down 'ere--'tis all dark like!

_Proprietor._ Let _me_ 'ave a look! You shud put your 'ands so, each
side o' your eyes, and--(_He looks._) 'Um, it is _rayther_--but
what else do yer _expeck_? It's a "View o' Paris by Night," ain't
it--_that_'s all right!

OUTSIDE "PROFESSOR PUGMAN'S SPARRING SALOON."

_The Professor_ (_on a little platform, with a pair of Pupils_).
Now then, all you as are lovers o' the Noble and Manly Art o'
Self-Defence, step inside and see it illusterated in a scientific an'
fust-class manner! This (_introducing first Pupil, who rubs his nose
with dignity_) is 'OPPER of 'Olloway, the becoming nine-stun Champion.
This hother's BATTERS o' Bermondsey, open to fight any lad in England
at eight-stun four. Is there anyone among you willing to 'ave a round
or two with either on 'em fur a drink an' admission free?--if so,
now's his time to step forward--there's no waiting, mind yer?

_Joe_ (_to Melia_). I b'lieve as 'ow I could tackle the little 'un--I
used to box above a bit.

_Melia._ Don't ye now, JOE; you'll on'y go and git yourself 'urt or
summat!

_Joe._ _I_ shan't git 'urt. 'Ere, Master, I'm game fur to put on the
gloves wi' _'im_.

_Prof._ Git inside with yer then! (_To Crowd._) Now then for the Great
Glove Contest--Just goin' inside to begin--Mind, there's _no_ waitin'!