They talk of ‘Peel,’ and ‘Hume,’ and ‘Stanley,’ and bandy about their names as familiarly as if they were their particular acquaintances.

“What a dust the Irish Member kicked up in the House last night,” remarks one.

“His speech was a heap o’ rubbish,” replied the other.

“And I’ve no doubt was all contracted for!  For my part I was once a Reformer—­but Rads and Whigs is so low, that I’ve turned Conservative.”

“And so am I, for my Sal says as how it’s so genteel!”

“Them other chaps after all on’y wants to throw dust in our eyes!  But it’s no go, they’re no better than a parcel o’ thimble riggers just making the pea come under what thimble they like,—­and it’s ’there it is,’ and ’there it ain’t,’—­just as they please—­making black white, and white black, just as suits ’em—­but the liberty of the press—­”

“What’s the liberty of the press?”

“Why calling people what thinks different from ’em all sorts o’ names—­arn’t that a liberty?”

“Ay, to be sure!—­but it’s time to cut—­so down with the dust—­and let’s bolt!”

SCENE IV.

“Oh!  Sally, I told my missus vot you said your missus said about her.”—­“Oh! and so did I, Betty; I told my missus vot you said yourn said of her, and ve had sich a row!”

Sally. 
Oh!  Betty, ve had sich a row!—­there vas never nothink like it;—­
I’m quite a martyr. 
To missus’s pranks; for, ’twixt you and me, she’s a bit of a tartar. 
I told her vord for vord everythink as you said,
And I thought the poor voman vould ha’ gone clean out of her head!

Betty. 
Talk o’ your missus! she’s nothink to mine,—­I on’y hope they von’t meet,
Or I’m conwinced they vill go to pulling of caps in the street: 
Sich kicking and skrieking there vas, as you never seed, And she vos so
historical, it made my wery heart bleed.

Sally. 
Dear me! vell, its partic’lar strange people gives themselves sich airs,
And troubles themselves so much ’bout other people’s affairs; For my
part, I can’t guess, if I died this werry minute,
Vot’s the use o’ this fuss—­I can’t see no reason in it.

Betty. 
Missus says as how she’s too orrystocratic to mind wulgar people’s
tattle,
And looks upon some people as little better nor cattle.

Sally. 
And my missus says no vonder, as yourn can sport sich a dress, For ven
some people’s husbands is vite-vashed, their purses ain’t less;
This I will say, thof she puts herself in wiolent rages,
She’s not at all stingy in respect of her sarvant’s wages.

BETTY.

Ah! you’ve got the luck of it—­for my missus is as mean as she’s proud;
On’y eight pound a-year, and no tea and sugar allowed. 
And then there’s seven children to do for—­two is down with the measles,
And t’others, poor things! is half starved, and as thin as weazles;
And then missus sells all the kitchen stuff!—­(you don’t know my trials!)
And takes all the money I get at the rag-shop for the vials!