ceiling. You didn't know where to have it. After she had done, Horatio
said:

"What do you think of Nilsson?"

"Wery good! wery good!"

"Hallo," says Horatio, "here's Sims Reeves. Bravo Sims! bravo Reeves!"

"I've eered tell o' he," says Bumpkin; "he be wery young, bean't he?"

"O," says Horatio, "they paint up so; but ain't he got a tenor--O
gemminey crikery!"

"A tenner?" says Bumpkin, "what's thee mean, ten pun a week?"

"O my eye!" says the youth, "he gets more than that."

"It be good wages."

"Yes, but it's nothing to what some of em get," says Horatio; "why if a
man can play the fool well he can get as much as the Prime Minister."

"Ah, and thic Prime Minister can play the fool well at times; it seem to
me--they tooked the dooty of whate and made un too chape."

"Who's this?" asks Horatio of the waiter.

"Patti," says the waiter, "at the express wish of the Queen."

Bumpkin nods again, as though there was no end to the grandeur of the
company.

Then comes another no less celebrated, if Horatio was correct.

"Hullo," says he, "here's Trebelli!"

Now this was too much for the absorbing powers of even a Bumpkin.
Horatio had carried it too far. Not that his friend had ever heard of
the great vocalist, but if you are inclined for fun pray use names that
will go down. Mr. Bumpkin looked hard at Horatio's face, on which was
just the faintest trace of a smile. And then he said:

"What a name, _Bellie_! danged if I doan't think thee be stickin it into
I," and then he laughed and repeated, "thee be stickin it into I."

"Now for Pagannini!" says Horatio; "now you'll hear something. By Jove,
he'll show you!"

"Why I've eerd tell o' thic Piganiny when I were a boy," says Bumpkin,
"used to play on one leg."

"That's the man," says Horatio.

"But this ere man got two legs, how can he be Piganiny?"

"I don't know anything about that," says Horatio; "what's it matter how
many legs he's got, just listen to that!"

"Why danged if that bean't as much like thic Cochin Chiner cock o' mine
as ever I eered in my life."

"Told you so," says Horatio; "but keep quiet, you'll hear something
presently."

And sure enough he did: pig in the straw; sow in the stye; bull in the
meadow; sheep in the fold; everything was perfect.

Never before had Mr. Bumpkin been so overpowered. He never before knew
what music was. Truly Piganiny was a deserving man, and a clever one
too. Mr. Bumpkin's enthusiasm had car