PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 100. June 13, 1891. VOCES POPULI. AT A MUSIC HALL. SCENE--_The Auditorium of a Music Hall, the patrons of which are respectable, but in no sense "smart." The occupants of the higher-priced seats appear to have dropped in less for the purpose of enjoying the entertainment than of discussing their private affairs--though this does not prevent them from applauding everything with generous impartiality._ _The Chairman_. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Celebrated Character-Duettists and Variety Artistes, the Sisters SILVERTWANG, will appear next! [_They do; They have just sung a duet in praise of Nature with an interspersed step-dance. "Oh, I love to 'ear the echo on the Moun-ting!_" (_Tiddity-iddity-iddity-iddity-um!_) "_And to listen to the tinkle of the Foun-ting!_" (_Tiddity, &c._) _A White-capped Attendant_ (_taking advantage of a pause, plaintively_). Sengwidges, too-pence! _Voluble Lady in the Shilling Stalls_ (_telling her Male Companion an interminable story with an evasive point_). No, but you 'ear what I'm going to _tell_ you, because I'm coming to it presently. I can't remember his name at this moment--something like BUDKIN, but it wasn't that, somewhere near Bond Street, he is, or a street off there; a Scotchman, but _that_ doesn't matter! (_Here she breaks off to hum the Chorus of "Good Ole Mother-in-Law!" which is being sung on the stage._) Well, let me see--what was I telling you? Wait a minute, excuse _me_, oh, yes,--_well_, there was this picture,--mind you, it's a lovely _painting_, but the frame simply nothing, not that I go by frames, myself, o' course not, but I fetched it down to show him--oh, I know what you'll say, but he must know _something_ about such things; he knew my uncle, and I can tell you what he _is_--he's a florist, and married nineteen years, and his wife's forty--years older than me, but I've scarcely spoke to _her_, and no children, so I fetched it to show him, and as soon as he set eyes on it, he says--(_Female "Character-Comic" on Stage, lugubriously_. "Ritolderiddle, ol de _ray_, ritolderiddle, olde-_ri-ido_!") I can't tell you _how_ old it is, but 'undreds of years, and Chinese, I shouldn't wonder, but we can't trace its 'istry--that's what _he_ said, and if _he_ don't know, _nobody_ does, for it stands to reason he must be a judge, though nothing to me,--when I say nothing, I mean all I know of him is that he used to be--(_Tenor Vocalist on Stage_. "My Sweetheart when a Bo-oy!") I always like that song, don't you? Well, and this is what I was _wanting_ to tell you, _she_ got to know what I'd done--how is more'n _I_ can tell you, but she did, and she come straight in to where I was, and I see in a minute she'd been drinking, for drink she does, from morning to night, but I don't mind _that_, and her bonnet all on the back of her head, and her voice that 'usky, she--(_Tenor_. "She sang a Song of Home Sweet Home--a song that