THE HORSES. 285 



** Oh ! and will they make gun-fires here? — what do those 

 candles wear ear-rings for, papa ? '' pointing to the glass drops 

 suspended below the box gas lights. 



" They are bits of glass, Tomnny, put tliere to make the lamps 

 look pretty." 



" Let us get some of them, papa, to put in mamma's ears, and 

 make her look pretty.'' 



" No my dear they do n't belong to us." 



" Oh ! how did all those men get up there, papa? " pointing 

 to the gallery, *^ did they climb up these ? " (the supporting 

 pillars in front.) 



" No — no, they went up stairs." 



"Ah!" says Tommy, with an incredulous smile, '*you tell 

 nonsense, papa, I can 't see any stairs." 



Sundry bits of observation are evaporating from all parts ; and 

 two or three strung together, in the order in which they arrived 

 at the ear of the writer, shall constitute a wind-up. 



" O ! Bobby, Bobby, look at that ere fire, it 's as natheral as 

 life." 



" West does that well ; the shrug, the mixture of yieldingness 

 and impatience, the self sufficiency, the richly Gallicised English, 

 and his Vicar-of-Bray-ish adherence to the party in power are 

 capital — and then we see that he can do other things, three steps, 

 a pirouette, and cut, who wants more to see that he can use his 

 legs ? " 



" What a lot of snufF Wilton takes, without ever blowing his 

 nose ; there ! he 's dropped his box, there 's none in it, and it 's a 

 tin one." 



" That point is Bonaparte." 



" I say Snooks, do n't you think that that Duke of Wellington 

 would be all the better if he was hung up for a week, to stretch 

 his neck, and get his head up from between his shoulders ? " 



^* Do n't be starten, Biddy, my jewel, they 're only firin' blank 

 carthridges." 



"Aw! Vivash, you 're a broth of a boy; its only a pity you 

 have n't a thrifle more o' the brogue ; what an illigant way you 

 have o' taken a dhrop o' somethin ; and how nicely you wipe 

 the flash o' lightnin' out your eye with your finger aftherwards ; 

 we 'ill niver cry whin you 're here." 



" Now^ while the curtain 's down, here 's a toast — Luck to 

 West and three cheers for Sandford." 



J. B. 



