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BRADSHAW. A MYSTERY.

A Farce is being performed at the Haymarket under the title of Grimshaw, Bagshaw, and Bradshaw; but if the first two were omitted, Bradshaw alone would form an excellent subject for a tragedy. We have much pleasure in making a present of the following frightful plot to any dramatist who will just take the trifling trouble to supply the dialogue.

Act One opens with a scene in a house in London, where Orlando is discovered earnestly perusing the Second Column of the Times Newspaper. He utters a soliloquy something like the following:—

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Sweet Second Column of the friendly Times, 'Tis by thine aid, the broken-hearted J. Entreats the truant C. to hasten home. To thee the Lady Eleanor repairs To find her bracelet dropp'd at last night's ball. To thee the pining and deserted wife Turns anxiously to meet her absent lord. Thou sweet restorer of lost property, Rings, wives, keys, money, husbands, brooches, dogs; All are recovered by thine agency. To thee Orlando is indebted now For finding where to write to Leonora. But stay—I will not write—I'll go at once.

The Act concludes with a bustling scene, in which Orlando packs up his carpet-bag, and sends for a Bradshaw.

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Act Two begins with the opening of the Bradshaw, which has just arrived, and Orlando eagerly turns over the pages to find the train for Liverpool. After some dialogue of a hurried nature with his servants and a display of some irritation, the following passionate burst might be introduced with considerable effect.

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Why, what is this I'll to the Index turn, And see if that can help me. Ha, ha, ha!

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There's no such place as Liverpool set down. It don't exist! Liverpool is a myth. Its Commerce, Shipping, Public buildings, Docks, Are all a dream—There is no Liverpool! Servant. Be calm, good Master—turn to Birkenhead. Orlando. My head—not Birken—'tis enough to turn. Servant (finding a place in the book, and handing it to his Master). See, Sir, I have discovered Birkenhead. Orlando (snatching the Bradshaw, and looking at it). Why so it is—there's comfort for me yet. What does it say? I've got it right at last (reads)— “Birkenhead, Lancashire, and Cheshire. J.” What's J.? Who's J.? Why J.? What does J. mean? But to the page—I see 'tis seventy-eight. [Turns furiously to page 78. Ha, ha! I thought as much! Here's “Landing stage.” Where's “Landing stage?” Ho, ho! I shall go mad! Let me read further. Ah! Here's Liverpool. The place I fain would reach—but by the book I'm there already. How to get there, though? I'll try the Down Train. Horror! worse and worse! That starts from Chester—how to get to Chester? Will no one tell me—how to get to Chester? Or why to Chester need I go at all? [Collars his Servant.

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Slave, tell me! Wherefore didst thou bring this book— Was it to torture me with?— Servant. Sir—'Tis Bradshaw—

The Second Act being concluded, the Third Act opens at Liverpool, where Leonora is discovered anxiously expecting Orlando. She is intently gazing on a Bradshaw, which she [Illustration] throws away from her, with a speech to the following effect:—

Away! away! thou torturer of hearts, Breaker of heads—thou brain-perplexer go! I cannot spell thee out with all my pains. Can'st tell me when Orlando should be here? Thou can'st not—tantaliser—mocking fiend! For now thou seem'st to bring him to my arms, And now thou rudely hurl'st him back again; Referring me to some far distant page, Prating of junctions or some other jargon. I shall go mad!—I'm going mad!—I'm mad!

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The Fourth Act shows Orlando more calm, with the Bradshaw still open before him. After [Illustration] some quiet dialogue with his faithful domestic, a speech like the following might naturally ensue:—

We've got it now at last, 'tis the North Western; Yes, that's the line that leads to Leonora, I mean to Liverpool—what's the first train? There's one that starts at nine-fifteen—that's good! But when does it arrive—never, by jingo! It stops at Stafford. Come, let's try again, One at nine-thirty—that will do as well; It reaches Liverpool at—ha, ha, ha! It never gets to Liverpool at all; But I'll be patient.—Now to try the next: It starts at eight, the third before the first, The cart before the horse. But never mind! When does it reach? This is beyond a joke: This sticks at Dunstable. Where's Dunstable? Who wants to go to Dunstable? Do you? Or you, Sir? all my brains are dancing reels; Dunstable bonnets whirl about my head. Servant (catching him in his arms). Poor fellow! well, his wits are gone at last.

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The Fourth Act being thus ended, the Fifth opens with Leonora at the Railway Station, at Chester. After making numerous inquiries in a state of great agitation, she goes off into the following rhapsody:—

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What junction? Where's the Up and where's the Down? What train meets which? When is the other due? What's the express? Is this the proper platform? Or that?—or neither? Guard (rings bell). Now! The train from London—[A train arrives, and Orlando looks out of a window of a carriage. Orlando. Where am I? Is this Liverpool— or London— Or Wolverhampton? Leonora. Ah! it is his voice! [Orlando leaps out of the carriage, and the Lovers are immediately locked in each other's arms. Orlando. How came you here? I know you cannot tell, For I can't say at all how I got here. I looked at Bradshaw. Leonora. Oh, don't talk of Bradshaw! Bradshaw has nearly maddened me. Orlando. And me. He talks of trains arriving that ne'er start; Of trains that seem to start, and ne'er arrive; Of junctions where no union is effected; Of coaches meeting trains that never come; Of trains to catch a coach that never goes; Of trains that start after they have arrived; Of trains arriving long before they leave? He bids us “see” some page that can't be found; Or if 'tis found, it speaks of spots remote From those we seek to reach! By Bradshaw's aid You've tried to get to London—I attempted To get to Liverpool—and here we are, At Chester—'Tis a junction—I'm content Our union—at this junction—to cement. And let us hope, nor you nor I again May be attacked with Bradshaw on the Brain. [Illustration] Leonora. I'm happy now! My Husband! Orlando. Ah! My Bride! Henceforth take me—not Bradshaw—for your guide. [The curtain falls.