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Fragment of a Scene from "The Tempest," as performed in the Casual Ward of Lambeth Workhouse.
Casualibak .. A motuter, scarcely human. By Mr. Dodger Syker.
A ( An airy spirit, tcith-wings \ Tlx Our Swbll Contri
•• . "\ of" grey goosequill." ] BVTOR.
Scene.—A populous parish in the island.
Deservedly confined Into this ward,
Drink up thy gruel, and bo quick, th' wort best,
I must sum to obey whilo in his power. (Aside.)
Enter Ariel playing and singing. Farxellinakd following him, much
These workhouse bands;
The stone yard pressed,
And let Kay your mattress share! •
Where should this music be—i' the street or the house?
CONTINUATIONS OF DRAMATIC HISTOEIZS.
Rip Van Winkle.
Brp had better have gone back to the Catskill mountains, for nothing but discomfiture awaited him in Falling Waters. Rip had always 'been accustomed to submit silently to the domineering habits of Mas. Rip, as she was before he left her, but on his return, her marriage with Derrick had so completely tamed her that he found much difficulty in assuming a sufficiently domineering attitude towards her. They were at first so humble and so submissive to each othor that their 'household affairs became hopelessly confused. The following dialogue (overheard by Mkbnie) will suffice to show how seriously this mutual humility interfered with their domestic arrangements:—
Mrs. Rip.—My love, would you like me to order any dinner to-day?
Rip.—That I'll leave entirely to you, my own.
Mrs. Rip.—I could not think of being guilty of the indelicacy of having an opinion of my own, dear,—it 1 may be permitted to call you sol
Rip.—Certainly,—that is, subject to any objection you may have to my saying go.
Mag. Rip.—Oh, you know I never entertain any objection to anything —unless, of course, it is your wish that I should.
Rip.—Well, you know I've shvored-off wishing you to do anything, dear.
Mrs. Rip.—Then to return to our mutton, you do not wish me to order any dinner?
Rip.—I apologize. Perhaps I expressed myself too strongly when I said 1 did not wish you to do anything. I should have added "that is distasteful to you."
Mrs. Rip.—Nothing is distasteful to me that you order mBito-do.
Rip.—I order .' Oh, gracious! You never knew me order you to do anything—I speak subject, of course, to correction.
Mrs. Rip.—Correction f Oh, Rip '.
[They fall into each othtr'sittms.
But an event occurred shortly after Rip's return which plungad them both into the depths of misery. It should be stated that Mas. Rip was Rip's second wife; his first wife was the daughter of a wandering nigger-seresader. One day, about forty years before the termination of the.play, tho first Mrs. Rir disappeared. No one ever heard of her again, and it was supposed that sho had fallen accidentally linto the river. Emroited ten years for her, nnd as sho did -not tarn up, he married tha second Mrs. Rip, who was originally a Tftas. 3jilLington. Bottaftar'RiP had mot with his extraordinary adventure in the mountain, and had claimed the second Mrs. Rip from DnsioK, to his intense astonishment the first Mas. Rip turned up and claimed him. She had alsotbeen into the Catskill mountains-ono.day, «nd;had also fallen asleep, but she had slept forty years instead of twenty.
Derrick, of course, lostuo time in claiming the second Mrs. iRrp, and heriproperty, as the only man who had really married her, but to his astonishment tho original Mas. Derrick turned up, and claimed Ann. She had also been asleep on the Catskill Mountains for forty years. The buxom second Mks. Rip (as we will still call her) thus became tho best catch in thewillage, for the wholo village belonged to her, and it was mot lcng '^before she was comfortably married to Hbndrigh "vjbddbb, the smart young buccaneer, who made no bones about sending Meek re about her business. Mbenib subsequently married Mr. J. L. Toole (in another play), and the two aro doing well.
There is a limit to tho thin blue air
Though earthly vision hove no seeming bound; Yet thinnest vapour marks a surface there.
Or thickening clouds-wracks close the scene around. Tho morning beam that flits on pinions raie,
As though from space, and tints the neutral ground Unmeasured, owns a parent's missive care
That gives it span, when Sol his visage round Lifts from the deep, and wakes the silent world to sound.
Thero is a limit to the unbridled sea,
Though shifts tho treach'rous sea-line o'er the As speeds tho bark: the wave that rolls so froe
Immense, and with its giant watery heap Threatens the pole, and roars with crested glee,
First looms like Atlas with his snow-clad steep— Then thunders past; and, distant, seems to bo
Some wavelet slow; till it scarce seems to creep Toward the far brcezeless calm, where pri
Chaos itself hath limit: Time hath end:
Things strive towards their goal, nor reach it till Things newer tread upon their heels, and.land
Enchantment to young racers, newer still.; Yet there's one thing whose impulse nought can
Fleeter than breeze adown tho bush-clad hill; That has no limit: carefully I wend
My path along its course, and feel quite ill, Breathless with vain attempt to stop my Jlutchcr's.lUUl
Readers of early Roman history will remember with what .solemnity the chronicler speaks of the occasions when the speaking of an ox presaged some dire event about to happen to the republic Let us hope no such omen of a national disaster is to be found in the following announcement:
■VTOTICE.—A MEETING of the MILK FitODUCEBS, in nnd around the Citj- of Bristol, will be bolden In the Larjrc Boom at the BUNCH OF XHIAPUS, NICHOLAS STREET, on THURSDAY (THI8 DAT), Jan. «th, at Three o'elook la the afternoon, when and where all who greinU—
We have despatched a special commissioner to Bristol to learn -what tho cows had to say, and what resolutions were arrived at. We hear that a deputation was sent from London, consisting of several respectable pumps and a large and influential body of chalk, but cannot vouch for the truth of the report. Further information in our next A NIGHT IN A WORKHOUSE.
A FAIM-OUS MISTAKE.
Old lady :—" Vite, gassong. What Have You For dinayi Je suis tres fcmme (/aim)."
Garden:—"ah, Certalnembnt, Madame Is A Ledi!" [But she meant she was very hungry.
Reported By Our Own Casual Poor.
Never shall I forget the horrors of that awful night!
It wasn't the actors—leastways, not all of them—that was noisy; but to hear the literary gents a-asking them for orders, would have sent a shudder through even a Lambeth guardian's frame.
The one alluded to by the name of Charley Fechter was a littlo hounceahle and bumptious, and kep' a-telking of one A'beckett in what your casual can only denominate as murderous tones. "Ha, ha!" he says, "I shall teach thee to be critic, young man presumptuous—ah, ah! Sir A'beckett, this to decide—ah, ah! Oh, Blawnch!"
Well, there might have been a disturbance, Mr. A'beckett himself being present, and a very pleasing and fair-spoken personage and lovely to behold, when an actor came in with an eye—or two—like a hawk's, with the most marvellous eye—or two—you ever saw; and says he, quite quiet-like, with none of your French twopenny bluster,
"Well, here is your good health, and your family's good health; may they live long, and prosper!"
To which an elderly comedian by the name of Rombr, he says,
"Humph; your wishes are—ah—Utopian, and—ah—centrifugal! Quite inferior to—ah—I should say—ah—a torrid two!"
Most of them were silent for a time after coming in, but there was what is called burlesque authors and critics amongst them, who made much more noise than the actors. And there were two especially who came in, waltzing into the shed, waving their hands, and singing in an affected voice as they sidled along,
"We would we were a swell; but we're only Best and Bell :—" When they were interrupted by the voice of Mr. Horace Wiqan, saying," Pickles!"
By degrees the night grew ghastly cold, and sendimaylive if I ever heard such a weak-spirited set for the endurance of hardship. There was one person as they called The Phantom, as was downright boister
ous. "Carry mo out," he says, "into the moonbames! Remove n.e from the horrors of this Auditorium."
"There's nothing in it!" answers, languidly, a young fellow of eighty or so, who had been dancing about in his rug like a Sylph, and answered to the name of Matthews when spoken fair, and he chaunts,
"For it's nothing but a history, of squalor and of mystery, If told in full consistory, or very little more; So I sang the song of Helen, and the fall of Best and Bellin—"
"Bother B. and B." shouts old Hohnicm; and then, sendimaylive, if he didn't offer to read a letter to the Times.
Here, reason reeled; faith failed; confidence collapsed; hope hooked it! Without another struggle I submitted to the horrors of that awful night.
But I have a few horrors for Mr. Farnall's private car, if he would like to have them. They are very horrid indeed, for they include an imitation of Mr. G. Vininq!
[editorial Note.—We do not believe one word of the foregoing statement.]
Six of one, half-a-dozen of the other.
Thb Times correspondent at Madrid must be an Irishman, or a frequenter of Spanish bull-fights, for in his description of the birth of an Infante, he has the following extraordinary passage :—after stating that "at ten minutes past eleven o'clock a healthy and robust infant came into the world," he says gravely, "the royal children now living are five in number; the newborn infant completes the half-dozen." We have heard of a baker's dozen, and know that a dozen in the publishing trade means thirteen. Does a Spanish dozen consist only of ten f
Shortly will appear, by the author of Prometheus Bound, Prometheus Half-bound, to be followed by Prometheus in CUth with ;■<-'' edges.
MBS. BROWN ON OMNIBUSES.
They certainly are public conveniences, as is what omhlibus means I've heard say; but I'm gore if yon gets it one way yon loses it another, for of all the Beastly things to get into dressed decent it's one on 'em.
I was a-goin' to spend tie day last week with Hbs. Eijcins, as lives near 'Averstock-'ill, and is a party I've been beknown to this many a ear, through her havin' a sister as was lady's-maid in a family where know'd the upper housemaid as I took tea with frequent. I started in good time, and got into the Clapham 'bus, as is what I calls genteel and empty in the general way, except when them parties is a-comin' home to dinner from their business, aa is from four to six, and crowded in the morning. In the middle of the day they're well nigh took up with ladies, as in my opinion isn't always agreeable company in a 'bus, for what with the fuss as they makes about their skirts bein' set-on, and some wantin' the winders up and others down, as I owes my stiff neck to a fantastical old cat, as was snug up in the corner out of the draught, and let the winder down into my right ear, and was downright rude through mo a-objecting, as I says, " Change places if you likes the draught, and havo it in welcome, as don't suit me.
I was set down at the Elephant and. Castle, and if you'd seen the mud scraped all up along the side of the path, reg'Iar batter puddin', as the sayin' is, and that deep as I was up to my ancle in no tune. If there is a thing as I hates it's mud, as will stick, as the sayin* is. Them Elephant and Castle 'busses is very frequent, so I didn't wait long; but law, they're nearly as muddy as the roads. So I Bays, "Conductor, why ever don't you keep it cleaner, as is a reg'Iar dunghill for straw and mud?" "Well," says he, "you muds it yourself; look at your boots," which was more than I could do just then without a-kickin' the parties as was opposite, so I didn't say no more.
It was one of them muggy warm days, and I waB pretty warm clothed through not havin' quite shook off my cold, and I'd on my new velvet bonnet, as a bit of wire ribbon inside would keep a-workin' into my head, as was worretin' me. Wo hadn't gone for when in*
gets a couple of young gals with hats, as looked that bold as I don'ft old with, and I'm suro the way as they showed their stockins a*workin' of their way up that 'bus through their crinolines a-etickin' out behind I never did.
I says, "For mercy sake put her gownd down for her," to the other gal, a-speakin' low; "for, my dear, she didn't ought to show her legs like that." She busts out a-laughin' and says, "Why not? They're her own," that loud as give mo quite a turn, and if they hadn't been and mudded my dress and velvot cape dreadful through a-drawin' their draggle-tail dresses all over me.
I was put out and Bays, "I thinks as you might learn to get in decent." Says one on 'em, "Who are you callin' indecent?" Says the other, "You're a nice one to complain with such boots on aa that. Why, you've been a-runnin' of a raco ain't yon?" and thon all the other parties grinned.
Isavs, "Conductor, put me down the nearest to the 'Ampstead-road." He said, "Here you are at Charin'-cross," though a old gentleman did say Hegency Circus, but as I didn't care partickler about my company I got out. But, bless you, Charin'-cross was a reg'Iar wilderness to me, that confusin' with 'busses a-tearin' here and there and everywhere, let alone cabs and carts by the score, and I don't think as ever I should have got across tho street but for a littlo boy as was a-crossin'-sweeper, and took mo all through the dirt. When Fd give him a penny I looks out for the 'bus as I wanted, and at last I see 'Averstock- ill, as I know'd it was my way. So I stops it and gets in, but the stiflin' hole as it was quite took my breath away, partickler as parties wouldn't move up, but I was obliged for to Btrugglo up to the very top, and reg'lra- stove in tho crown of my bonnet agin the lamp as was there, and proved a leak all over my bonnet and dripped on to my cape.
As to settin' down I didn't, but waa wedged in the corner and helpless as a infant, and the party settin' opposite says, "You ladies with your crinolines did ought to have 'busses made for you." I Bays, "beggin' of your pardon, there ain't a stitch of crinoline about me, as any one may see by tho set of my gownd ;" and another chap says, "If you was to wear crinoline there ain't no livin' doorway as you'd get in at." I was juat a-goin' to give him his answer when the 'bus Btops and out every one gets. "Bailway," says the conductor.
"Whore's 'Averstoek-ill ?" says I. "Why, you've come from it," says he. "Why didn't you tell me that afore P" says I. "You never asked me," says he. "You might have been sure as I wasn't goin' to the railway through havin' no luggage," says I. He only laugha and eays, "There's a 'bus off fer 'Amstead-road now, as is your way."
It was aa much as ever I could do to get that 'bus to stop, and when I did get into it I was that bad in my breath as 1 couldn't hardly speak. There was only three in at first as waB a mercy, but it very soon filled up, and of all the rough lots as ever I ace they was some of them the roughest; not but there was genteel parties, partickler two,
as I took for ladies at first, but proved nothin' hotter than females in the long run, as smelt of liquor though a-disguisin' of it in lemon peel as they was a-chewin'.
I says to one on 'em as squeezed hersolf in atween me and the door, "Pr'aps you wouldn't mind a-settin' off my lap." She was very polite I must say, and says, "Excuse me, through not bein' used to1 these conveniences, as I only takes through fears of cabmen, as is that insolent aa I dare not trust."
I Bays, "Eight you are, for I'm sure it's not more than six months ago as I had a cab under a mile and a half, and through not havin' a shillin' 'andy give him half-a-crown and saysj 'Give me change,' if fie didn't jump on his box and say, 'I'll driw you for nothin' next time, old gal,' and'off ho goes at a gallop." "Yet;" says the lady the other aide, "and I'm sure I left a Ingy shawl in one as cost sixty guineas and never see it no more. So one is safer in a 'bus."
I saya, "Whatever do they mean by a-writin* up 'Beware of pickpockets?"' So tho one lady laughed- and says, "Any ono as can't take care of their pockets must be greeni"
But ai elderly party opposite said^, "It's best to look out, for my daughter-in-law had her pocket picked1 of Her- pension a-comin' from receivin' it, aa was all she had to look- to with throe small children and her a widow, through him havin'- beew in. tho navy, and lost his life in tho discharge of his duty on the west coast-ofi Africa."
Well', poor BOul,sho was atefiin' mB'&deal about hertroubles, as"was certainly heavy through havin' a husband'in his bed-near upon two years, and herself a-eufferin' with lumbago,, so- £ didn't take much noUoe of them females a-gettin' out, as one' didlvery- short after the other; for I did feel for that poor old soul as hint been te-see" Her grandson, as was win over in- the1 Westminster 'OspitaT,. where- tftsyj did ought to be more caj-eftil roundithe cornersj as'tok^anyononsfc'-rsily by surprise, andithem boygsis that wentersome. We was the last-in- the 'bos that party an£me, am£whcn we gets out I say*, "How much?" "Tonrpenco," saj$ he, "'and please look sharp as I wants my tiW"
IT says, "And so do I." I says, "Wherever is nvrp-ua*? Why, if itain't gone. No, here it is in the other poehet, a»<rotrtrld have swore Fd*put in the right hand." I opens it, and if there-wasfc't nothin' in it, as5 I'd put'in eight shilling when I oonre out, and a-lncky sixpence as-E always kfeeps there. WeU( I we* that flurried? S didn't know whalrto do. The coachman kep' a-hollarin', the conductor sayin', "Look alive,"T didn't know what to do, and if T hadh'+'tb" borrow fourpence of that elderly party, as lived close by where I waa a-goin'. It's a mercy as I met with her, and she said as aho was euro them two females as got out, a-pretendin' to be unl r known to each other, was the thieves. The conductor he says as he krmw'd 'ran.
Then says I, "Why not tell any one?" "Oh! ah!" says he "that's likely. It's stuck up in the 'bus," and off he goes.
How I got to Mrs. Elxins I don't know, I was that tired; and if she hadn't gone out for the day and not expected home to sloop. It's lucky as her servant know'd me well and had eilvor in the 'ouse, as enabled me for to give that poor old soul as had come out of her way with me a shillin'.
Mrs. Elxins' servant, as is indeed her niece, asldon'tconsider relations a good plan in them compacities, she give me a cup of tea, for it was past five when I got there, and me a-leavin' home just on two. I was dead beat, and afraid for to take off my boots for fear as I might not be able for to get them on agin, havin' a foot apt to swell up like dough.
I did take off my bonnet, and got rid of that wiro as- 'ltea snipped off with the scissors, and must have cut through somethin' too far, for when I got home the back of my bonnet was clean out.
When I was a little bit rested'liza went with me to the'buss, as was the one J did ought to have come by, a Waterloo, as runs by the end of the street, and glad I was to get into it empty. I had two shillins of her. I don't think as I remembers anythin' clear after* she wished me good night, for I dropped off, not as I'd taken more than a tabteapoonf ul in a little worm water, as was poor weak stuff, as wo got at the tavern when we was waitin' for the 'bug( I never woke till we'd got to Caraberwell-gate, as I did ought to have got out at the Elephant and Castle for to get the Clapham 'bus. Out I gets, and gives the conductor a shillin'. "Hallo!" says he, "this won't do."
"What won't do?" says I. "Why thiB hero shillin'," says he, "it's a duffer." "A what! " says I. "A bad un," says he.
I says, "I'm sure 'liza Martin never givo mo a bad shillin'." "You took it, pr'aps, at the publio where you was a-drinkin' when I took you up," says he, with a sneer.
I says, "It's my opinion as I never give it you." Says he,, "Tf you say much more I'll givo you in charge for smashin'."
I says, "Take your money, and gives him the other shillin'. I says, "Wherever is there a cab f" "Here you are," says a cabby, as waa atandin' there wacant. In I got and home I goes more dead than alive, with overy rag of clothes smothered in mud, and that cabman wantin' half-a-crown, not as Brown paid him; but I says, "I don't go out often, and I'd rather stop at home for ever than go through them 'busses agin, as is ruination to your clothes and destruction to your health."