Through streets of _canvas_ caravanseras, all _soliciting_ their custom, our _tria juncta_ reach _the ropes_ as the word runs along _the lines_, "The Queen is coming!" "Let me see her," ejaculated the lady voyager: "bless her heart! it was for that I came here; and is that Her Majesty? She is a darling, that's what she is! so amiable, so kind-looking, and so little to be a queen!" "And who is that in green, with the costly golden couples over his shoulders?" "Oh, that's the master of the _dear_ hounds." "And all those lovely, smiling ladies?" "More of the _sweet_." "Clear _the course_, clear _the course_!" and straightway there is a movement of gold, precious stones, silk, and paradise plumes, enough to astonish the Genii of the Wonderful Lamp. "Here they come!" Grey Momus, and Epirus, and Caravan, with "little Pavis, the _rara avis_." "Another round for it. Well done, grey; hurrah! dismal jacket." "Who's the favourite?" "The _belles_ are all for _Bowes_; I'm for Suffield, he's such a good fellow." "I'm for Lord George, _he's a better_." "Hurrah! splendid race." "Oh! you villain, you've stolen my watch; but I've got you, and I'll give it you." "That ere's never no prigging. Didn't I hear you promise to give it him?" "Get away, do—you'll break the springs: you're not to climb up my steps for a stare." The Royal Stand is now vacated, and the cause reaches our little inquisitive friend. "Her Majesty has retired to luncheon." "Law, is she, indeed! how I _should_ like to see her eat: I'm dying to know what sort of meals they provide for her." "All the delicacies in season," explained the wit, with a sinister smile, "and _Lamb_ the whole year round." The matchless cavalcade has passed in all its gorgeous simplicity, bearing the cynosure of all eyes, where waves the banner of St. George a welcome to "The fair-haired daughter of the Isles, The hope of many nations." This, and a rain, descending _à l'Anglaise_, gave notice to quit to all save those who, by the grace of Mackintosh and neat brandy, had set the elements at defiance. "Let us return to our conveyance," said the lively little matron, "and make our way back to the station of the Great Western Railway; my parasol is wet through already." "Here is the spot where we left it," ejaculated her spruce and dapper lord and master, "and no trace of it can I discover: what is to be done now? And the rascal was paid beforehand for stopping." "You could hardly have expected he _would_ stay, however," remarked the stout personage in the nankeen leggings, the wig, and the very red face, proving thereby that he was not only a wit but a philosopher; "you could hardly, in reason, expect the vehicle to stop so long. You should remember it was a _Go_-cart." EXTRACTS FROM THE ANNUAL REGISTER. JANUARY 15.—A tradesman at the West End was thrown into convulsions, by the surprise of receiving payment of a Christmas bill!