MISREPRESENTATIVE 
 
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 Book .\^v {irVl55' 
 
 COPYRICIIT DKHOSIT. 
 
Misrepresentative 
 Women 
 
"-^For long with horror she has viewed 
 The naked Truth for being nude " 
 
MISREPRESENTATIVE 
 WOMEN 
 
 By Harry Graham 
 
 Author of ^^Misrepre^ntdtive Men'''' 
 
 and *^More Misrepresentative Men'''* 
 
 ft- 
 
 illustrated by 
 Dan Sayre Groesbeck 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DuFFiELD & Company 
 
 MCMVI 
 
LiBKARY of CONGRESS 
 
 Two Copies Received 
 SEP 24 1906 
 
 n Ccpyrififht Entrv 
 CLASS A XXc, No. 
 COPTB. ' 
 
 
 Copyright, iqo6, by 
 
 DUFFIELD & COMPANY 
 
 Pziblished, September, 190b 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Publishers' Preface ■ . 7 
 
 Eve 13 
 
 Lady Godiva 19 
 
 Miss Marie Corelli 27 
 
 Mrs. Mary Baker Eddy ........ 35 
 
 Mrs. Grundy 41 
 
 Mrs., Christopher Columbus 49 
 
 Dame Rumor 57 
 
 The Cry of the Children 63 
 
 The Cry of the Elders 71 
 
 An Epithalamium 79 
 
 The Self-Made Father to His Ready-Made 
 
 Son 85 
 
 The "Author to His Hostess 91 
 
 On the Decline of Gentility Among the 
 
 Young 97 
 
 "Lochinvar" 103 
 
 Abbreviation's Artful Aid . . « . . . . iii 
 
 Author's Aftword 117 
 
List of Illustrations 
 
 ** For long with horror she has view e a 
 
 The naked Truth for being nude^* .... frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 ** Gentle Reader y who so patiently have waited'*'* lO 
 
 ** Her wardrobe, though extremely small, sufficed a somewhat 
 
 simple need'** 14 
 
 ** At the Heart of her spouse she continued to storm'''* ... 20 
 ** Were she to mingle with her ink a little milk of human 
 
 kindness** 28 
 
 ** And so he daily left her side to travel 0* er the ocean far** . 50 
 " Where the spinsters at tea are collected, her arrival is hailed 
 
 with delight** 5<^ 
 
 ** He is yearning for the chance of reading Gibbon** .... 64 
 ** How glad the happy pair must be that Hymen* s bonds have set 
 
 them free ** 80 
 
 ♦*/ wonder why they look such frights** p2 
 
 ** Small wonder she receives a shock each time she views thy 
 
 billycock** p<? 
 
 ** ^ She is mine!* he announces, adjourning to the distant horizon 
 
 afar** 104 
 
Publishers Preface 
 
 /^ ENTLE Reader, who so patiently 
 ^^^^ have waited 
 
 For such viands as your poet can provide, 
 (Which, as critics have occasionally stated, 
 
 Must be trying to a delicate inside,) 
 Once again are opportunities afforded 
 
 Of a banquet, or a dejeuner at least. 
 Once again your toleration is rewarded 
 By a literary feast ! 
 
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE 
 
 You may think that Rudyard Kipling's work 
 is stronger. 
 Or that Chaucer's may be rather more 
 mature ; 
 Byron's lyrics are indubitably longer, 
 
 Robert Browning's just a trifle more 
 obscure ; 
 But 'tis certain that no poems are politer. 
 Or more fitted for perusal in the 
 home, 
 Than the verses of the unassuming 
 writer 
 
 Of this memorable tome ! 
 
 8 
 
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE 
 
 Austin Dobson is a daintier performer, 
 
 Andrew Lang is far more scholarly and 
 wise, 
 Mr. Swinburne can, of course, be somewhat 
 warmer, 
 Alfred Austin more amusing, if he 
 tries; 
 But there's no one in the world (and well 
 you know it !) 
 Who can emulate the bard of whom we 
 speak. 
 For the literary methods of our poet 
 Are admittedly unique ! 
 
 9 
 
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE 
 
 Tho' he shows no sort of penitence at 
 breaking 
 Ev'ry rule of English grammar and of style, 
 (Not a rhyme is too atrocious for his making. 
 
 Not a metre for his purpose is too vile !) 
 Tho' his treatment is essentially destructive, 
 And his taste a thing that no one can 
 admire. 
 There is something incontestably seductive 
 In the music of his lyre ! 
 
 Gentle Reader, some apologies are needed 
 For depositing this volume on your desk, 
 
 lO 
 
(^ 
 
 
 ^^ Gentle Reader^ who so patiently have waited 
 
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE 
 
 ^ince the author has undoubtedly exceeded 
 All the limits of legitimate burlesque, 
 
 \nd we look with very genuine affection 
 To a Public who, for better or for worse, 
 
 ^ill relieve us of this villainous collection 
 Of abominable verse ! 
 
 II 
 
Eve 
 
 1 ALWAYS love to picture Eve, 
 Whatever captious critics say. 
 As one who was, as I believe, 
 The nicest woman of her day; 
 Attractive to the outward view. 
 And such a perfect ladi/ too ! 
 
 13 
 
EVE 
 
 Unselfish, — that one can't dispute. 
 Recalling her intense delight. 
 
 When she acquired some novel fruit, 
 In giving all her friends a bite; 
 
 Her very troubles she would share 
 
 With those who happened to be there. 
 
 Her wardrobe, though extremely small, 
 Sufficed a somewhat simple need ; 
 
 She was, if anything at all, 
 A trifle underdvessed^ indeed, 
 
 And never visited a play 
 
 In headgear known as " matinee." 
 
 14 
 
tier luardrob 
 
 a somewhat simple need 
 
 though extremely smalL s 
 
 ufficed 
 
EVE 
 
 Possessing but a single beau^ 
 With only one affaire de cceur^ 
 
 She promptly married, as we know, 
 The man who first proposed to her ; 
 
 Not for his title or his pelf, 
 
 But simply for his own sweet self. 
 
 He loved her madly, at first sight; 
 
 His callow heart was quite upset; 
 He thought her nearly, if not quite. 
 
 The sweetest soul he'd ever met ; 
 She found him charming — for a man, 
 And so their young romance began. 
 
 15 
 
EVE 
 
 Their wedding was a trifle tame — 
 
 A purely family affair — - 
 No guests were asked, no pressmen came 
 
 To interview the happy pair; 
 No crowds of curious strangers bored them, 
 The ^^ Eden Journal" quite ignored them. 
 
 They had the failings of their class, 
 
 The faults and foibles of the youthful; 
 
 She was inquisitive, alas! 
 
 And he was — not exactly truthful; 
 
 But never was there man or woman 
 
 So truly, so intensely human! 
 
 i6 
 
EVE 
 
 And, hand in hand, from day to day, 
 They lived and labored, man and wife; 
 
 Together hewed their common way 
 Along the rugged path of Life; 
 
 Remaining, though the seasons pass'd, 
 
 Friends, lovers, to the very last. 
 
 So, side by side, they shared, these two. 
 The sorrow and the joys of living; 
 
 The Man, devoted, tender, true. 
 
 The Woman, patient and forgiving; 
 
 Their common toil, their common weather, 
 
 But drew them closelier still together. 
 
 17 
 
EVE 
 
 And if they ever chanced to grieve, 
 Enduring loss, or suff'ring pain, 
 
 You may be certain it was Eve 
 
 Brought comfort to their hearts again; 
 
 If they WQVQ happy, well I know. 
 
 It was the Woman made them so. 
 
 • • • • • • 
 
 And though the anthropologist 
 May mention, in his tactless way, 
 
 That Adam's weaknesses exist 
 Among our modern Men to-day. 
 
 In Women we may still perceive 
 
 The virtues of their Mother Eve! 
 
 i8 
 
Lady Godiva 
 
 IN the old town of Coventry, so people 
 say, 
 Dwelt a Peer who was utterly lacking 
 
 in pity; 
 Universally loathed for the rigorous way 
 
 That he burdened the rates of the City. 
 By his merciless methods of petty taxation, 
 The poor were reduced to the verge of star- 
 vation. 
 
 19 
 
LADY GODIVA 
 
 But the Earl had a wife, whom the people 
 adored. 
 For her kindness of heart even more than 
 her beauty, 
 
 And her pitiless lord she besought and im- 
 plored 
 To remit this extortionate ^Muty"; 
 
 But he answered: ''My dear, pray reflect at 
 your leisure. 
 
 What you deem a 'duty,' to me is a 
 pleasure ! " 
 
 At the heart of her spouse she continued to 
 
 storm, 
 
 20 
 
'S// the heart of her- spouse she continued 
 to storm " 
 
LADY GODIVA 
 
 And she closed her entreaties, one day, by 
 exclaiming: — 
 ^' If you take off the tax, I will gladly perform 
 
 Any task that you like to be naming ! " 
 ^'Well, if that be the case," said the noble- 
 man, "I've a 
 Good mind just to test you, my Lady Godiva ! 
 
 "To your wishes, my dear, I will straight 
 
 acquiesce. 
 On the single condition — I give you fair 
 
 warning — 
 That you ride through the City, at noon, in 
 
 the dress 
 
 21 
 
LADY GODIVA 
 
 That you wear in your bath of a morn- 
 ing 
 
 I" 
 
 "Very well! " she replied. "Be it so! Though 
 
 you drive a 
 Hard bargain, my lord," said the Lady 
 
 Godiva. 
 
 So she slipped off her gown, and her shoul- 
 ders lay bare. 
 Gleaming white like the moon on Aonian 
 fountains; 
 
 When about them she loosened her curtain 
 of hair, 
 
 22 
 
LADY GODIVA 
 
 'Twas like Night coming over the moun- 
 tains ! 
 
 And she blushed, 'neath the veil of her 
 wonderful tresses. 
 
 As blushes the Morn 'neath the Sun's first 
 caresses ! 
 
 Then she went to the stable and saddled her 
 steed. 
 Who erected his ears, till he looked like 
 a rabbit. 
 He was somewhat surprised, as he might be, 
 indeed. 
 At the lady's unusual ^^ habit"; 
 
 23 
 
LADY GODIVA 
 
 But allowed her to mount in the masculine 
 way, i 
 
 For he couldn't say "No," and he wouldn't 
 say "Neigh!" 
 
 So she rode through the town, in the heat 
 of the sun. 
 For the weather was (luckily) warm as the 
 Tropics, 
 And the people all drew down their blinds 
 — except one, 
 On the staff of the local "Town Topics." { 
 (Such misconduct produced in the eyes of 
 this vile one 
 
 24 i 
 
LADY GODIVA 
 
 A cataract nearly as large as the Nile 
 one !) 
 
 Then Godiva returned, and the Earl had to 
 yield, 
 (And the paralyzed pressman dictated his 
 cable;) 
 The tax was remitted, the bells were re- 
 pealed. 
 And the horse was returned to the stable ; 
 While banners were waved from each possible 
 
 quarter. 
 Except from the flat of the stricken reporter. 
 
 25 
 
LADY GODIVA 
 
 Now the Moral is this — if I've fathomed the 
 
 tale 
 (Though it needs a more delicate pen to 
 
 explain it) : — 
 You can get whatsoever you want, without 
 
 fail, 
 If you'll sacrifice all to obtain it. 
 You should try to avoid unconventional 
 
 capers. 
 And be sure you don't write for Society 
 
 papers. 
 
 26 
 
Miss Marie Corelli 
 
 AVERY Woman among Men! 
 Her paeans, sung in ev'ry quarter. 
 Almost persuade Le Gallienne 
 
 To go and get his hair cut shorter; 
 When Kipling hears her trumpet-note 
 He longs to don a petticoat. 
 
 27 
 
MISS MARIE CORELLI 
 
 Her praise is sung by old or young. 
 From Happy Hampstead to Hoboken, 
 
 Where'er old England's mother-tongue 
 Is (ungrammatically) spoken: 
 
 In that supremely simple set 
 
 Which loves the penny novelette. 
 
 When Anglo-Saxon peoples kneel 
 
 Before their literary idol. 
 It makes all rival authors feel 
 
 Depressed and almost suicidal; 
 They cannot reach within a mile 
 Of her sublime suburban style. 
 
 28 
 
Were she to 711 ingle iv'ith her ink 
 A little milk oj human kindness ' 
 
MISS MARIE CORELLI 
 
 Her modest, unobtrusive ways, 
 
 In sunny Stratford's guide-books graven, 
 Her brilliance, lighting with its rays 
 
 The birthplace of the Swan of Avon, 
 Must cause the Bard as deep a pain 
 As his resemblance to Hall Caine. 
 
 Mere ordinary mortals ask. 
 
 With no desire for picking quarrels, 
 Who gave her the congenial task 
 
 Of judging other people's morals? 
 Who bade her flay her fellow-men 
 With such a frankly feline pen? 
 
 29 
 
MISS MARIE CORELLI 
 
 And one may seek, and seek in vain, 
 The social set she loves to mention, 
 
 Those offspring of her fertile brain. 
 Those creatures of her fond invention, 
 
 (She is, or so it would appear. 
 
 Unlucky in her friends, poor dear!) 
 
 For tho', like her, they feel the sway 
 Of claptrap sentimental glamour, 
 
 And frequently, like her, give way 
 To lapses from our English grammar. 
 
 The victims of her diatribes 
 
 Are not the least as she describes. 
 
 30 
 
MISS MARIE CORELLI 
 
 To restaurants they seldom go, 
 Just for the sake of over-eating; 
 
 While ladies don't play bridge, you know. 
 Entirely for the sake of cheating; 
 
 And husbands can be quite nice men, 
 
 And wives are faithful, now and then. 
 
 Were she to mingle with her ink 
 A little milk of human kindness, 
 
 She would not join, I dare to think. 
 To chronic social color-blindness 
 
 An outlook bigoted and narrow 
 
 As that of some provincial sparrow. 
 
 31 
 
MISS MARIE CORELLI 
 
 But still, perhaps, it might affect 
 
 Her literary circulation. 
 If she were tempted to neglect 
 
 Her talent for vituperation; 
 Since work of this peculiar kind 
 Delights the groundling's curious mind. 
 
 For while, of course, from day to day. 
 
 Her popularity increases. 
 As, in an artless sort of way. 
 
 She tears Society to pieces. 
 Her sense of humor, so they tell us. 
 Makes even Alfred Austin jealous! 
 
 32 
 
MISS MARIE CORELLI 
 
 Yet even bumpkins^ by and by, 
 (Such is the spread of education) 
 
 May view with cold^ phlegmatic eye 
 The fruits of her imagination. 
 
 And learn to temper their devotion 
 
 With slight, if adequate, emotion. 
 • • • • • 
 
 Dear Miss Corelli: — Should your eyes 
 Peruse this page ('tis my ambition I), 
 
 Be sure that I apologize 
 In any suitable position 
 
 For having weakly imitated 
 
 The style that you yourself created, 
 
 33 
 
MISS MARIE CORELLI 
 
 I cannot fancy to attain 
 
 To heights of personal invective 
 Which you, with subtler pen and brain. 
 
 Have learnt to render so effective; 
 I follow dimly in your trail ; 
 Forgive me, therefore, if I fail ! 
 
 34 
 
Mrs. Mary Baker Eddy 
 
 HAVE you a pain all down your 
 back? 
 A feeling of intense prostration? 
 Are you anaemic, for the lack 
 
 Of proper circulation? 
 With bloodshot eye and hand unsteady? 
 Pray send at once for Mrs. Eddy. 
 
 35 
 
MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 
 
 The Saint and Prophetess is she 
 
 Of what is known as Christian Science; 
 And you can lean on Mrs. E. 
 
 With absolute reliance; 
 For she will shortly make it plain 
 That there is no such thing as pain. 
 
 The varied ailments on your list 
 
 Which cause you such extreme vexation 
 Are nothing more, she will insist, 
 Than mere imagination. 
 'Tis so with illness or disease; 
 Nothing exists . . . except her fees ! 
 
 36 
 
MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 
 
 A friend of mine had not been taught 
 
 This doctrine, I regret to say. 
 He fell downstairs, or so he thought, 
 
 And broke his neck, one day. 
 Had Mrs. Eddy come along. 
 She could have shown him he was wrong. 
 
 She could have told him (or his wraith) 
 
 That stairs and necks have no existence, 
 That persons with sufficient faith 
 
 Can fall from any distance. 
 And that he wasn't in the least 
 What local papers called ^Meceased." 
 
 37 
 
MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 
 
 Of ills to which the flesh is heir 
 
 She is decidedly disdainful; 
 But once, or so her friends declare, 
 
 Her teeth became so painful 
 That, tho' she knew they couldn't be. 
 She had them taken out, to see. 
 
 Afflictions of the lame or halt. 
 
 Which other people view with terror. 
 To her denote some moral fault, 
 
 Some form of mental error. 
 While doctors probe or amputate. 
 She simply heals you while you wait. 
 
 38 
 
MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 
 
 My brother, whom you may have seen. 
 
 Possessed a limp, a very slight one; 
 His leg, the left, had always been 
 
 Much shorter than the right one ; 
 But Mrs. Eddy came his way. 
 And . . . well, just look at him to-day! 
 
 At healing she had grown so deft 
 
 That when she finished with my brother. 
 His crippled leg, I mean the left, 
 
 Was longer than the other! 
 And now he's praying, day and night. 
 For faith to lengthen out the right. 
 
 39 
 
MRS. MARY BAKER EDDY 
 
 So let it be our chief concern 
 To set diseases at defiance. 
 Contriving, as the truths we learn 
 
 Of so-called Christian Science, 
 To live from illnesses exempt, — 
 Or else to die in the attempt! 
 
 40 
 
Mrs. Grundy 
 
 WHEN lovely Woman stoops to 
 smoke 
 (A vice in which she often 
 glories), 
 Or sees the somewhat doubtful joke 
 
 In after-dinner stories. 
 Who is it to her bedroom rushes 
 To hide the fervor of her blushes? 
 
 41 
 
MRS. GRUNDY 
 
 When Susan's skirt's a trifle short, 
 
 Or Mary's manner rather skittish, 
 Who is it, with a fretful snort 
 
 (So typically British), 
 Emits prolonged and startled cries, 
 Suggestive of a pained surprise? 
 
 Who is it, tell me, in effect. 
 
 Who loves to centre her attentions 
 On all who wilfully neglect 
 
 Society's conventions. 
 And seems eternally imbued 
 With saponaceous rectitude? 
 
 42 
 
MRS. GRUNDY 
 
 'Tis Mrs. Grundy, deaf and blind 
 To anything the least romantic, 
 Combining with a narrow mind 
 
 A point of view pedantic. 
 Since no one in the world can stop her 
 From thinking ev'rything improper. 
 
 The picture or the marble bust 
 
 At any public exhibition 
 Evokes her unconcealed disgust 
 
 And rouses her suspicion, 
 If human forms are shown to us 
 In puris naturalibus, 
 
 +3 
 
MRS. GRUXDY 
 
 The bare, in anv sense or shape, 
 
 She Icx^ks upon as wrong or taulty; 
 Piano-legs she likes to drape. 
 
 It thev are too deeolPte; 
 For lonii with horror she has viewed 
 The naked Truth, tor being nude. 
 
 On modern manners that efface 
 
 The formal modes ot introduction 
 She is at once prepared to place 
 
 The verv worst construction,- 
 And trowns, suspicious and sardonic, 
 On friendships that are termed Platonic 
 
MRS. GRUNDY 
 
 The English restaurants must close 
 
 At twelve o'clock at night on Sunday, 
 To suit (or so we may suppose) 
 
 The taste of Mrs. Grundy: 
 On week-days, thirty minutes later. 
 Ejected guests revile the waiter. 
 
 A sense of humor she would vote 
 
 The sign of mental dissipations; 
 She scorns whatever might promote 
 
 The gaiety of nations ; 
 Of lawful fun she seems no fonder 
 Than of the noxious doohlontonder ! 
 
 + 5 
 
MRS. GRUNDY 
 
 And if you wish to make her blench 
 
 And snap her teeth together tightly, 
 Say something in Parisian French, 
 
 And close one optic slightly, 
 '' Rien ne va plus ! Enfin, alors ! " 
 She leaves the room and slams the door ! 
 
 O Mrs. Grundy, do, I beg. 
 
 To false conclusions cease from rushing. 
 And learn to name the human leg 
 
 Without profusely blushing! 
 No longer be (don't think me rude) 
 That unalluring thing, the prude ! 
 
 46 
 
MRS. GRUNDY 
 
 No more patrol the world, I pray. 
 
 In search of trifling social errors, 
 Let ^'What will Mrs. Grundy say?" 
 No longer have its terrors; 
 Leave diatribe and objurgation 
 To Mrs. Chant and Carrie Nation ! 
 
 47 
 
Mrs. Christopher Columbus 
 
 THE bride grows pale beneath her 
 veil, 
 The matron, for the nonce, is dumb. 
 Who listens to the tragic tale 
 
 Of Mrs. Christopher Columb : 
 Who lived and died (so says report) 
 A widow of the herbal sort. 
 
 4-9 
 
MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 
 
 Her husband upon canvas wings 
 
 Would brave the Ocean, tempest-tost; 
 
 He had a cult for finding things 
 Which nobody had ever lost. 
 
 And Mrs. C. grew almost frantic 
 
 When he discovered the Atlantic. 
 
 But nothing she could do or say 
 
 Would keep her Christopher at home; 
 
 Without delay he sailed away 
 
 Across what poets call "the foam," 
 
 While neighbors murmured/' What a shame! " 
 
 And wished their husbands did the same. 
 
 50 
 
^''And so he daily left her side 
 To travel o' er the ocea n fa r 
 
MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 
 
 He ventured on the highest C's 
 
 That reared their heads above the bar, 
 
 Knowing the compass and the quays 
 Like any operatic star ; 
 
 And funny friends who watched him do so 
 
 Would call him ^^ Robinson Caruso." 
 
 But Mrs. C. remained indoors, 
 
 And poked the fire and wound the clocks. 
 Amused the children, scrubbed the floors. 
 
 Or darned her absent husband's socks. 
 (For she was far too sweet and wise 
 To darn the great explorer's eyes.) 
 
 51 
 
MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 
 
 And when she chanced to look around 
 At all the couples she had known. 
 
 And realized how few had found 
 A home as peaceful as her own, 
 
 She saw how pleasant it may be 
 
 To wed a chronic absentee. 
 
 Her husband's absence she enjoyed, 
 Nor ever asked him where he went, 
 
 Thinking him harmlessly employed 
 Discovering some Continent. 
 
 Had he been always in, no doubt. 
 
 Some day she would have found him out. 
 
 52 
 
MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 
 
 And so he daily left her side 
 
 To travel o'er the ocean far, 
 And she who, like the bard, had tried 
 
 To ^' hitch her wagon to a star," 
 Though she was harnessed to a comet, 
 Got lots of satisfaction from it. 
 
 To him returning from the West 
 She proved a perfect anti-dote. 
 
 Who loosed his Armour (beef compress'd) 
 And sprayed his "automobile throat"; 
 
 His health she kept a jealous eye on. 
 
 And played PerUna to his lion ! 
 
 53 
 
MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 
 
 And when she got him home again. 
 And so could wear the jewels rare 
 
 Which Isabella, Queen of Spain, 
 Entrusted to her husband's care, 
 
 Her monetary wealth was "far 
 
 Beyond the dreams of caviar ! " 
 
 • • • • e 
 
 A melancholy thing it is 
 
 How few have known or understood 
 The manifold advantages 
 
 Of such herbaceous widowhood ! 
 (What is it ruins married lives 
 But husbands . . . not to mention wives?) 
 
 54 
 
MRS. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 
 
 O wedded couples of to-day, 
 
 Pray take these principles to heart, 
 
 And copy the Columbian way 
 Of living happily apart. 
 
 And so, to you, at any rate. 
 
 Shall marriage be a "blessed state." 
 
 55 
 
Dame Rumor 
 
 I SHOULD like to remark that Dame 
 Rumor 
 Is the most unalluring of jades. 
 She has little or no sense of humor. 
 
 And her fables are worse than George 
 Ade's. 
 (Or rather, I mean, if the reader prefers, 
 That the fables of Ade are much better 
 than hers!) 
 
 57 
 
DAME RUMOR 
 
 Her appearance imbues one with loathing, 
 
 From her jaundiced, malevolent eyes 
 To the tinsel she cares to call clothing. 
 Which is merely a patchwork of lies. 
 For her garments are such that a child 
 
 could see through. 
 And her blouse (need I add?) is the famed 
 Peek-a-boo ! 
 
 She is wholly devoid of discretion. 
 She is utterly wanting in tact. 
 
 She's a gossip by trade and profession. 
 And she much prefers fiction to fact. 
 
 58 
 
^'^ Where the spinsters at tea are collected^ 
 Her arrival is hailed zuith delight'' 
 
DAME RUMOR 
 
 She is seldom veracious, and always unkind, 
 And she moves to and fro with the speed 
 of the wind. 
 
 She resembles the men who ('tis fabled) 
 Tumble into the Packingtown vats, 
 
 Who are boiled there, and bottled, and 
 labelled 
 For the tables of true democrats: 
 
 Pickled souls who are canned for the public 
 
 to buy, 
 
 « 
 
 And (like her) have a finger in every pie ! 
 
 59 
 
DAME RUMOR 
 
 With a step that is silent and stealthy, 
 Or an earsplitting clamor and noise, 
 
 She disturbs the repose of the wealthy. 
 Or the peace which the pauper enjoys. 
 
 And, however securely the doors may be 
 shut. 
 
 She can always gain access to palace or hut. 
 
 Where the spinsters at tea are collected, 
 Her arrival is hailed with delight; 
 
 She is welcomed, adored, and respected 
 In each newspaper office at night; 
 
 For her presence imprints an original seal 
 
 60 ; 
 
DAME RUMOR 
 
 On an otherwise commonplace journal or 
 meal. 
 
 She has nothing in common with Virtue^ 
 And with Truth she was never allied; 
 If she hasn't yet managed to hurt you, 
 
 It can't be from not having tried ! 
 For the poison of adders is under her 
 
 tongue, 
 And you're lucky indeed, if you've never 
 been stung. 
 
 Are you statesman, or author, or artist. 
 With a perfectly blameless career.? 
 
 6i 
 
DAME RUMOR 
 
 Are your talents and wits of the smartest. 
 And your conscience abnormally clear? 
 ^'He's a saint!" says Dame Rumor, and 
 
 smiles like the Sphinx. 
 "He's a hero!" (She adds:) "What a pity 
 
 he drinks ! " 
 
 Gentle Reader, keep clear of her clutches ! 
 
 O beware of her voice, I entreat ! 
 Be you journalist, dowager duchess, 
 
 Or just merely the Man in the Street. 
 
 And I beg of you not to encourage a jade 
 
 Who, if once she is started, can never be 
 
 stayed. 
 
 62 
 
The Cry of the Children 
 
 [On the subject of infant education it has been suggested that 
 more advantageous results might be obtained if, instead of filling 
 children's minds with such nonsense as fairy-tales, stories were read 
 to them about Julius Caesar.] 
 
 OMY Brothers, do you hear the 
 children weeping? 
 Do you note the teardrops tumbling from 
 
 their eyes? 
 To the school-house they reluctantly are 
 creeping, 
 
 63 
 
THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Discontented with the teaching it supplies. 
 At the quality of modern education 
 
 Little urchins may with justice look 
 askance. 
 Since it panders to a child's imagination. 
 And encourages romance. 
 
 Do you see that toddling baby with a bib 
 on. 
 How his eyes with silent misery are dim ? 
 He is yearning for the chance of reading 
 Gibbon ; 
 But his teachers give him nothing else 
 but Grimm! 
 
 64 
 
^^He is ye ami 
 
 yearn, ng for the charue ofreadin, GiHo.,- 
 
THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 What a handicap to infantile ambition! 
 'Tis enough to make the brightest bant- 
 ling fume, 
 To be gammoned with an Andrew Lang 
 edition, 
 
 When he longs for Hume, sweet 
 Hume ! 
 
 See that tiny one, what boredom he 
 expresses ! 
 What intolerance his frequent yawns 
 evince 
 
 Of the fairy-tales where beautiful prin- 
 cesses 
 
 65 
 
THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Are delivered from a dragon by a prince! 
 How he curses the pedantic institution 
 Where he can't obtain such volumes as i 
 ^^Le Cid," I 
 
 Or that masterpiece on "Social Evolution" 
 By another kind of Kidd ! 
 
 Do you hear the children weeping, O my , 
 Brothers ? j 
 
 They are crying for Max Miiller and 
 Carlyle. 
 
 Tho' Hans Andersen may satisfy their 
 mothers, , 
 
 66 
 
THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 They are weary of so immature a style. 
 And their time is far too brief to be 
 expended 
 On such nonsense as their "rude fore- 
 fathers " read ; 
 For they know the days of sentiment are 
 ended. 
 
 And that Chivalry is dead! 
 
 Oh remember that the pillars of the nation 
 Are the children that we discipline to-day; 
 
 That to give them a becoming education 
 You must rear them in a reasonable way! 
 
 67 
 
THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Let us guard them from the glamour of 
 
 the mystics, 
 Who would throw a ray of sunshine on 
 
 their lives! 
 Let us feed each helpless atom on statistics, 
 
 And pray Heaven he survives ! 
 
 Let us cast away the out-of-date traditions. 
 Which our poets and romanticists have 
 sung ! 
 
 Let us sacrifice the senseless superstitions 
 That illuminate the fancies of the young ! 
 
 If we limit our instruction to the ^^ reals," 
 
 68 
 
THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 We may prove to ev'ry baby from the 
 start, 
 The futility of cherishing ideals 
 In his golden little heart! 
 
 69 
 
The Cry of the Riders 
 
 [With steady but increasing pace the world is approaching a 
 point at which the cleverness of the young will amount to a social 
 problem. Already things are getting uncomfortable for persons of 
 age and sobriety, whose notion of happiness is to ruminate a few 
 solid and simple ideas in freedom from disturbance. — Macmillans 
 Magazine.^ 
 
 OMY Children, do you hear your 
 elders sighing ? 
 Do you wonder that senility should find 
 , Your encyclopaedic knowledge some- 
 what trying 
 
 71 
 
THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 
 
 To the ordinary mind ? 
 In the heyday of a former generation, 
 Some respect for our intelligence was 
 shown ; 
 And it's hard for us to cotton 
 To the fact that you've forgotten 
 More than we have ever known ! 
 
 O my Children, do you hear your elders 
 
 snoring. 
 When the "chassis" of your motors 
 
 you discuss? 
 Do you wonder that your "shop" is 
 
 rather boring 
 
 72 
 
THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 
 
 To such simple souls as us ? * 
 Do you marvel that your dreary conversation 
 Should evoke the yawns that ^' lie too 
 deep for tears," 
 When you lecture to your betters 
 About "tanks" and "carburettors," 
 About "sparking-plugs" and "gears"? 
 
 O my Children, in the season of your 
 nonage, 
 (Which delightful days no longer now 
 exist ! ) 
 
 *^^As us" is not grammar. — Publishers' Reader. 
 " As we " is not verse. — H. G. 
 
 73 
 
THE CRY OF THE ELDERS ; 
 
 We could join with other fogeys of our I 
 own age i 
 
 In a quiet game of whist. 
 Notv^ at bridge, our very experts are 
 defeated 
 By some beardless but impertinent 
 young cub, 
 
 Who converts our silent table 
 
 I 
 
 To a very Tow'r of Babel, ' 
 
 At the Knickerbocker Club! 
 
 \ 
 
 O my Children, we no longer are respected ! ' 
 'Tis a fact we older fellows must deplore, i 
 
 7+ I 
 
THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 
 
 Whose opinions and whose judgments are 
 neglected. 
 
 As they never were before. 
 We may tender good advice to our 
 descendants; 
 We may offer them our money, if we 
 
 will y 
 
 Lo, the one shall be forsaken, 
 And the other shall be taken 
 (Like the women at the mill!). 
 
 O my Children, note the moral (like a 
 kernel) 
 
 7S 
 
THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 
 
 I have hidden in the centre of my song ! 
 Do not contradict a relative maternal. 
 
 If she happens to be wrong! 
 Be indulgent to the author of your being; 
 Never show him the contempt that you 
 must feel; 
 Treat him tolerantly, rather, 
 Since a man who is your father 
 Can't be wholly imbecile! 
 
 O my Children, we, the older generation. 
 At whose feet you ought (in theory) to 
 sit, 
 
 76 
 
THE CRY OF THE ELDERS 
 
 Are bewildered by your mental penetration. 
 
 We are dazzled by your wit! 
 But we hopefully anticipate a future 
 
 When the airship shall replace the 
 motor-'bus, 
 And your children, when they meet 
 
 you, 
 Shall inevitably treat you 
 
 Just as you are treating us! 
 
 11 
 
An Rpithalamium 
 
 LONGWORTH— ROOSEVELT, February 17TH, 1906 
 
 HAIL, bride and bridegroom of 
 the West! 
 Your troth irrevocably plighted! 
 Your act of Union doubly blest. 
 
 Your single States United, 
 With full approval and assent 
 Of populace and President! 
 
 79 
 
AN EPITHALAMIUM 
 
 Let Spangled Banners wave on high. 
 To greet the maiden as she passes! 
 See how the proud Proconsul's eye 
 
 Grows dim behind his glasses! 
 How fond the heart that beats beneath 
 Those pleated Presidential teeth! 
 
 The bishop has received his cheque. 
 
 The final slipper has been thrown; 
 With rice down each respective neck. 
 
 The couple stand alone. 
 To them, at last, the fates provide 
 A privacy so long denied. 
 
 80 
 
How glad the happy pair must be 
 
 Ihat Hymen's bonds have set them free 
 
AN EPITHALAMIUM 
 
 Letters and wires, from near and far, 
 
 Lie thickly piled on ev'ry table; 
 The peaceful message from the Czar, 
 
 The Kaiser's kindly cable ; 
 The well-expressed congratulations 
 From Heads of all the Sister Nations. 
 
 Rich gifts, as countless as the sand 
 That cloaks the desert of Sahara, 
 From fish-slice to piano (grand). 
 From toast-rack to tiara. 
 Still overwhelm the lucky maid 
 (With heavy duties to be paid!). 
 
 8i 
 
AN EPITHALAMIUM 
 
 See, hand-in-hand, the couple stand ! 
 
 (The guests their homeward journey take, 
 Concealing their emotion — and 
 
 Some lumps of wedding cake!) 
 How glad the happy pair must be 
 That Hymen's bonds have set them free ! 
 
 Free of the curious Yellow Press, 
 
 Free of the public's prying gaze, 
 Of all the troubles that obsess 
 
 The path of hances ! 
 Alone at last, and safely screen'd 
 From onslaughts of the kodak-fiend! 
 
 82 
 
AN EPITHALAMIUM 
 
 The Bride, who bore without demur 
 The wiles of artists photographic, 
 Of vulgar crowds that gaped at her, 
 
 Congesting all the traffic, 
 Can shop, once more, in perfect peace. 
 Without the help of the police. 
 
 Arrayed in stylish trav'lling dress, 
 
 Behold, with blushes she departs! 
 The free Republican Princess 
 
 A captive Queen of Hearts ! 
 (Captive to Cupid, need I say? 
 But Queen in ev'ry other way!) 
 
 83 
 
AN EPITHALAMIUM 
 
 And this must surely be the hour 
 
 For Anglo-Saxons, ev'rywhere, 
 With cousinly regard, to show'r 
 Good wishes on the pair; 
 Borne on the bosom of the breeze, 
 Our blessings speed across the seas! 
 
 Hail, Bride and Bridegroom of the West! 
 
 (Pray pardon my redundant lyre) 
 May your united lives be blest 
 
 With all your hearts' desire! 
 Accept the warm felicitations 
 Of fond, if distant, blood -relations ! 
 
 84 
 
The Self-Made Father to 
 His Ready- Made Son 
 
 (an open letter) 
 
 MY offspring: — Ere you raise the 
 glass, 
 To irrigate your ardent throttle; 
 Ere once again you gladly pass 
 
 The bottle; 
 Take heed that your prevailing passion 
 Be not completely out of fashion. 
 
 85 
 
THE SELF-MADE FATHER TO 
 
 No longer does the Prodigal 
 
 Expend his nights in drunken frolic; 
 Or pass his days in revels al- 
 
 -Coholic ; 
 For, nowadays, a glass de trop 
 Is not considered comme il faut. 
 
 No longer do the youthful fall, 
 
 Like leaf or partridge in October; 
 For they, if anything at all. 
 
 Are sober. 
 (I mean the boys, — don't be absurd! 
 And not the foliage or the bird.) 
 
 86 
 
HIS READY-MADE SON 
 
 No longer arm-in-arm they roam, 
 
 Despite constabulary warning. 
 Declaring that they won't go home 
 
 Till morning ! 
 With bursts of bacchanalian song, 
 And jokes as broad as they are long, 
 
 No more they wander to-and-fro, 
 
 Exchanging incoherent greetings — 
 The kind in vogue at Caledo- 
 -Nian Meetings 
 (Behavior that we all condemn, 
 Especially at 3 a. m.). 
 
 87 
 
THE SELF-MADE FATHER TO 
 
 Yes; fashions change — and well they may! 
 
 No longer, at the dinner-table, 
 Do persons drink as much as they 
 
 Are able; 
 And seek the hospitable floor. 
 When they have drunk a trifle more. 
 
 My nasal hue, incarnadine. 
 
 Shall not, perhaps, be wholly wasted. 
 If sons of mine but leave their wine 
 
 Untasted; 
 And vanquish, with deserving merit. 
 The varied vices they inherit. 
 
 88 
 
HIS READY-MADE SON 
 
 Yes, Offspring, I rejoice to think 
 
 That, shunning my example truly, 
 You never may be led to drink 
 
 Unduly. 
 It is indeed a blessed thought! 
 Now, will you kindly pass the port.? 
 
 89 
 
The Author to His Hostess 
 
 (an open letter) 
 
 [Very few English men of letters enjoy a desirable social position. 
 To be sure, they are frequently invited to functions, where they are 
 treated with insistent affability by persons belonging to the higher 
 classes ; but the sort of position to be obtained in this way is 
 insecure, and unpleasant to any save those of adamantine cheek. — 
 Current Magazine. '\ 
 
 DEAR LADY,— When you bade 
 me come 
 To grace your crowded ^^Kettle- 
 drum," 
 And mingle in the best society; 
 When Melba sang, and Elman played, 
 
THE AUTHOR TO HIS HOSTESS 
 
 And waiters handed lemonade 
 
 (Tempering music with sobriety), 
 I never had the least suspicion 
 Of my precarious position. 
 
 But now, with opened eyes, I leap 
 To this conclusion, shrewd and deep, 
 
 (What cerebral agility !) : 
 Your compliments were insincere, 
 Your hospitality was mere 
 
 "Insistent affability!" 
 And I, a foolish man of letters. 
 Who thought to mingle with his betters! 
 
 92 
 
'/ wonder why they look such frights 
 
THE AUTHOR TO HIS HOSTESS 
 
 Ah me! How pride precedes a fall! 
 That one who haunted "rout" or ball, 
 
 When invitations were acquirable. 
 Should see himself as others see, 
 Becoming suddenly, like me, 
 
 A social "undesirable"; 
 Invading the selectest clique 
 With truly adamantine cheek ! 
 
 How proud an air I used to wear! 
 When titled persons turned to stare, 
 
 I blushed like a geranium. 
 When lovely ladies softly said: 
 
 93 
 
THE AUTHOR TO HIS HOSTESS 
 
 And might debase my talents to 
 
 Additional inanities. 
 The Poet has no business there: 
 Que ferait-il dans cette gal ere? 
 
 Ah, lonely is the Author's lot! 
 Assuming, if he hath it not, 
 
 A suitable humility. 
 For when his daily work is done. 
 He must inevitably shun 
 
 The homes of the Nobility, 
 As, with dejected steps, he passes 
 To supper with the middle classes ! 
 
 96 
 
On the Decline of Gentility 
 Among the T^oung 
 
 (suggested by MR, MAX BEERBOHM) 
 
 O YOUTH uncouth, who slouchest 
 by, 
 
 Along the crowded public street, 
 An eyeglass in thy languid eye, 
 
 Brown boots upon thy feet, 
 A loose umbrella in thy grip, 
 A toothpick pendent from thy lip. 
 
 97 
 
ON THE DECLINE OF GENTILITY 
 
 Much I deplore thy clumsy gait, 
 
 Thy drab sartorial display, 
 So wholly inappropriate 
 
 To this august highway; 
 How can a man in such attire 
 Set any spinster's heart on fire? 
 
 Thou art in dress no epicure, 
 
 By weight of fashions overladen; 
 Thy tawdry togs do not allure 
 
 The soul of every maiden; 
 They sound no echoing color-note 
 To her tempestuous petticoat. 
 
 98 
 

 ^^S}?iall wonder she receives a shock each time 
 she views thy billycock 
 
AMONG THE YOUNG 
 
 Her stylish skirt, her dainty blouse, 
 
 Are crepe-de-chine, or bombazine*; 
 Compare the texture of thy trous: 
 
 With their chromatic sheen; 
 To what abysm of taste we reach 
 By the Observance of thy Breech! 
 
 Think what she pays her modiste for 
 Those hats of questionable shapes. 
 Surmounted by a seagull or 
 
 Some imitation grapes! 
 
 * Impossible. — Publishers' Reader. 
 These ones were. — H. G. 
 
 99 
 
ON THE DECLINE OF GENTILITY 
 
 Small wonder she receives a shock 
 Each time she views thy "billycock"! 
 
 Observe how like an autumn leaf 
 The colors of the male canary. 
 The garb of each New Zealand chief 
 
 Who woos his Little Maori; 
 The savage mind has thus designed 
 A dress to please its womankind. 
 
 And tho' I would not have thee go 
 
 As far as primal man or beast, 
 To lovely woman thou should'st show 
 Some deference at least, 
 
 lOO 
 
AMONG THE YOUNG 
 
 And give a thought of what to wear 
 Upon the public thoroughfare. 
 
 And should'st thou wish to walk aright, 
 
 Let Mr. Beerbohm be thy mould; 
 Sedate yet courtly, and polite 
 
 As any beau of old; 
 Yea, plant thy footsteps in the tracks 
 Of our inimitable Max! 
 
 Enclose thy larynx in a stock 
 
 (As though afflicted with the fever); 
 And in the place of ^'billycock" 
 
 Procure a bristling '^beaver"; 
 
 lOI 
 
ON THE DECLINE OF GENTILITY 
 
 And practise, not I hope in vain, 
 The "conduct of a clouded cane." 
 
 If thou consentest thus to act. 
 
 In scorn of popular convention, 
 Thy bearing shall indeed attract 
 Much feminine attention; 
 As day by day, in brilliant hue. 
 Thy figure fills Fifth Avenue. 
 
 I02 
 
^'Lochinvar'^ 
 
 (with apologies to SCOTT AND SWINBURNE) 
 
 WHEN the shadow-shapes shone 
 like a shaddock, 
 Where the sunset had kissed 
 them to flame, 
 On his palfrey, the pick of the paddock. 
 With his sword in its scabbard, he came! 
 In the glamour of amorous passion 
 
 He would blaze like a seasoned cigar; 
 
 103 
 
^^LOCHINVAR" 
 
 And he fought in a similar fashion, j 
 
 Did Young Lochinvar! ! 
 
 i 
 By the fences and fens unafFrighted, 
 
 And unstopt by the stream in its spate, 
 
 In a lather, at last, he alighted. 
 
 And he knocked at the Netherbys' 
 
 gate. 
 
 'Twas too late! (As he doubtless had 
 
 dreaded.) 
 
 He perceived his particular "star" 
 
 To a blackguard about to be wedded, ! 
 
 Did Young Lochinvar! - 
 
 I 
 
 104. ! 
 
She is 7?iine !' he announces^ adjournin^ 
 To the distant hoj'i-zon afar 
 
"LOCHINVAR" 
 
 But he passed through the portal so proudly 
 To the room where the gifts were dis- 
 played, 
 That old Netherby called to him loudly 
 (For the bridegroom, poor fool, was 
 afraid). 
 '^Is it blood you are bent upon shedding? 
 
 With a murder this marriage to mar? 
 Dv to waltz do you wish at the wedding, 
 My Young Lochinvar?" 
 
 He replied, ^^Tho' 'twere useless to smother 
 My love for the maid at your sidej 
 
 I OS 
 
"LOCHINVAR" 
 
 Tho' my Helen be bound to another, \ 
 
 I shall trust to the turn of the tied. | 
 
 As I drink to her squint and her freckles,' 
 
 I'll remark how few ladies there are 
 Who would shrink from a share of the 
 shekels j 
 
 Of Young Lochinvar." \ 
 
 Then he pledged her in port, so politely j 
 (Tho' her mother lamented his taste), | 
 
 And she smiled at him ever so slightly. 
 As he settled his arm round her waist. 
 
 When he drew her direct to the dancers,! 
 
 1 06 
 
"LOCHINVAR" 
 
 The Bohemian band struck a bar, 
 And she found herself leading the Lancers 
 With Young Lochinvar! 
 
 Oh, the beauty and grace are so vivid 
 
 Of this perfectly parallel pair, 
 That the parents grow purple and livid, 
 
 And the bridegroom is tearing his hair; 
 While the bridesmaids talk ten to the 
 dozen. 
 Saying: ^^ Goodness, what gabies we are. 
 Not to marry our exquisite cousin 
 To Young Lochinvar!" 
 
 107 
 
"LOCHINVAR" 
 
 Then the girl by her partner is beckoned 
 To the door, where a charger they find; 
 
 To the saddle he springs in a second, 
 And he lifts her up lightly behind; 
 
 "She is mine!" he announces, adjourning 
 To the distant horizon afar, 
 
 "Till the cattle to roost are returning!"* 
 Says Young Lochinvar. 
 
 O the tumult! The tumbling of tables! 
 O the stress of the scene that succeeds! 
 
 * " Till the cows come home ": an old Eng:lish saying, denoting 
 eternity. 
 
 1 08 
 
"LOCHINVAR" 
 
 O the stir on the stairs, — in the stables! 
 
 O the stamping and saddling of steeds! 
 But the bride has eluded them surely; 
 
 In the room of some kind Registrar, 
 She is now being wedded securely 
 To Young Lochinvar ! 
 
 109 
 
ylbbreviation s Artful Aid 
 
 THE Bard, at times 
 Is stumped for rhymes. 
 Without the least excuse. 
 He can defy 
 Such moments by 
 
 Abbreviation's use. 
 And gain the grat: 
 
 III 
 
ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 
 
 Of friend or neighb: 
 Without an at: 
 Of extra lab: 
 
 So simp: a rule 
 May seem pecul: 
 
 And make the crit: indig: 
 What matter if 
 The scans: is diff: 
 
 The meaning too ambig: ? 
 The net result, 
 
 Lacon: and punct: 
 Is worth a mult: 
 
 Of needless unct: 
 
 112 
 
ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 
 
 We long for sile: 
 From folks who pile 
 
 Their worldly Pel: on Oss: 
 Extremely nox: 
 And quite intox: 
 
 By their exhub: verbos: 
 We curse their imp: 
 
 In manner dras: 
 And fail to symp: 
 
 With their loquac: 
 
 In House of Rep: 
 Applause is tep: 
 
 113 
 
ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 
 
 For periphrastic Pol: 
 Reviewers sniff 
 At auth: prolif: 
 
 With semiannual vol: 
 But we can pard: 
 
 However peev: 
 The minor bard 
 
 Who will abbrev: 
 
 With pen and ink 
 In close propinq: 
 
 The Poet, lucky fell:! 
 Avoiding troub: 
 
 114 
 
ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 
 
 May give his pub: 
 
 The cred: for some intell: 
 And like an orph: 
 
 In pose recumb: 
 In arms of Morph: 
 
 Securely slumb: 
 
 Let corks explode: 
 With brand: and sod: 
 
 Ye wearers of the mot: ! 
 Decant the cham: 
 (What matt: the dam:?) 
 
 And empt: the flowing bott: ! 
 
 "5 
 
ABBREVIATION'S ARTFUL AID 
 
 And ne'er surren: 
 
 The Laureate's palm. 
 His haunch of ven: 
 
 And butt of Malm: ! 
 
 ii6 
 
Author's ylftword 
 
 How I have labored, night and 
 day, 
 Just like the hero of a novel. 
 To drive the hungry wolf away 
 From my baronial hovel. 
 To keep the bailiffs from my home, 
 By finishing this bulky tome. 
 
 117 
 
AUTHOR'S AFTWORD 
 
 To such a trying mental strain 
 
 My intellect is far from fitted, 
 Tho' if I had an ounce more brain 
 
 I should be quite half-witted, 
 And when I wander in my mind 
 I am most difficult to find. 
 
 The sort of life for which I care 
 
 Is one combining Peace and Plenty 
 With laisser aller^ laisser faire^ 
 
 And dolce far niente. 
 (The heart of ev'ry Bridge-fiend jumps: 
 Dolce . . 'tis sweet to make ^^No Trumps.") 
 
 ii8 
 
AUTHOR'S AFTWORD 
 
 I shrink from work in any shape, — 
 
 Too clearly do these pages show it, — 
 But work is what one can't escape 
 
 And be a Minor Poet; 
 And critics I may well defy 
 To find a minor bard than I. 
 
 I ought to live out 'Frisco way, 
 
 Where working is considered silly. 
 As Greeley (Horace) used to say, — 
 
 Or was it Collier (Willie)?— 
 ^'Go West, young man" (I understand), 
 ^^Go West and blow up with the land!" 
 
 119 
 
AUTHOR'S AFTWORD 
 
 Were I as full of zeal and fun 
 
 As Balzac, who could drudge so gaily. 
 Or diligent as Peter Dunne, 
 
 I might accomplish daily 
 An ode of Pleasure or of Passion 
 In Ella Wheeler Wilcox fashion; 
 
 But, as it is, I sit and toil. 
 
 Consuming time and ink and curses 
 And pints of precious midnight oil 
 
 To perpetrate these verses. 
 If writing them be dull indeed, 
 Alas! what must they be to read! 
 
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