In the Grounds, the fancy
of young men and maidens is lightly turning to thoughts of
love; the first dawn of the tender passion being intimated,
on the part of the youth, by chasing his charmer into a corner
and partially throttling her, whereupon the maiden coyly
conveys that his sentiments are not unreciprocated by thumping
him between the shoulders. From time to time, two champions
contend with fists for the smiles of beauty, who may usually
be heard bellowing inconsolably in the background. A small
but increasing per-centage have already had as much liquid
refreshment as is good for them, and intend to have more.
Altogether, the scene, if festive, might puzzle an Intelligent
Foreigner who is more familiar with Continental ideas of
enjoyment._
_A Damsel_ (_in a ruby plush hat with a mauve feather_). Why, if they
yn't got that bloomin' ole statute down from Charin' Cross! What's
_'e_ doin' of down 'ere, I wonder?
_Her Swain_ (_whose feather is only pink and white paper_). Doin' of?
Tykin' 's d'y orf--like the rest of us are tykin' it.
_The Damsel_ (_giggling_). You go on--you don't green _me_ that w'y--a
statute!
_Swain_. Well, 'yn't this what they call a "Statutory" 'Oliday, eh?
_Damsel_ (_in high appreciation of his humour_).
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