m 
 
GEORGE TUGWELL, 
 BATHWICK RECTORY, 
 
 HOLIDAY RHYMES 
 
 LONDON 
 
 HENRY AND CO. 
 
 BOUVER1E STREET 
 
 ANTHONY C. DEANE 
 
 ~ ~ <f/"' / jiT 
 
 (Author of "Frivolous Verses.") 
 
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 MY FATHER AND MOTHER. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 OF the verses collected in this volume, the 
 largest instalment is from Punch, and is 
 included by the kind permission of Messrs. 
 Bradbury, Agnew, & Co. Others reappear 
 from Cornhill, Temple Bar, Longmans', the 
 St. James's Gazette, the Globe, the Pall Mall 
 Gazette, the Westminster Gazette, the Granta, 
 and Vanity Fair, through the courtesy of the 
 editors of these periodicals. Also I am indebted 
 to Mr. Andrew Lang for his permission as 
 regards two pieces which received hospitality 
 " At the Sign of the Ship." 
 
 A. C. D. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A BUNDLE OF OLD SERMONS I 
 
 AMOR IN EXCELSIS 5 
 
 RUSTIC ROMANCERS 8 
 
 TO THE MODERN HEROINE 13 
 
 THE LAY OF A SUCCESSFUL ANGLER. . . . 1 6 
 
 "AND so THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER". . 19 
 
 TO R. L. S 22 
 
 POETS AT SCHOOL 25 
 
 TO A SIGN-PAINTER 28 
 
 HOW IT STRIKES THE "CONTEMPORARY". . . 32 
 
 A BALLADE OF THE POCKETHANDKERCHIEF . . 35 
 
 TO AN OPTIMIST 38 
 
 AD INCOGNITAM 4! 
 
 THE MODERN MERCURY 44 
 
 A BUSINESS LETTER 47 
 
 AN EARNEST APPEAL 5<D 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 53 
 
 JUDICIAL WISDOM . 56 
 
 THE VERY YOUNG IDEA ...... 60 
 
 PARNASSUS, LIMITED . .' . . . -63 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A FALLEN ART 66 
 
 " APPARENT FAILURE " 68 
 
 THE ANTI ? 7O 
 
 A LOVE-LETTER 73 
 
 AD PUELLAM 76 
 
 A REAL BARGAIN 78 
 
 THE FEMININE SCHOOL OF FICTION ... . So 
 
 AN ARTISTIC IDEAL 83 
 
 THE WOMEN'S CONGRESS AT CHICAGO . . -85 
 
 THE RHYME OF THE INCOMPETENT GOLFER . . 88 
 
 THE PASSING OF THE PETTICOAT . . . . 9 1 
 
 OUT OF DATE ........ 94 
 
 YES OR NO? 96 
 
 THE RIGHTS OF WRITERS 99 
 
 THE POET'S LOVE 103 
 
 A NOVEL SHOW IO6 
 
 BALLADE OF RURAL BLISS IOg 
 
 CATS AND DOGS 112 
 
 UN PAS SEUL 114 
 
 AD EXAMINATOREM IIJ 
 
 NEW BARDS AND OLD . 1 2O 
 
 A HINT 123 
 
 "TO BE CONTINUED" 124 
 
 FINIS .... . 126 
 
A BUNDLE OF OLD SERMONS. 
 
 ink is brown, the paper soiled; 
 JL How long ago the writer toiled 
 
 Upon these pages ! 
 And as we read their old-world lore, 
 Their quaint allusions, they restore 
 The past to us, we live once more 
 In bygone ages. 
 
 Once more to music grave and calm 
 We hear the "Tate and Brady" psalm, 
 Which pleased so vastly; 
 
A BUNDLE OF OLD SERMONS. 
 
 The church and rustic flock grow plain, 
 The high oak pews, the latticed pane, 
 We hear the sermon preached again, 
 From text to "lastly." 
 
 No novel views of ancient sense, 
 No daring flights of eloquence, 
 
 Were here embodied ; 
 The placid hearers felt no thrill, 
 But sat in sleepy comfort still, 
 While Jack demurely glanced at Jill, 
 
 And parents nodded. 
 
 Indeed, none listened much, I fear, 
 
 To all these periods, painting clear 
 
 The saint and sinner, 
 
A BUNDLE OF OLD SERMONS. 
 
 Until at length there came the close 
 To stir the drowsy from repose, 
 And priest and people both arose 
 And went to dinner. 
 
 Ah, sermons of the long ago ! 
 Yours was another age, we know ; 
 
 And now our preachers, 
 Each furnished with his special plan 
 To benefit bewildered man, 
 Denounce as loudly as they can 
 
 Their rival teachers. 
 
 Yet, as your pages we retrace 
 In this our age of cultured grace, 
 The question lingers 
 
A BUNDLE OF OLD SERMONS. 
 
 If all of us are happier men 
 Than those who filled our places when 
 Your sage designer took the pen 
 Between his fingers ! 
 
AMOR IN EXCELSIS. 
 
 WHEN, my Amanda, we are wed next 
 week, 
 
 We will not fly to Italy or Spain ; 
 It needs both triple brass and, so to speak, 
 
 Quadruple gold, to cross the distant main ; 
 No tourist-haunted places will we seek 
 
 By the effete expedient of a train ; 
 An ocean trip such joys too deeply move : 
 Amanda, soar with me, and be my love ! 
 
6 AMOR IN EXCELSIS. 
 
 No relatives, affectionate and proud, 
 
 Shall, with such unction, to ourselves 
 allude ; 
 
 No blase bachelor shall be allowed 
 
 To look with glance significantly rude; 
 
 No badly dressed and irritating crowd 
 Within our own Elysium shall intrude : 
 
 But we will leave this earth behind with 
 pleasure ; 
 
 Start not; 'tis but a temporary measure. 
 
 Nay, fear not that I advocate thus soon 
 An Ibsenite joint-exit from this life ; 
 
 'Tis but that I have chartered a balloon 
 In which ere long, when you become my 
 wife, 
 
AMOR IN EXCELS IS. 7 
 
 We'll visit Mars, or call upon the moon, 
 Supremely heedless of all human strife. 
 Two parachutes are thoughtfully provided, 
 In case it burst or with a star collided. 
 
 Then " come with me," Amanda, " be my love ; 
 
 And we will prove," not that exploded charm 
 Attributed to flower and tree and dove, 
 
 But scientific studies, arm in arm, 
 Barometers around us, and above 
 
 The safety-valve, in case we come to harm. 
 It is from such aerial employment 
 That we'll derive the most sincere enjoyment ! 
 
RUSTIC ROMANCERS. 
 
 ["In some rural districts lectures on the methods and 
 aims of novelists have been given with much success." 
 Morning Paper.] 
 
 SCENE. A farmyard. Eminent novelist discovered 
 lecturing to a crowd of rustics clad in smock-frocks, 
 each with pencil and note-book. 
 
 Lecturer. 
 
 NOW, gentlemen all, attend to me, and you 
 shall receive instruction 
 
 Upon the aims and recognised rules of modern 
 romance-production ; 
 
RUSTIC ROMANCERS. 9 
 
 Don't heed the man who glibly talks of talent 
 
 and inspiration, 
 For each of you will easily gain a novelist's 
 
 reputation. 
 
 Chorus (eagerly). 
 
 We scorn the man of whom yer spoke, 
 That " genius " is a played-out joke ; 
 Whoy, all of us be cultured folk, 
 And nuts on the 'Igher Eddication ! 
 
 Lecturer. 
 
 Although the classics are out of date, it's just 
 
 as well to be pat in 
 A Greek tag leave the accents out and a 
 
 proverb or two in Latin; 
 
10 RUSTIC ROMANCERS. 
 
 It's easily done, and it seems to please the 
 
 old and reverend parties ; 
 A stock quotation soothes the mind and gives 
 
 the critical heart ease. 
 
 Chorus (proudly). 
 
 We all 'ave been to the Latin class, 
 And can decline " mensce, mensas" 
 And know the truth of " Ingenuas 
 Didirisse fideliter artes " / 
 
 Lecturer. 
 
 Then if you've looked in vain for a plot for 
 
 all your characters fitted, 
 You needn't despair ; in popular works the plot 
 
 is often omitted : 
 
RUSTIC ROMANCERS. n 
 
 Indeed, sensation's had its day, and scene and 
 
 incident thrilling 
 Are only worthy the crude affair the public 
 
 buys for a shilling. 
 
 Chorus (aside). 
 
 No doubt the worthy gent is right, 
 We can't say as we 'olds with 'im quite, 
 We dearly love a murderous fight 
 With plenty of blood and killing ! 
 
 Lecturer. 
 
 My subsequent hints I must reserve, and treat 
 
 in other discourses 
 Of features you should reckon among the 
 
 novelist's best resources : 
 
12 RUSTIC ROMANCERS. 
 
 As how to write in a decadent style with 
 
 periods sweet as honey, 
 And how to be quaintly imbecile without in 
 
 the least being funny. 
 
 Chorus (enthusiastically). 
 
 Ah, these are principles worth a lot, 
 A fust-class lecturer 'ave we got, 
 A gentleman, sure, as knows wot's wot 
 And he's the man for our money ! 
 
 [Dance, and exeunt. 
 
TO THE MODERN HEROINE. 
 
 FORGIVE me if in modern time, 
 Impelled by obsolete tradition, 
 I try to paint your charms in rhyme 
 With (or without) your kind permission, 
 
 Although I'm painfully aware 
 The lover falls to rhyme no longer, 
 And you would certainly declare 
 These verses " rot " or something stronger. 
 
14 TO THE MODERN HEROINE. 
 
 Your recreations now are few 
 Which seem sufficiently exciting ; 
 
 You smoke for ever, wield the cue, 
 And dearly love a little fighting ; 
 
 You box your lover's ears with glee, 
 Or smash his crockery, like Dodo, 
 
 And act, if fortiter in re, 
 By no means suaviter in modo. 
 
 A flower not " modest " in your mien 
 (Though rouge may make you "crimson-tipped"), 
 
 You bloom in every magazine, 
 Each tale repeats your talk insipid; 
 
 In vain for novelty we look, 
 In vain for some redeeming feature, 
 
 From Yellow Book to Yellower Book 
 You pass, the same distasteful creature. 
 
TO THE MODERN HEROINE. 15 
 
 When ancient poet sought to please, 
 He would, in metaphors, assert you 
 
 Were fickle as the changing seas 
 A fault we now should hold a virtue : 
 
 Indeed, his epithets surprise; 
 " Mutabile" he called you "semper" 
 
 To-day your deadly sameness tries, 
 And tries effectually, the temper. 
 
 So, to conclude, I cannot feign 
 For such as you much admiration ; 
 
 Nor shall I grieve what time your reign 
 Shall reach its fitting termination, 
 
 When you, and those like you we know, 
 Fulfil the destiny you're meant to, 
 
 And, wholly unlamented, go 
 Where stupid heroines are sent to. 
 
i6 
 
 THE LAY OF A SUCCESSFUL 
 ANGLER. 
 
 THE dainty artificial fly, 
 Designed to catch the wily trout, 
 Full loud laudabunt alii, 
 
 And I will join, at times, no doubt ; 
 But yet my praise, without pretence, 
 Is not from great experience. 
 
 I talk as well as any one 
 
 About the different kinds of tackle : 
 
THE LAY OF A SUCCESSFUL ANGLER. 17 
 
 I praise the Gnat, the Olive Dun, 
 
 Discuss the worth of wings and hackle ; 
 I've flies myself of each design 
 No book is better filled than mine. 
 
 But when I reach the river's side 
 Alone, for none of these I wish : 
 
 No victim to a foolish pride, 
 My object is to capture fish ; 
 
 Let me confess, then, since you ask it 
 
 A worm it is which fills my basket ! 
 
 O brown, unlovely, wriggling worm, 
 
 On which with scorn the haughty look ! 
 
 It is thy fascinating squirm 
 
 Which brings the fattest trout to book, 
 
 From thee unable to refrain, 
 
 Though flies are cast for him in vain. 
 
1 8 THE LAY OF A SUCCESSFUL ANGLER. 
 
 Deep gratitude to thee I feel, 
 
 And then, perhaps, it's chiefly keen, 
 
 When rival anglers view my creel, 
 And straightway turn a jealous green; 
 
 And should they ask me, " What's your fly ? ; 
 "A fancy pattern," I reply. 
 
"AND SO THEY LIVED HAPPILY 
 EVER AFTER." 
 
 THEREWITH the story ends again; 
 And who is not contented ? 
 The Ogres all are duly slain, 
 The Dragons circumvented, 
 The Princess weds the hero bold 
 Who came her chains to sever, 
 And so the blissful pair, we're told, 
 "Live happily for ever." 
 
"AND SO THEY LIVED 
 
 So Finis ! And the book we close 
 
 No other facts are granted; 
 But lovers then, we must suppose, 
 
 Were never disenchanted : 
 For them was no domestic strife, 
 
 No troubles intervening, 
 But " happiness " and " married life " 
 
 Were synonyms in meaning. 
 
 We too, perhaps, although we dwell 
 
 In different circumstances, 
 Perform the drama fairly well 
 
 Set forth in these romances : 
 The Ogre's part a parent plays, 
 
 The maid's an heiress pretty, 
 The Prince, in these prosaic days, 
 
 Is "something in the City." 
 
HAPPILY EVER AFTER.' 1 21 
 
 But will the parallel extend 
 
 Through after-life, I wonder, 
 When grave philosophers perpend 
 
 That marriage is a blunder ? 
 Ah, chroniclers discreetly mute ! 
 
 You were, perchance, too clever 
 To hint at rifts within the lute 
 
 Of happiness for ever ! 
 
 And yet. ... the view is out of date, 
 
 By grave statistics shaken ; 
 But still to some, at any rate, 
 
 It does not seem mistaken; 
 For though the cynic's bitter mirth 
 
 No truth in it discovers, 
 Love now, as then, can make of earth 
 
 A paradise for lovers ! 
 
22 
 
 TO R. L. S. 
 
 [" Of course I might have made a living at journalism ; 
 but, thank God, I did not fall into that trap." "Journal- 
 ism is the school of cheap finish. I am a wretched 
 journalist." MR. R. L. STEVENSON, to an Interviewer^ 
 
 HE speaks, the master of romance, 
 Who holds an island in his sway ; 
 He lets a jpurnalist advance 
 
 In quite a condescending way, 
 Although aware that by his side 
 " Cheap finish " is personified. 
 
TO R. L. S. 23 
 
 But all his brother-scribes he rates 
 In language forcible and plain; 
 
 The editorial net, he states, 
 
 For him, thank Heaven ! was spread in 
 vain; 
 
 And adds is this the reason's gist? 
 
 " I am a wretched journalist." 
 
 He might, " of course," have quickly made 
 
 An income of a large amount 
 By plying that debasing trade 
 
 In which we quote his own account 
 The epithet of " wretched " will 
 Sufficiently describe his skill. 
 
 Well then, it's best, you'll surely own, 
 To write us charming tale and rhymes, 
 
24 TO R. L. S. 
 
 And leave all "interviews" alone 
 And dull epistles to the Times, 
 Lest others, in their turn, insist : 
 " You are a wretched journalist ! " 
 
2 5 
 
 POETS AT SCHOOL. 
 
 [" Lessons in all kinds of composition given. . . . 
 Poetry, light and serious. . . . Terms, from %s. gd. a 
 week." Advertisement in Daily Paper. ~\ 
 
 HERE is a chance for all who seek 
 Apollo's sacred shrine : 
 Attend our lectures twice a week 
 
 At only three-and-nine ! 
 No Miltons now, if they're astute, 
 Need stay " ingloriously mute." 
 
26 POETS AT SCHOOL. 
 
 The heights, of old esteemed sublime, 
 
 You'll easily attain ; 
 For crowds to-day Parnassus climb 
 
 By cheap excursion train, 
 And authors find distinctly good 
 Our nectar, bottled from the wood. 
 
 You'll quickly learn within our school 
 
 Poetic love to tell, 
 And study how to make by rule 
 
 Ballade and villanelle ; 
 With equal ease you'll turn a sonnet 
 On evolution or a bonnet. 
 
 You'll furnish dramas for the stage, 
 And epics in between; 
 
POETS AT SCHOOL. 27 
 
 Your verse will figure on the page 
 
 Of every magazine ; 
 The critics will your praises speak : 
 And all for three-and-nine a week ! 
 
 The notion that the poet's bays 
 
 For few indeed are meet 
 Is but a notion nowadays 
 
 Deservedly effete, 
 
 And in the reading you'll concur 
 Poeta fit, non nascitur I 
 
28 
 
 TO A SIGN-PAINTER. 
 
 WORTHY artist! in my chair 
 I sat, and watched you working there, 
 A humble slave of art ; 
 Upon the board which bears the sign 
 I saw you painting, line by line, 
 In hues astonishingly fine, 
 
 That marvellous White Hart. 
 
 How gleaming white the creature shone, 
 How green the grass he stood upon, 
 When all was quite complete ! 
 
TO A SIGN-PAINTER. 29 
 
 Observe the posture of the head, 
 The eye (a lurid spot of red), 
 The strange extremities, instead 
 Of ordinary feet ! 
 
 You vanished at your labour's close, 
 Since other landlords, I suppose, 
 
 For your assistance ask ; 
 A Ship a military scene 
 A Lion red a Dragon green 
 The Sun and Moon with stars between, - 
 
 What is your present task ? 
 
 What though perspective you ignore ? 
 What though the paints you keep in store 
 Are bad as bad can be ? 
 
30 TO A SIGN-PAINTER. 
 
 Impressionists would doubtless glance 
 Upon your masterpiece askance ; 
 But yet their scorn is not, perchance, 
 From envy wholly free. 
 
 - An artist in a humble sphere, 
 
 Of carping cliques you have no fear, 
 
 No dread of critic's tongue. 
 Contented with the rustics' praise, 
 No base committee of R.A.'s 
 Avails to rob you of your bays 
 Your works are always hung ! 
 
 No thought of unavailing quest 
 For purchasers disturbs* your rest, 
 No fear of payment late; 
 
TO A SIGN-PAINTER. 31 
 
 Your work is scarcely finished when 
 You take the money, there and then 
 A system which more famous men 
 Would gladly imitate ! 
 
HOW IT STRIKES THE "CON- 
 TEMPORARY." 
 
 ["Why should not women take the B.A. degree ? . . . 
 Unfortunately the older Universities have resented every 
 attempt at breaking down their cherished exclusiveness." 
 From an article in the" Contemporary Review "~\ 
 
 DESPOTIC dons' dominion 
 Still subjugates us all ; 
 They scoff at our opinion, 
 Our purposes miscall : 
 
IT STRIKES THE "CONTEMPORARY:' 33 
 
 Will no deliverer appear ? 
 And is it vainly, as we fear, 
 We hold our meetings every year 
 Within St. James's Hall ? 
 
 Our wrongs, if brought to knowledge, 
 
 Would surely move your hearts; 
 Degreeless from her college 
 The wrangler-ess departs : 
 And shall not too the maids, who can 
 Give all the usages of av 
 As well as any living man, 
 Be Bachelors of Arts ? 
 
 Persuasive or abusive, 
 
 We .fail our point to gain, 
 Disgracefully exclusive 
 
 These ancient seats remain : 
 
 3 
 
34 IT STRIKES THE " CONTEMPORARY.* 
 
 But yet a future we foresee 
 When women will the rulers be, 
 And men will beg a pass-degree, 
 Will beg, and beg in vain ! 
 
 P.S. The pith of our petition 
 
 Is seldom understood ; 
 It is not all ambition, 
 
 Though this, no doubt, is good ; 
 But, speaking frankly, we declare 
 The point for which we really care 
 Is just to gain the right to wear 
 That most becoming hood ! 
 
35 
 
 A BALLADE OF THE POCKET- 
 HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 ["A regulation handkerchief is to be issued to the army, 
 on which are printed various practical instructions." 
 A Daily Paper.} 
 
 FULL often in history's page 
 We read the achievements "of those 
 Who marched, in an ignorant age, 
 With a banner, to conquer their foes. 
 A better provision we chose, 
 Which is now to our army supplied ; 
 No standard our regiment knows, 
 We fight by our handkerchief's side ! 
 
36 A BALLADE OF 
 
 While others, their battles to wage, 
 Still read up voluminous prose, 
 
 And think that philosophers sage 
 Can teach them the way to oppose 
 All volumes of tactics we close ; 
 
 How armies are quickest defied 
 The print on our handkerchief shows- 
 
 We fight by our handkerchiefs side ! 
 
 To-day, when we mean to engage, 
 
 No pennon behind us there flows ; 
 Such things are but fit for the stage 
 
 Nay, into the pocket it goes ! 
 
 And yet in our bosom there glows 
 A keen and legitimate pride ; 
 
 We think, in the fiercest of throes, 
 We fight by our handkerchiefs side ! 
 
THE POCKETHANDKERCHIEF. 37 
 
 ENVOY. 
 
 Prince ! Seeing us blowing our nose, 
 Should hasty opponents deride, 
 
 They'll learn why, on knowing our blows, 
 We fight by our handkerchiefs side ! 
 
TO AN OPTIMIST. 
 
 1FEEL, Amanda, much surprise 
 That you have yet escaped disaster, 
 Although you openly despise 
 The teaching of each sapient master; 
 You do not take a mournful theme, 
 And always talk in accents tearful 
 
 Nay, far from this, you often seem, 
 Audacious maid ! distinctly cheerful. 
 
TO AN OPTIMIST. 39 
 
 Upon each book, if only graced 
 With striking plot and situation, 
 
 You look with possibly misplaced 
 But quite unstinted admiration; 
 
 You do not share as yet, I know, 
 Our modern critics' sad conviction, 
 
 Who write long articles to show 
 The swift decline of modern fiction. 
 
 You do not cultivate a cause 
 Much advertised in largest letters, 
 
 Nor seek for popular applause 
 By talking of your sex's "fetters'"; 
 
 They charm you not, those fierce delights 
 So dear to all our lady-fighters : 
 
 YQU care, I think, for women's rights 
 As little as for women writers. 
 
40 TO AN OPTIMIST. 
 
 Although it seems extremely bold, 
 You say, without the least misgiving, 
 
 That, spite of what the sages hold, 
 Existence still is worth the living; 
 
 Nor will you readily obey 
 Those mournful philosophic wishes 
 
 Which urge mankind, without delay, 
 To turn themselves to food for fishes. 
 
 No doubt such antiquated views 
 Deserve our most sincere compassion 
 
 Since obstinately you refuse 
 To heed the latest mental fashion ; 
 
 And errors grave and sinister 
 In such opinions I'd discover, 
 
 Were I some wise philosopher, 
 Not merely your devoted lover ! 
 
AD INCOGNITAM. 
 
 MAIDEN ! I cannot address you, 
 I fear, by a definite name 
 Can troubles of authors distress you, 
 
 Those eager pursuers of fame ? 
 The cuttings you send us are able 
 
 Our minds to depress or elate ; 
 You wield, like the Parcse of fable, 
 The scissors of fate ! 
 
42 AD INCOGNITAM. 
 
 As one who not otherwise knows you, 
 But studies the slips you prepare, 
 
 Is it wrong on my part to suppose you 
 Are young, sympathetic, and fair? 
 
 Yet paragraphs vicious and biting, 
 Reviews that are pleasant and bland, 
 
 Are all, if we judge by the writing, 
 Sent out by your hand. 
 
 Perhaps when the Puddleton. Neighbour 
 Heaps praise on my exquisite style, 
 
 You pause, in the midst of your labour, 
 To read it again with a smile; 
 
 When the Snake, in its usual fashion, 
 Exhibits most villainous taste, 
 
 Do tears of the sweetest compassion 
 Make liquid the paste? 
 
AD INCOGNITAM. 43 
 
 When critics abuse without measure 
 
 My tragedy, recently born, 
 You read, I believe it with pleasure, 
 
 Their words with well-merited scorn. 
 And yet, to make candid confession, 
 
 I paid up your agency's fees 
 By no means to get a succession 
 Of libels like these. 
 
 Then, if you would really befriend me, 
 This boon for the future bestow 
 
 The flattering notices send me, 
 The others I'll gladly forgo ; 
 
 Thus prove, I entreat, your affection 
 Choose out the reviews that are best, 
 
 Then forward this pleasant selection, 
 And burn all the rest. 
 
44 
 
 THE MODERN MERCURY. 
 
 BEHOLD that urchin, occupied 
 In counting with an honest pride 
 The marbles he 'has won ! 
 O tardy messenger of fate ! 
 Without distinction, small and great, 
 Their telegrams, perforce, await 
 Until your game be done. 
 
 Perchance a philosophic strain 
 Makes you regard as wholly vain 
 Our human bliss and woes; 
 
THE MODERN MERCURY. 45 
 
 What matters whether State affairs, 
 Or news of good, or weighty cares, 
 Or tidings relative to shares, 
 Within your bag repose ? 
 
 Well, not by me will you be blamed; 
 I like to see you not ashamed 
 
 To dawdle for a while; 
 You furnish, by example sage, 
 A moral for our busy age ; 
 And so, though others fume and rage, 
 
 I watch you with a smile. 
 
 He moves at length, and now we'll see 
 
 Which way This telegram for me ? 
 
 Oh, worst of human crimes 
 
46 THE MODERN MERCURY. 
 
 Is such delay ! it's monstrous quite ! 
 I'll forward a complaint to-night ! 
 Here, pen and paper let me write 
 A letter to the Times \ 
 
' 47 
 
 A BUSINESS LETTER. 
 
 DEAR FRED, Your favour of the 3rd, 
 Has had my very best attention ; 
 But yet I cannot, in a word, 
 Accept you on the terms you mention : 
 
 Indeed, wherever you may try, 
 According to the last advices, 
 
 You'll meet, I fear, the same reply 
 " It can't be done, at current prices ! " 
 
48 A BUSINESS LETTER. 
 
 In vain an ancient name you show, 
 In vain for intellect are noted ; 
 
 Blue blood and brains, you surely know, 
 At nominal amounts are quoted ; 
 
 And then, I see, you're weak enough 
 To offer " love, sincere, unstudied," 
 
 Why, sir, with such Quixotic stuff 
 The market's absolutely flooded ! 
 
 But every day fhis fact confirms 
 The time is over for romances, 
 
 And whether we can come to terms 
 Depends alone on your finances. 
 
 So, would you think me over-bold 
 If I, with deference, requested 
 
 A statement of what funds you hold, 
 In what securities invested ? 
 
A BUSINESS LETTER. 49 
 
 For, candidly, in such affairs 
 A speedy bid your only chance is, 
 
 A boom in Yankee millionaires 
 May soon result in marked advances ; 
 
 With you I'd willingly be wed, 
 To like you well enough I'm able, 
 
 But first submit your bank-book, Fred, 
 To your (perhaps) devoted Mabel ! 
 
AN EARNEST APPEAL. 
 
 [" The art of comreisation is almost extinct." Spectator^ 
 
 
 
 CRITIC austere ! you have hit on, we fear, 
 a grievous, nay, criminal failing, 
 And nothing is worse than the way we converse 
 
 in accord with the fashion prevailing; 
 No bright jeux fesprit^ no keen repartee, we 
 
 utter when gathered together, 
 But shamelessly dare our notes to compare on 
 the dresses, the crops, and the weather. 
 
AN EARNEST APPEAL. 51 
 
 Though nothing, we own, can completely atone 
 
 for the faults which you scornfully mention, 
 The subject, as yet, has undoubtedly met with 
 
 quite insufficient attention : 
 And though we admit our endeavour at wit is, 
 
 at best, an unworthy production, 
 Yet what could we do, with no teacher like you 
 
 to give us your welcome instruction? 
 
 Too often it seems that from commonplace themes 
 
 to depart your male talker afraid is; 
 Yet worse, you assert, are the forward and pert 
 
 (a hint, we suppose, for the ladies). 
 Then teach us, we pray, what are we to say ? 
 
 the facts of our life to relate, or 
 Those stories commence about pussy-cat's sense, 
 
 which we crib from the current Spectator ? 
 
52 AN EARNEST APPEAL. 
 
 No doubt, in the time of the future sublime by 
 
 the side of the Novelists' College, 
 A school there will be, to impart (for a fee) a 
 
 due conversational knowledge ; 
 The books of the year will be summarised here, 
 
 with tips on collateral topics, 
 And the Baedeker class will suffice you to pass 
 
 as a traveller fresh from the tropics. 
 
 But as such a scheme is at present a dream, 
 
 while the need for improvement is pressing, 
 The person who prints a few practical hints will 
 
 gain a well-merited blessing; 
 For, till you shall teach the right manner of 
 
 speech, our terror in talking immense is, 
 And all will become almost totally dumb to 
 
 guard against further offences ! 
 
S3 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 M 
 
 'Y Angelina once enjoyed 
 
 The mild lawn-tennis all the day, 
 And did not scorn to be employed 
 
 In croquet's unexciting fray; 
 O truly happy seasons ! when 
 
 I think of you, I wish you back ; 
 For Angelina had not then 
 Become a golfing maniac. 
 
54 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 But now of none of these she thinks, 
 
 All such pursuits she reckons " slow," 
 And spends the days upon the links, 
 
 Where nevermore I mean to go ; 
 For I recall the heartless snubs, 
 
 Which those enchanting lips let fall 
 When I demolished several clubs, 
 
 And lost my temper, and the ball. 
 
 To-day the fickle maid prefers 
 
 With young Macduff .to pass her time, 
 Because his " putting," she avers, 
 
 Whatever that be, " is sublime " ; 
 And when I get a chance to state 
 
 The deep affection felt by me, 
 She interrupts me to relate 
 
 How well she did that hole in three. 
 
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 55 
 
 I love my Angelina still ; 
 
 Yet he who chose her as a wife 
 Would be expected to fulfil 
 
 A caddie's duties all his life; 
 So, if I turn away instead, 
 
 You will not hold rne much to blame ; 
 How can I woo her? She is wed 
 
 Already to this awful game ! 
 
JUDICIAL WISDOM. 
 
 [" He censures the aristocratic exclusiveness of the 
 ancient haunts of learning.' 1 The " Times" on a Judge's 
 address on Education.] 
 
 IN dust and ashes Cambridge sits, with con- 
 scious blushes burning, 
 No more her fame and history dejected 
 
 Oxford vaunts : 
 A learned judge condemns them both, judicially 
 
 discerning 
 
 Their culpable exclusiveness, as " venerable 
 haunts." 
 
JUDICIAL WISDOM. 57 
 
 They both, he grieves to notice, fail to wel- 
 come the intrusion 
 Of those who seek instruction on the best 
 
 commercial plan ; 
 They still appear to share in that remarkable 
 
 delusion 
 
 That " manners," even more than mathe- 
 matics, " makyth man." 
 
 And shall despotic rulers of each "ancient 
 
 haunt " (or college) 
 We greatly thank thee, learned judge, for 
 
 teaching us that word ! 
 Ignore the ample smattering of ill-digested 
 
 knowledge 
 
 Which the middle classes boast of, in this 
 manner most absurd ? 
 
58 JUDICIAL WISDOM. 
 
 For this, then, do we utilise our infinite re- 
 sources, 
 For this " Extension lecturers " their varied 
 
 subjects treat 
 Who teach the whole of chemistry in seven 
 
 brief discourses, 
 
 And throw you in geology in lecture eight, 
 . complete ? 
 
 For this, indeed, does Paddington despatch 
 
 the full excursion 
 Of men and women students up to Oxford 
 
 each July, 
 And can the dons be unimpressed by this 
 
 polite diversion 
 Of playing at belonging to a University ? 
 
JUDICIAL WISDOM. 59 
 
 Well, let us show the judge's words em- 
 blazoned on our banner, 
 And both these " venerable haunts " we 
 
 shortly hope to see 
 
 Conducted in another, and a socialistic, manner 
 When every woman, man, and child shall 
 take a high degree ! 
 
6o 
 
 THE VERY YOUNG IDEA. 
 
 ["The Convocation of the University of Oxford has 
 recently passed a decree authorising an examination of 
 persons, not members of the University, under fourteen 
 years of age."] 
 
 COME, let us hymn our gratitude 
 To those ingenious sages 
 Who unremittingly pursued 
 
 This scheme in all its stages, 
 With pure benevolence imbued 
 For those of tender ages ! 
 
THE VERY YOUNG IDEA. 61 
 
 Already Oxford grows apace 
 Through that superb invention 
 
 Which fosters true esthetic grace ; 
 For rustics proudly mention 
 
 In each obscure, uncultured place 
 The magic word " Extension.' 
 
 But nobler things her rulers dare, 
 
 To high ideals pressing : 
 Each studious child will soon declare 
 
 His pleasure at possessing, 
 Before he reach fourteen, his share 
 
 Of academic blessing. 
 
 A wise professor will be set 
 To train his young ambition ; 
 
62 THE VERY YOUNG IDEA. 
 
 And, that his earliest needs be met, 
 A don of high position 
 
 Will lecture on the alphabet, 
 And simplify addition. 
 
 So let us hail the scheme with joy, 
 Nor stop to question whether 
 
 Thereby the dons who lack employ 
 Intend their nests to feather. 
 
 O happy girl ! O happy boy ! 
 You'll all be prigs together ! 
 
PARNASSUS, LIMITED. 
 
 WE beg you to give your attention, 
 And also your help, if you can, 
 To a project which is, we may mention, 
 
 On a highly original plan. 
 By syndicates we are surrounded, 
 For purposes better or worse; 
 But this is the only one founded 
 For turning out verse. 
 
64 PARNASSUS, LIMITED. 
 
 To please both the rich and the thrifty 
 At suitable fees we'll engage ; 
 
 Mr. Traill will select for us fifty 
 Most competent bards of the age ; 
 
 Our orders will thus be effected 
 At an almost incredible rate, 
 
 And verse of the kind you've selected 
 Be made while you wait. 
 
 We shall furnish, at moderate prices, 
 The elegy, sonnet, and lay, 
 
 While shunning the metrical vices 
 That cling to the work of the day ; 
 
 The poets now chiefly in season 
 Are often less clear than sublime, 
 
 But here you may reckon on reason 
 United with rhyme. 
 
PARNASSUS, LIMITED. 65 
 
 The bard, who at present is burning 
 For fame in a village or slum, 
 
 Will thus, by our system, be earning 
 A highly respectable sum; 
 
 The epic or tragedy writer 
 
 Will make a fair income, we hope, 
 
 By turning out stanzas far lighter 
 In praise of a soap. 
 
 The drift of our present suggestion 
 
 By now you will readily guess ; 
 The project will be, beyond question, 
 
 A speedy financial success ; 
 And so, with this brief explanation 
 
 Concerning our system's affairs, 
 We count on your prompt application 
 For numerous shares. 
 5 
 
66 
 
 A FALLEN ART. 
 
 ["A 'lady palmist' has been fined ten shillings and 
 costs for fortune-telling." Daily News.} 
 
 SHE lived, this prophetess, too late, 
 And plied an art that's out of date ; 
 Another age had seen her gain 
 Her reputation not in vain, 
 Had seen a crowd respectful wait 
 Upon the arbiter of fate, 
 While kings and rulers brought her gold 
 To have futurity unrolled ! 
 
A FALLEN ART. 67 
 
 In some Greek court where fountains play, 
 
 Or dwelling by the Appian Way, 
 
 The prophetess would surely be 
 
 Besought by each Leuconoe ; 
 
 And if for these she sometimes drew 
 
 A future pleasanter than true, 
 
 At least she gave them, you'll confess, 
 
 Anticipated happiness ! 
 
 Ah ! times are changed, and nowadays 
 
 Such divination hardly pays ; 
 
 There come no more the crowds that used, 
 
 The fees are terribly reduced ! 
 
 And if oXr policemen caught the sphinx 
 
 Propounding " missing words," one thinks 
 
 Our British justice could not fail 
 
 To send her speedily to jail ! 
 
68 
 
 APPARENT FAILURE." 
 
 ["The Private View was not a success. . . . The 
 dresses which we noticed were very ordinary indeed." 
 Art Notes in a Ladies' Paper, ,] 
 
 " ~\T ^- a success " f r ever y toilet there 
 1 i Was commonplace and stupid, more 
 
 or less ; 
 
 A fact which clearly made the whole affair 
 " Not a success." 
 
" APPARENT FAILURE" 69 
 
 " Were not the pictures good ? " Well, we 
 
 confess 
 
 We know not, neither do we greatly care; 
 As writers for the fashionable press 
 
 Artistic knowledge falls not to our share ; 
 We saw no novelties in hat or dress ; 
 
 Wherefore the show is plainly, we declare, 
 " Not a success." 
 
THE ANTI- 
 
 YOUR aid let me ask in a difficult task, 
 Mr. Punch, with the greatest submission ; 
 To win for my name a well-merited fame was 
 
 always my ardent ambition, 
 And clearly to-day the least difficult way is to 
 
 send an appeal to the papers, 
 To form an intrigue for creating a league 
 against fashion-designers and drapers. 
 
THE ANTI ; 7 1 
 
 Thereby shall I reap an advertisement cheap, 
 
 and writers, with much perseverance, 
 Will furnish as news their apocryphal views 
 
 on my appetite, age, and appearance ; 
 They all will revere my conviction sincere, 
 
 and loudly re-echo my praises, 
 But the thing which, as yet, I'm unable to get, 
 
 is a novel departure in crazes. 
 
 The idea shall we float that a swallow-tail coat 
 is only adapted for Vandals? 
 
 Write pamphlets, designed to enlighten man- 
 kind on the duty of taking to sandals? 
 
 Would a hatred of hats, or crusade on cravats, 
 secure us a sympathy louder? 
 
 Or shall we assert it is time to revert to patches, 
 knee-breeches, and powder? 
 
72 THE ANTI ? 
 
 Meanwhile, your applause we invite for our 
 
 Cause you notice the capital letter 
 Subscriptions and fees you may send when you 
 
 please to the writer the sooner the better. 
 But as to the theme of this notable scheme, 
 
 I wait for a timely suggestion ; 
 Its worth's beyond doubt, but what it's about 
 
 remains, for the present, a question ! 
 
73 
 
 A LOVE-LETTER. 
 
 (FROM A RADICAL CANDIDATE.) 
 
 DEAREST AMANDA, Now the time is 
 here 
 
 A new constituency for me to woo, 
 Urged by a life's devotion, I appear 
 
 A fond and hopeful candidate for you ; 
 A seat within your heart is my ambition, 
 Hear my address, put forth with all submission. 
 
74 A LOVE-LETTER. 
 
 By Woman's Suffrage, if you'll be my wife, 
 My whole existence will henceforth be 
 lighted, 
 
 Home Rule shall be a feature of our life 
 When you and I are happily united, 
 
 And I need hardly mention my aversion 
 
 To anything approaching to coercion. 
 
 Then every week, when we are wedded, dear, 
 But as a fleeting Eight Hours Day will look ; 
 
 Payment of Members of our house, I fear, 
 Will be supported warmly by the cook, 
 
 Though on such points we'll favour the 
 adoption 
 
 Of any quantity of Local Option. 
 
 From bribery and treating I've abstained, 
 Nor sought to win you under false pretences, 
 
A LOVE-LETTER. 75 
 
 No bills for dress or jewels are contained 
 Within the term " legitimate expenses " ; 
 You will reward, I hope, my deep affection, 
 By granting me an unopposed election? 
 
7 6 
 
 AD PUELLAM. 
 
 YOU used to talk of plates and prints 
 And " quick developers " before, 
 In spite of not unfrequent hints 
 
 That these in time become a bore ; 
 But then this photographic craze 
 Seemed little but a foolish fad, 
 While now its very latest phase 
 Appears to me distinctly bad. 
 
AD PUELLAM. 77 
 
 Since even your devoted friends 
 
 At sight of you were wont to fly, 
 You manage still to gain your ends, 
 
 And photograph them on the sly; 
 The muff, the cloak with ample folds, 
 
 The parcel, and the biscuit-tin, 
 I know that each, discreetly holds 
 
 Detective lenses hid within. 
 
 Should Crcesus greet you with a smile, 
 
 A " bromide " will record the fact ; 
 Should Strephon help you o'er a stile, 
 
 The film will take him in the act. 
 Yet this renown, if truth be said, 
 
 Is fame they'd rather be without; 
 Nor, I assure you, will they wed 
 
 A lady photographic tout ! 
 
A REAL BARGAIN. 
 
 [" For sale. A mummy in a painted wooden coffin ; 
 a splendid specimen ; cost recently 33. Price 20." 
 Advertisement in the "Academy."] 
 
 FOR twenty pounds ! a price, you know, 
 That really is absurdly low; 
 In fine condition, head to feet ; 
 Here is a chance you will not beat 
 A mummy wholly comme il fauf. 
 
A REAL BARGAIN. 79 
 
 Your minds will surely be aglow, 
 The trifling outlay to bestow ; 
 A painted coffin, too, complete 
 For twenty pounds ! 
 
 O Being of the long ago ! 
 
 Did your astrologers foreshow 
 
 The strange adventures you would meet ? 
 
 A prince, perhaps, we always treat 
 
 Ignotum pro magnifico, 
 
 For twenty pounds ! 
 
8o 
 
 THE FEMININE SCHOOL OF 
 FICTION. 
 
 HERE is a scheme of undoubted utility, 
 Which with unanimous praise we should 
 
 greet; 
 
 Ladies will turn, with the greatest facility, 
 Feminine novelists furnished complete ! 
 
 Damsels of fashion feel no hesitation in 
 Learning by practice to bake and to fry ; 
 
 Let them receive a complete education in 
 Making a novel as well as a pie. 
 
THE FEMININE SCHOOL OF FICTION. 81 
 
 They will be taught whether notices flattering 
 Can by appeals to the critics be got ; 
 
 How, too, a knowledge of tongues, though a 
 
 smattering, 
 Serves to provide an " original " plot. 
 
 Methods for heroes to gain the enjoyment of 
 Riches and fame will be studied in full ; 
 
 Lecturers teach the judicious employment of 
 Runaway steeds and the furious bull. 
 
 How to describe with minuteness the scenery, 
 Though you have never set eyes on the 
 spot; 
 
 Whether, when villains pay punishment plenary, 
 They should be finished by poison or 
 
 shot ; 
 
 6 
 
82 THE FEMININE SCHOOL OF FICTION. 
 
 How the detective will cleverly hit upon 
 
 Pieces of evidence nobody saw ; 
 How, too, Her Majesty's judges will sit upon 
 
 Cases (in novels) regardless of law ; 
 
 This, and more also, each maid of ability 
 Quickly will learn, by this excellent plan ; 
 
 And let the editors look with tranquillity 
 Into a future like this if they can ! 
 
AN ARTISTIC IDEAL. 
 
 [A commissioner of health condemns the Venus de 
 Medicis as the figure of "a miserable mistress of the 
 house, and a contemptible mother." Daily News.} 
 
 HOW strange it seems, the length of time 
 We loudly praised and marvelled at you, 
 And spoke about you as sublime, 
 O grossly overrated statue ! 
 
 We thought you beautiful of old, 
 Until we learnt with consternation 
 
 The low position which you hold 
 In scientific estimation. 
 
84 AN ARTISTIC IDEAL. 
 
 He comes, the Health Commissioner, 
 To regulate artistic crazes, 
 
 To teach us what we should prefer, 
 From what we must withhold our praises; 
 
 As forth his weighty sentence went 
 We looked askance at one another; 
 
 We had not thought that you were meant 
 As " mistress of a house," or " mother." 
 
 Well, we grew wiser by-and-by, 
 And saw how vain are your pretensions, 
 
 Who wholly fail to satisfy 
 The Health Commissioner's dimensions ; 
 
 No, you must imitate, to claim 
 Applause from each artistic patron, 
 
 The subtle grace, the classic frame 
 Peculiar to the British matron ! 
 
THE WOMEN'S CONGRESS AT 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 [" Besides all these, subjects connected with education 
 and industry, literature and art, philanthropy and charity, 
 moral and social reform, religion, civil law and govern- 
 ment, science and philosophy, were discussed. The 
 Congress lasted a week." From a Weekly Paper. ,] 
 
 IN mute astonishment we bend, 
 With all our male inferior race, 
 Before the ladies who attend 
 
 In great Chicago wondrous place ! 
 Who scoffed before are now become 
 Discreetly still, profoundly dumb. 
 
86 THE WOMEN'S CONGRESS 
 
 They met oh, marvel of our time ! 
 From every land they gathered there ; 
 
 The lady from Australia's clime 
 
 Hobnobbed with dames from Belgrave Square 
 
 Within one building sat compressed 
 
 The wisdom of the East and West. 
 
 Seven days they met, and then dispersed, 
 With nothing further to be done ; 
 
 For every question, last and first, 
 They'd wholly settled, one by one; 
 
 In comprehensive view they saw 
 
 Philosophy and Civil Law. 
 
 They spoke of Schools, of Charity, 
 And Science found its proper part ; 
 
 Religion and Philanthropy 
 
 Were joined with Literature and Art. 
 
AT CHICAGO. 87 
 
 No theme too great, and none too small ; 
 They simply finished one and all. 
 
 O politicians most effete, 
 Who so unceasingly debate ! 
 
 These ladies in a week could treat 
 The past and future of the State ; 
 
 Philosophers, who truth pursue ! 
 
 A week sufficed to deal with you. 
 
 So, acting on this noble plan, 
 
 Henceforth be government resigned, 
 
 To sway and alter as she can 
 To fair, omniscient womankind; 
 
 On every point prepared to speak 
 
 And pass her judgment in a week ! 
 
THE RHYME OF THE INCOM- 
 PETENT GOLFER. 
 
 love their Driver well, I know, 
 
 And say this club surpasses all; 
 
 1 take the thing, my swing is slow, 
 My eyes are fixed upon the ball, 
 
 I carry all the precepts out 
 
 The ball stays, smiling, on the tee ! 
 
 Nay, it is plain, beyond a doubt, 
 The Driver's not the club for me. 
 
THE INCOMPETENT GOLFER. { 
 
 The Brassie one with love regards 
 
 According to the books ; but then, 
 Although the ball will go five yards, 
 
 The Brassie-head will travel ten ; 
 Since, therefore, half a dozen rounds 
 
 Will make " repairs " a heavy fee, 
 If only on financial grounds 
 
 The Brassie's not the club for me ! 
 
 Although my caddie shows surprise, 
 
 An Iron for my drive I beg; 
 The ball soars nobly to the skies, 
 
 But, sad to say, towards square-leg; 
 The value of the vaunted Cleek 
 
 Myself I never yet could see, 
 I'm certain, candidly to speak, 
 
 That these are not the clubs for me. 
 
90 THE INCOMPETENT GOLFER. 
 
 Nay, bring to me the best of all, 
 
 From out the bag the Niblick take ; 
 Not seldom it will hit the ball, 
 
 But rarely will it bend or break; 
 Imagine the spectators' joy, 
 
 And picture my opponent's glee ! 
 Henceforth one club will I employ 
 
 The Niblick is the club for me ! 
 
THE PASSING OF THE 
 PETTICOAT. 
 
 "The 'petticoat element' in fiction is, apparently, to 
 become extinct." A Morning Paper.'] 
 
 ITS doom is sealed: the critic states, 
 With sorrowful conviction, 
 The ruthless sentence of the Fates, 
 The banishment which now awaits 
 The feminine in fiction. 
 
92 THE PASSING OF THE PETTICOAT. 
 
 And must the haughty duchess go, 
 
 Despite our admiration ? 
 And she who made our bosoms glow, 
 Her fascinating daughter, so 
 
 Addicted to flirtation ? 
 
 Henceforward shall we never meet 
 
 That lady of romances, 
 Whose conversation is replete 
 With Spanish gained in Wardour Street, 
 
 And French which not of France is ? 
 
 No longer will our novels hold 
 
 Minute account of dresses, 
 Nor shall we worship, as of old, 
 The damsel's hair of "rippling gold, 
 
 Or else her "sable tresses." 
 
THE PASSING OF THE PETTICOAT. 93 
 
 Our tales, from petticoats set free, 
 Though scarcely so seductive, 
 
 Will, all philosophers agree, 
 
 Through future generations be 
 Exceedingly instructive. 
 
 And though, of course, this system new, 
 
 Most fervently we treasure, 
 Yet, heroines, we cannot view 
 The certainty of losing you 
 
 With undiluted pleasure ! 
 
94 
 
 OUT OF DATE 
 
 NO novel strains can I invent 
 To sing my lady's praises, 
 But humbly follow precedent 
 In metaphors and phrases; 
 And yet those ancient similes 
 Which chiefly I remember 
 Scarce seem designed, to modern mind, 
 For London in December! 
 
 
OUT OF DATE. 95 
 
 Your poet sings of " Phoebus bright," 
 
 And others duly follows 
 In stating that "Affection's light 
 
 Is clearer than Apollo's." 
 But still this ancient compliment 
 
 To-day seems hardly proper ; 
 Its flame might well, I think, excell 
 
 A disc of dirty copper ! 
 
 To add, "While stars shine in the sky, 
 
 My love you need not question," 
 Does not appear a notably 
 
 Felicitous suggestion. 
 The stars remain, if we believe 
 
 Our astronomic sages; 
 But still, you know, through fog and snow, 
 
 They've not been seen for ages ! 
 
9 6 
 
 YES OR NO? 
 
 OH, never did lover in fable 
 In such a predicament stand ! 
 A letter I wrote to my Mabel, 
 
 To ask for her heart and her hand, 
 With compliments worded so nicely, 
 
 A lifelong devotion I swore ; 
 She's answered and left me precisely 
 As wise as before ! 
 
OR NO? 97 
 
 It is true that I begged, when inditing 
 My note, a reply with all speed ; 
 
 And Mabel, to judge from the writing, 
 Fulfilled my petition indeed ! 
 
 The drift of this scrawl, so erratic, 
 I am wholly unable to guess 
 
 It may be refusal emphatic, 
 
 Or can it be "Yes"? 
 
 " Affection " she'll feel for me " ever " ; 
 
 But stay if that blot is an " n " 
 It turns it at once into " never," 
 
 Or is it a slip of the pen ? 
 Her heart will a " truant (or true ?) be," 
 
 And what is the word just above ? 
 It looks like it cannot be "booby"! 
 Or stay, is it " love " ? 
 7 
 
98 YES OR NO? 
 
 A meeting must needs be awaited 
 To render these mysteries plain ; 
 
 Perhaps in this letter she's stated 
 She never will see me again ; 
 
 On one thing at least I've decided ; 
 Should she be my partner for life, 
 
 A type-writer shall be provided 
 Along with a wife ! 
 
99 
 
 THE RIGHTS OF WRITERS. 
 
 [" Authors never strike. k Perhaps it would be no 
 had thing for literature if they did." MR. LANG, in the 
 "Jllustrated London News."] 
 
 LET us follow, brother writers, this most 
 notable suggestion ; 
 Co-operated authors, kindly gather in your 
 
 strength ! 
 No more shall we be troubled with the fees 
 
 and profit question, 
 
 Mr. Lang has kindly found for us deliverance 
 at length. 
 
loo THE RIGHTS OF WRITERS. 
 
 No more shall we relate within the Authors 
 
 placid pages 
 
 How dealing with the publishers the youth- 
 ful poet damps, 
 How base and brutal editors neglect MS. for 
 
 ages, 
 
 And supplement their incomes by retaining 
 penny stamps. 
 
 No more shall careless journalists and cynical 
 
 reviewers 
 Dismiss three dozen novels in a column as 
 
 they like, 
 For scarce will they escape from their irascible 
 
 pursuers 
 
 When we, indignant authors, go, in every 
 sense, on strike. 
 
THE RIGHTS OF WRITERS. 101 
 
 We shall gather in Trafalgar Square, and listen 
 
 there to samples 
 Of injuries which novelists and poets bear 
 
 to-day ; 
 We shall carry, in accordance with the very 
 
 best examples, 
 
 Resolutions which insist on shorter work and 
 higher pay. 
 
 Then, waxing even bolder, we will sternly seek 
 
 admittance 
 To offices where editors and managers 
 
 attend, 
 And make them humbly promise to increase 
 
 the scanty pittance 
 
 Which they rarely pay at present, and to 
 publish all we send. 
 
102 THE RIGHTS OF WRITERS. 
 
 So let us therefore carry into instant execution 
 The plan which Mr. Lang for us has 
 
 generously made ; 
 Our troubles thus will doubtless find their 
 
 ultimate solution, 
 
 When every one gets into print, and every 
 one is paid ! 
 
103 
 
 M 
 
 THE POET'S LOVE. 
 
 Y Jady's name I cannot state ; 
 
 At different times I greet her 
 As Chloe, Amaryllis, Kate, 
 According to the metre ; 
 I've called her Mabel many a time, 
 A name which lends itself to rhyme. 
 
 My lady's hair is sometimes black 
 To match her sable dresses, 
 
 At others falls about her back 
 In glorious auburn tresses; 
 
104 THE POET'S LOVE. 
 
 Yet do not take me to imply 
 She's given to the use of dye. 
 
 I like her when she's sweet and small 
 
 The daintiest of flowers ; 
 I love her when, divinely tall, 
 
 Above the rest she towers ; 
 And yet, as second thoughts suggest, 
 Perhaps a golden mean were best. 
 
 Sometimes, a simple rustic maid, 
 She strays through meadows green 
 
 Sometimes her beauty is displayed 
 In glittering ball-room scene ; 
 
 More recently I've thought upon 
 
 Creating her a lady don. 
 
THE POETS LOVE. 105 
 
 This peerless girl of whom I speak 
 
 I ever worship blindly, 
 And sing her praises once a week, 
 
 If editors are kindly ; 
 Alas ! this paragon, I own, 
 Exists within my verse alone. 
 
io6 
 
 A NOVEL SHOW. 
 
 ["A popular place of entertainment is arranging a 
 Burglars' Exhibition." Daily Telegraph] 
 
 OH, gladly will the public pay 
 Its shillings for admission, 
 To study in a careful way 
 This most original display, 
 The Burglars' Exhibition ! 
 
A NOVEL SHOW. 107 
 
 Professor Sikes will here explain, 
 
 With practical instruction, 
 How best to break a window-pane, 
 Through which his classic form may gain 
 
 Judicious introduction. 
 
 The jemmies, and revolvers too, 
 
 Will doubtless prove enthralling ; 
 And all the implements we'll view 
 With which these scientists pursue 
 Their fascinating calling : 
 
 The most efficient type of gag 
 
 To silence all intrusion, 
 The latest kind of carpet-bag 
 Wherein to bear the bulky " swag " 
 
 To some remote seclusion. 
 
108 A NOVEL SHOW. 
 
 Then, by this exhibition's aid, 
 
 The art will spread to others, 
 And those who ply this busy trade 
 Will, in a year or two, be made 
 A noble band of brothers. 
 
 The thief of olden time we'll see 
 As seldom as the dodo; 
 
 The burglar's future aim will be 
 
 To join the fortiter in re 
 And suaviter in modo ! 
 
109 
 
 BALLADE OF RURAL BLISS. 
 
 YOU ask me, Damon, why I praise 
 The country life with eager zest, 
 And why your humble servant stays 
 In spots of scanty interest. 
 Well, I will answer your request : 
 Chiefly because I need not fear 
 
 The squalling newsboy I detest , 
 There are no evening papers here ! 
 
no BALLADE OF RURAL BLISS. 
 
 When Phoebus sheds his parting rays 
 And sinks beneath the crimson west, 
 
 No longer, as in other days, 
 
 I'm maddened by that hateful pest 
 " Last Speshal ! Anarchist confessed ! 
 
 " The litest ! Haccident severe ! " 
 O rustic village, truly blest ! 
 
 There are no evening papers here. 
 
 And I, who seemed in many ways 
 Perhaps a too fastidious guest, 
 
 Stern critic of the mayonnaise, 
 By common humour unimpressed, 
 Now laugh at each bucolic jest 
 
 And gaily swig the good brown beer 
 Because no troubles can molest 
 
 There are no evening papers here ! 
 
BALLADE OF RURAL BLISS. ill 
 
 ENVOY. 
 
 Prince, manifold delights invest 
 The country life and make it dear ; 
 
 But this is, after all, the best 
 There are no evening papers here ! 
 
112 
 
 CATS AND DOGS. 
 
 TEN cats and dogs are mine to keep 
 This is the harvest which I reap 
 From friends upon my natal day, 
 And I'm expected to display 
 A gratitude sincere and deep ! 
 
 The dogs upon my china leap, 
 The. cats within the pantry creep, 
 A pretty sum they'll make me pay, 
 Ten cats and dogs ! 
 
CATS AND DOGS. 113 
 
 They spoil my work, they break my sleep; 
 How can I make a wholesale sweep ? 
 I cannot give the brutes away : 
 What would the several donors say ? 
 Perhaps you'll buy (extremely cheap) 
 Ten cats and dogs ? 
 
UN PAS SEUL. 
 
 YOU ask me why, with bitter woe 
 Depicted on each feature 
 I roam the ball-room to and fro 
 
 A melancholy creature, 
 And why examine with such care 
 Each sofa, balcony, and chair? 
 
 It's not, as you politely hint, 
 
 A matrimonial crisis, 
 Nor that myself I did not stint 
 
 In claret-cup and ices ; 
 
UN PAS SEUL. 115 
 
 'Tis merely that my programme's lost, 
 And must be found at any cost ! 
 
 Thereon, besides engagements made, 
 
 I indiscreetly jotted 
 A few descriptions, by whose aid 
 
 My partners might be spotted ; 
 And surely I am not to blame 
 Because I can't recall a name ! 
 
 " Five waltz blue dress and curly nose," 
 "Ten ugly, red hair Lancers," 
 
 " Eight polka short and freckled " ; those 
 To whom each picture answers 
 
 Would doubtless think themselves maligned 
 
 If they this card should chance to find ! 
 
n6 UN PAS SEUL. 
 
 And that is why, with bitter woe 
 Depicted on each feature, 
 
 I roam the ball-room to and fro 
 A melancholy creature ; 
 
 And that, my friend, is also why 
 
 A timely prudence bids me fly ! 
 
AD EXAMINATOREM. 
 
 (BY AN ENRAGED UNDERGRADUATE.) 
 
 LOOK here, I have stood a good deal 
 From other tormentors and you, 
 But now I decidedly feel 
 
 That a vigorous protest is due ; 
 Such feats as your latest success 
 Are not to be tamely endured, 
 And if ever we meet in the college or street 
 I'll hope, for your sake, you're insured ! 
 
Il8 AD EXAMINATOREM. 
 
 You've ploughed me again and again, 
 
 In papers of intricate kind 
 A fact, to be perfectly plain, 
 
 Which did not much trouble my mind ; 
 For, having impressed them at home 
 
 With the standard examiners ask, 
 I had led them to see that to gain a degree 
 
 Is an almost impossible task. 
 
 But you, and the rest of your kind 
 
 Conferred in the Senate, and then 
 A vile resolution designed 
 
 That women be placed with the men ! 
 And what is the consequence, please, 
 
 Which thus you've absurdly allowed? 
 My sister, alas ! has obtained a first class, 
 
 While I, sir, am utterly ploughed ! 
 
AD EXAMINATOREM. 119 
 
 That sister whom, up to this day, 
 
 I always despised as a " crock " ! 
 Oh, what will my relatives say, 
 
 And how my acquaintance will mock ! 
 Meanwhile, Sir, I send you a hint 
 
 That I owe you a certain amount, 
 And I eagerly wait for a suitable date 
 
 To settle our little account ! 
 
I2O 
 
 NEW BARDS AND OLD. 
 
 THE poet in the ancient days, 
 Or so at least we're told, 
 Regarded neither blame nor praise, 
 
 And looked with scorn on gold ; 
 The man how foolish ! lived for art 
 
 And cared for nought beside, 
 And lastly, with a broken heart, 
 Artistically died. 
 
NEW BARDS AND OLD. 121 
 
 But modern bards, it's understood, 
 
 Are very different men : 
 They dine, they form a Brotherhood, 
 
 They quarrel with the pen ; 
 And if a publisher should pay 
 
 Too little for their rhymes, 
 They write in wrath without delay 
 
 Epistles to the Times. 
 
 The bard of old, we gather, sought 
 
 For inspiration long, 
 And waited till some noble thought 
 
 Should rouse him into song ; 
 Our more astute practitioner 
 
 Will deal with all events, 
 And write in praise, as you prefer, 
 
 Of love or Three-per-Cents. 
 
122 NEW BARDS AND OLD. 
 
 Well, let us all our joy express 
 
 That, in these cultured days, 
 The poet strives for some success 
 
 More lucrative than bays ; 
 This fact with pride we look upon,- 
 
 However Art declines, 
 Parnassus now is managed on 
 
 The soundest business lines. 
 
123 
 
 A HINT. 
 
 YOU read my verse ; the praises you bestow 
 Can make innocuous the critic's curse, 
 Vain his attack, unfelt his shrewdest blow : 
 You read my verse. 
 
 You praise the rhymes; like not their writer worse 
 If just one hint he cannot well forgo ; 
 The bard, to put it in a manner terse, 
 Does not exist on praise alone, you know, 
 And sympathy can hardly fill his purse ; 
 You borrow, and you do not buy, although 
 You read my verse ! 
 
124 
 
 "TO BE CONTINUED." 
 
 HOW eagerly those tales I read, 
 While still of tender years, 
 Of murder strange, of haunted grange, 
 
 And gory buccaneers ! 
 But, at the most exciting point, 
 Abruptly ceased the text, 
 What wrath was mine to meet the line, 
 " Continued in our next" \ 
 
"TO BE CONTINUED." 125 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, misfortune sharp 
 
 The journal would attend 
 The funds would fail, and so the tale 
 
 Remain without an end. 
 Now, when I take a serial up, 
 
 I cry, in accents vexed, 
 " I've read enough why is the stuff 
 
 ' Continued in our next ' ? " 
 
 Ah, well, the things we valued once 
 
 Enliven us no more ! 
 (Remarks like these, if morals please, 
 
 I'll furnish by the score.) 
 And should these verses but result 
 
 In making you perplexed, 
 You'll learn with glee they will not be 
 
 " Continued in our next " ! 
 
126 
 
 FINIS, 
 
 ''I CHOUGH, Mabel, scarce an hour is past 
 
 JL Since first you opened that romance, 
 Already now to " Part the Last " 
 
 You turn a surreptitious glance. 
 Why, surely soon enough you'll learn 
 
 The fate of each fictitious friend ; 
 You've scarcely done with Chapter One 
 
 Before you want " to know the end." 
 
FINIS. 127 
 
 The heroine's stupendous feats, 
 
 The hero's indignation fine, 
 At which the wicked duke retreats 
 
 Quite routed all along the line, 
 The noble deeds, the stirring scenes, 
 
 To none of these will you attend 
 Till certain quite that all comes right, 
 
 That marriage-bells are at the end. 
 
 Well, if the bard might moralise, 
 
 He would remark, I think, that man, 
 Throughout existence, ever tries 
 
 To imitate your simple plan; 
 In guessing what is still to come 
 
 Long days with scant result we spend : 
 We too would look throughout the book, 
 
 We too would like to know the end. 
 
128 FINIS. 
 
 And yet, I venture to maintain, 
 
 To read your stories through were best, 
 A course whereby their plots would gain 
 
 No inconsiderable zest ; 
 So, Mabel, in the tale of life, 
 
 Whatever lot the Fates may send, 
 Fulfil each day as best you may, 
 
 Nor strive too soon to know the end ! 
 
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