Voces Populi. Anstey F.

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      His Opp. N. (utterly uninterested). Do you indeed? – dear me!

      C. O. G. Not that I grudge it – a good education is a fortune in itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make the best of it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads, but I've had a deal of trouble with them one way and another – a deal of trouble. (Pauses for some expression of sympathy – which does not come – and he continues:) There are my two eldest sons – what must they do but fall in love with the same lady – the same lady, Sir! (No one seems to care much for these domestic revelations – possibly because they are too obviously addressed to the general ear). And, to make matters worse, she was a married woman – (his principal hearer looks another way uneasily) – the wife of a godson of mine, which made it all the more awkward, y'know. (His Opposite Neighbour giving no sign, the C. O. G. tries one Passenger after another.) Well, I went to him – (here he fixes an old Lady, who immediately passes up coppers out of her glove to the Conductor) – I went to him, and said – (addressing a smartly dressed young Lady with a parcel who giggles) – I said, "You're a man of the world – so am I. Don't you take any notice," I told him – (this to a callow young man, who blushes) – "they're a couple of young fools," I said, "but you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those boys of mine – they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone." And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met with no encouragement – but what can I do – it's a heavy trial to a father, you know. Then there's my third son – he must needs go and marry – (to a Lady at his side with a reticule, who gasps faintly) – some young woman who dances at a Music-hall – nice daughter-in-law that for a man in my position, eh? I've forbidden him the house of course, and told his mother not to have any communication with him – but I know, Sir, – (violently, to a Man on his other side, who coughs in much embarrassment) – I know she meets him once a week under the eagle in Orme Square, and I can't stop her! Then I'm worried about my daughters – one of 'em gave me no peace till I let her have some painting lessons – of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master would be an elderly man – whereas, as things turned out, —

      A QUIET MAN IN A CORNER. I 'ope you told all this to the Policeman, Sir?

      The C. O. G. (flaming unexpectedly). No, Sir, I did not. I am not in the habit – whatever you may be – of discussing my private affairs with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.

      The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend – for the sake of vindicating her gentility). Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny, carrying a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Any one would take me for a shop-girl!

      A Grim Old Lady Opposite. And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be taken for any one less respectable.

      First Humorous 'Arry (recognising a friend on entering). Excuse me stoppin' your kerridge, old man, but I thought you wouldn't mind givin' me a lift, as you was goin' my way.

      Second H. 'A. Quite welcome, old chap, so long as you give my man a bit when you git down, yer know.

      First H. 'A. Oh, o' course – that's expected between gentlemen.

      (Both look round to see if their facetiousness is appreciated, find it is not and subside.)

      The Conductor. Benk, benk! (he means "Bank") 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher up there, Bill, can't you?

      A Dingy Man smoking, in a van. Want to block up the ole o' the road, eh? That's right!

      The Conductor (roused to personality). Go 'ome, Dirty Dick! syme old soign, I see, – "Monkey an' Poipe!" (To Coachman of smart brougham which is pressing rather closely behind.) I say old man, don't you race after my bus like this – you'll only tire your 'orse.

      The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is almost through the door of the omnibus). 'Ere, 'ang it all! – step insoide, if yer want to!

      At a Sale of High-Class Sculpture

      Obliging Broker (to Amiable Spectator, who has come in out of curiosity, and without the remotest intention of purchasing sculpture). No Catlog, Sir? 'Ere, allow me to orfer you mine – that's my name in pencil on the top of it, Sir; and, if you should 'appen to see any lot that takes your fancy, you jest ketch my eye. (Reassuringly.) I sha'n't be fur off. Or look 'ere, gimme a nudge – I shall know what it means.

      Auctioneer (from desk, with the usual perfunctory fervour). Lot 13, Gentlemen, very charming pair of subjects from child life – "The Pricked Finger" and "The Scratched Toe" – by Bimbi.

      A Stolid Assistant (in shirtsleeves). Figgers 'ere, Gen'lm'n!

      A Facetious Bidder. Which of 'em's the finger and which the toe?

      Auct. (coldly). I should have thought it was easy to identify by the attitude. Now, Gentlemen, give me a bidding for these very finely-executed works by Bimbi. Make any offer. What will you give me for 'em? Both very sweet things, Gentlemen. Shall we say ten guineas?

      A Grubby Man. Give yer five.

      Auct. (with grieved resignation). Very well, start 'em at five. Any advance on five? (To Assist.) Turn 'em round, to show the back view. And a 'arf! Six! And a 'arf! Only six and a 'arf bid for this beautiful pair of figures, done direct from nature by Bimbi. Come, Gentlemen, come! Seven! Was that you, Mr. Grimes? (The Grubby Man admits the soft impeachment.) Seven and a 'arf. Eight! It's against you.

      Mr. Grimes (with a supreme effort). Two-and-six!

      Auct. (in a tone of gratitude for the smallest mercies). Eight-ten-six. All done at eight-ten-six? Going … gone! Grimes, Eight, ten, six. Take money for 'em. Now we come to a very 'andsome work by Piffalini – "The Ocarina Player," one of this great artist's masterpieces, and an exceedingly choice and high-class work, as you will all agree directly you see it. (To Assist.) Now, then, Lot 14, there – look sharp!

      Stolid Assist. "Hocarina Plier" eyn't arrived, Sir.

      Auct. Oh, hasn't it? Very well, then. Lot 15. "The Pretty Pill-taker," by Antonio Bilio – a really magnificent work of Art, Gentlemen. ("Pill-taker, 'ere.!" from the S. A.) What'll you give me for her? Come, make me an offer. (Bidding proceeds till the "Pill-taker" is knocked down for twenty-three-and-a-half guineas.) Lot 16, "The Mixture as Before," by same artist – make a charming СКАЧАТЬ