“As James was asleep, and I was by this time uncommon hungry, I thought I would go into the Refreshment Room and just take a little soup; so I wrapped him up in his cloak and laid him by his mamma, and went off.  There’s not near such good attendance as at Swindon.

*****

“We took our places in the carriage in the dark, both of us covered with a pile of packages, and Mary Hann so sulky that she would not speak for some minutes.  At last she spoke out—­

“‘Have you all the small parcels?’

“‘Twenty-three in all,’ says I.

“‘Then give me baby.’

“‘Give you what?’ says I.

“‘Give me baby.’

“‘What, haven’t y-y-yoooo got him?’ says I.

*****

“O Mussy!  You should have heard her sreak!  We’d left him on the ledge at Gloster.

“It all came of the break of gage.”

MR. JEAMES AGAIN.

“Dear Mr. Punch,—­As newmarus inquiries have been maid both at my privit ressddence, ‘The Wheel of Fortune Otel,’ and at your Hoffis, regarding the fate of that dear babby, James Hangelo, whose primmiture dissappearnts caused such hagnies to his distracted parents, I must begg, dear sir, the permission to ockupy a part of your valuble collams once more, and hease the public mind about my blessid boy.

“Wictims of that nashnal cuss, the Broken Gage, me and Mrs. Plush was left in the train to Cheltenham, soughring from that most disgreeble of complaints, a halmost broken art.  The skreems of Mrs. Jeames might be said almost to out-Y the squeel of the dying, as we rusht into that fashnable Spaw, and my pore Mary Hann found it was not Baby, but Bundles I had in my lapp.

“When the Old Dowidger Lady Bareacres, who was waiting heagerly at the train, herd that owing to that abawminable Brake of Gage the luggitch, her Ladyship’s Cherrybrandy box, the cradle for Lady Hangelina’s baby, the lace, crockary and chany, was rejuiced to one immortial smash; the old cat howld at me and pore dear Mary Hann, as if it was huss, and not the infunnle Brake of Gage, was to blame; and as if we ad no misfortns of our hown to deplaw.  She bust out about my stupid imparence; called Mary Hann a good for nothink creecher, and wep, and abewsd, and took on about her broken Chayny Bowl, a great deal mor than she did about a dear little Christian child.  ‘Don’t talk to me abowt your bratt of a babby’ (seshe); ’where’s my bowl?—­where’s my medsan?—­where’s my bewtiffle Pint lace?—­All in rewing through your stupiddaty, you brute, you!’

“‘Bring your haction aginst the Great Western, Maam,’ says I, quite riled by this crewel and unfealing hold wixen.  ’Ask the pawters at Gloster, why your goods is spiled—­it’s not the fust time they’ve been asked the question.  Git the gage haltered aginst the nex time you send for medsan and meanwild buy some at the “Plow”—­they keep it very good and strong there, I’ll be bound.  Has for us, we’re a going back to the cussid station at Gloster, in such of our blessid child.’