ABSTRACT
The remainder of that evening was passed in pleasant conversation, the principal topic of which was the beauty of Mr. Mudgster's shooting-board. " I t ' s one of the handsomest in town," observed the proprietor, " and as I say, Kelly's masterpiece-for he's the chap that painted it-and there's nobody like him for showiness as a artist." (This board was a comic one.) " The sentimental ones ain't no good," he continued. There was painted on this screen the figure of a clown, and on his breast was a target at which the dart3 were aimed. The clown had his eyes and knees turned in, and was supposed to be saying, " I 'm looking at you," for those words were written inside a bladder issuing from the mouth. On the wings on each side of the board were painted several scenes. One was of a Jack Tar slaying some twenty Chinese, and, by means of another bladder, crying, " Peace or war, you varmint, but none of your tricks." Another was an illustration of a soldier alarmed by a shower of cannon-balls, and exclaiming, " Oh! dear, I wish I was at home with mother." But Kelly's chef-d'œuvre, and the painting which the owner most frequently dusted with his cap, was a representation of a house on fire, with a fire-engine tearing along at full speed and a policeman tumbling over a dog. " I've promised my missus to have that there picture framed some of these days," said M r Mudgster, admiring it with his head on one side. " I t ' s a sweet pretty thing, and as nat'ral as if it took place."
