"Paint: A Continuous Performance." Alternative title, "An Apple-green Episode." Dramatis Personae: The Woman's Page;—The Private Secretary;—The Chief Reporte: Ourself. Apple-green Devils: Radiator Beautifiers, Flooring Repairers, Anxious - Publicity-seekers, "The College Professor," ete. ete. Time, it's still going on. Scene, a cornner in the State of Confusion, normally an editorial room of the "North-China." Curtain rises, revealing us seated before typewriter, about to transfer to paper a few thoughts for which the world waits breathlessly, We begin a "leader" destined to knock em cold. "How can governments be expected to funeti normally so long as crabs continue to walk backwards? Ought not national aspirations be subordinated to ji structing obstinate crustaceans to Perambulate properly? What is wanted now is......"
Apple-Green Devil: "Just now] wanchee paint." -(We shift the typewriter to another corner of the continue)
"What is, wanted now is an ex-Perienced Grab-trainer. Does the most optimistic imagine that one can be produced from the horde of solfseeking militarists who are slowly ruining the land? Never! From amongst the common people? Perhaps. The only way to find out to advertise. ("North-China" small Adverts. bring results.) And is there nothing else needed?
The Woman's Page (excitedly banging bell): "Boy, how many more times niust I tell you that I need a new typewriter ribbon?" (Exit "College Professor to resume interrupted slumber. We continue)
"Never shall' the foreigner yield his rightful place.
Apple-green Devil "Just now jwanchee paint." (We shift to a other spot) "......that place which, by dint of arduous toil and heaven knows how many cocktails in the course of three-quarters of a ce tury he has won for himself, Dare anyone, after looking about him and counting red noses, doubt the efficacy [of these methods, Will the people at. home never realize? Is there no The Private Secretary: "I think they'll be through with this root in another day two." (Enter the "College Professor," bearing visiting card), The Woman's Page (with great agitation): "Ts that my typewriter ribbon?" ("College Professor" professes not to understand,—thrusts visiting card under our nose and beats a hasty retreat. Enter, a lady.)
Lady: "E thought you might like to have a brief description of the Knuck Knuck Dance' which is to be given in What Next?" Mr. Blank could not come in himself, so he ask-fed me to bring it." (Hands us the equivalent of 63 columns).
We (in honeyed accents which carefully conceal our ur 4 dastardly, yet soul-satisfying crime): "Ah, thank you. I'm sorry, Dut we can't use it' in just that form. The rules are, it must either be 1 paragraph of 8 columns, Tf you don't mind leaving it with me, I'l see it.
Lady: (producing photograph, towards that time when "God's s0- ereignty, will be universal lished." This blessed hope will be realized when His glorious appearing takes place, and mankind is pressing towards it. The Saints of God everywhere, like Simeon of old, devoutly look for "the consolation of Israel;" mankind is everywhere leaving after more ideal social conditions—in many cases ignorantly and wrongly—and great sacrifices are being made to attain them, The League of Nations is striving after universal pence, and is fighting against the evils of corrupt society. All these efforts are signs of the li that is good in them will be hon-Joured and perfectod, Lot us press forward with a good Fppe, each person putting himself entirely under the control of Christ, God's blessed Son and Vicegerent here on earth, and let us pray that Jour British Empire may more and more help men to serve God and one another, and may be among those worthy nations who bring their gisey and honour it ito the City. of Got grand cabinet size): Here is Mr. Blank in his costume. I think it will look well on one of your principal nows pages. If you like, I can supply several others..." (notes lack of enthusiasm in-our jove, and digresses) "He looks wonder fully well in that colour, don't you think?"
We: (as an Apple-green Devil gets in his fine work): "Which colour, Madame?" (Just then we noti that a radiator beautifier hast taken the lady's right limb for a isser-pipe and is about to-apply a Jcoat of rejuvenator, We kick him sharply in the ribs, in return. for [which he converts our left shoe into a silver dancing slipper. Exit Lady, much disgruntled, Enter a merry crew beating sundry pails of molten pitch, led by the "College Professor")
"College Professor: "Suppose can move any man desk, just now wish to repair floor."
The Woman's Page (trying to Jclutch him): "What about that typewriter ribbon?" ("College Protessor" flees incontinently, with the floor repairers who, without knoWwing what it's about, but nevertheless senting danger,. in hit wake, Enter the Chief.)
The Chief: "Gan you let me have something to brighten page 6 (We direct his attention to the vari. ous paint pots and ask if any of these shades will do, He decides that they will not, and retires Enter the Chief Reporter)
Tableau: 'The Chic Reporter gazes about the room, as one who accustomed to working under radical disadvantage, that nothing really matters any more, He removes his cent, removes two pots of paint and a' can of pitch from his desk, seats himself, and goon through the motions of scanning papers in his file. This is but subterfuge. He is gazing reproachfully at the Woman's Page, mentally inquiring if she chose the new co-Jour for the room. He decides that she could not be so depraved, "He next seans the Private Secretary, fand reaches the same conclusion Jeoncerning her. His scrutiny of jus is long and searching. We, beting the court buffoon, may. well have had a hand in the atrocity, hare are circumstances, beware, Polnting to pur jinnocende. Who Chief Reporter, shrugs resignetil, sniffs. the atmosphere Indon with, the scent of fish all, decides it's not. appetizing, and returns to the [papers in his fi 'The Woman's Page (performing leoncerto.on bell): "It I don't got that typewriter ribbon in five minutes Til,... (Bait "Cole lege Professor." He' returns moment with—not the typewriter ribbon, but a strange, gentleman.)
Strange Gentleman: "I should like to contradict an article which you published 7 years ago on the Subject of "The Married Life We: "If you don't. mind lookin through the files for it, or, if that's not convenient, writing a' letter to the Editor?" '(Neither alternative seems to please the gentleman, who [wanders off disconsolately).
Tableau I.: It is late afternoon, The shouting and the tumult cease, the captains and the kings (meaning the Apple-green Devils, ete, ete.) depart. We return to out half-written" "leader" which longer looks good to us. Enter, unexpectedly, " He-who-may-not-be-gain said, He inquires, casually, Have the painters been working this room?" We are sorely tempted to tell him they have not: that the walls, ceiling, and floor, suddenly, and of their own accord, broke' out into the horrid rash eon: fronting him. Wo think better it, however, and, gingerly scating ourself in the middle of a desk-top in the approved posture of a bronze dol, so as to be out of contact with wet paint, try and think of some thing bright to put into print, Curtain.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.