xiii.—THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.

To be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal requisite is a uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in the neighbourhood of almost any barracks. Some slight acquaintance with the sword exercise and elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely essential. Furnished with these, together with a few commanding attitudes, and a song possessing a spirited, martial refrain, the Military Impersonator may be certain of an instant and striking success upon the Music-hall stage,—especially if he will condescend to avail himself of the ballad provided by Mr. Punch, as a vehicle for his peculiar talent. And—though we say it ourselves—it is a very nice ballad, to which Mr. McDougall himself would find it difficult to take exception. It is in three verses, too—the limit understood to be formally approved by the London County Council for such productions. It may be, indeed, that (save so far as the last verse illustrates the heroism of our troops in action—a heroism too real and too splendid to be rendered ridiculous, even by Military Impersonators), the song does not convey a particularly accurate notion of the manner and pursuits of an officer in the Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever be accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any social type it may undertake to depict—with the single exception, perhaps, of the Common (or Howling) Cad. So that any lack of actuality here will be rather a merit than a blemish in the eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said so much, we will proceed to our ballad, which is called,—

IN THE GUARDS!

First Verse.

I'm a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit "haw-haw;" But when you're in the Guards you've got to show esprit de corps. [Pronounce "a spreedy core." We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all aristo-cràts, When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy bearskin 'ats.

Chorus (during which the Martial Star will march round the stage in military order.)

We're all "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies," In the Guards! Doncher know? Twisting silky long moustarches, [Suit the action to the word here. Bein' Guards! Doncher know? While our band is playing Marches, For the Guards! Doncher know? And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards, Bing-Bang!

[Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the cymbals, while the Vocalist performs a military salute, as he passes to—

Second Verse.

With duchesses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses I'm thick; From all the nobs I get invites—they say I am "so chic!" [Pronounce "chick." It often makes me laugh to read, whene'er I go off guard, "Dear Bertie, come to my At Home!" on a coronetted card!

Chorus.

For we're "Berties," "'Ughies," "Archies," In the Guards! Doncher know? With our silky long moustarches, In the Guards! Doncher know? Where's a regiment that marches Like the Guards? Doncher know? All the darlings—bless 'em!—dote upon the Guards, Bing-Bang!

Third Verse.

[Here comes the Singer's great chance, and by merely taking a little pains, he may make a tremendously effective thing out of it. If he can manage to slip away between the verses, and change his bearskin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and kharkee tunic at the wings, it will produce an enormous amount of enthusiasm, only he must not take more than five minutes over this alteration, or the audience—so curiously are British audiences constituted—may grow impatient for his return.

But hark! the trumpet sounds!... (Here a member of the orchestra will oblige upon the trumpet.) What's this? ... (The Singer will take a folded paper from his breast and peruse it with attention.) We're ordered to the front! [This should be shouted.

We'll show the foe how "Carpet-Knights" can face the battle's brunt! They laugh at us as "Brummels"—but we'll prove ourselves "Bay-yards!"

[Now the Martial Star will draw his sword and unfasten his revolver-case, taking up the exact pose in which he is represented upon the posters outside.

As you were!... Form Square!... Mark Time!... Slope Arms!... now—'Tention!... (These military evolutions should all be gone through by the Artist.) Forward, Guards! [To be yelled through music.

Chorus.

Onward every 'ero marches, In the Guards! Doncher know? All the "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies," Of the Guards! Doncher know? They may twist their long moustarches, For they're Guards! Doncher know? Dandies? yes,—but dandy lions are the Guards! Bing-Bang!

[Red fire and smoke at wings, as curtain falls upon the Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new attitude.