"I'm so glad to have found you at home, Mr. Bilger. I'm Mrs. Honeyball, and I want you to support my husband at the election—he's standing as a Liberal, you know.... Oh, yes, I think I can tell you his views on the Liquor Traffic. He's anxious to see the curse of drinking thoroughly stamped out.... No, I'm sure you're no friend to publicans—you look far too respectable.... Yes, as you say, they get rich on the earnings of the poor, and it's high time they were done away with.... Certainly you may ask me a question.... No, of course my husband would not dream of putting down Clubs: he belongs to several himself.... Oh, you meant Working-men's Clubs. You belong to one yourself? So sensible of you!—and of course there can be no possible objection, so long as no intoxicating liquor——Not conducted on Teetotal principles? I'm afraid that would make a difference.... Why? Because, don't you see, if people can go and join Clubs, and get drink there, there would be no use in closing the public-houses, would there? We must be logical.... No doubt intoxicating drinks are supplied in Clubs, but I don't see what that has to do with it.... My husband? No, he's not a total abstainer, but still——... No, no; it's not a question of one law for the Rich and another for the Poor at all. You don't quite understand.... If you really have heard enough, I'll go, of course.... Not at all. If anything I've said has helped you in making up your mind, I'm only too——Don't trouble to come to the door!"
"I love the smell of tobacco!"
"Mrs. Mangles, I think? Your husband not at home, I see. It doesn't matter—you will do quite as well. I'm Mrs. Honeyball.... Oh, you have heard the name.... Seen my husband's picture on the placards? Oh, you're not taking a liberty in the very least. I shall be only too delighted to give you one. He is rather nice-looking, isn't he? I'll tell you what I'll do—when I get home, I'll send you one of his photographs to put on your mantelpiece.... Oh, I don't think I should have it coloured, if I were you.... But his hair and moustache aren't auburn, and what do you want to put him in a red tunic for?... Really? The living image of your first young man? He will be flattered!... You've had several since? I can quite believe that.... Well, if you will promise to get your husband to give me his vote, perhaps——Why should I have to go to the—er—'Cimingtery' for it?... Last Christmas?—dear me! I'm very sorry I——Good-bye, Mrs. Mangles; and—er—if I do find I have a photograph to spare——but the portrait of him on that leaflet is really more like, you know!"
"No, don't put down your pipe, Mr. Gowles; I—I love the smell of tobacco!... You weren't intending to—how friendly of you!... I daresay you don't know who I am?... Perhaps not, but you'll let me tell you, won't you?... I've come to ask you to vote for my husband, Mr. Honeyball; he's not a Tory, you know, he's a thorough-going Radical.... Not going to vote for either of them?—Now why?... Oh, no, I'm sure you're not—you're much too pleasant and gentlemanly to be a horrid Socialist!... You want everything done away with? Well, the Liberals are going to abolish a lot of things. There's the House of Lords, for instance, you're against them, I'm sure.... Not more than you are against the House of Commons? Oh, but you don't really want to destroy one of our most ancient institutions!... Capitalists? oh, they're sharks and bloodsuckers and landgrabbers and all that, I quite agree with you there—only they're all Tories, you know.... Why shouldn't you share in all the wealth you're assisting to produce? Why are you to be robbed of the product of your brain and hands?—I really don't know—it's very wrong, no doubt—what do you produce?... Oh, you're a bill-poster? I see. Now don't get excited.... Your only hope is in the Gospel of Hate?... Now really, such a disagreeable thing to say!... If I could only bring you to see that by voting for the Liberals——... I'm not a smooth-tongued humbug, and it's extremely rude of you to call me anything of the kind.... I never said you hadn't a perfect right to vote as you pleased.... Very well, then, keep your horrible vote, I'm sure I don't want it! (To herself, as she departs.) I shall go home. If I see any more of these people, I shall find I've turned into a rabid Tory—and I'm sure Horace wouldn't like that!"
OPERATIC NOTES.
Monday memorable for Melba. Never sang better than as mad-as-a-hatter heroine of Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor. Three hearty, deafening, unanimous encores for the brilliant fireworky Hanwellian vocalisation in Lucy's (not "H. W. Lucy's," of the D. N., but Miss Lucia's) great de lunatico inquirendo scena. After encore, inevitable gigantic basket of flowers handed up to triumphant cantatrice by Beaming Bevignani and talented assistants in orchestra. Conductor and musicians ought not to be used as agents for delivery of bouquets to prime donne. If somebody among audience wishes to publicly present singer with floral testimonial, why not let that Somebody step forward (as the person in church who would "forbid the banns" is invited to do) and hand it to her himself on a stick? Or if he be in some other part of the house, Dulcissimus Druriolanus would himself introduce him and his basket of flowers on to, and off, the stage. The encores and the floral testimonial quite turned mad heroine's head.
alvé à la "'Ria."