Volume 98 — "MY CURATE."
Reading edition
[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.
THE IMPERIAL SOCIALIST.
A Song of the Situation.Air—"The King and I".Socialist Workman sings:—
Emperor. "I'm one of you!"Socialist. "All right, Mate. Then—take off your Crown!"
The Kaiser swears that he can work; So can I! So can I! Strain and long hours he will not shirk. Nor do I, nor do I. But he may work at his sweet will; So they say, so they say. Whilst I must toil my pouch to fill; A long day, a long day! So there's some difference I see Betwixt the Emperor and me. He hath his army and his ships; Great are they! Great are they! Their price, which my lean pocket nips, I must pay, I must pay. Yet here he comes to grip my hand; That's his plan, that's his plan; And at my side to take his stand, Working-man, working-man! Strange that such likeness there should be Betwixt the Emperor and me! Bismarck, it seems, he does not trust; Nor do I, nor do I. He thinks the toiler's claims are just; So do I, so do I. He's called a Conference of Kings, Novel scheme, novel scheme! To talk of Socialistic things— Pleasant dream, pleasant dream! What difference, now, would Karl Marx see Betwixt my Emperor and me? The "International" they banned. That was vile, that was vile. But now a similar thing they've planned, Makes me smile, makes me smile. Labour world-over they'll discuss, Far and near, far and near. Will it all end in futile fuss? That's my fear, that's my fear. A difference of view I see Betwixt the Emperor and me. But here he comes to grip my fist, Fair and free, fair and free. Thinks he the chance I can't resist? We shall see, we shall see. I wear the Cap and he the Crown— Awkward gear, awkward gear! Is he content to put it down? No, I fear; no, I fear. If Workman I as Workman he, Perhaps he'll just change hats with me!
The French Gallery.—Oddly enough the French Gallery contains but a small proportion of French pictures. Possibly Mr. Wallis thinks it is not high-bred to appear too long in a French rôle—perhaps he fancies the public would get crusty or the critics might have him "on toast." Anyhow, he has taken French leave to do as he pleases, and the result is very satisfactory. He does not lose our Frenchship by the change. There are three remarkable pictures by Prof. Fritz Von Uhde, and two by Prof. Max Liebermann, which ought to make a sensation, and there is an excellent Munkacsy, besides a varied collection of foreign pictures.
Mr. Henry Blackburn, author of that annually useful work, Academy Notes, is announced to give lectures at Kensington Town Hall, April 13. One of his subjects, "Sketching in Sunshine," will be very interesting to a Londoner. First catch your sunshine: then sketch. Mr. Blackburn will be illuminated by oxy-hydrogen; he will thus appear as Mr. White-burn; so altogether a light entertainment.
AT THE "ZOO."
Arabella. "Oh, Aug—— Mr. Brown, let's go to the Apeiary. I think the Monkeys are such fun!"
[He did not Propose that afternoon!]