SCENE--_An Evening Party; Miss FRESIA BLUDKINSON, a talented young Professional Reciter, has been engaged to entertain the company, and is about to deliver the favourite piece entitled, "The Lover of Lobelia Bangs, a Cowboy Idyl." There is the usual crush, and the guests outside the drawing-room, who can neither hear nor see what is going on, console themselves by conversing in distinctly audible tones. Jammed in a doorway, between the persons who are trying to get in, and the people who would be only too glad to get out, is an Unsophisticated Guest who doesn't know a soul, and is consequently reduced to listening to the Recitation. This is what he hears:--_ [Illustration: "I am only a Cowboy."] _Miss Fresia Blud_. (_in a tone of lady-like apology_). I am only a Cowboy-- [_Several Ladies put up their glasses, and examine her critically, as if they had rather expected this confession. Sudden burst of Society Chatter from without._ _Society Chatter_. How d'ye do?... Oh, but her parties never _are_!... How are you?... No, I left her at ... Yes, he's somewhere about ... Saw you in the Row this mornin'.... Are you doing anything on ----?... Oh, _what_ a shame!... No, but _doesn't_ she now?... No earthly use trying to get in at present ... &c., &c. _Miss Fresia B._ (_beginning again, with meek despair, a little louder_). I am only a Cowboy; reckless, rough, in an unconventional suit of clothes; I hain't, as a rule, got much to say, and my conversation is mostly oaths. [_Cries of "Ssh!" intended, however, for the people outside, who are chattering harder than ever._ When the cackle of females strikes my ear-- _Society Chatter_ (_as before_). Oh, _much_ cooler here ... Yes, delightful, wasn't it? Everybody one knows ... No, you don't _really_?... Oh, POPSY's flourishing, thanks ... The new Butler turned out a perfect demon ... but I said I wouldn't have his tail dooked for anything ... so they've painted it _eau de Nil_, and it looks _so_ nice! _Miss F.B._ (_pointedly_). When the cackle of females strikes my ear, I jest vamose, for they make me skeered, And I sorter suspicion I skeer them too, with my hulking form, and my bushy beard! [_Here, of course, she strokes a very round chin._ _Society Chatter_. Seems to be somethin' goin' on in there--singin', actin', dancin', or somethin' ... Well, of course, only heard _her_ version of it as yet, y'know ... Have you seen him in ... white bensaline with a Medici collar, and one of those ... nasty gouty attacks he _will_ have are only rheumatism, &c., &c. _Miss F.B._ (_when next heard_). I cleared my throat, and I tried to speak--but the words died strangled-- _A Feminine Voice outside_. So _long_ since we had a quiet talk together! Do tell me all about, &c., &c. _Miss F.B._ --strangled by sheer alarm. For there in front--