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.