_Wife of British Workman_ (_spelling out placard under Hottentot
Group_). "It is extremely probable that this interesting race will be
completely exterminated at no very distant period." Pore things!
_British Workman_ (_with philosophy_). Well, _I_ shan't go inter
mournin' for 'em, SAIRER!
[Illustration]
_Lambeth Larrikin_ (_in a pasteboard "pickelhaube," and a false
nose, thoughtfully, to BATTERSEA BILL, who is wearing an old grey
chimney-pot hat, with the brim uppermost, and a tow wig, as they
contemplate a party of Botocudo natives_). Rum the sights these 'ere
savidges make o' theirselves, ain't it, BILL?
_Batt. Bill_ (_more thoughtfully_). Yer right--but I dessay if you and
me 'ad been born among that lot, _we_ shouldn't care _'ow_ we looked!
_Vauxhall Voilet_ (_who has exchanged headgear with CHELSEA
CHORLEY--with dismal results_). They _are_ cures those blackies! Why,
yer carn't 'ardly tell the men from the wimmin! I expect this lot'll
be 'aving a beanfeast. See, they're plyin' their myusic.
_Chelsea Chorley_. Good job we can't _'ear_ 'em. They say as niggers'
music is somethink downright horful. Give us "_Hi-tiddly-hi_" on that
mouth-orgin o' yours, will yer?
[_VAUXHALL VOILET obliges on that instrument; everyone in
the neighbourhood begins to jig mechanically; exeunt party,
dancing._
_A Pimply Youth_. "Hopium-eater from Java." That's the stuff they gits
as stoopid as biled howls on--it's about time we went and did another
beer. [_They retire for that purpose._