THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. No. XXIV. SCENE-The Piazza of St. Mark at night. The roof and part of the façade gleam a greenish silver in the moonlight. The shadow of the Campanile falls, black and broad, across the huge square, which is crowded with people listening to the Military Band, and taking coffee, &c., outside the caffés. Miss TROTTER and CULCHARD are seated at one of the little tables in front of the Quadri. Miss T. I'd like ever so much to know why it is you 're so anxious to see that Miss PRENDERGAST and me friendly again? After she's been treating you this long while like you were a toad-and not a popular kind of toad at that! Culch. (wincing). Of course I am only too painfully aware of-of a certain distance in her manner towards me, but I should not think of allowing myself to be influenced by any-er-merely personal considerations of that sort. Miss T. That's real noble! And I presume, now, you cannt imagine any reason why she's been treading you so flat. Culch. (with a shrug). I really haven't troubled to speculate Who can tell how one may, quite unconsciously, give offence-even to those who are-er-comparative strangers ? (A Miss T. Just so. pause.) Well, Mr. CULCHARD, if I wanted anything to confirm my opinion of you, I guess you've given it me! Culch. (internally). It's very unfortunate that she will insist on idealising me like this! Miss T. Maybe, now, you can form a pretty good idea already what that opinion is? Culch. (in modest deprecation). You give me some reason for inferring that it is far higher than I deserve. Miss T. Well, I don't know that you've missed your guess altogether. Are you through your icecream yet? Culch. Almost. (He finishes his ice.) It is really most refreshing! Miss T. Then, now you're refreshed, I'll tell you what I think about you. (CULCHARD resigns himself to enthusiasm.) My opinion of you, Mr. CULCHARD, is that, taking 66 a Miss T. You may put it at that if you like. Maybe it wouldn't have been just the square thing to do if you'd been a different sort of man-but you wanted to be taught that you couldn't have all the fun of flirtation on your side, and I wasn't afraid the emotional strain was going to shatter you up to any serious extent. Now it's left off amusing me, and I guess it's time to stop. I'm as perfectly aware as I can be that you've been searching around for some way of getting out of it this long while back-so there's no use of your denying you 'll be real enchanted to get your liberty again! Culch. I may return your charming candour by admitting that my-er-dismissal will be-well, not wholly without its consolations. Miss T. Then that's all right! And if you'll be obliging enough to hunt up my Poppa and send him along, I guess I can dispense with your further escort, and you can commence those consolations right away. Culch. (alone). The little vixen! Saw I was getting tired of it, and took care to strike first. Clever-but a trifle crude. But I'm free now. Unfortunately my freedom comes too late. PODBURY'S Titania is much too enamoured of those ass's ears of his How the brute will chuckle when he hears of this! But he won't hear of it from me. I'll go in and pack and be off to-morrow morning before he's up! Next Morning. In the Hall of the Grand Hotel Dandolo. The German Porter (a stately person in a goldlaced uniform and a white waistcoat, escaping from importunate visitors). In von momendt, Matam, I attend to you. You want a larcher roûm, Sare? You address ze manager, blease. Your dronks, Laties? I haf zem brod down, yes. A Lady. Oh, Porter, we want a gondola this afternoon to go to the Lido, and do try if you can get us BEPPO-that nice gondolier, you know, we had yesterday! The Porter. Ach! I do nod know any nah-ice gondolier-zey are oal-I dell you, if you lif viz zem ade mons as me, you cot your troat-yes! Another Lady. Porter, can you tell me the name of the song that man is singing in the barge there? Porter. I gannot dell you ze name-pecause zey sing always ze same ting! "A mean cuss? Me! Reallyyou by and large, you amount to what we Amurrcans describe as A Helpless Man in knickerbockers (drifting in at the door). Here, pretty mean cuss.' I say. We engaged rooms here by telegram from Florence. What am I to give these fellows from the station? Combien, you know! Porter. You gif zem two franc-and zen zey vill gromble. You haf engage roûms? yes. Zat vill pe oal rahit-Your loggage in ze gondola, yes? I hat it taken op. Culch. (genuinely surprised). A mean cuss? Me! Really, this unjustifiable language is most! Miss T. Well, I don't just know what your dictionary term would be for a man who goes and vows exclusive devotion to one young lady, while he's waiting for his answer from another, and keeps his head close shut to each about it.. Or a man who hacks out of his vows by trading off the sloppiest kind of flap-doodle about not wishing to blight the hopes of his dearest friend. Or a man who has been trying his hardest to get into the good graces again of the young lady he went back on first, so he can cut out that same dearest friend of his, and leave the girl he's haff engaged to right out in the cold. And puts it all off on the high-toned-est old sentiments, too. But I don't consider the expression, a mean cuss," too picturesque for that particular kind of hero myself! Culch. (breathing hard). Your feelings have apparently undergone a sudden change-quite recently! 66 Miss T. Well, no, the change dates back considerable-ever since we were at the Villa d'Este. Only, I like Mr. PODBURY pretty well, and I allowed he ought to have fair play, so I concluded I'd keep you around so you shouldn't get a chance of spoiling your perfectly splendid act of self-denial-and I guess I've kept you around pretty much all the time! Culch. (bitterly). In other words, you have behaved like a heartless coquette' The H. M. No, it's left behind at Bologna. My friend's gone back for it. And I say, think it will turn up all right? Porter. Eef you register it, and your vrient is zere, you ged it-yes. The H. M. Yes, but look here, don't you know? Oughtn't I to make a row-a fuss-about it, or something, eh? Porter (moving off with subdued contempt). Oh, you can make a foss, yes, if you like-you ged nossing! Culch. and Podb. (stopping him simultaneously). I say, I want my luggage brought down from No.-in time for the twelve o'clock(To each other.) Hallo! are you off too? Culch. (confused). Er-yes-thought I might as well be getting back. Podb. Then I-I suppose it's all settled-with Miss T.-you know-eh? Culch. Fortunately-yes. And-er-your engagement happily concluded? Podb. Well, it's concluded, anyway. It's all off, you know. I -I wasn't artistie enough for her. Culch. She has refused you? My dear PODBURY, I'm really delighted to hear this-at least, that is HADN'T WE BETTER CALL?" KNOWING. THE ONLY PEOPLE WORTH OUR "THERE GO THE SPICER WILCOXES, MAMMA! I'M TOLD THEY'RE DYING TO KNOW US. "CERTAINLY NOT, DEAR. IF THEY'RE DYING TO KNOW US, THEY'RE NOT WORTH KNOWING ARE THE PEOPLE WHO DONT WANT TO KNOW US!" THE BRIDAL WREATH. IN MEMORIAM H.R.H. THE DUKE OF CLARENCE AND AVONDALE. The Shadow glides between ; And general grief darkens across the land. Surely a hapless fate For young hearts so elate, So fired with promise of approaching bliss! Young, modest, scarce yet tried, This gentle youth, loved by our widowed So we are apt to say, Not the great goal by all but Heaven unseen. See Cartoon," England, Home, and Beauty!" p. 295, December 19, 1891. At least our tears may fall Of so much frustrate promise, unreproved; Who bows above the bier of him she loved. Death, cold and cruel Death, Hence is there comfort still, In a whole land's good-will, In hope that pallid spectre shall not slay. The unwelcome hand of Death Closes on that white wreath; But there is that Death cannot take away! 64 66 AT MRS. RAM's.-They were talking of Mr. JOHN MORLEY. "He's not a practical politician," said some one, he's a doctrinaire." Is he, indeed ?" said our excellent old Lady, "then I daresay I met him when I was in Scotland." Observing their puzzled expression, she added, "Yet it's more than likely I didn't, as, when in the North, I was so uncommonly well that I never wanted a medical man.' Subsequently it turned out Is rent; so will the Fates austere and blind. that she had understood Mr. J. M. to be a "Doctor in Ayr." Song for Lord Rosebery. (After "Tom Tug," in the "Waterman.") THEN farewell, my County Council, Cheek, and fads, and bosh farewell, Never more in Whitehall Gardens Shall your ROSEB'RY take a spell. CHANGE OF NAME SUGGESTED.-Why_call the place Monte Carlo, why not Mont "Blanc" Junior? The Leviathan Winner who broke the record and the tables, Mr. HILL WELLS, might also alter his name according to his luck. A run of HILL-luck would settle him: but when "WELL'S the word," he could forget the HILL-doing of the previous day. |