Konx Om Pax

ALI SLOPER; OR, THE FORTY LIARS 31 engaging Dr. Waistcoat’s celebrated troupe of Variety Artistes to per form at intervals during the evening. Mrs. Bones. I’m sure we’re very much obliged by your kindness; I trust it did not cost you too much. Bowley. Waistcoat is an old friend of mine, you know; connected with the Straights—the Dover Straights—on the mother’s side. Non Omnis Moriar is his motto. Very likely; but, on the other hand,he ’5 never really quite alive; so one can bargain with him to great advantage. Mrs. Bones. Well, I’m sure it will all be most delightful. We get very little of the old-fashioned Christmases now. Bones. Two thousand years hence we shall all be saying the same about Bowleymas Day in the sunset of Bowleyanity. Bowley. Respect my modesty—Pyrrho-Zoroastrianism, if you please. Mrs. Bones. More coffee? Bowley. Please. You do not ask what your husband means. Mrs. Bones. I give you two up. Bones. To-day we celebrate Christ’s birth; then, Bowley’s. Bowls). I,hide my blushes in thy breast, O babe! [Does so; the child weeps] Take it, for God’s sakel [Done. The child smiles. Mrs. Bones. But I thought your birthday was in October. Bowley. It is; and why did I arrange it on that date? Because I knew that I was the Messiah—pass the baby, please !—and that people would celebrate the day according to my word. Mrs. Bones. But why? [BONES signals wildly to her, but in vain. Bowley. Because children born in summer thrive best. Mrs. Bones. But why? Bowley. Brother, you waste alarm. They have ears and hear not. But I am not talking; I am making my Table of Correspondences. I drink to my Table of Correspondences. [Drinks BONES picks ufia book on Indian Mystialrm. Tlum der. Slow music.