The Paris Academy of Dancing Masters, according to a contemporary, announce a real successor to the Tango in the "Ta-tao." This dance is at any rate of respectable antiquity, as it has been popular in China since the year 2450 B.C. We anticipate an influx of slit-eyed professors from the Middle Kingdom, and are therefore brushing up our pidgin English in order that _Mr. Punch's_ readers may be able to deal with the situation in the ball-rooms and at Ta-tao teas. Thus:-- _Student._ Chin-chin, Mr. Dance-pidgin-man! _Plofessor._ Chin-chin, sah! _Student._ You jussee now come this-side? _Plofessor._ My hab jussee come Luntun. _Student._ You talkee Yin-ke-li? _Plofessor._ Can do. My sabby Englishee allo same you. My talkee tlue pidgin, no talkee lie pidgin. _Student._ That b'long first chop! My wantchee catchee you teachee my, allo same same you dancee ta-tao. _Plofessor._ My teachee numbah one plopah! _Student._ So-fashion eh? How muchee plice? _Plofessor._ My no makee squeeze-pidgin. My teachee velly well. S'pose you talkee plice.... _Student._ S'pose you catchee two dollah one-piecee time? Can do? _Plofessor._ No can! My wantchee save face! My plice ten dollah, by'mby twenty dollah one-piecee time, allo same tango fashion. _Student._ That ting no b'long leason! You b'long clevah inside--understand? My sabby heap foleign debble.... You catchee plenty cumshah! _Plofessor._. My no lose face.... etc., etc., _da capo_. _Nut._ _You_-piecee here? Chin-chin! _Noisette._. Allo same you. You sabby plenty girl-chilo here? _Nut._ My _don't_ tink. Who-man b'long that boy-chilo you jussee talkee down-side? _Noisette._ That b'long _my_ pidgin! _Nut._ Solly! S'pose you wantchee one-piecee dance? My b'long numbah one good boy! _Noisette._ Can do first chop. _Nut._ You sabby-dancee ta-tao? _Noisette._ Can do two-piecee step so-fashion, one-piecee step _so_-fashion.... _Nut._ You b'long quite top-side.... I say, this lingo is about the edge. Put me down for the chow-chow--I mean supper, what! _Noisette._ Sorry. Full up. Ta-tao! Zig-Zag. * * * * * THE PRICE OF ADMIRALTY. [Illustration: Mr. Punch. "YOU SEEM A LITTLE ANXIOUS, MADAM." Britannia. "YES; I'M WAITING TO KNOW WHETHER I'M TO LAY DOWN THE SHIPS I WANT----" Mr. Punch. "OR LAY DOWN YOUR TRIDENT!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Mrs. A as "Furthest North." Mr. B as "A Bath." Mr. C as "The Duke of Marlborough." Miss D as "A Comfy Winter Evening." Mr. E as "A Country Squire". The Brothers F as "A Baby Grand." Theatre and Tyre Companies are no longer going to be allowed a monopoly in advertising at fancy balls. From private information we are able to anticipate some novelties for the next carnival.] * * * * * THE MOAN OF THE OLD HORSES. (See correspondence in _The Spectator_ upon the sufferings of old horses exported alive to Antwerp.)