[_He cocks his hat rather more on one side, to indicate feminine garrulity, and continues._ _Anti-Parnellite Irishman_ (_warmly_). Is it kape to the point? Oi till that white-feeced an' black-hearrted loiar, TIM MURPHY, that if he interrups me wance more whoile o'im in possession o' the chair, oi'll step down an' call 'm to orrder by landin' 'um a clump on the conk! _Reciter Number Three_ (_who is working his way through a bloodcurdling poem, with a hat on the ground before him_):-- And on came them maddened 'orses, with their foiery, smokin' breath; As were bearin' the woman I lurved to a crule and 'orrible death! [_Pathetically._ 'Ow could I save my darlin' from layin' a mangled 'eap On the grorss below where the buttercups blow, along of the innercent sheep! (_Wildly._) I felt my brine was reeling--I'adn't a minnit to lose! [_He strains forward, in agony._ With a stifled prayer, and a gasp for air, I-- [_Here he suddenly becomes aware of an overlooked penny on the grass, and replaces it carefully in the hat before proceeding._ _First Bystander_ (_discussing Physical Courage with a friend_). No, I never 'ad no pluck. I don't see the use of it myself--on'y gits you into rows'. (_Candidly._) I'm a blanky coward, I am. _His Friend_ (_admiringly_). Give us yer 'and. Yer can't be a blankier coward than _me_! _The A.P._ (_with just pride_). Oi've been wan o' the biggest libertines in this or anny other city in me toime--there's no blagardhism oi'd have put beyant me--but oi till ye this. If PARNELL was to come up to me here, now, and ask me to sheek um by the hand, oi'd say, "Shtand back, ye d----d scoundthrel!" Ah, oi would _that_! _Belated Orator_ (_perorating to an embarrassed stranger on a seat before him, under a muddled impression that he is addressing a spell-bound multitude_). I tell yer--yes, hevery man, and hevery woman among yer--(_Here he bends forward, and touches his hearer's right and left elbow impressively_) don't you go away under the impression I'm talking of what I don't understan'! (_The Stranger shifts his leg and looks another way_.) I speak sense, don't I? _You_ never 'eard nothin' like this afore, _any_ of yer, _'ave_ yer? That's because I read between the lines! (_Waving his arm wildly._) An' I want heach man and boy of you to 'member my words, and _hact_ upon them when the time comes! [_Here he staggers off with a proud and exalted air, to the immense relief of his hearer._ _A Professional Pietist_ (_with a modest working capital of one hymn and a nasal drone_). "My richest gynes" ... (_To Charitable Passer_. A copper, Sir? bless your kind 'art!) "I cayount" ... (_Examining it._ A bloomin' French 'ap'ny!) ... "but loss; And pour contemp'" ... (Call yerself a Christian gen'lman, yer--&c.) ... "on a--a--ll my proide!" (_Here the Reader will probably have had enough of it._) * * * * *