Punch (99.1890)

July 12, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 13

VOCES POPULI.

AT THE MILITARY EXHIBITION.
In the Avenue facing the Abena.
An Unreasonable Old Lady [arriving breathless, with her grand-
son and niece). TMs'il be the place the balloon goes up from, I

wouldn't miss it for anything! Put
the child up on that bench, Maeia ;
we '11 stand abont here till it begins.

Maria. But I don't see no balloon
nor nothing.

[Which, as the foliage blocks out
all but the immediate fore-
ground, is scarcely surprising.
The XI. O. L. No more don't I—
but it stands to reason there wouldn't
be so many looking on if there wasn't
something to see. "We 're well enough
where we are, and I'm not going further to fare worse to please
nobody; so you may do as you like about it.

[Maeia promptly avails herself of this permission.
The XI. 0. L. [a little later). Well, it's time they did something,
I'm sure. Why the people seem all moving off! and where's
that girl Maeia got to ? Ah, here you are! So you found you
were no better off ?—2fext time, p'raps, you '11 believe what I tell you.
Not that there's any War Balloon as I can see!

Maria. Oh, there was a capital view from where i" was—out in
the open there.

The XI. O. L. Why couldn't you say so before ? Out in the
open ! Let's go there then—it's all the same to me !

Maria (with an undutiful giggle). It's all the same now—wherever
you go, 'cause the balloon's gone up.

The XI. O. L. Gone up ! What are you telling me, Maeia ?

Maria. I see it go—it shot up ever so fast and quite steady, and
the people in the car all waved their 'ats to us. 1 could see a arm
a waving- almost till it got out of sight.

The XI. 0. L. And me and this inneroent waiting here on the
seat like lambs, and never dreaming what was goin' on! Oh, Maeia,
however you '11 reconcile it to your conscience, I don't know!

Maria. Why. whatever are you pitching into me for!

The XI. O. L. It's not that it's any partiekler pleasure to me,
seeing a balloon, though we did get our tea done early to be in
time for it—it's the sly deeeitfulness of your conduck, Maeia,
which is all the satisfaction I get for coming out with you,—it's
the feeling that - well, there, I won't talk about it!

[In pursuance of which virtuous resolve, she talks about nothing
else for the remainder of the day, until the unfortunate
Maeia wishes fervently that balloons had never been invented.
In tee Building.
■d-n admiring group has collected before an enormous pin-cushion in

the form of a fat star, and, about the size of a Church-hassock.

First Soldier (to his Companion) Lot o' work in that,, yer know!

Second Soldier. Yes. (Thoughtfully.) Not but vrha,t-(becoming
criticat)~it I >d Deell doilli it myseif i should ha' chose pins with
sniiller 'eds on 'em.

First S. (regarding this as presumptuous). You may depend on it
vS <?ho ,made that 'ad his reasons for choosing the pins he
did—but there s no pleasing some parties!

bepondS (apologetically). Well, I ain't denying the Art in it, am I ?

First Woman. I do call that 'andsome, Sabah. See, there's a
star, and two arps, and a crownd, and I don't know what all—
and all done m pins and beads! "Made by Bandsman Beown,"

r.* t rrr a u- • [Reading placard.

Second W. Soldiers is that clever with their 'ands. Four pounds
seems a deal to ask for it, though.

First W. But look at the weeks it must ha' took him to do!
(Reading.) •Containing between ten and eleven thousand pins
and beads, and a hundred and ninety-eight pieces of coloured
cloth ! " Why. the pins alone must ha' cost a deal of money.

Second W. Ye3, it 'ud be a pity for it to go to somebody as 'ud
want to take 'em out.

First W. It ought to be bought up by Gover'ment, that it ought—
they 're well able to afford it.

A select parly of Philistines, comprising a young Man, apparently
in the Army, and his Mother and Sister, are examining Mr.
Gilbeet's Jubilee Trophy in a spirit of puzzled antipathy.

The Mother. Dear me, and that's the Jubilee centrepiece, is it ?
What a heavy-looking thing. I wonder what that cost ?

Her Son (gloomily). Cost? Why, about two days' pay for every
man in the Service!

His Mother. Well, I call it a shame for the Army to be fleeced
for that thing. Are those creatures intended for mermaids, with
their tails curled round that glass ball, I wonder ? [She sniffs.

Her Daughter. I expect it will be crystal, Mother.

Her Mother. Very likely, my dear, but—glass or crystal—J see
no sense in it!

Daughter. Oh, it's absurd, of course—still, this figure isn't badly
done, is it supposed to represent St. Geoege carrying the Dragon ?
Because thev've made the Dragon no bigger than a salmon!

Mother. Ah, well, I hope Hek Majesty will ba better pleased
with it than I am, that's all.

[After which they fall into ecstasies over an industrial exhibit,
consisting of_ a drain-pipe, cunningly encrusted with frag-
ments of regimental mess-china set in gilded cement.
Before a large mechanical clock, representing a fortress, which is
striking. Trumpets sound, detachments of wooden soldiers march
in and out of gateways, and parade the battlements, clicking,
for a considerable time.
A Spectator (with a keen sense of the fitness of things). What—all
that for on'y 'alf-past five!

Oveeheaed in the Ambulance Depaetment.
Spectators (passing in front of groups of models arranged in rea-
listic surroundings). All the faces screwed up to suffering, you see!
. . . What a nice patient expression that officer on the stretcher has!
Yes, they've given him a wax head—some of them are only papier
mache. . . . Pity they couldn't get nearer their right size in 'elmets,
though, ain't it ? . . . There's one chap's given up the ghost! . . .
I know that stuffed elephant—he comes from the Indian Jungle at
the Colinderies ! ... I do think it's a pity they couldn't get some-
thing more like a mule than this wooden thing! Why, it's quite
flat, and it's ears are only leather, nailed on! . . . You can't tell, my
dear; it may be a peculiar breed out there—cross between^ towel-
horse and a donkey-engine, don't you know I

In the Indian Jungle Shooting-Galleey.
At the back, amidst tropical scenery, an endless procession of
remarkably undeceptive rabbits of painted tin are running
rapidly up and down an inclined plane. Birds jerk painfully
through the air above, and tin rats, boars, tigers, lions, and ducks,
all of the same size, glide swiftly along grooves in the middle
distance. In front. Commissionnaires are busy loading rifles for
keen sportsmen, who keep up a lively but somewhat ineffective
fusillade.

'Arriet (to 'Aeey). They 'ave got it up beautiful, I must say. Do
you get anything for 'itting them ?
'Arry. On'y the honour.

A Father (to intelligent Small Boy, in rear of Nervous Sports-
man). No, I ain't seen him 'it anything yet, my son ; but you watch.
That's a rabbit he's aiming at now. . . . Ah, missed him !

Small Bou. 'Ow d'yer knmv what the gentleman's a-aiming at,
eh, Father P ■. .

Father. 'Ow? Why, you notice which way he points his gun.

[The JV. S.fi"es again—without results.
Small Boy. I sor that time, Father. He was a-aiming at one o'
them ducks, an' he missed a rabbit! [The 2V. S. gives it up in disgust.
Fnter a small party of 'Arries in high spirits.
First 'Arry. 'Ullo! I'm on to this. 'Ere, Guv'nor, 'and us a
gun. J'11 show yer'ow to shoot!

[He takes up his position, in happy unconsciousness that playful
companions have decorated his coat-collar behind with a long
piece of while paper.
Second 'Arry. Go in, Jim! . You got yer markin'-paper ready,
anyhow. .

[Delighted guffaws from the other'Arries, in which 3m. joins
vaguely.

Third 'Arry. I '11 lay you can't knock a rabbit down !
Jim. I'll lay I oan 1 ,

[Fires. The procession of rabbits goes on undisturbed.
Second 'Arry (jocosely). Never mind. You peppered 'im. I sor
the feathers fioy! ,. ,, ,.

Third 'Arry. You'd ha' oopped 'im if yer'd bin a bit quicker.
Jim (annoyed). They keep on movin' so, they don't give a bloke
no chornce!
Second 'Arry. 'Ave a go at that old owl.

[Alluding to a tin representation of that fowl ivhich remaira
stationary among the painted rushes.
Third 'Arry. No—see if you can't git that stuffed hear. He's
on'y a yard or two away !

An Impatient 'Arry (at doorway). 'Ere, come on .' Ain't you shot
enough P Shake a. leg, can't yer, Jim P

Second'Arry. He's got to kill one o' them rabbits fust. Or pot a
tin lion, Jim ? You ain't afraid !
Jim. No; I'm goin' to git that owl. He's quiet any way.

[Fires. The owl falls prostrate.
Second 'Arry. Got 'im!_ Owl's orf! Jim, old man, you must
stand drinks round after this!

[Exeunt 'Arries, to celebrate their victory in a befitting fashion,
as Scene closes in.

vol. xcix.

c