After hunting about for a little time Boy found the house where the Advertiser General had lived, and thought he would call on him. He found him seated at one end of the long studio while the Public Rhymester sat at the other; they had each arranged a chair on the top of a table to look something like a throne, and the Advertiser General had really made a very regal-looking cloak out of a large piece of calico, by painting one side red and drawing little black tails on the other to look like ermine. They seemed very miserable, though, and explained to Boy that they had not been able to get anything to eat.
“We went out a little while ago,” complained the Advertiser General, “but His Majesty the butcher was most rude when I commanded him to send me some meat for dinner, and Her Majesty his wife asked me if I knew who I was talking to?’
“It was just the same with His Majesty the grocer. He was seated in state on a sugar-barrel at one end of his shop, which he now calls the Palace, and would no more think of serving me with a pound of tea than if he had been the Emperor of China himself.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what will become of us,” chimed in the Public Rhymester. “I am thinking of emigrating and letting myself out on hire at people’s houses in some country where Kings and Queens are not quite so plentiful as they are here. I have drawn up a little Prospectus. You might like to see it, and if you could recommend me to a good family where they know how to treat a King properly I should be much obliged,” and the late Public Rhymester handed Boy the following:—
HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF ZUM
ATTENDS PARTIES
REASONABLE TERMS. DISTANCE NO OBJECT.
“Oh! kings are plentiful to-day;
And if you want one, step this way,
My modest terms to hear.