THE LATEST CRAZE.
Reading edition
(A Dramatic Study of Cause and Effect.)
Scene—Interior of a Private Box at a Popular Theatre.
Enter Angelina and her people.
Paterfamilias. Well, now that we are here, I hope you are satisfied. As for myself, I hate these problem plays.
Materfamilias. They are entirely the vogue just now, and we must see them. What everybody does we must do.
Angelina. So I told Edwin—I should say, Mr. Domum—when he complained of our going.
Mater. Of course. We have to follow the fashion.
Pater. Hush! You must not talk any more, see the curtain has risen.
(Five minutes pass.)
First Heroine (on the stage). And so, my dear, my marriage was an utter failure. The monotony of the life was terrible. My husband anticipated my every wish. The tameness was too awful for words, and so I left him.
[Loud applause.
Mater. (to her husband). Ah, I never left you, Richard!
Pater. (to his wife). Nor I you, Bridget!
Angelina (aside). I suppose married life must be very wearisome.
(Ten minutes pass.)
Second Heroine (on the stage). And now I will tell you the secret of my life. I never loved my husband. He gave me all I required—fine clothes, sparkling jewels, an opera box. But his presents were insults in disguise, and I left him.
[Loud applause.
Pater. I did not insult you by handing you too many gifts, Bridget?
Mater. Indeed you did not, Richard. In fact, I think you carried your abstention too far.
Pater. Not at all. See, after these many years, we are devoted to one another!
Angelina (aside). Failure of Marriage Number Two! Weddings seem to be mistake!
(Two hours pass.)
Third Heroine. I tell you, my Lord Bishop, that I have never regretted leaving you. Twenty years ago you were a young curate, and you spoilt our married life by your indulgence. You let me have everything I wanted. No, my Lord, I will hear no more.
Angelina (aside). Another matrimonial failure! I really must have a good think over it.
Pater. (to Mater.). Well, I hope you are satisfied!
Mater. (to Pater.). Awfully depressing, but I don't see what harm it can do to anyone.
(An hour passes.)
Angelina (writing in her own room). "Dear Edwin, I call you by your christian name, for the last time. I can never be yours. I am convinced from all I have heard that marriage is a failure. Sincerely yours, Angelina."
[Scene closes in upon a flood of tears.
HEXAMETERS TO DATE; AND A PREHISTORIC PEEP.
[Mr. Flinders Petrie has just excavated the city of Ombi on the Nile, and vindicated Juvenal's geographical reputation.]
Ecce novi'st aliquid (per Flinders Petrie Magistrum) Ex Africâ semper! Quite like some arch-humourist rum, Playing with tombs and skulls, he unearths fresh funny surprises, Scandals of Athor's "past," or long-veiled secrets of Isis. Now this gravedigger-Yorick, this Egypt's new Abercromby, Scores yet another conquest—he's found out Juvenal's Ombi, Found out the next-door neighbours of Nile-washed Tentyra (you will See in the Fifteenth Satire their truceless, truculent duel). Thus they lived some ages B.C. (in the thirtieth cent'ry), Cannibals, six feet high, and long-legged Libyan gentry, Buried à la trussed fowl, with heads on which wavy brown hair rose; These were the folk who once made things pretty hot for the Pharaohs. Dig then, Petrie, away 'mid potsherds, mummies, and cinders, Delve on, and add fresh towns to the underground kingdom of Flinders!
The Baron de Book-Worms.
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
Hearty congratulations from the Baron and his assistants to Mr. H. W. Lucy on his delightful life of Mr. Gladstone (W. H. Allen & Co). No one certainly has had better opportunities than Toby, M.P., for studying the great statesman in all his varying moods; and it may be affirmed with equal certainty that no other man (or dog) could have used his opportunities to greater advantage for the benefit of the public. There are in this little volume a tone of easy yet scholarly courtesy, a fine literary touch, and a marvellous power of condensing details into one vividly descriptive sentence. It is an admirable piece of work, which, seeing that it only costs a shilling, ought to be sure of a popularity fully equal to its high merits.
"Bravo Toby!" says
Change of Descriptive Title.—In the Egyptian explorations, the results of which, so far, have been recently given in Professor Petrie's lecture, reported in the Times of Thursday, April 18, the lecturer tells us how he was accompanied in his researches by Mr. Grenfell, "The Craven Fellow." How doubly plucky of Professor Petrie to proceed with such a companion so extraordinarily timorous as is expressed in such a sobriquet as "The Craven Fellow." However, he belied his name by showing such pluck and perseverance in rendering assistance to the Professor as will entitle him to explain himself as "Late the Craven Fellow," but now "the C. F., or Courageous Fellow."
THE JAP IN THE CHINA SHOP.
Master of the Situation (loq.). "Now then, you pig-headed old Pigtail, open your Shop—and hand me the Keys!"
SCORCHING.
First Countryman (to third-rate Amateur Jock, whose mount won't have the Fence). "Now then, shove 'im at it agin, Mister! Whoi denged if Oi wouldn't jump that 'ere little Place wi' a Jackass!"
Second Countryman. "Maybe yer would, ma Lad; but yer see that 'ere 'Oss don't seem to care about Jumping wi' a Jackass!"
THE JAP IN THE CHINA SHOP; OR, THE NEW "OPEN SESAME."
["China, properly opened up, would be an El Dorado for mankind.... The true conquest effected by the war is the conquest of the right to a market, and that apparently on an enormous scale."
"Daily News" on the terms of Peace between China and Japan.]
Little Jap loquitur:—
Come, wake up, old chap! I'm the go-ahead Jap. Open Sesame! Yes, that's the word, John! In your den you would stop, or e'en shut up your shop, Your proceedings are highly absurd, John! Spite your bounce and your boast, I have got you on toast, And thereby, friend John, hangs a big tale. When your carcase I'd wake, I have only to take A sailor's round turn at your pigtail! Your notion of shopkeeping's shutter and key. Since you don't know their use, hand 'em over to Me! For thousands of years your pride and your fears Have muddled your market completely. Ah! would you, old slug? But a twist and a tug Bring you up to your bearings most sweetly. 'Tis no use to kick! You will have to move slick, Now you've got in the hands of Young Jappy; Don't you get in a scare for your crockery ware. Rouse up, open shop, and be happy! Afraid? Superstitious? Oh, fiddle-de-dee! Throw open your markets, and leave it to Me! For ever so long you've been going all wrong. Your Empire is under a shadow; But well opened up, by ships, railways, and Krupp, It will turn out a true El Dorado. Don't fly to your door! Eh? your pigtail is sore? You think me a cocky invader? Why you'll find in the end I'm your very best friend, When I force you to be a free trader. Blow your grandfather's bunkum, you Heathen Chinee! Take down all your shutters, and hand me the key! For my use alone? you inquire with a groan. Oh, dear! you must be an old duffer! Excuse me this wink,—but what do you think? Do you hold "Outside Devils" will suffer The Flowery Land to be locked by my hand, Any more than by yours, in their faces? Pig-headed old Pigtail, I fancy I know How to get into Europe's good graces. So pay up my millions, you Heathen Chinee! Throw open your market, and hand me the key!
"STRANGE DISAPPEARANCES."
The four strangers were gathered together in the all-but-deserted inn. They were forced to enter into conversation, because the solitary periodical taken in by the landlord had been read from title to imprint by everyone of them.
"A strange article," said the first, as he laid down the Lancet. "And so men disappear entirely for awhile, and then come back to their homes and profession as if nothing had happened."
"Extraordinary," murmured the second. "I see that the scientific publication you have just relinquished suggests that the cause of these hurried exits partake of the nature of post-epileptic phenomena." And then the talk went on. The four strangers dined together, supped together, and on the following morning partook in company of breakfast. The waiter, at about eleven o'clock, presented each of them with a note. It came from the landlord, and was full of figures. A weird look appeared on their faces.
"We must move on," said one of the quartette; "but as the staircase is steep, let us descend by the window."
The no-longer-perplexed strangers adopted the suggestion, and gently sliding down a rope, were soon quit of the inn. They walked together for about a quarter of a mile, and then coming to four cross-roads, scattered.
"Dear me," said the landlord of the inn, when he once again found himself alone. "Their disappearance is most strange. I am inclined to agree with the Lancet, 'that the phenomenon remains striking and mysterious, interesting in its psychological aspect, but in its concrete form full of practical and medico-legal difficulties;' and, believing this, I must write to the proper authorities." And he sat down and composed two letters. One he addressed to the President of the Royal College of Physicians, and the other to the Editor of Hue and Cry.