<SPAN name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[ 131]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr style="width: 85%;" />
<h2>Bricks without Straw</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A Village School-room. A Juvenile Treat is in progress, and a
Magic Lantern, hired for the occasion, "with set of slides complete—to
last one hour," is about to be exhibited.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Vicar's Daughter</span> (<i>suddenly recognizing the New Curate, who
is blinking unsuspectingly in the lantern rays</i>). Oh, Mr. Tootler, you've
just come in time to help us! The man with the lantern says he only
manages the slides, and can't do the talking part. And I've asked
lots of people, and no one will volunteer. <i>Would</i> you mind just explaining
the pictures to the children? It's only a little Nursery tale—<i>Valentine
and Orson</i>—I chose that, because it's less hackneyed, and
has such an excellent <i>moral</i>, you know. I'm sure you'll do it so
<i>beautifully</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Tootler</span> (<i>a shy man</i>). I—I'd do it with pleasure, I'm sure—only
I really don't know anything about <i>Valentine and Orson</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">The V.'s D.</span> Oh, what <i>does</i> that matter? I can tell you the outline
in two minutes. (<i>She tells him.</i>) But it's got to last an hour, so you must
spin it out as much as ever you can.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Tootler</span> (<i>to himself</i>). Ought I to neglect such a golden opportunity
of winning these young hearts? No. (<i>Aloud.</i>) I will—er—do my
best, and perhaps I had better begin at once, as they seem to be getting—er—rather
unruly at the further end of the room. (<i>He clears his throat.</i>)
Children, you must be very quiet and attentive, and then we shall be able,
as we purpose this evening, to show you some scenes illustrative of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[ 132]</SPAN></span>—er—beautiful
old story of <i>Valentine and Orson</i>, which I doubt not is
familiar to you all. (<i>Rustic applause, conveyed by stamping and shrill cheers,
after which a picture is thrown on the screen representing a Village Festival.</i>)
Here, children, we have a view of—er—(<i>with sudden inspiration</i>)—Valentine's
Native Village. It is—er—his birthday, and Valentine, being
a young man who is universally beloved on account of his amiability and
good conduct—(<i>To the</i> <span class="smcap">Vicar's D.</span> "Is that correct?" <span class="smcap">The V.'s D.</span>
"Quite, <i>quite</i> correct!")—good conduct, the villagers are celebrating the—er—auspicious
event by general rejoicings. How true it is that if we
are only <i>good</i>, we may, young as we are, count upon gaining the affection
and esteem of all around us! (<i>A Youthful Rustic, with a tendency to
heckle.</i> "Ef 'ee plaze, Zur, which on 'em be Valentoine?") Valentine, we
may be very sure, would not be absent on such an occasion, although,
owing to the crowd, we cannot distinguish him. But, wherever he is, however
he may be occupied, he little thinks that, before long, he will have to
encounter the terrible Orson, the Wild Man of the Woods! Ah, dear
children, we all have our Wild Man of the Woods to fight. With <i>some of</i>
us it is—(<i>He improves the occasion</i>). Our next picture represents—(<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Assistant</span>). Sure this comes next? Oh, they're all numbered, are they?
Very well—represents a forest—er—the home of Orson. If we were
permitted to peep behind one of those trunks, we should doubtless see
Orson himself, crouching in readiness to spring upon the unsuspecting
Valentine. So, often when we—&c., &c. The next scene we shall show
you represents the—er—burning of Valentine's ship. Valentine has gone
on a voyage, with the object of—er—finding Orson. If the boat in the
picture was only larger, we could no doubt identify Valentine, sitting
there undismayed, calmly confident that, notwithstanding this—er—unfortunate
interruption, he will be guided, sooner or later, to his—er—goal.
Yes, dear children, if we only have patience, if we only have faith,
&c., &c. Here we see—(<i>an enormous Bison is suddenly depicted on the
screen</i>) eh? oh, yes—here we have a specimen of—er—Orson's <i>pursuits</i>.
He chases the bison. Some of you may not know what a bison is. It is
a kind of hairy cow, and—(<i>He describes the habits of these creatures as fully</i><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[ 133]</SPAN></span>
<i>as he is able.</i>) (<span class="smcap">The Youthful Rustic.</span> "Theer baint nawone a-erntin' of
'un, Zur.") What? Oh, but there <i>is</i>, you know. Orson is pursuing him,
only—er—the bison, being a very fleet animal, has outrun his pursuer for
the moment. Sometimes we flatter ourselves that we have outrun <i>our</i>
pursuer—but, depend upon it, &c., &c. But now let us see what Valentine
is about—(<i>Discovering, not without surprise, that the next picture is a Scene
in the Arctic Regions</i>). Well, you see, he has succeeded in reaching the
coast, and here he is—in a sledge drawn by a reindeer, with nothing to guide
him but the Aurora Borealis, hastening towards the spot where he has
been told he will find Orson. He doesn't despair, doesn't lose heart—he
is sure that, if he only keeps on, if he—er—only continues, only perseveres—(<i>Aside.</i>
What drivel I <i>am</i> talking! <i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Assistant</span>. I say, are there
many <i>more</i> of this sort? because we <i>don't</i> seem to be getting on!)—Well,
now we come to—(<i>a Moonlight Scene, with a Cottage in Winter, appears</i>)—to
the—ah—home of Valentine's <i>mother</i>. You will observe a light in
the casement. By that light the good old woman is sitting, longing and
praying for the return of her gallant boy. Ah, dear children, what a thing
a good old mother is! (<i>To the</i> <span class="smcap">Vicar's Daughter</span>.) "I really can <i>not</i> keep
on like this much longer. I'm positively certain these slides are out of
order!" <span class="smcap">The V.'s D.</span> "Oh, no; I'm sure it's <i>all</i> right. Do <i>please</i> go on.
They're <i>so</i> interested!" <span class="smcap">The Young Heckler.</span> "'Ow 'bout Valentoine,
Zur?—wheer be 'ee?" Ah, where is Valentine, indeed? (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Ass.</span>) Next
slide—quick! (<i>Recognises with dismay a View of the Grand Canal.</i>) No—but,
I say—<i>really</i>, I <i>can't</i>—Here we have Valentine at Venice. He has
reached that beautiful city,—well called the Queen of the Adriatic,—at
last! He contemplates it from his gondola, and yet he has no heart just
now to take in all the beauty of the scene. He feels that he is still no
nearer to finding Orson than before. (<span class="smcap">The Young Heckler.</span> "Naw moor
be we, Zur. We ain't zeed <i>nayther</i> on 'em zo fur!" <i>Tumult, and a
general demand for the instant production of Orson or Valentine.</i>) Now,
children, children! this is very irregular. You must allow me to tell this
story my own way. I assure you that you will see them both in good
time, if you only keep still! (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Ass.</span>) I can't stand this any more<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[ 134]</SPAN></span>
Valentine and Orson must be underneath the rest. Find them, and
shove them in quick. Never mind the numbering! (<i>The screen remains
blank while the</i> <span class="smcap">Assistant</span> <i>fumbles</i>.) Well, have you <i>got</i> them?</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/p134.png" width-obs="493" height-obs="600" alt="RECOGNISES WITH DISMAY A VIEW OF THE GRAND CANAL." title="" /> <span class="caption">RECOGNISES WITH DISMAY A VIEW OF THE GRAND CANAL.</span></div>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[ 135]</SPAN></span>
<p><span class="smcap">The Assistant.</span> No, Sir; I'm rather afraid they ain't <i>here</i>. Fact is,
they've sent me out with the wrong set o' slides. This ain't <i>Valentine and
Orson</i>—<i>it's a miscellaneous lot</i>, <i>Sir</i>!</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />