THE AUTOMATIC PHYSIOGNOMIST.

Scene—­The German Exhibition, near an ingenious machine constructed to reveal the character and future of a person according to the colour of his or her hair, for the small consideration of one penny.  A party of Pleasure-seekers are examining it.

First Pleasure-seeker (a sprightly young lady of the name of LOTTIE).  “Put in a penny and get a summary of your character from the colour of your ’air.”  I wonder what they’ll ’ave next!

Second Pl.-s. (her admirer, a porridge-faced young man with pink eyelids and faming hair, addressed as ’ECTOR by his intimates).  Ah, it’s surprising how far they’ve got, it reelly is.  And beginning with butter-scotch, too!

Aunt Maria.  Come on, do—­you don’t want to waste no more time over that rubbidge!

Fourth Pl.-s. (a lanky youth, with pale hair and a receding chin, to his fiancee).  Hadn’t we better be making a move if we’re going to ’ear the band, Carrie?

Carrie.  I shall move on when I like, without your leave, FREDDY; so make no mistake.

Freddy.  Oh, I’m in no ’urry.  I only thought your Aunt was getting—­but don’t mind me. [CARRIE does not mind him.

Dolph. (the funny man of the party).  ’Old on a bit!  I’ve got some coppers.  I’m going to sample this concern.  I’ll put in for all of you—­it’s my treat, this is.  We’ll begin with Aunt MARIA.  What colour do you call your ’air now?  I don’t see any slot marked “cawfy-colour.”

Aunt Maria.  Never you mind what colour my ’air is—­it’s a pity you can’t find a better use for your pennies.

Dolph. (inserting a penny in a slot marked “Light Brown").  ’Ere goes, the oracle’s working. (The machine emits a coloured card.) Listen to what it says about Aunt MARIA.  She is—­“tender-’arted.”  Jest what I’ve always said of her!  “A little ’asty in her temper”—­’ullo, must be a ’itch in the machinery, there!—­“neither obstinate nor ’aughty”—­(A snort from Aunt MARIA at this)—­“her inclination to love never unreasonable.”  ’Ow like her!  “Frolicsome, inclined to flirt and sometimes mischievous.”  You giddy little thing!  Up to all your little tricks, this machine is!  “Fertile in imagination, domesticated, thoughtful and persevering”—­There’s Aunt MARIA for yer!

General Chorus.  Good old Aunt MARIA!

Dolph.  There’s a prophecy on blue paper from Napoleon’s Book of Fate, gratis. (Reads.) “Thy ’oroscope forewarns thee of a loss if thou lendest thy money.”  Just when I was going to borrow arf-a-crown off of her too!

Aunt Maria.  Ah, I didn’t want no machine for that.  ’Ow you can patronise such rubbidge, I don’t know!  Tellin’ characters by the colour of your ’air, indeed—­it’s told mine all wrong, anyhow!