"MY CURATE."
[The Law Times mentions that a photograph of a well-dressed and good-looking gentleman has been sent to it, with the words "My Advocate" beneath. On the back are the name and address of a Solicitor.]
Scene—Drowsiham Vicarage. Vicar and Family discovered seated at breakfast-table. Time—Present.
The Vicar. I only advertised for a Curate in last Saturday's Church Papers, and already I have received more than sixty applications by the post, all of them, apparently, from persons of the highest respectability, whose views, too, happen to coincide entirely with my own! Dear me! I suppose these may be called the "Clerical Unemployed."
Elder Daughter (giddily). Pa! Have any of them sent photos?
Vicar. Yes, all of them. It seems to be the new method to inclose cartes-de-visite with testimonials.
Younger Daughter. Now I shall be able to fill up my Album!
Elder Daughter (who has been running her eye over the pictures). This is the pick of the lot, Pa. Take him! Such a dear! He's got an eyeglass, and whiskers, and curly hair, and seems quite young!
Younger Daughter (thoughtfully). It's a pity we can't lay in two Curates while we are about it.
Vicar. Hem! A rather nice-looking young man, certainly. Let's see what he says about himself. The new system saves a lot of trouble, as candidates for posts write down their qualifications on the back of their photographs.
Elder Daughter (reading). "Views strictly orthodox." Oh, bother views! Here's something better—"Very Musical Voice"—the darling! He looks as if he had a musical voice. "Warranted not to go beyond fifteen minutes in preaching." Delicious!
Vicar's Wife. I don't know if the parishioners will like that.
Both Daughters (together). But we shall!
Elder Daughter (continues reading). "Quite content to preach only in the afternoons. No attempts to rival Vicar's eloquence." What does he mean?
Vicar (cordially). I know! I think he'll do very well. Just the sort of man I want!
Elder Daughter. Ha! Listen to this! "Can play the banjo, and twenty-six games of lawn-tennis without fatigue." The pet!
Younger Daughter. Perfectly engaging! Oh, Pa, wire to him at once!
Elder Daughter (turning pale). Stop! What is this? "Very steady and respectable. Has been engaged to be married for past three years!" Call him engaging, indeed! No chance of it. The wretch!
Younger Daughter. A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing! Can't you prosecute him, Pa?
Vicar (meditatively). I might—in the Archbishop's Court. Really this new self-recommendation plan, though useful in some ways, seems likely to disturb quiet households. And I've fifty-nine more photos to look at!
[Retires to Study, succumbs to slumber.
She Stoops to Conquer has been announced as in preparation at the Criterion and the Vaudeville. Miss Mary Moore v. Miss Winifred Emery as Miss Hardcastle. Which is to "stoop," and which to "conquer?" Why not run it at both Houses?—and, to decide, call in a jury of "the Goldsmith's Company."
The Mayfair Row.—Goode, Baird, and very indifferent.