The Leader. Here you are, you see, mummy cats—don't they look comical all stuck up in a row there?
First Woman. Dear, dear—to think o' going to all that expense when they might have had 'em stuffed on a cushion! And monkeys, and dogs too—well, I'm sure, fancy that now!
Second Woman. And there's a mummied crocodile down there. I don't see what they'd want with a mummy crocodile, do you?
The Leader (with an air of perfect comprehension of Egyptian customs). Well, you see they took whatever they could get 'old of, they did.
IN THE PREHISTORIC GALLERY.
Old Lady (to Policeman) Oh, Policeman, can you tell me if there's any article here that's supposed to have belonged to Adam?
Policeman (a wag in his way). Well, Mum, we 'ave 'ad the 'andle of his spade, and the brim of his garden 'at, but they wore out last year and 'ad to be thrown away—things won't last for ever—even 'ere, you know.
GOING OUT.
A Peevish Old Man. I ain't seen anything to call worth seeing, I ain't. In our Museum at 'ome they've a lamb with six legs, and hairy-light stones as big as cannon-balls; but there ain't none of that sort 'ere, and I'm dog-tired trapesing over these boards, I am!
His Daughter (a candid person). Ah, I ought to ha' known it warn't much good taking you out to enjoy yourself—you're too old, you are!