Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 11907-h.htm or 11907-h.zip: (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/9/0/11907/11907-h/11907-h.htm) or (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/9/0/11907/11907-h.zip) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI VOL. 99 JULY 12, 1890 VOCES POPULI. AT THE MILITARY EXHIBITION. IN THE AVENUE FACING THE ARENA. _An Unreasonable Old Lady_ (_arriving breathless, with her grandson and niece_). This'll be the place the balloon goes up from, I wouldn't miss it for anything! Put the child up on that bench, MARIA; we'll stand about here till it begins. _Maria_. But _I_ don't see no balloon nor nothing. [Which, as the foliage blocks out all but the immediate foreground, is scarcely surprising. _The U.O.L._ No more don't I--but it stands to reason there wouldn't be so many looking on if there wasn't _something_ to see. We're well enough where we are, and _I_'m not going further to fare worse to please nobody; so you may do as you _like_ about it. [Illustration] [MARIA promptly avails herself of this permission. _The U.O.L._ (_a little later_). Well, it's time they did _something_, I'm sure. Why the people seem all moving off! and where's that girl MARIA got to? Ah, here you are! So you found you were no better off?--_Next_ time, p'raps, you'll believe what I tell you. Not that there's any War Balloon as _I_ can see! _Maria_. Oh, there was a capital view from where _I_ was--out in the open there. _The U.O.L._ Why couldn't you say so before? Out in the open! Let's go there then--it's all the same to _me_! _Maria_ (_with an undutiful giggle_). It's all the same now--wherever you go, 'cause the balloon's gone up. _The U.O.L._ Gone up! What are you telling me, MARIA? _Maria_. I see it go--it shot up ever so fast and quite steady, and the people in the car all waved their 'ats to us. I could see a arm a waving almost till it got out of sight. _The U.O.L._ And me and this innercent waiting here on the seat like lambs, and never dreaming what was goin' on! Oh, MARIA, however you'll reconcile it to your conscience, _I_ don't know! _Maria_. Why, whatever are you pitching into _me_ for! _The U.O.L._ It's not that it's any partickler pleasure to _me_, seeing a balloon, though we _did_ get our tea done early to be in time for it--it's the sly deceitfulness of your _conduck_, MARIA, which is all the satisfaction I get for coming out with you,--it's the feeling that--well, there, I won't _talk_ about it! [In pursuance of which virtuous resolve, she talks about nothing else for the remainder of the day, until the unfortunate MARIA wishes fervently that balloons had never been invented. IN THE BUILDING. An admiring group has collected before an enormous pin-cushion in the form of a fat star, and about the size of a Church-hassock.