Voces Populi — At the Guelph Exhibition
IN THE CENTRAL HALL.
A THRIFTY VISITOR (_on entering_).
Catalogue?
No. What's the use of a Catalogue?
Miserable thing, the size of a tract, that tells you nothing you don't know!
HIS WIFE (_indicating a pile of Catalogues on table_).
Aren't _these_ big enough for you?
THE THR.
V.
Those?
Why they're big enough for the _London Directory_!
Think I'm going to drag a thing like that about the place?
You don't really want a Catalogue--it's all your fancy!
MR.
PRATTLER (_to_ MISS AMMERSON).
Oh, _do_ stop and look at these _sweet_ goldfish!
Pets!
Don't you _love_ them?
_Aren't_ they tame?
MISS AMMERSON.
Wouldn't do to have them _wild_--might jump out and _bite_ people, you know!
MR.
P.
It's _too_ horrid of you to make fun of my poor little enthusiasms!
But really,--couldn't we get something and feed them?
--_Do_ let's!
MISS A.
I dare say you could get ham-sandwiches in the Restaurant--or chocolates.
MR.
P.
How unkind you are to me!
But I don't care.
(_Wilfully.
_) I shall come here all by myself, and bring biscuits.
Great big ones!
Are you determined to take me into that big room with all the Portraits?
Well you must tell me who they all are, then, and which are the Guelphiest ones.
[Illustration: "PETS!
DON'T YOU _love_ THEM?
_Aren't_ THEY TAME?"
] CONSIDERATE NIECE (_to_ UNCLE).
They seem mostly Portraits here.
You're sure you don't _mind_ looking at them, Uncle?
I know so many people _do_ object to Portraits.
UNCLE (_with the air of a Christian Martyr_).
No, my dear, no; _I_ don't mind 'em.
Stay here as long as you like.
I'll sit down and look at the people till you've done.
FIRST CRITICAL VISITOR (_examining a View of St. James's Park_).
I
wonder where that was taken.
In Scotland, I expect--there's two Highlanders there, you see.
SECOND C.
V.
Shouldn't wonder--lot o' work in that, all those different colours, and so many dresses.
[_Admires, thoughtfully.
_ A WELL-READ WOMAN.
That's Queen Charlotte, that is.
George the Third's wife, you know--her that was so _domestic_.
HER COMPANION.
Wasn't that the one that was shut up in the Tower, or something?
THE W.
W.
In the Tower?
Lor, my dear, no, _I_ never 'eard of it.
You're thinking of the Tudors, or some o' that lot, I expect!
HER COMP.
Am I?
I dare say.
I never _could_ remember 'Istry.
Why, if you'll believe me, I always have to stop and think which of the Georges came first!
MORE CRITICAL VISITORS (_before Portraits_).
He's rather pleasant-looking, don't you think?
I _don't_ like _her_ face at all.
So peculiar.
And what a hideous dress--like a tea-gown without any upper part--frightful!
A SCEPTICAL V.
They all seem to have had such thin lips in those days.
Somehow, I _can't_ bring myself to believe in such very thin lips--can _you_, dear?
HER FRIEND.
I always think it's a sign of meanness, myself.
THE S.
V.
No; but I mean--I can't believe _every one_ had them in the eighteenth century.
HER FRIEND.
Oh, I don't know.
If it was the fashion!
ABOUT THE CASES.
VISITOR (_admiring an embroidered waistcoat of the time of_ George the Second--_a highly popular exhibit_).
What lovely work!
Why, it looks as if it was done yesterday!
HER COMPANION (_who is not in the habit of allowing his enthusiasm to run away with him_).
Um--yes, it's not bad.
But, of course, they wouldn't send a thing like that here without having it washed and done up first!
AN OLD LADY.
"Teapot used by the Duke of Wellington during his campaigns."
So he drank _tea_, did he?
Dear me!
Do you know, my dear, I think I must have _my_ old tea-pot engraved.
It will make it so much more interesting some day!
IN THE SOUTH GALLERY.
MR.
PRATTLER (_before a portrait of Lady Hamilton by Romney_).
There!
Isn't she too charming?
I do call her a perfect _duck!
_ MISS AMMERSON.
Yes, you mustn't forget her when you bring those biscuits.
AN AMURRCAN GIRL.
Father, see up there; there's Byron.
Did you erver see such a purrfectly beautiful face?
HER FATHER (_solemnly_).
He was a beautiful _Man_--a beautiful Poet.
THE A.
G.
I know--but the _expression_, it's real saint-like!
FATHER (_slowly_).
Well, I guess if he'd had any different kind of expression, he wouldn't have written the things he _did_ write, and that's a fact!
A MORALISING OLD LADY (_at Case O_).
No. 1260. "Ball of Worsted wound by William Cowper, the poet, for Mrs. Unwin."
No. 1261. "Netting done by William Cowper, the poet."
How very nice, and what a difference in the habit of literary persons _nowadays_, my dear!
IN THE CENTRAL HALL.
MR.
WHITEROSE, _a Jacobite fin de siecle, is seated on a Bench beside a_ SEEDY STRANGER.
THE S.
S.
(_half to himself_).
Har, well, there's one comfort, these 'ere Guelphs'll get notice to quit afore we're _much_ older!
MR.
WHITEROSE (_surprised_).
You say so?
Then you too are of the Young England Party!
I am rejoiced to hear it.
You cheer me; it is a sign that the good Cause is advancing.
THE S.
S.
Advancin'?
I believe yer.
Why, I know a dozen and more as are workin' 'art and soul for it!
MR.
W.
You do?
We are making strides, indeed!
Our England has suffered these usurpers too long.
THE S.
S.
Yer right.
But we'll chuck 'em out afore long, and it'll be "Over goes the Show" with the lot, eh?
MR.
W.
I had no idea that the--er--intelligent artisan classes were so heartily with us.
We must talk more of this.
Come and see me.
Bring your friends--all you can depend upon.
Here is my card.
THE S.
S.
(_putting the card in the lining of his hat_).
Right, Guv'nor;
we'll come.
I wish there was more gents like yer, I do!
MR.
W.
We are united by a common bond.
We both detest--do we not?
--the Hanoverian interlopers.
We are both pledged never to rest until we have brought back to the throne of our beloved England, her lawful sovereign lady--(_uncovering_)--our gracious Mary of Austria-Este, the legitimate descendant of Charles the Blessed Martyr!
THE S.
S.
'Old on, Guv'nor!
Me and my friends are with yer so fur as doing away with these 'ere hidle Guelphs; but blow yer Mary of Orstria, yer know.
Blow _'er_!
MR.
W.
(_horrified_).
Hush--this is rank treason!
Remember--she is the lineal descendant of the House of Stuart!
THE S.
S.
What of it?
There won't be no lineal descendants when we git _hour_ way, 'cause there won't be nothing to descend to nobody.
The honly suv'rin _we_ mean to 'ave is the People--the Democrisy.
But there, you're young, me and my friends'll soon tork you over to hour way o' thinking.
I dessay we 'aint fur apart, as it is.
I got yer address, and we'll drop in on yer some night--never fear.
No hevenin' dress, o' course?
MR.
W.
Of course.
I--I'll look out for you.
But I'm seldom in--hardly _ever_, in fact.
THE S.
S.
Don't you fret about _that_.
Me and my friends ain't nothing partickler to do just now.
We'll _wait_ for yer.
I should like yer to know ole Bill Gabb.
You should 'ear _that_ feller goin' on agin the Guelphs when he's 'ad a little booze--it 'ud do your 'art good.
Well, I on'y come in 'ere as a deligate like, to report, and I seen enough.
So 'ere's good-day to yer.
