As I left, a newly-arrived dame of mature years was putting on a nurse's cap hurriedly, evidently with the view to starting in hot pursuit of me to secure my custom for some toys. The ladies with the cushion looked at me languidly as I passed them, and then returned to a perusal of their paper. When last I had had the advantage of paying a visit to "the Portman Rooms, formerly Mme. +Tussaud's+," I had seen nothing but waxwork figures in eccentric attitudes. On the whole, I think the former denizens of the place looked more at home in their quaint costumes than the Sale of Workers "from Tuesday, November 22 to Saturday, November 26, inclusive!" Finding myself in its neighbourhood, I could not help taking a turn in the present palace of the eminent "Portrait Modellist." I paid the necessary shilling and the optional sixpence, and renewed my acquaintance with "The Kings and Queens," "The Coronation Group," and "The Chamber of Horrors." A group representing a reception at the Vatican was quite new, if I except two or three funeral attendants, who, I fancy I remember, made their last (but one) appearance at the Lying in State of +Pio Nono+. After examining a rather cheerful presentment of the latest assassin in "The Chamber of Comparative Physiognomy" (as the Chamber of Horrors was once, for a short period, "y'clept"), I passed through a turnstile, and entered the Refreshment Department. Here I noticed that an "overflow meeting," consisting, amongst other more-or-less-interesting exhibits of Mr. +Lewis Wingfield's+ historical costume-wearers (from the Healtheries), and that now rather-imperfectly-remembered worthy, the late Sir +Bartle Frere+ (from the rooms above), had been humorously arranged, no doubt with a view to provoking healthy and hearty laughter. Having refreshed my mind with a hurried inspection of this delightful, albeit, somewhat miscellaneous gathering, and my body with a twopenny Bath bun, I gracefully retired, greatly pleased with the afternoon's entertainment. * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. Reviewing the Pages. What a set these Emperors, Empresses, Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses, Dukes and Duchesses, &c., &c., and all such great people everywhere seem to have been, according to the _Memoirs of Count Horace de Viel Castel_ (published by Messrs. +Remington & Co.+), who was a kind of small French +Pepys+, a great snob, and a Parisian _Sir Benjamin Backbite_. Yet there is in this +Horace+ something of the Horatian satirist, only without the poetry. "But +Horace+, Sir, was delicate, was nice," which is not exactly the characteristic of the writings of +M. de Viel+ Castel, who tells us "Of birth-nights, balls, and shows, More than ten +Hollinsheds+, or +Halls+, or +Stowes+. When the +Queen+ frowned, or smiled, he knows; and what A subtle Minister may make of that: Who sins with whom:"----