_A Bystander_. Ah, that's the way to corner _'is_ sort. 'E knows 'e carn't _do_ it! _The Spiritualist_ (_with a smile of sad superiority_). Ridicule ain't argyment. [_The discussion continues._ _The Young Socialist_. Don't tork to me of Patriotism! What have the likes of you and me got to be patriotic about? I'm a Universalist, I am, and so long as a man rallies round our glorious Red Flag (_here he waves a dingy scarlet rag on a stick_), it's all one to me whether his own colour is black, yeller, green, brown, _or_ white! [_Applause._ _Reciter Number One_ (_in the midst of a thrilling prose narrative about a certain_ "'ARRY," _who has apparently got into legal difficulties for having thrown a cocoa-nut stick at a retired Colonel_). Well, I went into the Court 'ouse, and there, sure enough, was my pore mate 'ARRY in the dock, and there was hold Ginger-whiskers (_laughter_) a setting on the bench along with the hother beaks, lookin' biliouser, and pepperier, and more happerplecticker nor ever! "Prison-ar," he sez, addressin' 'ARRY (_imitation of the voice and manner of a retired Colonel_), "Prison-ar, 'ave you--har--hanythink to say in your beyarf--har?" And then, hall of a sudden, I sor a flash come into my dear 'ole comride 'ARRY's heyes, as he strightened 'imself in the dock, and gave the milingtery sloot, and then, in a voice as sounded as true and sweet and clear as a bell, he sez-- _A Dingy and Unprepossessing Preacher_ (_unctuously_). Well beloved friends, as I was telling yer, I went 'ome to the 'ouse of that pious Methodist lady, and she told me as 'ow she 'ad two dear unconverted sons, an' I knelt down (_&c., &c._), an' after that we 'ad our tea, and then I preached a sermon--ah, I well remember I took my tex from (_&c. &c._)--an' then she gave me supper (_more unctuously still_), as nice a bit o' cold beef and 'ome-brewed ale as ever I wish to taste, and I slep' that blessed night in a warm comfortable bed--and this (_drawing the inevitable moral_) this brings me round to what I started on, inasmuch as it proves (_with a forbidding smile_) as 'ow yer may sometimes hentertain a angel unawares! _Reciter Number Two_ (_giving his own private version of "The Ticket of Leave Man."_) Fourpence 'ap'ny, Gentlemen, is _not_ a very 'arty nor corjial recognition of my talent; _'owever_, I will now perceed with the Drarmer. The Curtain rises upon the Second Hact. Hover three years 'ave elapsed since _Robert Brierley_--(&c.) We are in _May Hedwardses_ lodgings. She is torkin to 'er goldfinch. If you boys don't give over larkin' and stand back, you'll get a cuff on some of your 'eds. "Goldie," she sez, "I've 'ad a letter from _'Im_ this morning!" And the bird puts his little 'ed a one side, and a'most seems as if he compre'ended 'er meanin'! _Mrs. Willoughby_ is 'eard outside sayin', "May I come in?" I will now hendeavour to give you a imitation of _Mrs. Willoughby_.