Voces Populi Part 28

SOC. CHAT. Oh, you really _ought_ to go--so touching! d.i.c.k and I both regularly howled all through the last act.... Not in the _least_, thanks. Well, if there _is_ a seat.... You're sure there _are_ any ices?

Then, strawberry, please--no, _nothing_ to drink!... _Will_ you allow me?

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I AM ONLY A COWBOY."]

... Told she could dress hair perfectly, but I soon found she was ... a Swedenborgian, my dear, or something horrid.... Haven't you? _I've_ had it three times, and ... so many people have asked me for cards that really I ... had the drains thoroughly looked to, and now they're ...

delicious, but rather overpowering in a _room_, I think! &c., &c.

MISS F. B. (_with genuine feeling_).

Who would imagine one meek-voiced girl could have held her own in a deafening din!

But Lobelia's scholars discovered soon she'd a dead-sure notion of discipline; For her satin palm had a sting like steel, and the rowdiest rebel respected her, When she'd stretched out six of the hardest lots in the Bible-Cla.s.s with a Derringer!

SOC. CHAT. No, a very dull party, you could move about quite easily in all the rooms, so we ... kicked the whole concern to shivers and ...

came on here as soon as we could.... Capital dinner they _gave_ us too ... &c., &c.

MISS F. B. (_with as much conviction as possible under the circ.u.mstances_).

And the silence deepened; no creature stirred in the stagnant hush, and the only sound Was the far-off lumbering jolt, produced by the prairie rolling for leagues around!

SOC. CHAT. (_crescendo_). Oh, an old aunt of mine has gone in for step-dancing--she's had several lessons ... and cut her knees rather badly, y'know, so I put her out to gra.s.s ... and now she can sit up and hold a biscuit on her nose ... but she really ought to mix a little grey in her wig!

[_&c., &c., to the distraction of the_ UNSOPHISTICATED GUEST, _who is getting quite interested in Lobelia Bangs, whom he suddenly discovers, much to his surprise, on horseback_.

MISS F. B.

And on we cantered, without a word, in the mid-day heat, on our swift mustangs.

I was only ignorant Cowboy Clem--but I worshipped bright Lobelia Bangs!

SOC. CHAT. (_fortissimo_). Not for ages; but last time I met him he was ... in a dreadful state, with the cook down with influenza ... and so I suppose he's _married_ her by this time!

MISS F. B. (_excitedly_).

But hark! in the distance a weird shrill cry, a kinder mournful, monotonous yelp-- (_Further irruption of_ SOCIETY CHATTER) ... is it jackal?--bison?--a cry for help.

SOC. CHAT. Such a complete _rest_, you know--so perfectly peaceful! Not a soul to talk to. I _love_ it ... but, to really enjoy a tomato, you must see it dressed ... in the _sweetest_ little sailor suit!

MISS F. B.

My horse was a speck on the pampas' verge, for I dropped the rein in my haste to stoop; Then I pressed my ear to the baking soil--and caught--ah, horror--the Indian whoop!

SOC. CHAT. Some say it _isn't_ infectious, but one can't be too careful, and, with children in the house, &c., &c.

MISS F. B.

I rose to my feet with quivering knees, and my face went white as a fresh-washed towel; I had heard a war-cry I knew too well--'twas the murderous bellow of Blue-nosed Owl!

SOC. CHAT. Nice fellow--I'm very fond of him--so fresh--capital company--met him when I was over there, &c.

MISS F. B.

"What! leave you to face those fiends alone!" she cried, and slid from her horse's back; "Let me die with you--for I love you, Clem!" Then she gave her steed a resounding smack, And he bounded off; "Now Heaven be praised that my school six-shooter I brought!" said she.

"Four barrels I'll keep for the front-rank foes--and the next for you--and the last for me!"

SOC. CHAT. Is it a _comic_ piece she's doing, do you know? Don't think so, I can see somebody smiling. Sounds rather like Shakespeare, or d.i.c.kens, or one of those fellahs.... Didn't catch what you said. No.

Quite impossible to hear one's self speak, _isn't_ it?

MISS F. B.

And ever louder the demons yelled for their pale-faced prey--but I scorned death's pangs, For I deemed it a doom that was half delight to die by the hand of Lobelia Bangs!

Then she whispered low in her dulcet tones, like the crooning coo of a cushat dove!

(_At the top of her voice._) "Forgive me, Clem, but I could not bear any squaw to torture my own true love!"

And she raised the revolver--"crack-crack-crack!"

[_To the infinite chagrin of the_ UNSOPHISTICATED GUEST, _who is intensely anxious to hear how Miss Bangs and her lover escaped from so unpleasant a dilemma--the remaining cracks of her revolver, together with the two next stanzas, are drowned in afresh torrent of small-talk--after which he hears_ MISS F. B. _conclude with repressed emotion_:

But the ochre on Blue-nosed Owl was blurred, as his braves concluded their brief harangues; And he dropped a tear on the early bier of our Prairie Belle, Lobelia Bangs!

[_Which of course leaves him in a state of hopeless mystification._

SOC. CHAT. Is that the _end_? Charming! Now we shall be able to _talk_ again! &c., &c.

Bank Holiday.

SCENE--_The Crystal Palace. The Nave is filled with a dense throng of Pleasure-seekers. Every free seat commanding the most distant view of a Variety Performance on the Great Stage has been occupied an hour in advance. The less punctual stand and enjoy the spectacle of other persons' hats or bonnets. Gangs of Male and Female Promenaders jostle and hustle to their hearts'

content, or perform the war-song and dance of the Lower-cla.s.s 'Arry, which consists in chanting "Oi tiddly-oi-toi; hoi-toi-oi!" to a double shuffle. Tired women sit on chairs and look at nothing. In the Grounds, the fancy of young men and maidens is lightly turning to thoughts of love; the first dawn of the tender pa.s.sion being intimated, on the part of the youth, by chasing his charmer into a corner and partially throttling her, whereupon the maiden coyly conveys that his sentiments are not unreciprocated by thumping him between the shoulders. From time to time, two champions contend with fists for the smiles of beauty, who may usually be heard bellowing with perfect impartiality in the background. A small but increasing percentage have already had as much liquid refreshment as is good for them, and intend to have more.

Altogether, the scene, if festive, might puzzle an Intelligent Foreigner who is more familiar with Continental ideas of enjoyment._

A DAMSEL (_in a ruby plush hat with a mauve feather_). Why, if they yn't got that bloomin' ole statute down from Charin' Cross! What's _'e_ doin'

of down 'ere, I wonder?

HER SWAIN (_whose feather is only pink and white paper_). Doin' of?

Tykin' 'is d'y orf--like the rest of us are tykin' it.

THE DAMSEL (_giggling_). You go on--you don't green _me_ that w'y--a statute!

SWAIN. Well, 'yn't this what they call a "Statutory" 'Oliday, eh?

DAMSEL (_in high appreciation of his humour_). I'll fetch you _sech_ a slap in a minnit! 'Ere, let's gow on the Swissback.

Another Damsel (_in a peac.o.c.k-blue hat with orange pompons_). See that nekked young man on the big 'orse, ALF? It says "Castor" on the stand.

'Oo was _'e_?

ALF. Oh, _I_ d' know. I dessay it'll be 'im as invented the Castor Ile.