I have no noose, except that we all wish you would come and explode these parts--perhaps you will, after you have red the guide. The passage is short and iconumical, only two shillings by the steam bot, or as the French call it, the _pack bot avec peur_. Do come--we all unite in best regards. Yours, truly, LAVINIA DOROTHEA RAMSBOTTOM. XXIII. MRS. RAMSBOTTOM AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY. May, 1829. DEAR B.,--As you haven't given any count of the Summerset House expedition, which opened as weasal, the fust Monday in May, I thoght perhaps a few loose remarks of mine and Lavy's would be exceptable, therefore I rite to give you an int of what _we_ think. Oh, that Precedent, Sir Tummas Larrence--I never seed such pitchers as his--but I need not talk of those, because you nose his merits--what I want is, to bring to your notice some of the young uns. Well, B., away we went Wensday, and paid our munney at the dore, and the man gave us a chick, and we bought our catlog, and then another man tuck away my parisot, which never happened to me before, the many ears I have seen in that place--he told me if I gave him my one, he would give me a number--which deseived me, so I let him have it, and he gave me a curd--this was just at the bottom of the great Achilles with the fir knees wich is kept in a bird cage, to prevent the people hurting his back--well, up we went--such a stare case--so hot was I--however, at last up we got. The fust pitcher I seed was Adam and Heve expulsed from Paradise, by Debuffe. In buff I think--I never seed such a thing in all my days, and no reason for it, because it was after the date of the fig leaves--no matter--I turned away my eyes to Doctor Gobbleston, the Bishop of Llandaff, and a plainer creatur I never set my eyes on--his face looks for all the world as if he had been a rat hunting up a chimley. I couldn't look at him long. The next I saw was "I. Strutt, Esqueer, and his sister." I'm sure that is a likeness; and the next is called "a Gentleman," which I am sure can_not_ be a likeness. Lord Caravan, with a sword on, is a fine work, and so is a big picture of a Hero going to Philander in the Tower; and near that is one of a Gull with a Guttar, with sich funny pudsy fingers, which made Lavy laugh so as I was quite ashammed of her. Then there is one by Mr. Willes of a Dream, where "Puck takes away an asses head from bottom,"--it is so in the catlog, and I wonder at it--but no matter--I'm sure I felt quite in jeffery when I read such a thing in a book--and Mr. Newton, my favourite, what drawed the Disconsolate Lady in white satan, which hided her head in her hankycher, at the British Gallary, has got the pitcher of a Lady in a Coach-horse Dress, uncommon pretty; and Mr. Picksgill has got Sir Jeffery Dunstan with his gray locks a dangling just as I remember him when he was Mare of Garret, only bigger.