BEFORE THE MECHANICAL MODELS.
A SKETCH AT THE ROYAL NAVAL EXHIBITION.
SCENE—The Grounds. A string of Sightseers discovered passing slowly in front of a row of glazed cases containing small mechanical figures, which are set in motion in the usual manner.
BEFORE A SCENE REPRESENTING A DYING CHILD.
A Gallant Swain. That's the kid in bed, yer see. Like to see it die, POLLY, eh? A penny does it.
Polly (with a giggle). Well, if it ain't too 'arrowing. (The penny is dropped in, and the mechanical mother is instantly agitated by the deepest maternal anxiety.) That's the mother kneeling by the bed, I suppose—she do pray natural. There's the child waking up—see, it's moving its 'ed. (The little doll raises itself in bed, and then falls back lifeless.) Ah, it's gone—look at the poor mother 'idin' her face.
The G.S. Well, it's all over. Come along and see something more cheerful.
Polly. Wait a bit—it isn't 'alf over yet. There's a angel got to come and carry her away fust—there, the door's opening, that'll be the angel come for it, I expect. (Disappointed.) No, it's only the doctor. (A jerky and obviously incompetent little medical practitioner puts his head in at the door, and on being motioned back by the bereaved mother, retires with more delicacy than might have been expected.) Well, he might ha' seen for himself if the child was dead! (The back of the bed disappears, disclosing a well-known picture of an angel flying upwards with a child.) I did think they'd have a real angel, and not only a picture of one, and anyone can see it's a different child—there's the child in bed just the same. I call that a take-in!
The G.S. I dunno what more you expect for a penny.
A Person on the Outskirts (eagerly to Friend). What happened? What is it? I couldn't make it out over all the people's shoulders.
His Friend. Dying child—not half bad either. You go and put in a penny, and you'll see it well enough.
The P. on the O. (indignantly). What, put in a penny for such rubbish? Not me!
[He hangs about till someone else provides the necessary coin.
A Softhearted Female. No, I couldn't stand there and look on. I never can bear them pathetic subjects. I felt just the same with that picture of the Sick Child at the Academy, you know. (Meditatively.) And you don't have to put a penny in for that, either.
BEFORE ANOTHER BEDROOM SCENE REPRESENTING "THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM."
First Woman. That's 'im in bed, with the bottle in his 'and. He likes to take his liquor comfortable, he do.
Second Woman. He's very neat and tidy, considering ain't he? I wonder what his delirium is like. 'Ere, ROSY, come and put your penny in as the gentleman give yer. (ROSY, aged six, sacrifices her penny, under protest.) Now, you look—you can't think what pretty things you'll see.
[The little wooden drunkard sits up, applies the bottle to his mouth, and sinks back contentedly; a demon, painted a pleasing blue, rises slowly by his bed-side: the drunkard takes a languid interest in him; the demon sinks.
A Gentleman with a bloated complexion (critically). 'Ooever did that—well, I dessay he's a very clever man, but—(compassionately)—he don't know much about 'orrors, he don't!
A Facetious Friend. You could ha' told him a thing or two, eh, JIM?
The Bloated Gentleman (contemptuously). Well, if I never 'ad them wuss than that!
[A small skeleton, in a shroud, looks in at the door.
The F.F. 'Ullo, 'ere's the King o' Terrors for yer! (ROSY shows signs of uneasiness; a blue demon comes out of a cupboard.) 'Ere's another of 'em—quite a little party he's 'aving!
A Gentleman, in a white tie (as the machinery stops). Well, a thing like this does more real good than many a temperance tract.
The Bloated G. Yer right there, Guv'nor—it's bin a lesson to me, I know that. 'Ere, will you come and 'ave a whiskey-sour along of me and my friend 'ere'?
BEFORE A MODEL REPRESENTING AN EXECUTION.
A Daughter. But why won't you 'put a penny into this one, Father?
The Father (firmly). Because I don't approve of Capital Punishment, my dear.
A Cultivated Person. An execution—"put a penny in; bell tolls—gates open—scaffold shown with gallows. Executioner pulls bolt—black flag"—dear, dear—most degrading, shocking taste! (To his Friend.) Oh, of course, I'll wait, if you want to see it—not got a penny? Let me see—yes, I can lend you one. (He does; the penny is put in—nothing happens.) Out of order, I suppose—scandalous! and nobody to speak to about it—most discreditable! Stop—what's this? (A sort of woolly beat is audible inside the prison; the C.P. beams.) That's the bell tolling—it's all right, it's working! [It works.
Another Spectator. Very well done, that was—but they 'urried it over a little too quick. I scarcely saw the man 'ung at all!
His Companion. Put in another penny, and p'raps you'll see him cut down, old chap.
BEFORE THE FAIRY FORTUNE-TELLER'S GROTTO.
Susan Jane (to her Soldier.) Oh, ain't that pretty? I should like to know what my fortune is. [She feels in her pocket.
The Soldier (who disapproves of useless expenditure). Ain't you put in enough bloomin' pennies?
Susan Jane. This is the last. (Reads Directions.) Oh, you've got to set the finger on the dial to the question you want answered, and then put your penny in. What shall I ask her?
Soldier. Anyone would think you meant to go by the answer, to hear you talk!
Susan Jane. P'raps I do. (Coquettishly, as she sets the index to a printed question.) Now, you mustn't look. I won't 'ave you see what I ask!
Soldier (loftily). I don't want to look, I tell yer—it's nothing to me.
Susan Jane. But you are looking—I saw you. [A curious and deeply interested crowd collects around them.
Soldier. Honour bright, I ain't seen nothing. Are you going to be all night over this 'ere tomfoolery?
[SUSAN JANE puts in a penny, blushing and tittering; a faint musical tinkle is heard from the case, and the little fairies begin to revolve in a solemn and mystic fashion; growing excitement of crowd. A pasteboard bower falls aside, revealing a small disc on which a sentence is inscribed.
Person in Crowd (reading slowly over SUSAN JANE's shoulder). "Yus; 'e is treuly worthy of your love."
Crowd (delighted). That's worth a penny to know, ain't it, Miss? Your mind's easy now! It's the soldier she was meanin'. Ah,'e ought to feel satisfied too, after that! &c., &c. [Confusion of SUSAN JANE.
Soldier (as he departs with S.J.). Well, yer know, there's something in these things, when all's said!
IN DEPARTING.
A Pleased Pleasure-seeker. Ah, that's something like, that is! I've seen the 'Aunted Miser, and the Man with the 'Orrors, and a Execution, and a Dyin' Child—they do make you larf, yer know!
Second P.P. Yes, it's a pity the rest o'the Exhibition ain't more the same style, to my thinking!
A Captious Critic. Well, they don't seem to me to 'ave much to do with anything naval.
His Companion. Why, it comes under machinery, don't it? You're so bloomin' particular, you are! Wouldn't touch a glass o' beer 'ere, unless it was brewed with salt-water, I suppose! Well, come on, then—there's a bar 'andy!
[They adjourn for refreshment.
PROVERBS PRO OMNIBUS.—Directly the Chairman of the General Omnibus Company observed that if the men's demands were conceded the fares would have to be raised, there was a rush to be the first out with the old proverb about Penny wise and Pound foolish. However, "In for a penny" remains as heretofore, the employés having successfully gone "in for a Pound." Let them now "take care of the pence," and they may feel well assured that this particular POUND will be able to take care of himself. Well, farewell the tranquillity of the streets of last week! Henceforth not "chaos," but "'Bus 'os," has come again!
