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March 3, 1915

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

169

"Is Mrs. Brown at home?"

"No, mum—route marchin'."

"And Mr. Brown?"

"Gone to camp."

"And the children?"

"Gone scoutin'; an' I 'ope you'll excuse me, mum, but I'm due at the Drill 'All meself."

THE CELTIC REVUE.

The movement towards the literary revue makes progress. Sir James Barrie has long been a convert. The statement that Mr. W. M. Yeats has been approached by the management of a West-end hall should, however, be received with caution, in spite of the following sketch of an opening scene, which reaches us from an unreliable quarter:—

Scene.—Behind the stage at some theatre. A large dim space. At the back one sees, perhaps, a door leading to nowhere in particular, with a light burning above it; or it may be the corner of a passage, or any old thing. Shemus, a worn pale man in the black-and-white garb of a business manager, sits staring before him into vacancy. Shawn, a producer, is poring over a book of figures.

Shemus (speaking as though with a great effort). There is no money in the house to-night.

Shawn (absently). Will you be saying that?

Shemus. A while ago
Came two with passes in their hands, who sat
Some little space, then groaned and passed away,
As the wind passes o'er a cairn of stones;
But made more noise, for you could hear them go.

Shawn. I did not see them.

Shemus (bitterly). You did not miss much.
Pot-bellied fools that lacked the wit to smile,
Dead-heads, with hearts already moribund.

Shawn (looking up). There is that here I do not understand;
In this great book is written all the tale
Of what's been spent upon the present show
(Red gold enough to buy a thousand souls);
And all the ancient names of the old Stars
We pinned our faith to, yet they help us not.

Shemus (as before). There is no money in the house to-night.
Nothing to speak of.

Shawn. Then why speak it twice
When once was almost more than I could bear?
[A distant noise as of owls hooting.
Did you not hear them? That's the curtain down;
He should be here by now.

Shemus. I hear a step;
It is himself.
[The door at the back opens to admit the figure of Brandgrin, the leading man. His face is very white. About his shoulders there is for the moment a suggestion as of geese fluttering.

Shawn (awed). And he has got the Bird.

Braudgrin. I am full weary of this foolish piece
And all the scenes that come, yet never go,
And all the hours when, like a fisherman,
I drop my lines into a yawning pit
And have no good of them. It makes me sick,
So sick I feel I could throw up my part.

Shemus (as though quoting). "Artists will please remember that their speech
Must stand as free from all vulgarity."
That was the contract when you were engaged.

Shawn (whispers). It is the Bird that worketh on him thus,
Ruffling his temper with its evil wings.
Let us not heed him.

Brandgrin. Never one can say
But I did everything within my power
With gags and quips to wake the piece to life,
And yet it hangs, like a provincial sketch
Or blasted palm-tree—things that get no dates.

Shawn. They oft will swear when they have had the Bird.

Shemus (as before). There is no money in the house to-night.

Braudgrin (suddenly). I have a vision of a crock of gold
That's ours for lifting. Let us change the bill