From his secluded and suburban home, To have his scanty tresses deftly shorn And seek the soft shampoo's alluring foam, Then shall my fury long controlled outburst, Then shall the vials of my wrath o'erflow In one resistless stream-but not at firstSome method in my madness I will show. With smile polite and expectation bland, As is my wont, my victim I will greet, And with a tender, yet remorseless hand I'll tuck him tightly in the wooden seat; But-though his garment I arrange with care No pad of cotton-wool I'll place to check The constant falling of his withered hair In irritating fashion down his neck. With ghastly glee his hirsute growth I'll trim In manner diabolically planned, So that for weeks 'twill be a curse to him, And straight on end persistently will stand; Whip. "No, SIR." Then in the basin, stern and uncontrolled, His head I'll plunge he is but half my size The water shall be very, very cold, And all the soap shall get into his eyes. Next the machine brush in its circling course Shall give expression to my deadly hate, What joy to use it with resistless force Upon the much-abhorred paternal pate! The whirr of busy wheels shall sound aloft, From my revenge I will not be debarred, And though your father's voice may ask for "soft,' " I certainly intend to give him "hard." And then-ah! happy thought-while still he squirms And 'neath the brush each tender temple smarts, I'll ask him, and in strong, expressive terms, If he intends to break two loving hearts; Resistance will be absolutely vain, And as his hair I frantically frizz, I shall be hoping soon to see again Your cheerful countenance, my dearest 'Liz! LITERARY.-A novel just published is called The Proctor's Wooing. The Queen's Proctor's wooing generally occurs after the matrimonial ceremony, so possibly the romance is, as suggested by an Oxford correspondent, the romance of a Bull-dog Show. What a world of savagery their toneless tumult tells! Through the darkness or the light, What a dismal ditty floats From the family with rough and roopy throats Blessed boon! Oh, from throttles like cracked bells, VOL. CXII. In our ears, by day and night, How they shriek to our affright! Too much scarified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek Out of tune, a clamorous appeal to the attention of In a mad expostulation with the heedless Of despair! By the twanging And the slanging, How the custom ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells, By the patter, And the clatter, How the bidding sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the shindy of the yells, Of those yells Of the coarse, hoarse, blaring, tearing, croaking, clamorous coster yells, By the wrangling and the jangling of the yells! IV. Hear the yowling of the yells Newsboy yells! What a world of eager heed their bellowing compels ! In the gas-glare of the night, At the melancholy menace of their tone! From those husky urchin throats And the nippers-ah! those nippersThose shrill shouters, those swift skippers, "On their own!" And who, howling, howling, howling, And each urchin yahoo yowls, Hextry-speshul!!!" And he yells, And his impish bosom swells With the rapture of his yells, The last horror of the time "Orl the winners, Sir!" he yells. Oh! the nuisance of those yells, Tipsy cads and roystering swells!- The awful, lawful, iawful, savage yells, yells, yells, IBSEN UP TO DATE. According to the Humanitarian, the gloomy playwright IBSEN describes Christiania as "the most immoral town in Europe." IBSEN lives there, and he ought to know. Should he On the bosom of the moist malodorous air! emigrate, would the morals of the Nor How they rattle, rush, and roar! What a horror they outpour Yet the ear it fully knows, F wegian town be improved? ["One of the objects for which we occupied Dongola was because it was on the highway to Khartum."-Lord Salisbury's Speech, January 19, 1897.] Lady (having just cannoned Stranger into brook). "OH, I'M SO SORRY I BUMPED YOU! WOULD YOU MIND GOING IN AGAIN FOR MY HAT? PREPARING FOR WAR. SCENE-Examination Room of Candidates for the Army. PRESENT-Examiner and two Aspirants for selection. Examiner. And now, gentlemen, I will just ask you a question or two about your physical training. Were you either or both or neither in the Volunteer Cadet Corps at your college? First Aspirant. No, Sir, I did not care very much about drill. Second Asp. Yes, Sir, I was advanced from private to corporal, and then from sergeant to lieutenant. Exam. (taking notes). I see. How about shooting? First Asp. Never tried, Sir. Fact is, not exactly in my line. Second Asp. I have won a heap of prizes at Bisley, and made the highest possible frequently. Exam. (as before). I see. Done anything in football or cricket? First Asp. No, Sir. I prefer study to that sort of thing. Second Asp. Captain of the fifteen and the eleven when I was at school. Exam. (same business). I see. And now how about swimming and horsemanship? First Asp. Again, Sir, I am rather out of it. But dare say I could manage both if I tried. Second Asp. Hold the Albert Medal, Sir, for saving the life of a little chap who tumbled overboard mid Channel, and was accustomed to horses long before I got into Eton jackets. Exam. (as before). Yes. And about athletics, generally? First Asp. Rather weak in them, I am afraid, Sir. Doctor has passed me, but I am careful of my health. Second Asp. Haven't got that excuse, Sir. I am as hard as nails, weigh twelve stone, and thoroughly enjoy a fifteen miles' jaunt before breakfast. Exam. (closing note-book). I see. Well, No. 2 has come out very well, but as No. 1 has answered three dates more than his competitor, and, as there is only one vacancy, I fear I must pass him and refuse the other. First Asp. Thank you, Sir. I'm greatly obliged to you. Second Asp. Well, I'm blowed-or rather would be if I weren't in such prime condition! [Scene closes in upon the Future of the British Army. SHOTS AT SCIENCE. (Page from the Diary of a Literary Explorer.) ["Mr. F. C. SELOUS, in his speech at the Sports Club, insisted that big game shooting was a benefit to civilisation."-Daily Paper.] Monday-Really must get my lecture upon "The Planetary System" into shape. Promised to deliver it to the Currypowder Islanders before the end of the week. Let me see, "The system consists of Venus, Mars- Stopped at this moment by the appearance of a tiger. Tuesday.-Got the tiger-skin all right. Ready to be sent home. Now for my lecture. Let me see, should say something_explanatory as a prologue. Bother, interrupted again. time by a pack of wolves. This Wednesday.-Wolves invisible. Lovely day. Now I will be write for the Currypowder Islanders. Let's see here we are quiet and get through my work. Simple enough; only have to "The system consists of Venus, Mars- What was that? The trumpeting of a wild elephant. Well, I am prepared for him. Thursday.-Awfully tired? Jumbo gave me a pretty dance! I really must get on with my lecture. "The system consists of Venus, Mars- "Again! Noise of rattlesnake! And there's a cobra! And yonder a python! Friday.-Splendid sport, yesterday. But now as I have to deliver my lecture to-morrow, must really set to work. Wouldn't tem consists of Venus, Marsdisappoint the Currypowder Islanders for millions. "The sysAs I live, a grisly! Saturday.-Busy cutting up the bear's meat. Really excellent eating. But who's to help me to discuss- Why, as I live, there come the members of the Currypowder Islanders! And that reminds me that I promised to read them a paper on "The Planetary System." Too late now. They seem disappointed! Only thing to do ask them up to dinner. They have just finished, and are thanking me. I suggest that I would be willing to read them my paper on "The Planetary System" -as much as I have done of it. They reply that they believe the contents of it already. However, they would be pleased to have my MS. if I wrapped it round a bottle of whisky. Greatly gratified. Most successful meeting I have ever known. tankard that circulated from hand to hand after our undergraduate feasts. I don't know how it is, but it is a fact that men of my age lose the tremendous gusto for breakfasts that inspires the young to these feats. We dally with a kipper or toy with a boiled egg, and are glad to get the meal over in a dyspeptic hurry while the youngsters are still engaged on the second of the four or five courses into which they divide it. It was very good of you to lend me the boy for a few days, and I can assure you I enjoyed his visit very much. He's a fine, manly, straightforward lad, fresh, breezy, and unaffected, and, as for looks, he is just the counterpart of what his dear father was in the old days, not an Apollo, but something far better, an open-faced, clean-complexioned, bright-eyed, and crisp-haired English youth. And they all liked him. Old CARRUTHERS, who, as you know, was once in the ministry, and still retains that air of portentous mystery which goes with the possession of secrets de Polichinelle, even he relaxed under JACK'S influence, and was good enough to smile at some of the boy's undergraduate stories, and to flavour them afterwards with some reminiscences of his own days at Cambridge. Nor was JACK inattentive to the fair. Miss CARRUTHERS she's a pretty little touzled fair girl, with an attractive moue-has no reason to complain of the way in which JACK helped her over various fences when she came out with the other ladies to the shooting lunch, or of his readiness to turn over the leaves of the drawing-room ballads with which she softened our manners nor allowed them to be savage after dinner. In a word, he's a good boy, and though your gentle mind hates the idea of killing, I must tell you that the way in which he pulled down some of my tallest pheasants in Parson's Grove left nothing to be desired. Even the veteran CARRUTHERS, who has missed rocketers with glorious certainty through more than twenty seasons was good enough to say that if JACK went on like that he would make a shot-in time, and approbation from CARRUTHERS is praise indeed. And the boy was just as good, and played his little part with the same simple good nature all through. We all went to a pretty children's party at the HARDYS', not far from here. They had secured him for one of the tableaux-" Cinderella and the Prince" -and I can assure you he made a most excellent Prince, and showed a princely grace in his kneeling position at the fair Cinderella's feet. And when the children came on and acted their fairy-stories, finally dancing round JACK, who was robed in a huge fur coat and beard to represent a captured giant, the applause and enthusiasm were deafening. But the hero of the performance was SEBASTIAN HARDY, aged three-anda-half. To this promising actor the part of Jack Horner had been allotted, his duty being to dance gaily on to the stage holding a dish in his hand, to put in his diminutive thumb, to pull out an imaginary plum and devour it with the self-appreciative joy associated with his character. When his turn came, SEBASTIAN, who is but lately out of frocks and into shorts, danced on, but forgot the extraction of the plum. A second performance of the whole series having been called for by the audience, SEBASTIAN appeared again, and on this occasion went through the thumb and plum part with a conscientious gravity that moved us all to fits of laughter. This, however, offended the actor, for when he was brought round to the front of the house and placed in his first time and forgot my plum nobody laughed, but when I mother's arms he complained loudly that "When I comed on the comed on again and put in my thumb, jus' as uncle SYDNEY told me, everybody laughed." Afterwards, SEBASTIAN honoured me by sitting on my knee. The Sandman had strewed his little eyes with dust, but the boy had a fine spirit, and being determined to see the performance out would not yield to sleep. So I told him I knew he wanted to think-that all grown-up people always thought at this particular hour, and he ought not your eyes very tight," I said; "we always close our eyes when we think." Whereupon his eyelids dropped, and in half a minute the little fellow was asleep in my arms. I often wish I could think like that. CHILDREN'S PARTY-OF JACK HORNER OF THINKING. MY DEAR LUCY, JACK has been good enough to undertake to hand you this letter before he leaves you to-morrow on his return to Cambridge. I admit that this method of postage is not too safe, letters having the most fatal facility for clinging to coat pockets long after they should have been delivered. Still, sooner or later you will receive it, even if JACK, as will probably be the case, has to post it to you from Cambridge. I send JACK to be an exception. "How shall I think?" he asked. "Close back to you, as I received him, in first-rate health, a much-improved shot and a most vigorous wielder of his knife and fork. Indeed I might have contented myself with invoicing him to you in the terms of trade, as for example thus:-Madam, in accordance with your obliging order, I have to-day despatched to your address, by rail, One Boy, containing, in addition to the usual articles, one large sole (fried), two mutton-cutlets, two sausages on mashed potatoes, two poached eggs, toast, butter, marmalade, and two breakfast-cups of best Chinese tea. I trust the parcel will arrive in good condition and give satisfaction. Hoping to be favoured with a continuance of your esteemed Old Female (to Member of Anti-gambling League). Yes, Sir, commands, I beg to remain, Madam, your obedient servant, I'm 'eartily one with you. It aint the 'urdles, or the 'edges, or &c., &c. This, my dear Lucy, is no exaggeration. I am the other hobstacles that I hobjects to, but, as my pore 'usband telling you the plain and simple truth about your astonishing used to say, "It's the hun'appy 'osses wot breaks their backers." boy's breakfast this morning. Your own experience will convince you of my veracity. Oh, happy time of boyhood, dura puerorum ilia (JACK will construe), how far off appear the days ORNITHOLOGICAL.-It is stated that pigeons frequent the great when I too thought nothing of such a breakfast, nay, when I could London fish-market. Surely, therefore, its name ought to be top up with deep draughts of beer from the mighty three-handled changed to Cooing-and-Billings-gate. |