Voces Populi Part 16

JEAMES (_behind the carriage, to_ CHAWLES). Our old geeser's perdoocin'

the custimary amount o' sensation, eh, Chawley?

CHAWLES (_under notice_). Well, thank 'Eving, I sha'n't have to share the responsibility of her _much_ longer!

'ARRIET (_to_ 'ARRY). I wonder they don't get tired o' being stared at like they are.

'ARRY Bless your 'art--_they_ don't mind--they _like_ it. They'll go 'ome and s'y (_in falsetto_) "Ow, Pa, all the bloomin' crowd kep' on a lookin'

at us through the winder--it _was_ proime!"

'ARRIET (_giggling admiringly_). 'Ow do _you_ know the w'y they tork?

'ARRY (_superior_). Why, they don't tork partickler different from what you and me tork--do they?

FIRST MECHANIC. See all them old blokes in red, with the rum 'ats, Bill?

They're Beefeaters goin' to the Pallis, they are.

SECOND M. What do they do when they git there?

FIRST M. Do? oh, mind the bloomin' staircase, and chuck out them as don'

beyave themselves.

A RESTLESS LADY (_to her husband_). Harry, I don't like this place at all. I'm sure we could see better somewhere else. Do let's try and squeeze in somewhere lower down.... No, this is worse--that _horrid_ tobacco! Suppose we cross over to the Palace? [_They do so._

A POLICEMAN. Too late to cross now, Sir--go back, please.

[_They go back and take up a position in front of the crowd on the curbstone._

THE R. L. There, we shall see beautifully here, Harry.

A CRUSTY MATRON (_talking at the_ R. L. _and her husband_). Well, I'm sure, some persons have got a cheek, coming in at the last minnit and standing in front of those that have stood here hours--that's lady-like, I _don't_ think! Nor yet, I didn't come here to have my eye poked out by other parties' pairosols.

[_Continues in this strain until the R. L. can stand it no longer, and urges her husband to depart._

CHORUS OF POLICEMEN. Pa.s.s along there, please, one way _or_ the other--keep moving there, Sir.

THE R. L. But where are we to _go_--we must stand _somewhere_?

A POLICEMAN. Can't stand anywhere 'ere, Mum.

[_The unhappy couple are pa.s.sed on from point to point, until they are finally hemmed in at a spot from which it is impossible to see anything whatever._

HARRY. If you had only been content to stay where you were at first, we should have been all right!

THE R. L. Nonsense, it is all your fault, you _are_ the most hopeless person to go anywhere with. Why didn't you tell one of those policemen _who we were_?

HARRY. Why? Well, because I didn't see one who looked as if it would interest him, if you want to know.

THE ROYAL CARRIAGES ARE APPROACHING.

CHORUS OF LOYAL LADIES OF VARIOUS AGES. There--they're clearing the way--the Prince and Princess won't be long now. Here's the Life Guards'

Band--don't they look byootiful in those dresses? Won't that poor drummer's arms ache to-morrow? This is the escort coming now.... 'Ere come the Royalties. Don't push so, Polly, you can see without that!...

There, that was the Prince in the first one--did yer see him, Polly?

Oh, yes, leastwise I see the end of a c.o.c.ked 'at, which I took to be 'im. Yes, _that_ was 'im right enough.... There goes the Princess--_wasn't_ she looking nice? I couldn't exactly make out which was her and which was the two young Princesses, they went by all in a flash like, but they _did_ look nice!... 'Ere's another Royalty in this kerridge--'oo will she be, I wonder? Oh, I expect it would be the old d.u.c.h.ess of----No, I don't think it was _'er_,--she wasn't looking pleasant enough,--and she's dead, too.... Now they have got inside--'ark at them playing bits of _G.o.d Save the Queen_. Well, I'm glad I've seen it.

A SON (_to cheery old Lady_). 'Ow are you gettin' on, Mother, eh?

CH. O. L. First-rate, thankee, John, my boy.

SON. You ain't tired standing about so long?

CH. O. L. Lor' bless you, no. Don't you worry about _me_.

SON. Could you see 'em from where you was?

CH. O. L. I could see all the coachmen's 'ats beautiful. We'll wait and see 'em all come out, John, won't we? They won't be more than an hour and a half in there, I dessay.

A PERSON WITH A FLORID VOCABULARY. Well, if I'd ha' known all I was goin' to see was a set o' blanky n.o.bs shut up in their blank-dash kerridges, blank my blanky eyes if I'd ha' stirred a blanky foot, s'elp me Dash, I wouldn't!

A VENDOR (_persuasively_). The kerrect lengwidge of hevery flower that blows--one penny!

At a Parisian Cafe Chantant.

SCENE--_An open air restaurant in the Champs-Elysees; the seats in the enclosure are rapidly filling; the diners in the gallery at the back have pa.s.sed the salad stage, and are now free to take a more or less torpid interest in the Entertainment below._ _Enter_ TWO BRITONS, _who make their way to a couple of vacant chairs close to the orchestra_.

FIRST BRITON. _Entree libre_, you see; nothing to pay! Cheaper than your precious Exhibition, eh? [_Chuckles knowingly._

SECOND BRITON (_who would rather have stayed at the Exhibition but doesn't like to say so_). Don't quite see how they expect the thing to pay if they don't charge anything, though.

FIRST B. Oh, they make _their_ profit out of the dinners up in the gallery there.

SECOND B. (_appreciating the justice of this arrangement, having dined with his companion elsewhere_). Well, that's fair enough.

[_Feels an increased respect for the Entertainment._

FIRST B. Must get their money back somehow, you know. Capital seats for hearing, these. Now, we'll just take a cup of coffee, and a quiet cigar, while we listen to the singing--you'll enjoy this, _I_ know!

[_With the air of a man who knows the whole thing by heart; the Waiter brings two tumblers of black coffee, for which he demands the sum of six francs; lively indignation of the_ TWO BRITONS, _who denounce the charge as a swindle, and take some time to recover sufficient equanimity to attend to what is going on on the Stage_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FEMALE ARTISTE (SINGS REFRAIN).]

FEMALE ARTISTE (_sings refrain_)--

Pour notre Exposition, Il faut nous faire imposition! &c., &c.