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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, May 23, 1891

Volume 100 / Act 2 — ACT II.

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HIALMAR EKDAL's Photographic Studio. Cameras, neck-rests, and other instruments of torture lying about. GINA EKDAL and HEDWIG, her daughter, aged 14, and wearing spectacles, discovered sitting up for HIALMAR.

Hedvig. Grandpapa is in his room with a bottle of brandy and a jug of hot water, doing some fresh copying work. Father is in society, dining out. He promised he would bring me home something nice!

Hialmar (coming in, in evening dress). And he has not forgotten his promise, my child. Behold! (he presents her with the menu card; HEDVIG gulps down her tears; HIALMAR notices her disappointment, with annoyance.) And this all the gratitude I get! After dining out and coming home in a dress-coat and boots, which are disgracefully tight! Well, well, just to show you how hurt I am, I won't have any beer now! What a selfish brute I am! (Relenting.) You may bring me just a little drop. (He bursts into tears.) I will play you a plaintive Bohemian dance on my flute. (He does.) No beer at such a sacred moment as this! (He drinks.) Ha, this is real domestic bliss!

[GREGERS WERLE comes in, in a countrified suit.

Gregers. I have left my father's home—dinner-party and all—for ever. I am coming to lodge with you.

Hialmar (still melancholy). Have some bread and butter. You won't? then I will. I want it, after your father's lavish hospitality. (HEDVIG goes to fetch bread and butter.) My daughter—a poor shortsighted little thing—but mine own.

Gregers. My father has had to take to strong glasses, too—he can hardly see after dinner. (To Old EKDAL, who stumbles in very drunk.) How can you, Lieutenant EKDAL, who were such a keen sportsman once, live in this poky little hole?

Old Ekdal. I am a sportsman still. The only difference is that once I shot bears in a forest, and now I pot tame rabbits in a garret. Quite as amusing—and safer.

[He goes to sleep on a sofa.

Hialmar (with pride). It is quite true. You shall see.

[He pushes back sliding doors, and reveals a garret full of rabbits and poultry—moonlight effect. HEDVIG returns with bread and butter.

Hedvig (to GREGERS). If you stand just there, you get the best view of our Wild Duck. We are very proud of her, because she gives the play its title, you know, and has to be brought into the dialogue a good deal. Your father, peppered her out shooting, and we saved her life.

Hialmar. Yes, GREGERS, our estate is not large—but still we preserve, you see. And my poor old father and I sometimes get a day's gunning in the garret. He shoots with a pistol, which my illiterate wife here will call a "pigstol." He once, when he got into trouble, pointed it at himself. But the descendant of two lieutenant-colonels who had never quailed before living rabbit yet, faltered then. He didn't shoot. Then I put it to my own head. But at the decisive moment, I won the victory over myself. I remained in life. Now we only shoot rabbits and fowls with it. After all I am very happy and contented as I am. [He eats some bread and butter.

Gregers. But you ought not to be. You have a good deal of the Wild Duck about you. So have your wife and daughter. You are living in marsh vapours. To-morrow I will take you out for a walk and explain what I mean. It is my mission in life. Good night! [He goes out.

Gina and Hedwig. What was the gentleman talking about, Father?

Hialmar (eating bread and butter). He has been dining, you know. No matter—what we have to do now, is to put my disreputable old whitehaired pariah of a parent to bed.

[He and GINA lift old ECCLES—we mean old EKDAL—up by the legs and arms, and take him off to led as the Curtain falls.

COCKNEY MOTTO FOR A FEEBLE CRICKETER.—"Take 'Art of GRACE!"

PROPOSED HERALDIC DEVICE FOR THE LONDON COUNTY COUNCIL.
PROPOSED HERALDIC DEVICE FOR THE LONDON COUNTY COUNCIL.

PROPOSED HERALDIC DEVICE FOR THE LONDON COUNTY COUNCIL.

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See opposite page.

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KEY TO THE PROPOSED HERALDIC DEVICE.

Arms.—Quarterly: 1. A female figure habited in white robes reaching to the ankles, with Arms elevated, all quite proper, for Grace. 2. A wildman or ratepayer rampant, for Thrift. 3. A bend (or bar) sinister on a chart vert, for Bloomsbury. 4. Three demi-councillors, wings elevated, regardant an empty seat, for Vacancy.

Crest.—On a beadle's hat erased, a new broom.

Supporters.—Dexter, a Paul Pry regardant, grasping an eyeglass sinister. Sinister, a Stiggins. Both gorged.

Motto.—"Ubi nunc sumus?"

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