A short suburban dialogue, illustrating the deplorable downward spread of the New Colour-descriptiveness, as exemplified in such works as the "Arsenic Buttonhole."

Scene—Peckham. Characters—Bill, a Greengrocer. Jim, an Oil and Colour Man.

Jim. 'Ow are yer, Bill? Fine pink morning, yn't it?

Bill. Um, a shyde too migenta for me, mate—'ow's yerself?

Jim. Oh, I'm just gamboge, and the missus, she's bright vermilion. 'Ow's your old Dutch?

Bill. She's a bit off colour. Pussonally, I'm feelin' lemon yaller, hall through a readin' o' this yer Pioneer kid.

Jim. Buck up, mate; you've no call to be yaller, nor a perminent bloo, heither! 'Ow's tryde?

Bill. Nothin' doin'. Wy, I ain't sold an indigo cabbige or a chocolate tater to-day. It's enuff to myke a cove turn blackleg, s'elp me!

Jim. Well, I'm a tyking pupils—leastways, I've a young josser of a bankclurk come messin' around my pyntshop, wantin' to know wot sort o' noise raw humber mykes, an' wot's the feel o' rose madder. I gives 'im the tip—'arf a crown a go!

Bill. Well, that is a tyke-down! 'E must be a bloomin' green-horn!

Jim. Yus, a carnation green-horn, you tyke it from me! I've done 'im vandyke brown, I tell yer! I don't think 'e'll hever pynt the tarn red!

Bill. Blymy, you're a knockout! Look 'ere, mate, now you've got the ochre, you'll stand 'arf a quartern at the "Blue Pig," eh?

[Exeunt ambo.