MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HORSEKEEPING.

No. IX.

THE FROST GOES, AND MR. BRIGGS'S HORSE IS DISAGREEABLY FRESH AFTER HIS LONG REST. HE SETS UP HIS BACK AND SQUEAKS AND PLUNGES AT EVERYTHING HE MEETS.

A PLAYFUL CREATURE.

Cabby. "DON'T BE ALARMED, SIR, IT'S ONLY HIS PLAY."

THE MORNING AFTER THE DERBY.

First Gent. "WELL, NED, HOW DID WE GET HOME LAST NIGHT?"

Second Gent. "OH, I DON'T KNOW! DIDN'T I GO HOME WITH YOU?"

A MAN ABOUT TOWN.

"WHERE SHALL I SAY YOU'RE GONE TO, JIM, IF ANYONE CALLS?"

"OH, THE OLD SHOP—KENSINGTON GARDENS, TO HEAR THE BAND PLAY!"

TASTE.

"THAT'S A STUNNING PIN, FRANK!"

"YA-AS.—I'VE GOT A SET OF WAISTCOAT BUTTONS TO MATCH—LOOK JOLLY AT NIGHT—I ASSURE YAH!"

MR. VERDANT'S FIRST ATTEMPT AT BOOK-MAKING.

Verdant's Friend. "WELL—AS NEAR AS I CAN MAKE IT OUT—YOU MUST LOSE £150, AND MAY LOSE £300."

[VERDANT subsides into his Book.