human
Mr. ROBERT, I arsks you this simple quesshun--If it takes about two hunderd and thirty gents to keep the grand old Citty in the bootiful condishun as it allus is, and to keep us all in the helthy condishun as we allus is, and with the remarkabel fine happytites as we allus has, its size being ony one square mile, and our number ony about fifty thowsand sleepers, and about ten times as many, as cums ewery day to hearn their living, how is it possibel for a much smaller number of Gents, with werry littel hexperiens, to do the same with a plaice about a hunderd and twenty times as big, and with about five millions of peepel in it? And you may trust what I says, for I had it from our Chapling.
gpt
Why, I says, boldly,
human
I says at once as I don't beleeve as it's posserbel for 'em to do a quorter of it.
gpt
Rite you are, Mr. ROBERT!
human
The Hall of a Million Mirrors, the tenth Scene of his Pantomime entitled _Little Bo-Peep, Little Red Riding Hood, and Hop o' My Thumb_, who are three very small people,--
gpt
--to make so big a Show. In the Hall of Mirrors appear all the well-known representatives of ancient Nursery Rhymes, and all the heroes and heroines of the universally familiar Fairy Stories. Down the Palace stairs they come, group after group, until the Stage, even of Old Drury, can hold no more, and there is scarcely room for them all to move, much less to indulge in any