" And the Beak said unto me, "Begging again.
Forty shillings." And again I woke. And it was all a striving and a
striving and an ending in Nothing.
THE END.
* * * * *
TO MLLE. JANE MAY.
"Au clair de la lune,
Mon ami PIERROT,
Prete-moi ta plume
Pour ecrire un mot."
_Prete-moi ta plume!_ Could wit borrow a feather
From Cupid's own pinion, 'tis doubtfullish whether
A "_mot_" might be made which should happily hit
The "gold" of desert; and Love, aided by Wit,
Though equal to eloquent passion's fine glow,
Might both be struck mute by the Muse of Dumb-Show.
That "actions speak louder than words" we all knew;
But now we may add, "and more gracefully, too."
_Performances_ fine _Punch_ has praised in his day,
But how few take the _pas_ of the _Promise_--of MAY!
* * * * *
"NATIVE RACES AND THE LIQUOR TRAFFIC."--An important subject strangely
omitted at the recent meeting of this Society was "The Consumption of
Champagne on the Derby and Oaks Days." The Duke of WESTMINSTER will
take the earliest opportunity of rectifying this error.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A BLEND.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25