The suit had split; the boy was bare
    Of clothes designed to last for ages;
  We gave him notice then and there—­
    This volume, so to speak, of pages!

* * * * *

SONG TO BE SUNG IN HAYMARKET ORCHESTRA DURING OVERTURE.—­“Oh, why should we wait till to-morrow?  See Queen of Manoa to-night!”

* * * * *

ON A GUERNSEY EXCURSION CAR.

    The car, drawn by four horses, and crowded with Excursionists
    on pleasure bent, is toiling up the steep streets of St. Peter
    Port, when it comes to a sudden halt.

[Illustration:  “Endeavours to assume a knowing and horsey expression.”]

Excursionists (impatiently).  Now then, what’s this?  What are we stopping here for?

The Driver.  Ladies and Gentlemen, you will thoroughly understand that it is customary for the car to stop here, in order that the party may be photographed, thus providing an agreeable souvenir of the trip, and a useful means of identification at Scotland Yard. (A Photographer appears in the road with a camera, and the party prepare themselves for perpetuation in a pleased flutter.) P’raps, Sir—­(to a Mild Man on the box-seat)—­you’d like to be taken ’andling the ribbons?  Most of our Gentlemen do.

    [The Mild Man accepts the reins, and endeavours to assume a
    knowing and horsey expression.

A Timid Lady (behind).  I do hope no Gentleman will take the reins, unless he is thoroughly accustomed to driving four-in-hand.  Suppose they took it into their heads to run away suddenly!

Driver (solemnly).  Don’t you alarm yourself about that, Ma’am, in the very slightest degree.  These ’osses take that pride in themselves, they’d stop here all day rather than spoil their own likenesses!

    [The M.M. intimates that he is no novice in the art of
    driving, which is fairly true as regards a pony-trap—­and the
    fears of the T.L. are allayed.

Photographer.  Now, steady all, please, those at the further ends of the seats stand up so as to come into the picture, a little more to the right, please, the gentleman in the straw ’at, turn your ’ead a trifle more towards the camera, the lady in the pink shirt,—­that’s better.  Better take off your spectacles, Sir.  Now then—­are you ready?

A Comic Exc. ’Old on a bit—­I’ve a fly on my nose.

    [Some of the party giggle; the photograph is successfully
    taken, and the car proceeds.

The Driver.  On your left, Ladies and Gentlemen, you have the Prison—­the cheapest Hotel in the Island for parties who intend making a protracted stay here.  On our right we are now passing “Paradise.”  You will observe that someone has ’ung his ’at and coat up at the entrance, not being certain of getting in.  Notice the tree in front—­the finest specimen on the island of the good old Guernsey hoak.