"THE WANDERING MINSTREL."

Jem Baggs ("The Wandering Minstrel"). "They may say what they like agin the County Council; I says they're Jolly Good Fellers."

MISPLACED QUOTATIONS.

Young Jones (who, five minutes before the announcement of Dinner, has been introduced to Miss Sprightly, and has been endeavouring to find a fitting remark wherewith to open the conversation.) "This—er—I believe is called the—er—'mauvais quart d'heure'!"

"THE WANDERING MINSTREL."

(Modern Kensington Version.)

[The London County Council has declined to co-operate with the Kensington Vestry in a representation to the Home Secretary for more efficient control over itinerant musicians, street-cries, and similar nuisances, on the ground that though the Council has power to make bye-laws for this object, there are no means of enforcing them.]

Scene—Highly respectable Terrace in Kensington. The exterior of Mr. Tambour's house. Enter Jem Baggs (R.H.) playing the clarinet badly.

Jem B. (loq.) Vell now! that's vot I calls wery tidy vork! Bob and a tanner for seven doors ain't none so dusty, blow me! Summat better this 'ere than orkin' "'All the new and popilar songs of the day for a penny!" Vot miserable vork that vos to be sure! I vos allays a cryin' about the streets, "Here y' are—one 'undered and fifty on 'em pootily bound in a Monster Song Book for a penny!—Here's 'Ran-ta-rar-roopy-ay!'—'Mary, they 'ave raised my Screw'—'Sling yer 'ook, yer 've got no oof, John.'—'Snide Sammy courted Sally Brown'—'On the Banks of the yaller Lea.'—'Chummies! Chummies!'—'Fanny Tooney'—'The Man who ran the Muglumberer's Building Society'—'Dandy Dan, the Whelk Man, and 'is Donah'—'He vos famed for gargling Fizz'—'His there a Lip vot never Lapped?'—'A Life on the Lotion-Lay'—'If I 'ad a Monkey on, vouldn't I go!'—'Down to the Derby vith a Shallow and a Moke'—'Oh, say not Modern Art is Sold'—for the small charge of a penny!" I dessay I might ha' been at that there callin' to this werry day, if it hadn't been for Bosky Bill. I shall never forget Bosky Bill's a-sayin' to me—says he, "I say, Jem Baggs, vy don't yer take to the singin' line?" "Cos I sings vorser than 'The Big Bounce,'" says I. "Vorser!" says he, "Vhy so much the betterer!" "Woice ain't vanted," says he, "only leather and brass. Leather for yer lungs, and brass for yer face, and there yer are, in the 'Alls or out on 'em." "But 'ow about them Bye-Laws, Billy?" says I. "Bye-Laws be bust!" says he, scornful. "Who's to henforce 'em? Westries and County Councils can't. Bobbies—bless 'em!—von't," says he. "So there yer are, Jem Baggs!" In course I tvigged. Vith my woice and a vistle, sez I, they'll villingly give a tanner to git rid of me! And they do! Oh, I know the walley of peace and qvietness, and never moves hon hunder sixpence! (Looking up at the house.) But I know as there's a hartist covey lives 'ere. Notice-plate says, "Mister Tambour is hout." Valker! I know vot that means. I thinks as how he'll run to a shilling. Anyhow, I'll kick him for a bob.

[He strikes up, taking care to make as much noise at possible.

[His melodious flow is interrupted by a violent rapping at the window, and the sudden opening of the street-door.

Jem Baggs (loq.) Aha! I knew they couldn't stand that werry long. Out comes the sarvint vith tuppence or thruppence, and a horder for me to "move on." Valker! There ain't no Bobby in sight, and I shan't shift under a shilling. Vell, they may say vot they likes agin the County Council; I says they're jolly good fellers, and I'll drink their bloomin' 'ealth out o' that hartist cove's bob, ven I gets it. [Tunes up again.

AT A VEGETARIAN RESTAURANT.

Scene—"The Nebuchadnezzar's Head," in the City. Time—The luncheon hour. The interior, which is bright, and tastefully arranged, is crowded with the graminivorous of both sexes. Clerks of a literary turn devour "The Fortnightly" and porridge alternately, or discuss the comparative merits of modern writers. Lady-clerks lunch sumptuously and economically on tea and baked ginger-pudding. Trim Waitresses move about with a sweet but slightly mystic benignity, as conscious of conducting a dietetic mission to the dyspeptic.

A Vegetarian Fiancé (who has met his betrothed by appointment, and is initiating her into the mysteries). I wish you'd take something more than a mustard-and-cress roll, though, Louise—it gives you such a poor idea of the thing. (With honest pride.) You just see me put away this plate of porridge. At the "Young Daniel," where I usually lunch, they give you twice the quantity of stuff they do here.

Louise (admiringly). I'm so glad I've seen you lunch. Now I shall be able to fancy every day exactly what you are having.

Her Fiancé (to assist her imagination). Mind you, I don't always have porridge. Sometimes it's mushroom croquettes, or turnip and onion rissoles,—whatever's going. Now yesterday, for instance, I had——

[He details exactly what he had, and she listens to these moving episodes with the rapt interest of a Desdemona.

First Literary Clerk. No; but look here, you don't take my point. I'm not running down