Voces Populi. Anstey F.

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 siècle, 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.

      Mr W. (alone). I shall have to change my rooms – and I was so comfortable! Well, well, – another sacrifice to the Cause!

      AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY

IN THE VESTIBULEVisitors ascending staircase, full of enthusiasm and energetic determination not to miss a single Picture, encounter people descending in various stages of mental and physical exhaustion. At the turnstiles two Friends meet unexpectedly; both being shy men, who, with timely notice, would have preferred to avoid one another, their greetings are marked by an unnatural effusion and followed by embarrassed silence

      First Shy Man (to break the spell). Odd, our running up against one another like this, eh?

      Second Shy Man. Oh, very odd. (Looks about him irresolutely, and wonders if it would be decent to pass on. Decides it will hardly do.) Great place for meeting, the Academy, though.

      First S. M. Yes; sure to come across somebody, sooner or later.

[Laughs nervously, and wishes the other would go

      Second S. M. (seeing that his friend lingers). This your first visit here?

      First S. M. Yes. Couldn't very well get away before, you know.

[Feels apologetic, without exactly knowing why

      Second S. M. It's my first visit, too. (Sees no escape, and resigns himself.) Er – we may as well go round together, eh?

      First S. M. (who was afraid this was coming—heartily). Good! By the way, I always think, on a first visit, it's best to take a single room, and do that thoroughly. [This has only just occurred to him.

      Second S. M. (who had been intending to follow that plan himself). Oh, do you? Now, for my part, I don't attempt to see anything thoroughly the first time. Just scamper through, glance at the things one oughtn't to miss, get a general impression, and come away. Then, if I don't happen to come again, I've always done it, you see. But (considerately), look here. Don't let me drag you about, if you'd rather not!

      First S. M. Oh, but I shouldn't like to feel I was any tie on you. Don't you mind about me. I shall potter about in here – for hours, I dare say.

      Second S. M. Ah, well (with vague consolation), I shall always know where to find you, I suppose.

      First S. M. (brightening visibly). Oh dear, yes; I sha'n't be far away.

[They part with mutual relief, only tempered by the necessity of following the course they have respectively prescribed for themselves. Nemesis overtakes the Second S. M. in the next Gallery, when he is captured by a Desultory Enthusiast, who insists upon dragging him all over the place to see obscure "bits" and "gems," which are only to be appreciated by ricking the neck or stooping painfully

      A Suburban Lady (to Female Friend). Oh dear, how stupid of me! I quite forgot to bring a pencil! Oh, thank you, dear, that will do beautifully. It's just a little blunt; but so long as I can mark with it, you know. You don't think we should avoid the crush if we began at the end room? Well, perhaps it is less confusing to begin at the beginning, and work steadily through.

IN GALLERY NO. IA small group has collected before Mr. Wyllie's "Davy Jones's Locker," which they inspect solemnly for some time before venturing to commit themselves to any opinion

      First Visitor (after devoting his whole mind to the subject). Why, it's the Bottom of the Sea – at least (more cautiously), that's what it seems to be intended for.

      Second V. Ah, and very well done, too. I wonder, now, how he managed to stay down long enough to paint all that?

      Third V. Practice, I suppose. I've seen writing done under water myself. But that was a tank!

      Fourth V. (presumably in profound allusion to the fishes and sea-anemones).