There were gals in the _Crook_ who used to pad their's
from here to here"--(_adds explanatory pantomime._)
_Travelled Man, who has been to Paris._ "These girls can't dance, I
assure you. Now, at the Chatelet they do these things differently."
_Admiring Friend to Travelled Man._ "What spectacles did you see at the
Chatelet?"
_Travelled Man,_ (who was in Paris only two days, and never saw even the
outside of the theatre.) "It was--let me see--Oh! _Moses in Egypt_ was
the name of the piece. It was gorgeous; full of Egyptian scenery, and
Egyptian dancing girls and things."
_Admiring Friend, (with aggravating persistence.)_ "Do you mean
Rossini's _Moses_?"
_Travelled Man, (quite desperate.)_ "Of course! He's the rival of
OFFENBACH, you know. But come, let's go and take something."
(_They go, the faith of the Admiring Friend in the Travelled Man's
veracity being, however, perceptibly shaken._)
Three more acts follow. ULRIC makes a dozen wishes, all of which are
gratified, and all of which have the inevitable effect of transporting
him into scenes pervaded by the female leg to an extent that easily
reconciles him to the successive loss of five years of his life. He
finally becomes King of Egypt, and, after having fought against the
Crusaders in defence of those well-known Mohammedan gods, ISIS and
OSIRIS, is carried down a trap by exulting demons. An Intolerable Comic
Man opens up hitherto unknown wastes of dreariness, and sings a comic
song that is positively more tedious than an article from the _Nation_.
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