Volume 146 — THE SLIT TROUSER.
Reading edition
(Whose arrival in England is reported in the photographic press.)
You who see advanced attire Photographed for you to mock, Hold your ridicule or ire, Wax not scornful at the shock; Let not your compassion freeze, Hark to Archie for a bit, Ponder, if you please, his pleas, Patience, ere you slight his slit. Long there raged a warfare grim In the councils of the Nut; Socks were all in all to him Abso-simply-lutely; but— Here's a problem for you pat— How shall Archibald disclose Through the thickness of the spat Iridescent demi-hose? Yesteryear that problem vexed; One day spatted he would fare, Lacking colour; and the next Spatless, in chromatic wear. No dilemma reads him now, Bidding this or that to go. See, his side-cleft bags allow Spat and sock an equal show.
TACT.
Mr. Anchor always wears a moustache for the soup course whenever his uncle, the general (from whom he has expectations), dines with him.