_Bones._ We shall commence this afternoon by 'olding our Grand Annual Weekly Singing Competition, for the Discouragement of Youthful Talent. Now then, which is the little gal to step out first and git a medal? (_The Children giggle, but remain seated._) Not one? Now I arsk _you_--What _is_ the use o' me comin' 'ere, throwin' away thousands and thousands of pounds on golden medals, if you won't take the trouble to stand up and sing for them? Oh, you'll make me so wild, I shall begin spittin' 'alf-sovereigns directly--I _know_ I shall! (_A little Girl in a sun-bonnet comes forward._) Ah, 'ere's a young lady who's bustin' with melody, _I_ can see. Your name, my dear? Ladies and Gentleman, I have the pleasure to announce that Miss CONNIE COCKLE will now appear. Don't curtsey till the Orchestra gives the chord. (_Chord from the harmonium--the Child advances, and curtsies with much aplomb._) Oh, lor! call _that_ a curtsey--that's a _cramp_, that is! Do it all over again! (_The Child obeys, disconcerted._) That's _worse_! I can see the s'rimps blushin' for yer inside their paper bags! Now see Me do it. (Bones _executes a caricature of a curtsey, which the little Girl copies with terrible fidelity_.) That's _ladylike_--that's genteel. Now sing _out! (The Child sings the first verse of a popular Music-hall song, in a squeaky little voice._) Talk about nightingales! Come 'ere, and receive the reward for extinguished incapacity. On your knees! (_The little Girl kneels before him while a tin medal is fastened upon her frock._) Rise, Sir CONNIE COCKLE! Oh, you _lucky_ girl! _The Child returns, swelling with triumph, to her companions, several of whom come out, and go through the same performance, with more or less squeakiness and self-possession._ _First Admiring Matron_ (_in audience_). I do like to see the children kep' out o' mischief like this, instead o' goin' paddling and messing about the sands! _Second Ad. Mat._ Just what _I_ say, my dear--they're amused and edjucated 'ow to beyave at the same time! _First Politician_ (_with the "Standard"_). No, but look here--when GLADSTONE was asked in the House whether he proposed to give the Dublin Parliament the control of the Police, what was his answer? Why.... _The Niggers_ (_striking up chorus_). "Rum-tumty-diddly-umpty-doodah dey! Rum-tumty--diddly--um," was all that he could say! And the Members and the Speaker joined together in the lay. Of "Rum--tumty-diddly-umty doodah-dey!" _Second Pol._ (_with the "Star"_). Well, and what more would you have _'ad_ him say? Come, now! _Alf._ (_who has had quite enough ale at dinner--to his fiancée_). These Niggers ain't up to much, Loo. Can't sing for _nuts_! _Chorley_ (_his friend--perfidiously_). You'd better go in and show 'em how, old man. Me and Miss SERGE'll stay and see you take the shine out of 'em!