_The Tout._--I have no doubt, if you were to ask it handsomely, that you would be so far accommodated. Still it is out of the theory. The sham goods, for which, believe me, I readily understand your disaffection--the sham goods are well adapted for their purpose. Your lady wife will lay these tea-cosies and pen-wipers aside in a safe place, until she is asked to contribute to another Charity Bazaar. There the tea-cosies and pen-wipers will be once more charitably sold. The new purchasers, in their turn, will accurately imitate the dispositions of your lady wife. In short, Sir, the whole affair is a cycle of operations. The tea-cosies and pen-wipers are merely counters; they come off and on again like a stage army; and year after year people pretend to buy and pretend to sell them, with a vivacity that seems to indicate a talent for the stage. But in the course of these illusory manoeuvres, a great deal of money is given in charity, and that in a picturesque, bustling, and agreeable manner. If you have to travel somewhere on business, you would choose the prettiest route, and desire pleasant companions by the way. And why not show the same spirit in giving alms? _The Ingenuous Public._--Sir, I am profoundly indebted to you for all you have said. I am, Sir, your absolute convert. _The Wife._--Let us lose no time, but enter the Charity Bazaar. _The Ingenuous Public._--Yes; let us enter the Charity Bazaar. _Both_ (_singing_).--Let us enter, let us enter, let us enter, Let us enter the Charity Bazaar! (_An interval is supposed to elapse. The Ingenuous Public and his Wife are discovered issuing from the Charity Bazaar._) _The Wife._--How fortunate you should have brought your cheque-book! _The Ingenuous Public._--Well, fortunate in a sense. (_Addressing the Tout._)--Sir, I shall send a van in the course of the afternoon for the little articles I have purchased. I shall not say good-bye; because I shall probably take a lift in the front seat, not from any solicitude, believe me, about the little articles, but as the last opportunity I may have for some time of enjoying the costly entertainment of a drive. THE SCENE CLOSES THE LIGHT-KEEPER I The brilliant kernel of the night, The flaming lightroom circles me: I sit within a blaze of light Held high above the dusky sea. Far off the surf doth break and roar Along bleak miles of moonlit shore, Where through the tides the tumbling wave Falls in an avalanche of foam And drives its churned waters home Up many an undercliff and cave. The clear bell chimes: the clockworks strain: The turning lenses flash and pass, Frame turning within glittering frame With frosty gleam of moving glass: Unseen by me, each dusky hour The sea-waves welter up the tower Or in the ebb subside again; And ever and anon all night, Drawn from afar by charm of light, A sea-bird beats against the pane.