My friend Miss Bunch, who was governess of a large family that lived in the Piano Nobile of the house inhabited by myself and my young charges (it was the Palazzo Poniatowski at Rome, and Messrs. Spillmann, two of the best pastry-cooks in Christendom, have their shop on the ground floor): Miss Bunch, I say, begged me to draw a set of Twelfth-Night characters for the amusement of our young people. She is a lady of great fancy and droll imagination, and having looked at the characters, she and I composed a history about them, which was recited to the little folks at night, and served as our FIRE-SIDE PANTOMIME. Our juvenile audience was amused by the adventures of Giglio and Bulbo, Rosalba and Angelica. I am bound to say the fate of the Hall Porter created a considerable sensation; and the wrath of Countess Gruffanuff was received with extreme pleasure. If these children are pleased, thought I, why should not others be amused also? In a few days Dr. Birch's young friends will be expected to reassemble at Rodwell Regis, where they will learn everything that is useful, and under the eyes of careful ushers continue the business of their little lives. But, in the meanwhile, and for a brief holiday, let us laugh and be as pleasant as we can. And you elder folk--a little joking, and dancing, and fooling will do even you no harm. The author wishes you a merry Christmas, and welcomes you to the Fire-side Pantomime. M. A. TITMARSH. December 1854. THE ROSE AND THE RING I. SHOWS HOW THE ROYAL FAMILY SAT DOWN TO BREAKFAST This is Valoroso XXIV., King of Paflagonia, seated with his Queen and only child at their royal breakfast-table, and receiving the letter which announces to his Majesty a proposed visit from Prince Bulbo, heir of Padella, reigning King of Crim Tartary. Remark the delight upon the monarch's royal features. He is so absorbed in the perusal of the King of Crim Tartary's letter, that he allows his eggs to get cold, and leaves his august muffins untasted. "What! that wicked, brave, delightful Prince Bulbo!" cries Princess Angelica; "so handsome, so accomplished, so witty--the conqueror of Rimbombamento, where he slew ten thousand giants!" "Who told you of him, my dear?" asks his Majesty. "A little bird," says Angelica. "Poor Giglio!" says mamma, pouring out the tea. "Bother Giglio!" cries Angelica, tossing up her head, which rustled with a thousand curl-papers. "I wish," growls the King--"I wish Giglio was. . ." "Was better? Yes, dear, he is better," says the Queen. "Angelica's little maid, Betsinda, told me so when she came to my room this morning with my early tea." "You are always drinking tea," said the monarch, with a scowl. "It is better than drinking port or brandy-and-water," replies her Majesty.