rom
Cathedral tower. Ghost has managed to recollect a whole tune at last,
picking it out with one finger. Seem to have heard it before--what the
Dickens _is_ it? Recognise it as the "Mandolinata in E." Remember the
VOKES Family dancing to it long ago in the Drury Lane Pantomime. Not
exactly the tune one would expect to meet in a Cathedral.... Unbolting
behind doors. Nervous feeling. Half inclined to assure Porter
penitently that this shall not occur again. Wish him good-night
instead--pleasantly. Porter grunts--_un_pleasantly. Depressing to be
grunted at the last thing at night. To bed, chastened.

* * * * *

THE MOAN OF THE MUSIC-HALL MUSE.

[It is hinted that the vogue of the tremendously successful
but tyrannously ubiquitous "_Ta-ra-ra-Boom-de-ay!_" is
beginning, at last, to wane.]

_She museth upon "the Boom that waneth every day," and wondering what
she shall "star" with next, breaketh forth into familiar strains:--_

[Illustration]

AIR--"_What will you do, Love?_"

What shall I do now? My song was going
Like a tide flowing, all Booms beyond;
What shall I do, though, when critics hide it,
And cads deride it who're now so fond?
"Ta-ra-ra" chiding, "Boom-de-ay" deriding!--
Nought is abiding--that's sadly true!
I'll pray for another Sensation Notion.
With deep emotion--that's what I'll do!

(_Gazes mournfully at her unstrung harp, and, smitten by
another reminiscence, sings plaintively_):--

AIR--"_The harp that once through Tara(ra)'s Halls._"

The harp that once through Music Halls
Sheer maddening rapture shed,
Now hangs as mute on willow-walls
As though that Boom were dead.
So dims the pride of former days,
So fame's fine thrill is o'er,
And throngs who once yelled high with praise,
Now find the Boom a bore.

No more to toffs and totties bright
Thy tones, "Ta-ra-ra" swell.
The gloom that hailed my turn to-night
Sad tales of "staleness" tell.
The Chorus now will seldom wake,
The old mad cheers who gives?
And LOTTIE some new ground must break
To prove that still she lives.

_She harketh back to the old strain:--_

What would you do now if distant tidings,
Thy fame's confidings should undermine,--
Of some "Star" abiding 'neath other skies,
In the public eyes yet more bright than thine?
Oh, name it not! 'Twould bring shade and shame
On my new-made name