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MRS. BROWN AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

doctors about her throat, and feeling nervous says,

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WELL, they may call it a academy if they likes, but it is no more like MR. SPANKERS as I used to wash for as had a blue board and gold letters in the Bow-road than nothing, and as for me going it was only thro' MRS. SIMMONS a-wishing to consult one of them West-end Would you mind for to accompany me, MRS. BROWN, now?" So I says as I would with pleasure thro' her being far from strong, and her own mother being gone to nurse another daughter as is married out at Rotherhithe. So we went in a cab as was the joltingest as ever I got into, with both windows up, thro' MRS. SIMMONS's throat, as a draught might have laid hold on. When we gets to the doctor's, and was showed into a elegant room as had picters round about as seemed to speak like, one gent had a eye like a hawk as seemed to foller you all over the room. I couldn't a-set in that room alone with that picter was it ever so, and was glad when the gentleman as let us in as I took for the doctor, and began a-telling about MRS. SIMMONS, as checked metoo rude, but never mind, and certainly I never see such kindness as that doctor, never, tho' I was surprised as he should a-took me for Mrs. SIMMONS's mother, as must be sixty if she's a day. It give me a dreadful turn when I see that doctor a-ramming of drum-sticks, as I should call 'em, down MRS. SIMMONS's throat, and am certain as would have choked me, as couldn't even bear a herring-bone as was near my death. But it did wonders, for, law! she spoke quite clear. So I says, "If ever my throat is bad he's the man as I'll go to, and that liberal as wouldn't take her money," and away we goes. So we walks on slow, for I says, "MRS. SIMMONS, mum," I says, " Cabs is cabs, and runs into money;" so I says, "I don't see why a omblibus shouldn't do." So she was agreeable, and we wanders on, and took a bun, as is choking work if it hadn't been for a glass of ale, and I must say them West-end streets is wide and shady; and when we come near Charing-cross I see parties going up some steps, so I says to the policeman, "Whatever is a-going on here?" "Oh," he says, "it's the Royal 'Cademy!" "Oh," I says, "indeed! What, where,' says, "the young princes goes to school, I presumes?" Well, he seemed to smile, and says, "No, as it were all picters." "What!" I says, "Royal picters ?" "Yes," says he. "Oh, indeed!" I says. "Well," I says, can any one go in?" "Yes," he says, "any one as pays a shilling." Well," I says, "that ain't much for to see the Royal picters, as must be awful grand." So MRS. SIMMONS and me agrees to go up, and there was sentries a-standing guard, so we pays the money and goes in; not as I held with my umbrella being took away, and there's more stairs outside and in than I cares for; but certainly the picters was lovely with their gold frames a-gleaming, as the saying is. Why," I says, "they must be worth millions. No doubt that's the reason they has soldiers to guard them." MRS. SIMMONS she bought a book all about 'em as she would have read to me, only parties kep' a-shoving and a-driving, and me not having my glasses couldn't read for myself. I suppose as there ain't no one but ladies and gentlemen as goes to them picters, but of all the shoving and driving sets as ever I came a-near they beat 'em. I says, "Wherever are you a-coming to ?" We wants to see the Royal picters," says a young gal. "So do I," I says; "so wherever is the use of driving any one in the back like that;" and certainly that Royal picter was lovely, for all the world exactly like the waxwork as I see at the BAKER'S bazaar, as is reglar life all but breathing. Well, this "Royal Marriage" is very near as handsome, tho' it don't look so grand thro' being small. MRS. SIMMONS says to me, "In my opinion the QUEEN didn't ought to have gone like that." I says, "Whereever is the QUEEN?" Why," says she, "the widder lady up in the window." "Go along," I says. "Why she ain't got no crown on.' No," she says, "that's her way, she always is in weeds." "Ah!" I 66 says, some does go on like that. I'm sure if anything was to 'appen to BROWN, weeds would be my constant potion; not as I holds with weeds at a wedding; that's the reason, p'raps, as she have put on that bit a blue for to take off the black.' "Oh!" says a young chap as was a-standing there, "that's the garter." I says, Young man," I says, "however dare you mention such a thing afore ladies? You did ought to be ashamed of yourself." But he only giggled like a jackass, as I see he was. Well, I was a-standing looking at the picter, tho' I'd seen one just like it all but the colours afore in the 'Lustrous Penny Paper as we takes in. I says to MRS. SIMMONS, "Did ever you see such 'eaps of parsons? One would think it was a misshnery meetin'." I says, "They can't 'ave much to do." Well, a stout party as was standing near says to one of them very parsons, "As she couldn't see nothing cos of this fat old woman as has been sticking here all the morning.' I says, "Who are you a calling fat? I'm sure you'd better look at home for fat." So the parson he says, My good woman, don't be offensive." I says, "Offensive!" I says, "I scorns your words;" and I says, "As to sticking, I shall stick here as long as I please; and I think if you was at home a-preaching of your sermons you'd be

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better employed than a-idling away your time here." "Offensive! if you come to that you're none so agreeable," and I walks off in a huff. "Well," I says, "MRS. SIMMONS, I don't think much of these picters; give me wax-work as is more natural." She says, "Oh, I wants to see the PRINCE OF WALES," so we goes to where he was a-'anging; and I never did-not a bit like the beautiful young gentleman in the velvet and whiskers as was being married, but a poor sick thing, as I says to MRS. SIMMONS, "If he was a child of mine, asses' milk would be the word with me." Then there was horses and dogs all over the place, and picters of ladies and gentlemen as wore frill and velvets, with their boots a-shining like anything, and there was bishops as looked as tho' in pain, pertikler one as they call the BISHOP OF LONDON, as will be apoplexy very shortly if he will wear that stock, and there was another bishop as I took for a lady, thro' having of a red gownd and no crinoline, with clean muslin sleeves. And we met a lady as was very friendly, and knowed all about the picters and them as painted 'em. I says, "It's very tiring," I says, "to the eye to have to look up. Why ever do they hang up there?" "Oh," she says, "them picters isn't 'Cademicians." "Oh,' I says, "I suppose done by the day boys?" She only laughs and "There is a many as tries all their lives to get hung and can't." I says, "You may well say that; but," I hardly ever hangs any one now-a-days." Well, we sat down, we "they talked quite pleasant, for my feet was that shooting like jobbing daggers, and I really felt quite of a whirl, and was that sorry as I hadn't no refreshments with me, for picters is dry work, and then MRS. SIMMONS got in a fidget to be getting home, so we hadn't time for to study them like, but see one as give me quite a turn. MRS. SIMMONS said as it was a sacred one, but I should say it was the old gentleman with a pair of yellow horns a-branching out each side; so I was a-pointing 'em out to MRS. SIMMONS when up come a Jack-in-office of a policeman and says, "If I see you do it again you'll have to step it." "Step what? I says. 66 "Why," says he, "I've been a-watching you a poking and a-pointing all the way round the room." Well, just then a lady hollars out, "Oh, I'm robbed!" It give me such a turn. She says, "My portmoney is gone, and this old woman's been afollowing me everywhere." I thought I should have dropped, for the policeman takes hold of me, and poor MRS. SIMMONS she was ready to faint, and there was such confusion, and they was a-talking of searching me, and I don't know what, when all of a sudden the party as said she was robbed hollars out, "No, I've got it." "Well," I says, "you did ought to be ashamed of yourself;" I says, "I won't stop in such a den of wagabones. It's my opinion as you looks more like a thief than a horse yourself, mum,' and so I bounced out of the place, and, bless ye, if I hadn't been and dropped the ticket for my umbrella, and they wouldn't give it me, as in my opinion is all part of their swindling ways; and when we got out we was both that faint as we couldn't move a step, so was compelled to have a cab home, and all I've got to say it's my belief as that 'Cademy is a humbug altogether, and I'm sure they don't learn no manners there, and as to their picters I'd rather see 'em quiet in the lustrous papers as I can enjoy in my own house.

A MODEL ADVERTISEMENT.

WE are happy to give a kind word to rising talent, and have much pleasure in calling attention to a very neat thing in the advertising line to be found in the Times of Tuesday, the 9th:—

ROOMS wanted by two gentlemen living a few miles out of town-two small bedrooms and one sitting-room for occasional use for the next three or four months. The bedrooms may be anywhere, but the sitting-room must be on the ground floor. The attendance must be perfect, and the rooms and servants must be scrupulously clean and neat. Regular lodging-house keepers with wretched furniture and overworked servants always dirty are politely requested not to answer this advertisement. Address, etc.

Although this is a decided improvement in the literature of advertisement (which is rapidly becoming the literature of the day) it is not exactly what it desires, "the attendance" to be-perfect. There is a vagueness as to the locality in which the lodgings are required, and a looseness of statement as to the whereabouts of the bedrooms, which might lead to awkward consequences. What would the two gentlemen say if the two bedrooms were in the moon or in the middle of next week, or in posse? Perhaps the gentlemen would not object to Buckingham Palace or Stafford House?

EPIGRAM.

BY AN OLD BACHELOR. MOST contradictory, past doubt, The sex, through thick and thin; For now, though crinolines go out, The skirts are coming in!

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!

Sensation Dramas for the Back Drawing-Room.

THE MESOPOTAMIAN MILKMAN;

OR,

Lawks a Dairy Me!

AN ORIGINAL DRAMA.

For characters see small bills, left with the Treasurer. [The scene is laid in the mountains of Mesopotamia. Central Africa, supported by CAPTAIN RICHARD BURTON and Involuntary Contributions, is seen pining in the distance. The begum, the gum-gum, the gumarabic, and the gum-boil are dispersed about the stage, cauliflowers recline R.C., and the Gulf of Finland is beheld struggling out of sight opposite Prompt. As the curtain rises the gentleman on the cornet is discovered to be absent. Some hours are spent (lavishly) in trying to discover his whereabouts, and though he is found himself, his whereabouts still remain a mystery throughout the drama. Slow music takes the curtain up, but nobody supporting the charge it is let off. So is a piece of ordnance.]

Opening Chorus of Invisible Spirits.

We one horse fly by night,
We one horse fly by night,
'Midst troops of spirits.

And so on had in fine-night 'um.

IST SPIRIT.-Speak, sister, speak, is the deed dun? 2ND SPIRIT.-No, 'tis yellow.

1ST SPIRIT.-Oh, of course; sufficient.

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pinkish wig, and if the actress can manage to pourtray the varying phases of the character without being seen by the audience, so much the worse.)

PRINCESS.-Put him to the test!

KHAN.-I will. He is here.

(Music from the comic ballet of Hannibal and Amilker, composed by the author of Milky White and Creamorne Gardens; or, Harlequin Chalk Farm, and Robbin' a Dairy. The Mesopotamian Milkman enters with his pails, and does a pas de doo, or swindling dance, accompanying himself arm in arm.)

MESOPOT. M.-The afternoon's milk. Shall I put it down?
KHAN. DO So, for I cannot pay.

MESOPOT. M.-Tyrant! You mistook my meaning. I meant, should I leave it.

KHAN. Look here, you know. Don't call me a tyrant, because I don't like it.

MESOPOT. M.-Well, you are a tyrant; also a despot.
KHAN.-Who said I wasn't?

MESOPOT. M.-I didn't.

KHAN (à la Box).-Very well, then.

MESOPOT. M. (à la Cox).-Very well, then.

PRINCESS (à la nobody in particular).—Uncommonly well, then. MESOPOT. M.-Beauteous one!

KHAN.-I am beauteous; but that's neither here nor there. PRINCESS.-Where is it, then?

KHAN.-Just so. It's lost!

MESOPOT. M.-What's lost?

KHAN.-The ring.

MESOPOT. M. (after reflecting deeply).—Take a drop of milk? KHAN.-Rather not.

MESOPOT. M.-Do.

(The Mesopotamian Milkman pours the Khan a mugful of milk out of his pail. Tremulous music. The Princess looks askance, then aslant, and eventually askew, finally taking refuge in a chronic squint, smiles diabolically, and is happy.)

KHAN. Should there be chalk in my potion death is thy potion-I

Enter the PRINCESS with her temper up and her hair down.
PRINCESS.-Pa, I have now arrived at a time of life when it is mean portion.
necessary I should choose a husband.

KHAN.-Humph!

PRINCESS.-Nay, do not attempt to silence me with your well-known eloquence.

KHAN.-Rash girl, forbear. You cannot marry.
PRINCESS. Indeed! And why, pray? I am of age.
KHAN.-Rather.

PRINCESS.-Not rather-quite.

KHAN.-More.

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PRINCESS. My royal mother's?

Enter the ROYAL MOTHER, L.R. She watches the business of the scene, and appears affected, not to say unnatural. KHAN.-Now the king drinks to HAMLET. Enter HAMLET, who acknowledges the compliment, and retires into private life amidst a brilliant shower of toothpicks. KHAN.-Oh!

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(Stops the Khan from choking.) KHAN. He has saved my life; but in consequence of the discovery of a bit of choke-I mean chalk-in the royal milk, he dies. (Ballet of Executioners from the last axe of "The Headless Horseman " music by CHOPIN'.)

ROYAL MOTHER (at the right moment).—Stay, let me see that bit of chalk! (Seizes it-scrunches it-discovers something in it-weeps.) ROYAL MOTHER.-The ring!

KHAN, PRINCESS, AND EXECUTIONERS.-Oh! I see it all. Some

KHAN. She had it on her finger-she turned for a moment, and body stole the ring, and in his agitation dropped it in the flowering
when she turned back again it was gone!
PRINCESS.-Awkward!

chalk-pits which fringe our royal dominions. Natures like these show us monarchs that we are but men after all, and before the rest, there

KHAN.-Without that wedding-ring your legitimacy cannot be is a flower that bloometh; COLENSO may say what he likes; TUPPER
proved, and, in consequence, you cannot succeed!
PRINCESS (heroically).-Then I'll fail!

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TO THE EDITOR OF FUN.

DEAR SIR,-Rotten-row is a thing not easy to describe, and very difficult to imagine that is, with the pen. With the pencil everything is easy-except to a professional artist. Who could give a wordpainting of Rotten-row? The light, the air, the motion, the green leafiness above and below that seems to pass by you as you trot or gallop! Everybody knows what Rotten-row is like.

But, oh! the Row is a terrible place-at least for bachelors who are impressionable. Those forms, those riding-habits, those hats, those whips, those gauntlets, and those eyes! Is not a habit a wonderful thing to see as it flutters in a gentle breeze? "Gin a body meet a body coming down the Ride; gin a body smile a body canters by her side." What is there like a gallop to dissipate the fumes of last night's ball? And if she-ADORANGELABELLICA, or whatever her name may be-is equally au fait in the pigskin as in the deux-temps, in the saddle as in the ball-room, how your heart sinks at the inevitable "Good morning' that, like death, dinner, and going to bed, must come at last. That all that is bright must fade is, I believe, one of the few observations that has never been contradicted. Few persons have dared to dissent from the doctrine that there must be an end to everything, which reminds me that there must be a conclusion even to this article, which should have been a description of Rotten-row, and would have been had it not been for a rush of riding-habits to the head, which often affects,

Feelingly yours,

YOUR IMPRESSIONABLE CONTRIBUTOR.

Fizz! Pop!

WE are informed by the French papers that one of the celebrated champagne firm of CLICQUOT is about to marry one of the almost equally well-known champagne family of the Duc DE MONTEBELLO. Of course the gentleman "popped" the question with a long-necked bottle of cham to prove the truth of his affection.

A NURSERY LEGEND.

Он, listen, little children, to a proper little song,
of a naughty little urchin who was always doing wrong;
He disobeyed his mammy, and he disobeyed his dad,
And he disobeyed his uncle, which was very near as bad.
And he would tear up his copy-books to fabricate a kite;
He wouldn't learn to cipher, and he wouldn't learn to write,
And he used his slate and pencil in so barbarous a way,
That the grinders of his governess got looser every day.
At last he grew so obstinate that no one could contrive
To cure him of the theory that "two and two is five;"'
And when they taught him how to spell, he showed his wicked whims
By mutilating PINNOCK and mislaying WATTS's hymns.
Instead of all such pretty books (which must improve the mind)
He cultivated reading of a most improper kind:
Directories and Almanacks he studied on the sly,
And gloated over BRADSHAW's Guide when nobody was by.
With such a course of reading you can easily divine
The condition of his morals at the age of eight or nine;
His tone of conversation kept becoming worse and worse,
Till it scandalized his governess and horrified his nurse.
He quoted bits of BRADSHAW that were quite unfit to hear,
And recited scraps of almanack, no matter who was near;
He spoke of Reigate Junction, and of trains both up and down,
And referred to men who called themselves JONES, ROBINSON, and
BROWN!

But when this wicked boy grew up, he found the proverb true,
That Fate some day makes people pay for all the harm they do.
He was cheated out of money by a man whose name was BROWN,
And got crippled in a railway smash, while riding up to town.
So, little boys and little girls, take warning while you can,
And profit by the misery of this unhappy man.
Read DOCTOR WATTS and PINNOCK, dears; and when you learn to spell
Fight shy of guides, directories, and almanacks as well.

Printed by JUDD & GLASS, 80 Fleet Street, and Phoenix Works, St. Andrew's Hill, Doctor's Commons, and Published (for the Proprietors) by THOMAS BAKER, at 80, Fleet Street.-May 20, 1865.

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