[The little wooden drunkard sits up, applies the bottle to his mouth, and sinks back contentedly; a demon, painted a pleasing blue, rises slowly by his bed-side:  the drunkard takes a languid interest in him; the demon sinks.

A Gentleman with a bloated complexion (critically).  ’Ooever did that—­well, I dessay he’s a very clever man, but—­(compassionately)—­he don’t know much about ’orrors, he don’t!

A Facetious Friend.  You could ha’ told him a thing or two, eh, JIM?

The Bloated Gentleman (contemptuously).  Well, if I never ’ad them wuss than that!

    [A small skeleton, in a shroud, looks in at the door.

The F.F. ’Ullo, ‘ere’s the King o’ Terrors for yer! (ROSY shows signs of uneasiness; a blue demon comes out of a cupboard.) ’Ere’s another of ’em—­quite a little party he’s ’aving!

A Gentleman, in a white tie (as the machinery stops).  Well, a thing like this does more real good than many a temperance tract.

The Bloated G. Yer right there, Guv’nor—­it’s bin a lesson to me, I know that.  ’Ere, will you come and ’ave a whiskey-sour along of me and my friend ‘ere’?

BEFORE A MODEL REPRESENTING AN EXECUTION.

A Daughter.  But why won’t you ’put a penny into this one, Father?

The Father (firmly).  Because I don’t approve of Capital Punishment, my dear.

A Cultivated Person.  An execution—­“put a penny in; bell tolls—­gates open—­scaffold shown with gallows.  Executioner pulls bolt—­black flag”—­dear, dear—­most degrading, shocking taste! (To his Friend.) Oh, of course, I’ll wait, if you want to see it—­not got a penny?  Let me see—­yes, I can lend you one. (He does; the penny is put in—­nothing happens.) Out of order, I suppose—­scandalous! and nobody to speak to about it—­most discreditable!  Stop—­what’s this? (A sort of woolly beat is audible inside the prison; the C.P. beams.) That’s the bell tolling—­it’s all right, it’s working! [It works.

Another Spectator.  Very well done, that was—­but they ’urried it over a little too quick.  I scarcely saw the man ’ung at all!

His Companion.  Put in another penny, and p’raps you’ll see him cut down, old chap.

BEFORE THE FAIRY FORTUNE-TELLER’S GROTTO.

Susan Jane (to her Soldier.) Oh, ain’t that pretty?  I should like to know what my fortune is. [She feels in her pocket.

The Soldier (who disapproves of useless expenditure).  Ain’t you put in enough bloomin’ pennies?

Susan Jane.  This is the last. (Reads Directions.) Oh, you’ve got to set the finger on the dial to the question you want answered, and then put your penny in.  What shall I ask her?