[Roars of laughter when the Comic C. discovers the body, and implores it to “say summat!” Change of Scene.  WILLIAM CORDER discovered At Home, in a long perspective of pillars and curtains, ending in a lawn and fountain.

William (moodily).  ’Tis now exactly twelve months since MARIA MARTIN was done to death by these ’ands.  Since then, I have married a young, rich, and beautiful wife—­and yet I am not ’appy.

[Enter Old MARTIN, who, by the simple method of changing his hat and coat, has now become a Bow-street Officer; he puts questions to WILLIAM, who at once betrays himself, and has to be searched.  As a pair of pistols exactly resembling one that was left in the Red Barn, are found in his coat-tail pockets; his guilt is conclusively proved, and he is led away.  The next Scene shows him in the Condemned Cell, resolving to sleep away his few remaining hours on a kitchen-chair.  He has a vision of MARIA in tweeds, who exhorts him to repent.  Old MARTIN, who is now either the Governor of the Gaol or the Hangman, enters to conduct him to the scaffold, and on the way he is met—­to the joy of the Audience—­by the Comic, C., who duns him for the ninepence.  WILLIAM shakes his head solemnly, points to the skies, and passes on.  The Comic C. then goes to sleep in a chair and has a vision on his own account, in which he beholds the apotheosis of MARIA—­still in the suit of dittoes—­and piloted by a couple of obviously overweighted Angels; and also the last moments of WILLIAM CORDER, who, as he stands under an enlarged “Punch” gibbet, pronounces the following impressive farewell before disappearing through a trap.

  Ye Youth, be warned by my Despair! 
  Avoid bad women, false as they are fair. (This is just a little
          hard on poor MARIA by-the-way.)
  Be wise in time, if you would shun my fate,
  For oh! how wretched is the man who’s wise too late!

    [And with this the Drama comes to an end, and the Comic
    Countryman begs the Audience to give the performance a good
    word to their friends outside.

* * * * *

BETWEEN THE ACTS; OR, THE DRAMA IN LIQUOR.

    SCENE—­Refreshment Saloon at a London Theatre.  A three-play
    bill forms the evening’s entertainment.  First Act over.  Enter
    BROWN, JONES, and ROBINSON.

Brown.  Well, really a very pleasant little piece.  Quite amusing.  Yes; I think I will have a cup of coffee or a glass of lemonade.  Too soon after dinner for anything stronger.

Jones.  Yes, and really, after laughing so much, one gets a thirst for what they call light refreshments.  I will have some ginger-beer.

Robinson.  Well, I think I will stick to iced-water.  You know the Americans are very fond of that.  They always take it at meal-times, and really after that capital equivoque one feels quite satisfied. (They are served by the Bar Attendant.) That was really very funny, where he hides behind the door when she is not looking.