Scene.—An Evening Party; Miss Fresia Bludkinson, a talented young Professional Reciter, has been engaged to entertain the company, and is about to deliver the favourite piece entitled, "The Lover of Lobelia Bangs, a Cowboy Idyl." There is the usual crush, and the guests outside the drawing-room, who can neither hear nor see what is going on, console themselves by conversing in distinctly audible tones. Jammed in a doorway, between the persons who are trying to get in, and the people who would be only too glad to get out, is an Unsophisticated Guest who doesn't know a soul, and is consequently reduced to listening to the Recitation. This is what he hears:—

Miss Fresia Blud. (in a tone of lady-like apology).

I am only a Cowboy——

[Several Ladies put up their glasses, and examine her critically, as if they had rather expected this confession. Sudden burst of Society Chatter from without.

Society Chatter. How d'ye do?... Oh, but her parties never are!... How are you?... No, I left her at .... Yes, he's somewhere about.... Saw you in the Row this mornin'.... Are you doing anything on——?... Oh, what a shame!... No, but doesn't she now?... No earthly use trying to get in at present ... &c., &c.

Miss Fresia B. (beginning again, with meek despair, a little louder).

I am only a Cowboy; reckless, rough, in an unconventional suit of clothes;
I hain't, as a rule, got much to say, and my conversation is mostly oaths.

[Cries of "Ssh!" intended, however, for the people outside, who are chattering harder than ever.

When the cackle of females strikes my ear——

Society Chatter (as before). Oh, much cooler here.... Yes, delightful, wasn't it? Everybody one knows.... No, you don't really?... Oh, Popsy's flourishing, thanks.... The new Butler turned out a perfect demon ... but I said I wouldn't have his tail docked for anything ... so they've painted it eau de Nil, and it looks so nice!

Miss F. B. (pointedly).

When the cackle of females strikes my ear, I jest vamose, for they make me skeered,
And I sorter suspicion I skeer them too, with my hulking form, and my bushy beard!

[Here, of course, she strokes a very round chin.

Society Chatter. Seems to be somethin' goin' on in there—singin', actin', dancin', or somethin'.... Well, of course, only heard her version of it as yet, y' know.... Have you seen him in ... white bengaline with a Medici collar, and one of those ... nasty gouty attacks he will have are only rheumatism, &c., &c.

Miss F. B. (when next heard).

I cleared my throat and I tried to speak—but the words died strangled—

A Feminine Voice outside. So long since we had a quiet talk together! Do tell me all about, &c., &c.

Miss F. B.

——strangled by sheer alarm.
For there in front——

[Here she points dramatically at a stout matron, who fans herself consciously.

——was the slender form, and the sweet girl-face of our new
"School Marm"!
Say, boys! hev' ye heard an Æolian harp which a Zephyr's tremulous finger twangs?
Wa'al, it kinder thrills ye the way I felt when I first beheld Lobelia Bangs!

Soc. Chat. Oh, you really ought to go—so touching! Dick and I both regularly howled all through the last act.... Not in the least, thanks. Well, if there is a seat.... You're sure there are any ices? Then, strawberry, please—no, nothing to drink!... Will you allow me?

... Told she could dress hair perfectly, but I soon found she was ... a Swedenborgian, my dear, or something horrid.... Haven't you? I've had it three times, and ... so many people have asked me for cards that really I ... had the drains thoroughly looked to, and now they're ... delicious, but rather overpowering in a room, I think! &c., &c.

Miss F. B. (with genuine feeling).

Who would imagine one meek-voiced girl could have held her own in a deafening din!
But Lobelia's scholars discovered soon she'd a dead-sure notion of discipline;
For her satin palm had a sting like steel, and the rowdiest rebel respected her,
When she'd stretched out six of the hardest lots in the Bible-Class with a Derringer!

Soc. Chat. No, a very dull party, you could move about quite easily in all the rooms, so we ... kicked the whole concern to shivers and ... came on here as soon as we could.... Capital dinner they gave us too ... &c., &c.

Miss F. B. (with as much conviction as possible under the circumstances).

And the silence deepened; no creature stirred in the stagnant hush, and the only sound
Was the far-off lumbering jolt, produced by the prairie rolling for leagues around!

Soc. Chat. (crescendo). Oh, an old aunt of mine has gone in for step-dancing—she's had several lessons ... and cut her knees rather badly, y'know, so I put her out to grass ... and now she can sit up and hold a biscuit on her nose ... but she really ought to mix a little grey in her wig!

[&c., &c., to the distraction of the Unsophisticated Guest, who is getting quite interested in Lobelia Bangs, whom he suddenly discovers, much to his surprise, on horseback.

Miss F. B.

And on we cantered, without a word, in the mid-day heat, on our swift mustangs.
I was only ignorant Cowboy Clem—but I worshipped bright Lobelia Bangs!

Soc. Chat. (fortissimo). Not for ages; but last time I met him he was ... in a dreadful state, with the cook down with influenza ... and so I suppose he's married her by this time!

Miss F. B. (excitedly).

But hark! in the distance a weird shrill cry, a kinder mournful, monotonous yelp—
(Further irruption of Society Chatter) ... is it jackal?—bison?—a cry for help.

Soc. Chat. Such a complete rest, you know—so perfectly peaceful! Not a soul to talk to. I love it ... but, to really enjoy a tomato, you must see it dressed ... in the sweetest little sailor suit!

Miss F. B.

My horse was a speck on the pampas' verge, for I dropped the rein in my haste to stoop;
Then I pressed my ear to the baking soil—and caught—ah, horror—the Indian whoop!

Soc. Chat. Some say it isn't infectious, but one can't be too careful, and, with children in the house, &c., &c.

Miss F. B.

I rose to my feet with quivering knees, and my face went white as a fresh-washed towel;
I had heard a war-cry I knew too well—'twas the murderous bellow of Blue-nosed Owl!

Soc. Chat. Nice fellow—I'm very fond of him—so fresh—capital company—met him when I was over there, &c.

Miss F. B.

"What! leave you to face those fiends alone!" she cried, and slid from her horse's back;
"Let me die with you—for I love you, Clem!" Then she gave her steed a resounding smack,
And he bounded off; "Now Heaven be praised that my school six-shooter I brought!" said she.
"Four barrels I'll keep for the front-rank foes—and the next for you—and the last for me!"

Soc. Chat. Is it a comic piece she's doing, do you know? Don't think so, I can see somebody smiling. Sounds rather like Shakespeare, or Dickens, or one of those fellahs.... Didn't catch what you said. No. Quite impossible to hear one's self speak, isn't it?

Miss F. B.

And ever louder the demons yelled for their pale-faced prey—but I scorned death's pangs,
For I deemed it a doom that was half delight to die by the hand of Lobelia Bangs!
Then she whispered low in her dulcet tones, like the crooning coo of a cushat dove!
(At the top of her voice.) "Forgive me, Clem, but I could not bear any squaw to torture my own true love!"
And she raised the revolver—"crack-crack-crack!"

[To the infinite chagrin of the Unsophisticated Guest, who is intensely anxious to hear how Miss Bangs and her lover escaped from so unpleasant a dilemma—the remaining cracks of her revolver, together with the two next stanzas, are drowned in afresh torrent of small-talk—after which he hears Miss F. B. conclude with repressed emotion:

But the ochre on Blue-nosed Owl was blurred, as his braves concluded their brief harangues;
And he dropped a tear on the early bier of our Prairie Belle, Lobelia Bangs!

[Which of course leaves him in a state of hopeless mystification.

Soc. Chat. Is that the end? Charming! Now we shall be able to talk again! &c., &c.