1st Sister. No, Jane; that can't be.

2nd Sister. Why?

3rd Sister. Emily, how can you say so, when
you know that she was beheaded?

4th Sister. George the Second was he's father,
and George the Third married Queen Caroline,
which the crownd is on her head.

2nd Sister. No, Sarah. She was he's wife.

4th Sister (who pays no attention). And the
sceptre in her hand.

1st Sister (evidently an authority). George
the Second succeeded George the First, and
was grandfather to George the Fourth, who
married——

3rd Sister. But if she was he's wife, who
was she? (Pointing to the Princess Charlotte.)

2nd Sister. Good gracious me, what a stupid
thing you are! Don't you know that when
Queen Anne ascended the throne——

Passing the spot two hours afterwards, the
E.-W. found the sisters still at it, and dim
sounds of "she was he's wife" were floating
upon the evening breeze.

It is a curious circumstance that all the
grouped figures in the Tussaud gallery appear
to be speaking—with the exception only of
those who are represented as engaged in
conversation. The silence of these last is
absolutely awful. The combined potentates in the
separated portion of the Hall of Kings—near
the Bath-bun depôt—who are intended to be
discussing affairs of state, are obviously all
speechless. [It is distressing, by-the-by, to find
from this group that Marshal Ney was afflicted
with weak knees—he will never be able to
sustain the weight of Napoleon's favourite
Mameluke, who is just about to tumble forward against
him.] But though the members of this congress
are dumb, this is far from being the case with
many other distinguished personages in the
gallery. William the Conqueror (an authentic
likeness) is speaking with much animation, and is
evidently asking his queen, who in vain endeavours
to calm him, how it is possible that the gentleman
on his right (the late Sir Robert Peel) can
keep his centre of gravity, when leaning forward
to so alarming an extent. Take again the King
and Queen of Hanover. His Majesty has
his son, a boy about eight years old, on his
knee, and, turning to his queen, who looks upon
the child with a sneer of undisguised contempt,
says, "My dear, what is to be done with this
boy; he's growing up, you know?" The queen
answers, still regarding the boy with moody
disgust, "I don't see that anything can be done
with him. He looks to me as if he had been
drinking:" which is certainly the case. There
is no shadow of a doubt about this conversation.
Let the reader stand before the group
in question, and say if there be.

The most loquacious figures of all, however,
are those which are addressing society in
general, and not any individual member of it.
These persons never select any individual
present, to give their confidence to. This is
an unmistakable fact; it being impossible—the
E.-W. has tried it—to get into any part of the
room in which you can catch a waxwork's eye.
Thus, in the case of the King and Queen of
Greece, when he points to Ids wife and child,
and defiantly exclaims, "Do you mean to say
I am not a domestic character ?—Pooh !"  he
addresses this question, not to you, but to some
one over the top of your hat, or behind you, or
through you, or under your left arm, or in some
remote and inaccessible spot.

To those who regret not having lived in the
days when "the Kemble family adorned the stage,
it will be a melancholy consolation to be able to
gather from the effigies of the late Mrs. Siddons
and John Kemble, as they appear in this
collection, some idea of their manner of acting.
It is impossible to deny that the first named of
these eminent performers has a certain sidelong
and crab-like manner of throwing herself into
her part, which, combined with a tying up of the
jaw as though the artist were afflicted with
toothache, is vastly impressive, nor can we
wonder that "her powers" (as the catalogue
informs us) "speedily raised her fame and
opulence." With regard to this lady's brother, the
great John Kemble, we are told by the
pamphlet, that, "whether we view him as an
actor or an author, we shall find that he
possessed wonderful talent." It being extremely
difficult to view this gentleman as an actor in
the present day, we are compelled to content
ourselves with viewing him in wax, the
result of which scrutiny is, that whether he was
possessed of wonderful talent or not, he was
certainly possessed of very wonderful legs; of a
wonderful power of keeping upright upon them;
and of a presence, generally, calculated to affect
the spectator with profound depression.

It may be mentioned, that the Eye-witness is
pleased to observe the chastity of ideas
possessed by the management on the subject of
splendour in decoration. Thus, in the same
ingenious catalogue, it is mentioned that the
likeness of Mr. G. V . Brooke was taken from life "in
the magnificent dress as worn by him;" while,
on referring to the model itself, the visitor will
be a little surprised to perceive this performer
clothed from head to foot in a single garment
of white merino, alike suggestive of ancient
Rome and modern hair-dressing, but
perfectly free from ornament of any kind or sort.
The Eye-witness has dim recollections of a time,
many years ago, when this figure was habited in
a gorgeous costume, which he thinks is at
present worn by the monarch of the Greek Isles.
He does not assert this confidently, but it may
be so. Such things have been in the annals of
waxwork.

Your Eye-witness, passing in review before
him the other models in the Hall of Kings, and
the Great Room in which the members of our
present Royal Family are combined into an
affecting central group, finds one or two features
of the collection impressed strongly on his mind
—one or two questions, for answer to which his
soul is clamorous. He wishes to know why
there is so strong an inclination in many of the
ladies and gentlemen here assembled to lean