Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, July 12, 1890

VOCES POPULI.

AT THE MILITARY EXHIBITION.

IN THE AVENUE FACING THE ARENA.

An Unreasonable Old Lady (arriving breathless, with her grandson and niece). This'll be the place the balloon goes up from, I wouldn't miss it for anything! Put the child up on that bench, MARIA; we'll stand about here till it begins.

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

[Which, as the foliage blocks out all but the immediate foreground, is scarcely surprising.

The U.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.

[MARIA promptly avails herself of this permission.

The U.O.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 MARIA got to? Ah, here you are! So you found you were no better off?--_Next_ time, p'raps, you'll 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 U.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 U.O.L. Gone up! What are you telling me, MARIA?

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. I could see a arm a waving almost till it got out of sight.

The U.O.L. And me and this innercent waiting here on the seat like lambs, and never dreaming what was goin' on! Oh, MARIA, however you'll reconcile it to your conscience, I don't know!

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

The U.O.L. It's not that it's any partickler pleasure to me, seeing a balloon, though we did get our tea done early to be in time for it--it's the sly deceitfulness of your conduck, MARIA, 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 MARIA wishes fervently that balloons had never been invented.

IN THE BUILDING.

An 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 what--(becoming critical)--if I'd been doin' it myself, I should ha' chose pins with smaller 'eds on 'em.

First S. (regarding this as presumptuous). You may depend on it the man who made that 'ad his reasons for choosing the pins he did--but there's no pleasing some parties!

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

First Woman. I do call that 'andsome, SARAH. See, there's a star, and two 'arps, and a crownd, and I don't know what all--and all done in pins and beads! "Made by Bandsman BROWN," too!

[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. Yes, 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 party of Philistines, comprising a young Man, apparently in the Army, and his Mother and Sister, are examining Mr. GILBERT'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--_I_ 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. GEORGE carrying the Dragon? Because they've made the Dragon no bigger than a salmon!

Mother. Ah, well, I hope HER MAJESTY will be 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 fragments 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.