Punch_ felt a natural reluctance to betray the weak points of any
terrestrial institution.
"Oh, _our_ Music Halls? they are perfection, of course," he said. "The
entertainments there are distinguished by humour of the most refined
and intellectual order. It only struck me that they mayn't be quite
the same _here_, you know, that's all."
"We shall see, Sir, we shall see," said TIME. "I don't think I'm
particularly difficult to amuse." By this time they had entered the
dazzling hall, and, reclining on sumptuous seats, were prepared to
bestow their best attention upon the proceedings. A stout man with a
fair wig, a dyed moustache and a blue chin, occupied the stage. He was
engaged in representing a Member of the Seriocomican aristocracy with
irresistible powers of social fascination, and he wore a loose-caped
cloak over garments of closely-fitting black, which opened in front
to display a mass of crumpled white, amidst which scintillated an
enormous jewel. In his hand he held a curious black disc, with which
he beat time to a ditty, of which _Mr. Punch_ only succeeded in
catching the following refrain:--
"Oh, I 'ave sech a w'y with the loydies! All the dorlins upon me are gorn!
For they soy--'Yn't he noice! you can tell by his vice,
He's a toff and a gentleman born!'"
And here the singer suddenly caused the black disc to expand with a
faint report to a cylindrical form of head-dress, which he placed upon
one side of his head, amidst thunders of approval.
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