The Sketcher.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume 31, Issue 9220, 15 June 1900, Page 4

The Sketcher.

Tragedy at the Fair. A Sketch of manners and Morals. " Pat Bess" sat majestically on a sixlegged oaken throne raised upon a dais, and contemplated her clients with nu air of calm contempt. She had her arms iolded. They were fearful and wonderful arms, and bare to t'he vaccination marks. Her shoulders also were bare, and her neck, and something besides. Her frock was short, for the convenience °f ankles, which were elephantine. . " Don't none of you go l'or to tell me as she ain't worth a penny to see," said the m'an with a black eye and the pointing cane. He had drawn the curtain close, refreshed himself from a -brawn jug, -coug-hed and gaped ere stepping on to the platform alongside the fat lady.

Fat Bess's eyes had momentarily brightened at the sight of him. They followed his movements with the jug, and stayed on him until he took up the cane. Their expression reminded me strangely of the lion's face in the menagerie next door, so to speak, when the tamer appeared in the crowd, and cracked his whip as a preliminary to his performance. Tie lion's eyes said as plain as could be: " What nonsense this make-believe is ! As if I couldn't chew up that fellow quite easily, if only I cared to. But if I did, should I get my luncfh of horseflesh 'by-and-by ? Ergo " " Ladies an' gents," continued the showman, Miss Bess 'ere mayn't be a Daniel Lambert at seven 'undred an' thirty-nine pounds, but there's p'ints in which she excels that most immortal of stout prodigies. One •af 'er p'ints is 'er amazing agility, in spite of the blessings of extraor'nary liesh Providence has blessed 'er with. But that's neither 'ere nor there."

The speaker bent towards the brown jug. Afterwards he wiped his face, winch was red from -heat (It was June) and exertion. Fat Bess's left eye, the nearer to him of the two, glanced at him from between its cumbrous lids. She seemed as impassive as the lion next door, while its characteristics were being described merely, without illustrative accompaniment. The spectators m'ade remarks, and giggled. "Do 'old your noise, now," a lean worn an in a high bonnet is heard to say to an exhilarated man, evidently her husband. " I wants to swop, I tells yer," the latter rejoins. " You did oughtto be ashamed," exclaims the lean woman. Her bonnet tremibles with emotion.

' Go on, gaffer, get it over," urges an imitatient sig'htseer, with a frown at the showman. The latter resents the interference, but proceeds.

" Jliss Bess, ladies an' gents, weighs three 'undred an' fifty pounds, an' she's as good as she is beautiful an' " " Fat," interpolate several voices.

" Thank you, I'm sure," says the showman wit.li a mock bow. " This 'ere weather as we're having, it's good to 'ave ones words took out of one's own mouth. But, as I was saying, you'll not see her ekal for youth an' size in one. S'he was born, was Miss Bess, in a colliery town, and was hearty from a very little girl. Now she's twenty, she weighs three 'undred an' fifty cheese pounds, an' 's still growin'. Ladies an' gents, look at her : look at 'er neck, where the fat lies in rings ; look at her lovely shoulders, them shapely ankles, iUI ' < the sweet disposition in 'er face. An' look at 'er arms. Look at them folded arms, I say !"

"Is she all that sweet-tempered, mister ?" inquires a voice. Fat Bess's eyes roam bee-like from face to face until they alight on the inquirer. There they tarry while the showman answers :

"Ladies an' gents, I'm 'er husfoand, an' did ought to know. Why, it's a well-known thing," he exclaims with sudden fervour, " the more fat, the more good nature. There wasn't a more civilspoken, gentle person living than the great Mr. Bright, of Maldon, whose weskit eoukl button round seven or'nary individuals like you an' me, an' died at forty-lour stone. I say the same of Miss Bess, an' challenge any man to the contrary."

The momentary dissension among the crowd is to a quarrel between the lean, high-honneted lady and her spouse, who seizes the showman's remarks for a text on which to disparage his wife. It is suggested that they be chucked out. But no one acts on the suggestion. Miss Bess -extends five dimpled Angers (with sad finger nails) before her large red lips and yawns. The crowd stretch forward to see if her teeth are proportioned to her body. The* showman recurs to the brown jug, then again takes up his cane (which he had set by when drinking), and, touching Miss Bess's tender flesh with its extremity, he repeats : " Look at 'er arms !"

Some one asks if Fat Bess mayn't be made to stand up. j "That," replies the showman with! a gallant leer towards his wife, "Is a! matter for the lady 'erself to settle. She aam't to be druv' like a 'onse."

A pause, during which expectation, stands on tiptoe. But if expectation! thus exercises itself, Fat Bests does not.' She becomes preternaturally rigid, in fact, and gazes at nothing in particular. For a twenty-year-old she displays amazing phlegm.

"There you are, ladies an' gents," says the coachman, as if he had triumphed somewhere. " You can't al'lers coax even a cooing dove. And now, friends, that's all. Them as likes can kiss Miss Bess's hand on their way out : the left 'un. The right's mine." Uproarious laughter acknowledges this witty sally. " And look at her arms, just once more !" clamours the fool of a showman. " They're miracles o' beauty." For the fiirst time during the show Miss Bess blushed, and yet again her ox-like eyes turned towards her husband. But the blush fled .under , the volley of salutes to which s'he was subjected. A beetroot patch of colour took its place briefly, and disappeared also. " 'Urry up an' tell your friends about 'er," cries the showman. The crowd do so, it is to be hoped. I am the last to leave. Ere getting beyond the curtain, however, I hear a sudden tumult behind. It is Fat Bess. She has left her throne and assaulted the showman. Her language is not in keeping with her age and sex. Nor is her conduct. With one blow she has felled her beer-sodden lord and master to the ground. " That'll teach you," she says in a deep bass voice. Ah hour later the showman is still to be seen puffing Miss Bess and her -attributes under the canvas picture of her; and a crowd of fresh openmouthed listeners are drinking in bis words. He has two black* eyes now instead of but one.—" Pall Mall Gazette." The hottest region on the earth's surface is on the south-western coast of Perjsia, on the border of the Persian Gulf. At Dijon there Is a poplar tree with a record that can be traced to 722 A.D. It is 122 ft. high, and 45ft, hi circumference bX the base.