_Tickle._ To put a sweet little child--a innocent little gal, for instance--in a box, or a basket, or what not, and leave her in the wide world, for the wolves that walk about it. As I say, it is a little bad; and it’s very proper, when the mother as does it is found out, that she’s sent to prison, and made to pick oakum; and try to learn feelings from the gaol clergyman. It’s a shockin’ matter this, to think of a little gal so left--a poor little soul, as innocent as the daisies. _Mrs Nutts._ Is it so very shockin’? Then read it. _Tickle._ What I mean is taken out of the _Times_, and is all about the Queen of Spain’s marriage with her cousin. Here it is:-- “Don Francisco de Assis was summoned at Madrid, and for the reasons as stated to you at the time, refused to come. He was again summoned, though there was no decision taken, as the feeling of dislike to his person was as strong as before, and rendered his chances, even then, of a very trifling nature. That dislike was strongly and deeply felt by the young Queen herself, and participated in by her mother; it was _with tears in her eyes, and her bosom heaving with sobs, that she was forced to plight her troth to him_. She had to be told that--I use the expression employed--‘if she did not instantly consent to marry her cousin, Don Francisco de Assis, she should marry no one.’ When I again assure you that the feeling of dislike, amounting to repugnance, was shared in by the Queen-mother, it is not difficult to guess from what quarter this force proceeded to compel a child, not yet sixteen years old, to consent to marry a man from whom she recoiled with loathing.” A nice beginning, that, of the marriage state. _Nutts._ There, Mrs Nutts, aren’t you happy that you was born in Seven Dials, and have a husband who you love, as shaves for a penny? Don’t you bless yourself that you aren’t the Queen of Spain? _Mrs Nutts._ It’s all shockin’ enough; but it isn’t what Mr Tickle begun talking about. His story was about a little gal as was left in a basket in the wide world, with nothin’ but chance to look after her.