfib fetches her banjo, and sings, " Woa, Lucinda ! " her Grandmothee 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 Tayi-or.) Miss Lydia Banks ("though very young, Will never do what's rude or wrong." — Ditto.) Farmer Banks. . . ) „ „ , „ r By the Brothers Griffiths. Farmer Banks's Bull ) Chorus of Farm-Sands. Scene. — A farmyard. E. 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 ! l^Ofens stall and flourishes cudgel. The Bull comes forward with an air of deliberate defiance. 169 170 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 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 Faemer Banks, l., as Lydia Banks enters R. accompanied hy Chorus. The Bull ex- hibits 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 sha'n'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 ; On the Top of the Pump. JACK PABKER. 171 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 /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. 172 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker? That bullet head ! those ears ! it is — Jack Parker ! \^Ohord. 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 cau- tiously below the half-door, while Lydia conceals herself behind the pump, L. c. JACK PARKER. 173 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 I 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 I Excitement's sure to make his beef taste tougher ! [2%e 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 bach with his off foreleg, makes a sudden rush at Lydia. 174 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. Lydia {as she evades it}. Here, help ! — it's chas- ing me — it's too absurd of it ! Go away, Bull — with me jou 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 (J'rom top of pump'). Well dodged, Miss Banks ! although the Bull I'll back ! {Enter FARM-HAJSfDS. Lydia. Come quick — this Bull's mistaking me for Jack ! Jack. He knows his business best, I shouldn't wonder. Fakm-hands (^philosophically). He ain't the sort of Bull to make a blunder. [They looJc 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. JACK PARKER. 175 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 ! \_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 ! (Though I thought I wouldn't go just yet.) For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get 176 ilB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you I 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 ! [yAe Bull rises on Ms hindlegs, and gives aforehoof 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. Chakactkhs. Sib Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Bar- onet). Verbena Puddock {his Daughter). Lord Bleshugh {her Lover). Spikbb (a needy and unscrupulous adventurer). Blbthbks {an ancient and attached Domestic). ACT I. Scene. — The Morning Room at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-le-Hole ; large window open at bade, with heavy practicable sash. Enter Bletheks. Blethees. Sir Poshbury's birthday to-day — his birthday! — and the gentry giving of him presents. Oh, Lor! if they only knew what / could tell 'em ! . . . Ah ! and must tell, too, before long — but not yet — not yet ! \_Exit. 177 178 MIL PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. JEnter LoED Bleshitgh and Verbena. Verb. Yes, Papa is forty to-day (innocently^ ; fancy living to that age ! The tenants have pre- sented him with a handsome jar of mixed pickles, with an appropriate insciiption. Papa is loved and respected by every one. And I — well, I have made him a little housewife, containing needles and thread. . . . See ! \^Shou's it. Lord Blesh. (te)iderJy'). I say, I — -I wish you would make me a little housewife ! \_Go'medy 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, ghiomy and constrained. ivith Spiker, who is jaunty and somewhat over familiar. Spiker (sitting on the piano, and dusting his boots with Ms handkerchief y. Cosey little shanty you've got here, Puddock — yery tasty ! Spikeb Intkoduced. UNDER THE HARROW. 179 SlE 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. In- troduce me. [Sir Posh, introduces him — with an effort. Verb, (coldly). How do you do? Papa, did you know that the sash-line of this window was broken ? If it is not mended, it will fall on some- body's head, and perhaps kill him ! Sir p. (absently'). Yes — yes, it shall be at- tended 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 pro- fess to have discovered? Spiker. Oh, a mere nothing. (Takes out a cigar.) Got a light about you? Thanks. Per- haps you don't recollect twenty-seven years ago this veiy day, travelling from Edgware Road to Baker Street, by the Underground Railway? 180 3IE. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC BALL. Sir p. Perfectly ; it was my thirteenth birth- day, and I celebrated the event by a visit to Madame Tussaud's. Spikek. Exactly ; it was your thirteenth birth- day, and you travelled second-class with a half- ticket — (meaningly^ — on your thirteenth birth- day. Sir p. (terribly agitated}. Fiend that you are, how came j'ou 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 easj^ ! 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 con- doned by twenty-seven long years of unimpeach- able integrity ! Sp. By-laws are By-laws, old Buck ! there's no Statute of Limitations in criminal offences that UNDER THE H ARROW. 181 ever Z 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 — SiK P. (ivrithing^) . 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 rvas 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 ! SiE P. (indignantly^. My child, the ripening apple of my failing eye, to be sacrificed to a black- mailing 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 prom- ise nothing ; but if her heart is still her own to 182 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. give, she may (mind, I do say slie wiW), be in- duced to link her lot to yours, though I shall not attempt to influence her in any way — in ani/ 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 sha'n'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 ! [fie 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 u^. " My Conrad 1 '