ANSWER TO "THE WARRIOR KNIGHT."

OUR knight who thus rides as if really he must,
Thinks naught of the pantry or larder;
His breakfast consisting of merely a crust,
No fare could be drier or harder.

When heated and parched, see, a well he espies,
So refreshing and cool is the water;

He drinks, and then straight to yon castle he hies,
For a word with the baron's fair daughter.

The maiden keeps watch,-of course then she knows That her knight on a journey is starting;

"Farewell" he must say, and then onward he goes, Leaving her full of sorrow at parting.

OVERTURE.- "Oh dear, what can the matter be?"

SCENE. First floor front room in a state of the utmost artistic disorder-tables and chairs strewed with paintings and drawings, colours, palettes, brushes, chalks, pencils, &c.,— daubs of paint upon a crumb cloth, which covers a part of the carpet (these may be represented by pieces of irregularly cut coloured lining, slightly stitched to the crumb-cloth)-several portfolios about, and an easel in one corner of the room—a small tray with a plate containing a mutton-chop bone, knife and fork, &c., upon the floor;

also, several cigar ends, a pale ale bottle and glass in one chair, and a newspaper in another.-On the table a sketch of a child's head, apparently in progress.

Enter MRS. HIGGLES. (Stops short as soon as she gets inside the room, and holds up her hands in astonishment and dismay.)

Mrs. H. Oh, my goodness! What a mess! (Goes a little farther into the room.) Oh, my gracious! What a mess!! Oh, my goodness gracious, what a dreadful mess the room is in, to be sure! To think that my first-floor front, that I only let to single gentlemen, should ever be in such a state as this; why, half-a-dozen children couldn't have made it worse! (Calls.) Polly, leave off sweeping them stairs, and come here directly.

Enter POLLY, with dust-pan and broom. Polly. Oh, lor, mum, what a mess!

Mrs. H. Just what I said myself, Polly, and you never said a truer word in all your life; how lucky I happened to come up! Folks say that my new lodger is a great London painter come here for change of air, so when I heard him go out just now, I thought I'd just come up and have a look at his pictures, but this room is a picture I never expected to see in my house.

Polly. Oh, lor, mum, he's been and gone and upset his nasty paint on the nice, clean crumb-cloth, that I took such pains with, and washed in hay water to make it a good colour.

Mrs. H. So he has, and I warrant you those colours won't wash out; he'll have a new crumb-cloth charged in his bill, or my name isn't Mrs. Higgles.

Polly. And instead of ringing the bell like a Christian, for me to clear away his things, he's put his tray on the floor, and his beer-bottle and glass on a chair, and I declare, if it ain't all wet with the drippings!

[Wipes the chair with her apron.

Mrs. H. Well, clear them away now, Polly, as fast as you can, and we'll try to get the room tidy before he comes in. I'll just let him know that I don't approve of my lodgers making such a mess of the place. Here's a lot of crumbs and cigar ends too, I declare; talk about smoky chimneys, I'm sure smoky lodgers are a much greater nuisance; next time I put a bill up, I have a great mind to have at the bottom, "No smoking allowed."

Polly. (With an oracular shake of the head.) Ah, mum, then see if you'd get any lodgers; why, mum, my young man says to me, says he, "Polly," says he, "smoking is one of the necessaries of life;" and he goes to a Hinstitootion of evenings, mum, he does.

Mrs. H. (Dignified.) I don't wish to know your young man's opinion upon the subject, Polly. Sweep up the crumbs. Polly. (Sweeping away vigorously.) Ah, mum, this new lodger ain't such a nice, quiet gentleman as the last one, he often gived me a shilling, and was so soft spoken and pleasant. He used to say, "Polly, will you have the goodness to do this," and, "Polly, will you please to do that," it was quite a pleasure to do anything for him; but this new lodger, mum, he nearly upset me on the stairs, mum, he run down so fast, and banged the door after him like mad.

Mrs. H. Well, great man or not, I won't have his heavy pictures on my best chairs scratching their backs like anything; so they shall just stand down. (Lifts them down and stands them on the floor, with their faces to the wall; jumbles all the brushes and pencils into a box; collects the scattered drawings, puts them into the portfolios, and carefully ties them up.) What is this? (Holds up an unfinished drawing-head of a child, in crayon.) I suppose this is what he has been busy about all the morning.

Polly. (Putting down the dust-pan and looking over her shoulders.) It looks as how as if it was going to be a little boy, mum-p'raps it's a photography.

Mrs. H. Nonsense, Polly; photographs are not done a bit

at a time, like this, they're all done at once, before you can Jack Robinson-it's the sun that does them.

say

Polly. Lor, mum, that is quick-but I didn't know our lodger had got a son.

Mrs. H. (With a lofty consciousness of greatly superior knowledge and understanding.) Oh, of course, Polly, you can't understand it but never mind, I'll put it carefully away in this little portfolio. (Places it in the smallest portfolio, which she puts in a corner of the room, as much out of sight as possible.) The room begins to look tidy now-excepting those nasty blotches of paint-such a mess as it was in, to be sure. Run away with some of these things, Polly; [Exit POLLY, with tray. [MRS. HIGGLES ranges the chairs in formal order against the walls of the room. Loud knock and ring heard. Mrs. H. Oh, my goodness, here he is! (Calls.) Polly! Polly!

quick, make haste.

Enter POLLY.

Polly. Yes, mum; here he is, mum.

[Catches up her dust-pan and broom, and is running hastily out, when she knocks against the open door, and upsets all the crumbs, cigar ends, &c., upon the carpet.

Mrs. H. Oh, Polly, how could you be so stupid? Brush them up again directly; do make haste.

Polly. (Sweeping.) Oh yes, mum, I'll soon have 'em up. (Louder knock and ring heard.) My goodness me, he'll knock the door down.

Mrs. H. There, that will do, go and let him in for gracious sake; I'll bring these. [Takes up the bottle and glass. [Exit POLLY. Mrs. H. (Looking round.) Yes, it does look tidy now, such a mess as it was in, to be sure. [Exit Mrs. H.