Part 3

_Amandus._ Yes, they must ha' thought 'ighly of 'im before they'd commend him like that, yer know!

_Amanda (wishing she was readier of response)._ Ah! (_The fowl winks slowly at her with his lower eyelid_). Come away--I don't like him!

[_They move on._

_The Exhibitor (coming up and inspecting his bird with pride)._ 'Ere--JOE! (_Fowl shuts both eyes with a bored expression_). B'longs to _me_--that bird, Sir! (_To Bystander._)

_Visitor (from the West; anxious to be agreeable)._ Ha, a fine bird--magnificent!

_Exhibitor._ Bred 'im myself, Sir--he's a bit sleepy just now. (_Apologetically_). Wake up, ole chap! (_Fowl half opens one eye, and closes it immediately on perceiving proprietor._) _Knows_ me, yer see!

_Visitor (with fatal rashness)._ A--a Brahma, isn't he?

[_Wonders what made him say that, and tries to think what Brahmas are like--when they are not locks._

_Exhibitor (in tone of pitying reproach)._ _No,_ Sir--no.--Black Red _Bantam_, Sir!

_Visitor (wishing he had remained vague)._ Oh--ah, just so--good evening.

_A Cock (derisively)._ Crorky--rorky--roo!

AT THE RABBIT PENS.

_Another Exhibitor (accompanied by Friend with Catalogue)._ I ain't come across my Buck yet. He took a prize, I heerd. (_Stops at Cage._) Ah, this looks like him.... Third Prize, yer see--not so bad, eh? [_Chuckles._

_The Friend._ Hold on a bit! (_Refers to Catalogue._) "Number seven 'underd and two. PARTON. Buck. Eight months." _Your_ name ain't PARTON.

_Exhib._ Then it's mine in the next. _Second_ Prize! Better'n Third, that, ain't it?

_The Friend._ They've got _that_ down as PARTON'S too.

_Exhib._ Well, I _thought_ some'ow as----_this_ is him anyway. Look 'ere! _First_ Prize! And deserves it, though I sez it myself!

_Friend (not without a certain satisfaction)._ No--no, you're wrong again. I'll show you where _you_ are. See. "Seven 'underd and five. W. CROPPER. Buck. Ten months." _That's_ you!

_Exhib. (incredulously)._ That? that ain't never _my_ cream buck! (_The rabbit remains wrapt in meditation._) I'll soon show yer. (_Blows in rabbit's face. Mutual recognition. Tableau._) It _is_ my buck! And only 'ighly commended! (_Recovering himself._) Well, I arsk you if he oughtn't to ha' done the other--him as they've given the First Prize to? Why, there ain't no comparison between them two rabbits!

_The Cock (encouragingly)._ Crorky-rorky-roo!

_The Friend (losing all further interest)._ Well, it's all chance like. Let's go and 'ave a look at them Lops.

_Crowd of Admirers around pen containing gigantic gander._

_First Admirer._ That's _WILKINSES'_ gander, that is.

_Second Admirer._ A fine-grown bird, I _will_ say.

[_Handsomely, as if he would hardly have expected such a person as WILKINS to produce anything as good as THAT._

_Third Admirer._ Monster, ain't he? Why, yer might _ride_ on him!

_Small Child (pointing delightedly at the Gander)._ 'Ook, Mozzer, pitty duck!

_Fond Parent (admiringly)._ I declare it's wonderful how quick he gets the names--it _is_ a fine duck!

_The Cock (with a touch of correction)._ Crorky--rorky--roo!

_A Connoisseur (inspecting pigeon)._ Now, _there's_ a nice pigeon--that _is_ a nice pigeon; but I tell yer what it is--he ain't got the space to do hisself justice in there. Give him a bigger pen, and a brick to stand on, and you'd soon see the difference!

_Fellow Conn._ They ought to ha' give him more room to show off his tail in--else what's the good of a bird _'aving_ a tail, come to that?

_First Conn. (sententiously)._ Ah, you've 'it it.

_Competitor (apparently, unsuccessful)._ I say, (_with bitter sarcasm_) 'Are yer seen the pair as take a Fust? Birds I wouldn't pick up if I found 'em in the street--no, _that_ I wouldn't! Fust Prize to them--hor-hor! Well, the world's comin' to a pretty pass, I must say! Arter _that!_---- [_Eloquent aposiopesis._

_Amandus (tolerantly, to Amanda)._ Well, pidgings _are_ pretty much alike, unless you've been brought up to know the differences. I 'ad a _Uncle_ a breeder.

_Amanda (feeling that her ignorance is no longer a discredit)._ Then _you'd_ know! [_They go out arm-in-arm, silent but sympathetic._

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INTERIORS AND EXTERIORS. No. 52.

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"Enter-tainments" are not now so much the object of our Fireproof Theatrical Managers as "Exit-tainments." At TERRY'S new theatre everyone feels perfectly secure. It is only the Lessee, who always appears terry-fied.

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DEPARTURE OF DISTINGUISHED FURRY-NERS.--The _Standard_ said last week that two thousand live rabbits were on the eve of being despatched to British Columbia. Fifty thousand onions should be sent with them. What's a Rabbit without onions? _L'Onion fait la force._

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ANOTHER CHANCE FOR JOE AND JESSE.

Mr. CAVE, long associated with theatrical management--re-opens Sadler's Wells on the fifth of November. We are assured that Mr. CHAMBERLAIN'S recent visit to Merrie Islington had nothing whatever to do with the forthcoming "good old-fashioned Grimaldi comic pantomime," with which Mr. CAVE promises to entertain his patrons at Christmas time. Perhaps, after all, the Fisheries Commissioner is not going to Canada, but is going to join A. CAVE at Islington, for what on earth is the use of a "Grimaldi pantomime" without a "JOEY?" Then what a chance for him, in the good old Grimaldi style, to sing "Hot Collings," rewritten by his faithful accompanyist JESSE.

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TORCHLIGHT AND GUY FAWKES DAY.--Mr. GLADSTONE says that coming into collision with the Police on the subject of torches, "he would rather suffer torchers!"

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MR. WILFUL BLUNT.--Whether the right of Free Speaking is permitted in Ireland or not, we would decline just now to decide. But certain BLUNT speaking was very soon stopped.

***

"AU PLAISIR."--Motto for AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS during the run of the present piece.

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THE FOUR NOBLE BURGLARS.

A Baron, a Marquis, a Duke, and an Earl Were dining together one evening at White's; They were all overdone by the worry and whirl Of a long London season's amusements and sights-- By the luncheons that stupify, dinners that tire, Dull rides in the Row, deadly five o'clock teas, At which fashion condemns you to gasp and perspire While draining the cup of _ennui_ to the lees.

No pleasure they took in the joys of the table; Though stalwart, they recked not to breakfast or sup-- E'en to plunge at _bézique_ they no longer were able, For the fact was these nobles were deuced hard up! Moaned the Marquis, "We're all in a state of depression; As for me, my existence is simply a bore; Let us strike a new line out--adopt some profession Which no British Peer ever practised before."

Then the Baron cried, "Listen, old chappies; I've hit On a notion that's brilliant and perfectly new;-- Why shouldn't we four try to burgle a bit, And wrest from the wealthy what's fairly our due? Garotting is vulgar, and cruel to boot, The pickpocket oft is despised when detected; But burglary's just the profession to suit A lover of enterprise, highly connected."

A paper was fetched, and his Grace read aloud The following paragraph:--"Criminal Tips! Young Nobles and Gentlemen under a cloud Apply to Professor JEHOSHAPHAT FIPPS, At his residence, 2, Sheppard Buildings, E.C., Where he nightly gives lessons, from seven till nine, To youngsters of spirit, from prejudice free, In arts which amusement with profit combine."

Next evening the Peers, fully dressed for their parts In moleskin and highlows and flat beaver-caps, Sought out the Professor with quick-throbbing hearts, Their courage all but in a state of collapse. Mr. FIPPS gave them seats; then politely inquired, If aught to oblige them perchance he could do, And replied, when they told him what 'twas they required, "All right, noble sportsmen!--I'll soon put you through!"

He taught them to handle the jemmy with grace, To frisk with the centrebit, toy with the file-- To flourish the fitful dark-lantern apace, And wield the gay crowbar in elegant style; With skeleton-keys to pick counting-house locks, To ply the dumb saw and the chisel that's cold, To prize up the lid of a banker's strong-box, And the portals of burglar-proof safes to unfold.

When their Lordships were thoroughly versed in their trade, And had passed their exams, in a masterly way, They agreed that a dashing attempt should be made, Their expertness to test without further delay. Should they first try their hands at a light, easy job, Not too risky, but graceful, artistic and neat, Or essay a bold stroke the Exchequer to rob, Or the merry Old Lady of Threadneedle Street?

At last they resolved that the best thing to do, Was to try an experiment, just for a lark, (And to keep their hands in for a lucrative _coup_,) On a workman's abode near Victoria Park. They hankered for something quite simple and plain, Both suburban and poor, for their trial essay; So they picked out a one-storeyed house down a lane, Which they learned had been empty for many a day.

They commenced their attack in the dead of the night, Scaled a wall, dug a tunnel, and cut through two floors, Wrenched a lock off with stern, irresistible might, And broke open some thoroughly unsecured doors. For booty they hunted below and on high-- But naught could they find save a chunk of cold veal, Till, down in the basement, they chanced to espy, Near the back-kitchen sink a huge trapdoor of steel.

In a second the trap from its fastness they tore, When, heaped up pell-mell, of all shapes and all sizes, The gratified Peers beheld score upon score Of grand and legitimate housebreakers' prizes,-- Tiaras of rubies and diamond _rivières_, Superb jewelled bracelets and brooches and rings, Great emerald, sapphire, and pearl _solitaires_, And all manner of precious, magnificent things.

As they gazed on these treasures with glittering eyes, Lightly handling the gewgaws with delicate touches, The Duke softly murmured, "Oh! what a surprise! Why, some of these trinkets belong to the Duchess!" "By Jove!" said the Marquis, "this carcanet here Has been worn scores of times by my dowager-aunt!" And the Baron rejoined, "It seems perfectly clear That this squalid abode is a regular plant!"

"What a joke!" cried the Earl. "We have chanced on the ken Of professional brethren, our seniors in guile, And I think that, for young inexperienced men, We have collared their plunder in workmanlike style. Let us cull and remove these nefarious hoards-- We can turn the whole lot into cash at our leisure; A delightful career is before us, my Lords, A bright future of usefulness, profit, and pleasure!"

The next day they disposed of their swag for a plum, And invested the proceeds in Spaniards and Turks, After nobly deducting a moderate sum For the Burglar's Relief Fund and other good works. They paid all their creditors, kept up their rank. Betted ponies and monkeys like regular "toppers;" Till one night, as they'd just broken into a bank, These deserving young nobles were nailed by the "coppers."

The Old Bailey was crowded one sunny May morn With ladies arrayed in superlative frocks, When the jury who sate on our nobles forlorn, Found them guilty at once, without leaving the box. And it thus came to pass, I regret to relate, That these earnest, industrious, well-meaning Peers, The pride of their order, the stay of the State, Were condemned to pick oakum for twenty-one years!

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A WORD FOR THE WAR-OFFICE.--Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM says it's all very well to talk about the parsimony of the War-Office; but she hears that the soldiers are provided with fatigue jackets, and thinks it's really kind of the Authorities to supply the men with something special to wear when they are tired.

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HOW WE ADVERTISE NOW.

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NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.

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Transcriber's Notes

A small number of minor typographical errors have been corrected.