be a roguey-poguey;
But there's no stimulus to pleasant vice
About a holy Brahman or chaste Yogi.
"Land of the Rising Sun," delightful "Third
Kingdom of Merry Dreams," of you I'm amorous.
Must _that_ exclude me from the Wreath? Absurd!
I'm prettily pious, and I'm gently glamorous.
My Knighthood proves that I am quite O.K.,
My dear _D.T._ will answer for my morals;
I'm steeped in Sanscrit lore, and so must say
I can't see why I should not wear the laurels!
"Quite so," said _Punch_. "I like your rhyme--and cheek;
Still, there be others yet to hear--next week!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: AN ILL-DIGESTED LESSON.
_The Governess_. "And now, what is a Parable, Effie?"
_Effie_ (_who has got rather muddled_). "A Parable? Oh, of course, a
Parable is a Heavenly story with an Earthly meaning!"]
* * * * *
APOLOGIA ARRYGATENSIS.--"'ARRY in Arrygate" was so much sought
after everywhere that it was thought _Mr. Punch_ could not possibly
supply the great demand for this article with sufficient celerity
and dispatch. Hence it happened that the _Harrogate Advertiser_
enthusiastically reproduced the entire article as published in _Mr.
Punch's_ pages, without saying "with your leave, or by your leave,"
to the Proprietors representing _Mr. Punch_. So, _Mr. Punch_, always
kindly and courteous, was compelled in this instance to "know the
reason why." Whereupon _The Harrogate Advertiser_ acknowledged that it
did not "harrogate to itself" any sort of right to republish wholesale
without acknowledgment anything that has appeared in _Mr. Punch's_
pages, and at once handsomely apologised for this instance of
priggishness quite unprecedented in the _Harrogate Advertiser's_
columns (_Vide Harrogate Advertiser_, October 15). _Box_ and _Cox_ are
satisfied. _Causa flnita est. Vive_ 'ARRY! Likewise 'Arrygate! And,
know, all men, by these presents, that _Mr. P._ is quite wide-awake.
* * * * *
ANECDOTAGE.--Said the Old Parliamentary Hand, entering Christ Church,
"I prefer _this_ House to the other!" It was _the_ success of the
visit.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A COOL HAND.
_Irrepressible Pupil_. "Poor Stuff, Sir, this Virgil. Don't you think
so?"
_Suffering Coach_ (_who can scarcely believe his ears_). "Poor Stuff,
Sir! Virgil--poor Stuff! _What do you mean_?"
_Irr
|