'Is it funnier than Punch ?' 'Funnier!' said Mrs Jarley in a shrill voice.

'It is not funny at all.' 'Oh!' said Nell, with all possible humility.
'It isn't funny at all,' repeated Mrs Jarley.

'It's calm and--what's that word again--critical ?--no--classical, that's it--it's calm and classical.

No low beatings and knockings about, no jokings and squeakings like your precious Punches, but always the same, with a constantly unchanging air of coldness and gentility; and so like life, that if wax-work only spoke and walked about, you'd hardly know the difference.

I won't go so far as to say, that, as it is, I've seen wax-work quite like life, but I've certainly seen some life that was exactly like wax-work.' 'Is it here, ma'am ?' asked Nell, whose curiosity was awakened by this description.
'Is what here, child ?' 'The wax-work, ma'am.' 'Why, bless you, child, what are you thinking of?
How could such a collection be here, where you see everything except the inside of one little cupboard and a few boxes?
It's gone on in the other wans to the assembly-rooms, and there it'll be exhibited the day after to-morrow.
You are going to the same town, and you'll see it I dare say.