=First Commercial Man= (_dryly_). "MORNIN'!"
=Second ditto= (_despairingly_). "MORNIN'!"
=Stout Party= (_the first time he went for his Dividends since his Aunt left him that Legacy_). "WHERE DO YOU GO FOR THESE DIVIDEND WARRANTS?"
=Stout Party.= "WELL, THREE PER CENT. SOMETHING "----(_The word stuck in his throat_).
=Bank Beadle.= "AH!--(_giving him the Information, and saying the word for him_)--_REDOOCED,_ SIR!!"
Illustration: "The More Haste the Less Speed."
=Intelligent Peasant= (_who has been overlooking our Artists with much interest_). "YAR MATE'S A STAININ' O' HIS'N A'READY, SIR!"
=Tomkins= (_he has heard his friend Stodge talk so much about that lovely spot Wobbleswick, whither he was going sketching, that he was induced to accompany him. A day has elapsed, and he is awaking to the horror of his situation!_) "SEEMS TO ME AN INFERN----I CALL IT RATHER A DULL PLACE!"
=Stodge.= "DULL, MY DEAR FELLOW! HOW CAN YOU SAY SO? LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL, BREEZY COMMON! AND THE LINES OF THOSE OLD HOUSES ON THE BEACH, BREAKING THE HORIZON, AND THE COLOUR! AND THE JOLLY QUIET OF THE PLACE! NONE O' YOUR BEASTLY BARREL-ORGANS OR GAPING TOURISTS SWARMING ABOUT! I THOUGHT YOU'D LIKE IT!!"
=Visitor.= "HOW LONG HAS YOUR MASTER BEEN AWAY?"
=Irish Footman.= "WELL, SORR, IF HE'D COME HOME YISTHERDAY, HE'D A' BEEN GONE A WAKE TO-MORROW; BUT EV HE DOESN'T RETURN THE DAY AFTHER, SHURE HE'LL A' BEEN AWAY A FORTNIGHT NEXT THORSDAY!!"
=Saxon Sportsman.= "ANY SNIPE ABOUT HERE, MY MAN?"
=Pat.= "SNIPES, IS IT?! FAIX, THEY'RE GINERALLY JOSTLIN' 'ACH OTHER HEREABOUTS!"
=Irish Model= (_requested to put on rather a dilapidated costume_). "THE BLISSED SAINTS DIRICT ME INTO THIS COAT, SOR!"
=Lieutenant-Colonel.= "HULLO! CONFOUND IT! THERE'S A MAN BLOWING HIS NOSE--AND WITH A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF, TOO! TUT-T-T-T-T!"
=Scientific Colonel.= "ARE YOU GOING TO THE 'KRIEGSPIEL' TO-MORROW?"
=Cavalry Sub.= (_Hunting Man_). "AUGH! 'THINK NOT, SIR. AUGH! 'MEET THE-ARE, DO THEY? NEVAR HEARD OF THE PLACE! WHERWE ON EARTH IS I--T?"!!
=Riding-Master= (_to Sub. belonging to one of the new Mounted Batteries_). "WELL, SIR! YOU'RE ALL 'OF A HEAP' ON THE HORSE'S NECK--YOU'VE LOST YOUR SWORD AND YOUR FORAGE-CAP, AND YOU'VE LOST YOUR STIRRUPS--AND----YOU'LL LOSE YOURSELF NEXT!!"