Similarly, there was the canvas representin' the pictur' of the Wild Ass of the Prairies--not that we never had no wild asses, nor wouldn't have had 'em as a gift. Last there was the canvas representin' the pictur' of the Dwarf, and like him too (considerin'), with George the Fourth in such a state of astonishment at him as his Majesty couldn't with his utmost politeness and stoutness express. The front of the House was so covered with canvases that there wasn't a spark of daylight ever visible on that side. "MAGSMAN'S AMUSEMENTS," fifteen foot long by two foot high, ran over the front door and parlor winders. The passage was a arbor of green baize and garden stuff. A barrel-organ performed there unceasing. And as to respectability--if threepence ain't respectable, what is? But the Dwarf is the principal article at present, and he was worth money. He was wrote up as "Major Tpschoffki, of the Imperial Bulgraderian Brigade." Nobody couldn't pronounce the name, and it never was intended anybody should. The public always turned it, as a regular rule, into Chopski. In the line he was called Chops; partly on that account, and partly because his real name, if he ever had any real name (which was very dubious), was Stakes. He was an uncommon small man, he really was. Certainly not so small as he was made out to be, but where's your dwarf as is? He was a most uncommon small man, with a most uncommon large Ed; and what he had inside that Ed nobody never knowed but himself; even supposin' himself to have ever took stock of it, which it would have been a stiff job for him to do. The kindest little man as never growed! You never heard him give a ill name to a giant. He did allow himself to break out into strong language respectin' the Fat Lady from Norfolk; but that was an affair of the 'art; and when a man's 'art has been trifled with by a lady, and the preference giv' to a Indian, he ain't master of his actions. He was always in love, of course; every human nat'ral phenomenon is. And he was always in love with a large woman; I never knowed the dwarf as could be got to love a small one. Which helps to keep 'em the curiosities they are. One sing'lar idea he had in that Ed of his, which must have meant something, or it wouldn't have been there. It was always his opinion that he was entitled to property. He never put his name to anything. He had been taught to write by a young man without any arms, who got his living with his toes (quite a writing-master _he_ was, and taught scores in the line), but Chops would have starved to death afore he'd gained a bit of bread by putting his hand to a paper.