_Nutts._ Oh, that’s what it is, eh? Now, Mr Nosebag, will you take the chair? I’ve read all about that. _Mrs Nutts._ Of course you have; I saw you laughing and enjoying yourself, and I knew by the way of you there could be no good in it. Go on, Mr Tickle; of course the cretur has turned the poor Queen out of her palace, and is at this moment walking about the town with her crown upon her head--a minx--jest like ’em. _Tickle._ Not at all. For here’s a letter from Munich of the 22d ult. that says (_reads_): “The exasperation of the populace of our city against Mlle. Lola Montes has become so great that the authorities, in order to prevent disturbances, have required the young lady to quit the town.” _Mrs Nutts._ “Young lady!” Such creturs! Well--if pisoning can ever be lawful--but go on. _Tickle._ (_Reads._) “This she did last night, going to the village of Sturemberg, situated at about five leagues from Munich. Her carriage was escorted by a strong detachment of dragoons from the garrison.” _Nutts._ At the village of Sturemberg? Ha! like a letter at the post-office, I s’pose--“to be left till called for.” _Mrs Nutts._ Well, Nutts, I wonder how you can joke at such a matter. As a husband and father of a family, it ought to make your blood run cold. It does _me_. _Peabody._ Well, I’ve heard of Venus drawn by doves---- _Mrs Nutts._ I have it in a valentine; and then, like a foolish girl, believed in it. _Peabody._ But I don’t fancy Venus with her bulldog. However, they say the King’s mad--don’t they? _Slowgoe._ No doubt on it. For isn’t he the same King that’s writ poems and started a newspaper? If I was on a jury, that would be enough for me. I’d send him to a lunatic asylum for life. _Mrs Nutts._ Very right, Mr Slowgoe; any man who can serve his Queen as he’s done, I’d put him in a straight jacket for the rest of his days, with only one arm out on Sundays. _Limpy._ Never mind them foreigners; let’s think of the wirtues of our own homes. You’ve a vote for Vestminster, haven’t you, Mr Nutts? _Nutts._ I have, sir. A vote--though I say it--as pure as drifted snow. _Mrs Nutts._ And quite as uncomfortable. Often when the children want things, Nutts will have the money for the taxes to preserve what he calls his independent vote. And for years and years--no matter how I’ve been pinched--he has preserved it. And what’s the good on it? Independence! I don’t blame anybody for being independent when they can afford it; then it’s right and respectable. Otherwise it’s a piece of extravagance beyond poor people.