summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/36702.txt
diff options
context:
space:
mode:
Diffstat (limited to '36702.txt')
-rw-r--r--36702.txt4569
1 files changed, 4569 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/36702.txt b/36702.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cb70f70
--- /dev/null
+++ b/36702.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,4569 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Verse and Worse, by Harry Graham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Verse and Worse
+
+Author: Harry Graham
+
+Release Date: July 11, 2011 [EBook #36702]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERSE AND WORSE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Diane Monico, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+VERSE AND WORSE
+
+
+
+
+VERSE AND WORSE
+
+
+
+
+VERSE AND WORSE
+
+BY
+
+HARRY GRAHAM
+('COL. D. STREAMER')
+
+AUTHOR OF 'BALLADS OF THE BOER WAR,' 'RUTHLESS RHYMES
+FOR HEARTLESS HOMES,' 'MISREPRESENTATIVE MEN,'
+'FISCAL BALLADS,' ETC., ETC.
+
+
+LONDON
+EDWARD ARNOLD
+41 & 43 MADDOX STREET, BOND STREET, W.
+
+1905
+
+[_All rights reserved_]
+
+
+
+
+NOTE
+
+
+THE BABY'S BAEDEKER and PERVERTED PROVERBS have been published in
+America by Mr. R. H. Russell and Messrs. Harper Bros. of New York.
+
+'The Ballad of Ping-pong,' 'Bill,' and 'The Place where the Old Cleek
+Broke,' have appeared in _The Century Magazine_, _The Outlook_, and
+_Golf_ respectively.
+
+'Uncle Joe,' 'Aunt Eliza,' 'John,' 'The Cat,' and 'Bluebeard,' were
+included in Mr. Russell's American edition of _Ruthless Rhymes for
+Heartless Homes_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ PAGE
+
+AUTHOR'S PREFACE ix
+
+FOREWORD xi
+
+
+PART I
+
+_THE BABY'S BAEDEKER_
+
+I. ABROAD 3
+
+II. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 6
+
+III. GREAT BRITAIN 9
+
+IV. SCOTLAND 11
+
+V. IRELAND 13
+
+VI. WALES 15
+
+VII. CHINA 16
+
+VIII. FRANCE 19
+
+IX. GERMANY 21
+
+X. HOLLAND 23
+
+XI. ICELAND 26
+
+XII. ITALY 27
+
+XIII. JAPAN 30
+
+XIV. PORTUGAL 32
+
+XV. RUSSIA 33
+
+XVI. SPAIN 36
+
+XVII. SWITZERLAND 39
+
+XVIII. TURKEY 41
+
+XIX. DREAMLAND 44
+
+XX. STAGELAND 47
+
+XXI. LOVERLAND 48
+
+XXII. HOMELAND 53
+
+
+PART II
+
+_CHILDISH COMPLAINTS AND OTHER RUTHLESS RHYMES_
+
+CHILDISH COMPLAINTS--
+
+PRELUDE 57
+
+APPENDICITIS 61
+
+WHOOPING-COUGH 61
+
+MEASLES 62
+
+ADENOIDS 62
+
+CROUP 62
+
+
+RUTHLESS RHYMES--
+
+I. MOTHER-WIT 63
+
+II. UNCLE JOE 64
+
+III. AUNT ELIZA 65
+
+IV. ABSENT-MINDEDNESS 66
+
+V. JOHN 68
+
+VI. BABY 71
+
+VII. THE CAT 72
+
+
+PART III
+
+_PERVERTED PROVERBS_
+
+I. 'VIRTUE IS ITS OWN REWARD' 77
+
+II. 'ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST' 86
+
+III. 'DON'T BUY A PIG IN A POKE' 89
+
+IV. 'LEARN TO TAKE THINGS EASILY' 91
+
+V. 'A ROLLING STONE GATHERS NO MOSS' 92
+
+VI. 'IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND' 96
+
+VII. 'A BAD WORKMAN COMPLAINS OF HIS TOOLS' 99
+
+VIII. 'DON'T LOOK A GIFT-HORSE IN THE MOUTH' 100
+
+IX. POTPOURRI 103
+
+
+PART IV
+
+_OTHER VERSES_
+
+BILL 111
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE AUTHOR 114
+
+THE MOTRIOT 128
+
+THE BALLAD OF THE ARTIST 130
+
+THE BALLAD OF PING-PONG 135
+
+THE PESSIMIST 138
+
+THE PLACE WHERE THE OLD CLEEK BROKE 140
+
+THE HOMES OF LONDON 143
+
+THE HAPPIEST LAND 146
+
+A LONDON INVOLUNTARY 151
+
+BLUEBEARD 154
+
+THE WOMAN WITH THE DEAD SOLES 166
+
+ROSEMARY (A BALLAD OF THE BOUDOIR) 170
+
+PORTKNOCKIE'S PORTER 172
+
+THE BALLAD OF THE LITTLE JINGLANDER 176
+
+AFTWORD 182
+
+ENVOI 185
+
+
+
+
+AUTHOR'S PREFACE
+
+
+ With guilty, conscience-stricken tears,
+ I offer up these rhymes of mine
+ To children of maturer years
+ (From Seventeen to Ninety-nine).
+ A special solace may they be
+ In days of second infancy.
+
+ The frenzied mother who observes
+ This volume in her offspring's hand,
+ And trembles for the darling's nerves,
+ Must please to clearly understand,
+ If baby suffers by and by
+ The Publisher's at fault, not _I_!
+
+ But should the little brat survive,
+ And fatten on this style of Rhyme,
+ To raise a Heartless Home and thrive
+ Through a successful life of crime,
+ The Publisher would have you see
+ That _I_ am to be thanked, not _he_!
+
+ Fond parent, you whose children are
+ Of tender age (from two to eight),
+ Pray keep this little volume far
+ From reach of such, and relegate
+ My verses to an upper shelf;
+ Where you may study them yourself.
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+ The Press may pass my Verses by
+ With sentiments of indignation,
+ And say, like Greeks of old, that I
+ Corrupt the Youthful Generation;
+ I am unmoved by taunts like these--
+ (And so, I think, was Socrates).
+
+ Howe'er the Critics may revile,
+ I pick no journalistic quarrels,
+ Quite realising that my Style
+ Makes up for any lack of Morals;
+ For which I feel no shred of shame--
+ (And Byron would have felt the same).
+
+ I don't intend a Child to read
+ These lines, which are not for the Young;
+ For, if I did, I should indeed
+ Feel fully worthy to be hung.
+ (Is 'hanged' the perfect tense of 'hang'?
+ Correct me, Mr. Andrew Lang!)
+
+ O Young of Heart, tho' in your prime,
+ By you these verses may be seen!
+ Accept the Moral with the Rhyme,
+ And try to gather what I mean.
+ But, if you can't, it won't hurt me!
+ (And Browning would, I know, agree.)
+
+ Be reassured, I have not got
+ The style of Stephen Phillips' heroes,
+ Nor Henry Jones's pow'r of Plot,
+ Nor wit like Arthur Wing Pinero's!
+ (If so, I should not waste my time
+ In writing you this sort of rhyme.)
+
+ I strive to paint things as they Are,
+ Of Realism the true Apostle;
+ All flow'ry metaphors I bar,
+ Nor call the homely thrush a 'throstle.'
+ Such synonyms would make me smile.
+ (And so they would have made Carlyle.)
+
+ My Style may be, at times, I own,
+ A trifle cryptic or abstruse;
+ In this I do not stand alone,
+ And need but mention, in excuse,
+ A thousand world-familiar names,
+ From Meredith to Henry James.
+
+ From these my fruitless fancy roams
+ To Aesop's or La Fontaine's Fable,
+ From Doyle's or Hemans' 'Stately Ho(l)mes,'
+ To t'other of The Breakfast Table;
+ Like Galahad, I wish (in vain)
+ 'My wit were as the wit of Twain!
+
+ Had I but Whitman's rugged skill,
+ (And managed to escape the Censor),
+ The Accuracy of a Mill,
+ The Reason of a Herbert Spencer,
+ The literary talents even
+ Of Sidney Lee or Leslie Stephen,
+
+ The pow'r of Patmore's placid pen,
+ Or Watson's gift of execration,
+ The sugar of Le Gallienne,
+ Or Algernon's alliteration,
+ One post there is I'd not be lost in,
+ --Tho' I might find it most ex-Austin'!
+
+ Some day, if I but study hard,
+ The public, vanquished by my pen, 'll
+ Acclaim me as a Minor Bard,
+ Like Norman Gale or Mrs. Meynell;
+ And listen to my lyre a-rippling
+ Imperial banjo-spasms like Kipling.
+
+ Were I, like him, a syndicate,
+ Which publishers would put their trust in;
+ A Walter Pater up-to-date,
+ Or flippant scholar like Augustine;
+ With pen as light as lark or squirrel,
+ I'd love to kipple, pate and birrell.
+
+ So don't ignore me. If you should,
+ 'Twill touch me to the very heart oh!
+ To be as much misunderstood
+ As once was Andrea del Sarto;
+ Unrecognised, to toil away,
+ Like Millet,--(not, of course, Mill_ais_).
+
+ And, pray, for Morals do not look
+ In this unique agglomeration,
+ --This unpretentious little book
+ Of Infelicitous Quotation.
+ I deem you foolish if you do,
+ (And Mr. Arnold thinks so, too).
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+_THE BABY'S BAEDEKER_
+
+
+An International Guide-Book for the young of all ages;
+peculiarly adapted to the wants of first and second Childhood.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+ABROAD
+
+ Abroad is where we tourists spend,
+ In divers unalluring ways,
+ The brief occasional week-end,
+ Or annual Easter holidays;
+ And earn the (not ill-founded) charge
+ Of being lunatics at large.
+
+ Abroad, we lose our self-respect;
+ Wear whiskers; let our teeth protrude;
+ Consider any garb correct,
+ And no display of temper rude;
+ Descending, when we cross the foam,
+ To depths we dare not plumb at home.
+
+ (Small wonder that the natives gaze,
+ With hostile eyes, at foreign freaks,
+ Who patronise their Passion-plays,
+ In lemon-coloured chessboard breeks;
+ An op'ra-glass about each neck,
+ And on each head a cap of check.)
+
+ Abroad, where needy younger sons,
+ When void the parent's treasure-chest,
+ Take refuge from insistent duns,
+ At urgent relatives' request;
+ To live upon their slender wits,
+ Or sums some maiden-aunt remits.
+
+ Abroad, whence (with a wisdom rare)
+ Regardless of nostalgic pains,
+ The weary New York millionaire
+ Retires with his oil-gotten gains,
+ And learns how deep a pleasure 'tis
+ To found our Public Libraries.
+
+ For ours is the primeval clan,
+ From which all lesser lights descend;
+ Is Crockett not our countryman?
+ And call we not Corelli friend?
+ Our brotherhood has bred the brain
+ Whose offspring bear the brand of Caine.
+
+ Tho' nowadays we seldom hear
+ Miss Proctor, who mislaid a chord,
+ Or Tennyson, the poet peer,
+ Who came into the garden, Mord;
+ Tho' Burns be dead, and Keats unread,
+ We have a prophet still in Stead.
+
+ And so we stare, with nose in air;
+ And speak in condescending tone,
+ Of foreigners whose climes compare
+ So favourably with our own;
+ And aliens we cannot applaud
+ Who call themselves At Home Abroad!
+
+
+II
+
+UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+ This is the Country of the Free,
+ The Cocktail and the Ten Cent Chew;
+ Where you're as good a man as me,
+ And I'm a better man than you!
+ (O Liberty, how free we make!
+ Freedom, what liberties we take!)
+
+ 'Tis here the startled tourist meets,
+ 'Mid clanging of a thousand bells,
+ The railways running through the streets,
+ Skyscraping flats and vast hotels,
+ Where rest, on the resplendent floors,
+ The necessary cuspidors.
+
+ And here you may encounter too
+ The pauper immigrants in shoals,
+ The Swede, the German, and the Jew,
+ The Irishman, who rules the polls
+ And is employed to keep the peace,
+ A venal and corrupt police.
+
+ They are so busy here, you know,
+ They have no time at all for play;
+ Each morning to their work they go
+ And stay there all the livelong day;
+ Their dreams of happiness depend
+ On making more than they can spend.
+
+ The ladies of this land are all
+ Developed to a pitch sublime,
+ Some inches over six foot tall,
+ With perfect figures all the time.
+ (For further notice of their looks
+ See Mr. Dana Gibson's books.)
+
+ And, if they happen to possess
+ Sufficient balance at the bank,
+ They have the chance of saying 'Yes!'
+ To needy foreigners of rank;
+ The future dukes of all the earth
+ Are half American by birth.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ A 'dot' combining cash with charms
+ Is worth a thousand coats-of-arms.
+
+
+III
+
+GREAT BRITAIN
+
+ The British are a chilly race.
+ The Englishman is thin and tall;
+ He screws an eyeglass in his face,
+ And talks with a reluctant drawl.
+ 'Good Gwacious! This is doosid slow!
+ By Jove! Haw demmy! Don't-cher-know!'
+
+ The English_woman_ ev'rywhere
+ A meed of admiration wins;
+ She has a crown of silken hair,
+ And quite the loveliest of skins.
+ (Go forth and seek an English maid,
+ Your trouble will be well repaid.)
+
+ Where Britain's banner is unfurled
+ There's room for nothing else beside,
+ She owns one-quarter of the world,
+ And still she is not satisfied.
+ The Briton thinks himself, by birth,
+ To be the lord of all the earth.
+
+ Some call his manners wanting, or
+ His sense of humour poor, and yet
+ Whatever he is striving for
+ He as a rule contrives to get;
+ His methods may be much to blame,
+ But he arrives there just the same.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ If you can get your wish, you bet it
+ Doesn't much matter _how_ you get it!
+
+
+IV
+
+SCOTLAND
+
+ In Scotland all the people wear
+ Red hair and freckles, and one sees
+ The men in women's dresses there,
+ With stout, decollete, low-necked knees.
+ ('Eblins ye dinna ken, I doot,
+ We're unco guid, so hoot, mon, hoot!')
+
+ They love 'ta whuskey' and 'ta Kirk';
+ I don't know which they like the most.
+ They aren't the least afraid of work;
+ No sense of humour can they boast;
+ And you require an axe to coax
+ The canny Scot to see your jokes.
+
+ They play an instrument they call
+ The bagpipes; and the sound of these
+ Is reminiscent of the squall
+ Of infant pigs attacked by bees;
+ Music that might drive cats away
+ Or make reluctant chickens lay.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Wear kilts, and, tho' men look askance,
+ Go out and give your knees a chance.
+
+
+V
+
+IRELAND
+
+ The Irishman is never quite
+ Contented with his little lot;
+ He's ever thirsting for a fight,
+ A grievance he has always got;
+ And all his energy is bent
+ On trying not to pay his rent.
+
+ He lives upon a frugal fare
+ (The few potatoes that he digs),
+ And hospitably loves to share
+ His bedroom with his wife and pigs;
+ But cannot settle even here,
+ And gets evicted once a year.
+
+ In order to amuse himself,
+ At any time when things are slack,
+ He takes his gun down from the shelf
+ And shoots a landlord in the back;
+ If he is lucky in the chase,
+ He may contrive to bag a brace.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Procure a grievance and a gun
+ And you can have no end of fun.
+
+
+VI
+
+WALES
+
+ The natives of the land of Wales
+ Are not a very truthful lot,
+ And the imagination fails
+ To paint the language they have got;
+ Bettws-y-coed-llan-dud-nod-
+ Dolgelly-rhiwlas-cwn-wm-dod!
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ If you _must_ talk, then do it, pray,
+ In an intelligible way.
+
+
+VII
+
+CHINA
+
+ The Chinaman from early youth
+ Is by his wise preceptors taught
+ To have no dealings with the Truth,
+ In fact, romancing is his 'forte.'
+ In juggling words he takes the prize,
+ By the sheer beauty of his lies.
+
+ For laundrywork he has a knack;
+ He takes in shirts and makes them blue;
+ When he omits to send them back
+ He takes his customers in too.
+ He must be ranked in the 'elite'
+ Of those whose hobby is deceit.
+
+ For ladies 'tis the fashion here
+ To pinch their feet and make them small,
+ Which, to the civilised idea,
+ Is not a proper thing at all.
+ Our modern Western woman's taste
+ In pinching leans towards the waist.
+
+ The Chinese Empire is the field
+ Where foreign missionaries go;
+ A poor result their labours yield,
+ And they have little fruit to show;
+ For, if you would convert Wun Lung,
+ You have to catch him very young.
+
+ The Chinaman has got a creed
+ And a religion of his own,
+ And would be much obliged indeed
+ If you could leave his soul alone;
+ And he prefers, which may seem odd,
+ His own to other people's god.
+
+ Yet still the missionary tries
+ To point him out his wickedness,
+ Until the badgered natives rise,--
+ And there's one missionary less!
+ Then foreign Pow'rs step in, you see,
+ And ask for an indemnity.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Adhere to facts, avoid romance,
+ And you a clergyman may be;
+ To lie is wrong, except perchance
+ In matters of Diplomacy.
+ And, when you start out to convert,
+ Make certain that you don't get hurt!
+
+
+VIII
+
+FRANCE
+
+ The natives here remark 'Mon Dieu!'
+ 'Que voulez-vous?' 'Comment ca va?'
+ 'Sapristi! Par exemple! Un peu!'
+ 'Tiens donc! Mais qu'est-ce que c'est que ca?'
+ They shave one portion of their dogs,
+ And live exclusively on frogs.
+
+ They get excited very quick,
+ And crowds will gather before long
+ If you should stand and wave your stick
+ And shout, 'A bas le Presidong!'
+ Still more amusing would it be
+ To say, 'Conspuez la Patrie!'
+
+ The French are so polite, you know,
+ They take their hats off very well,
+ And, should they tread upon your toe,
+ Remark, 'Pardon, Mademoiselle!'
+ And you would gladly bear the pain
+ To see them make that bow again.
+
+ Their ladies too have got a way
+ Which even curates can't resist;
+ 'Twould make an Alderman feel gay
+ Or soothe a yellow journalist;
+ And then the things they say are so
+ Extremely--well, in fact,--you know!
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ The closest scrutiny can find
+ No morals here of any kind.
+
+
+IX
+
+GERMANY
+
+ The German is a stolid soul,
+ And finds best suited to his taste
+ A pipe with an enormous bowl,
+ A fraulein with an ample waist;
+ He loves his beer, his Kaiser, and
+ (Donner und blitz!) his Fatherland!
+
+ He's perfectly contented if
+ He listens in the Op'ra-house
+ To Wagner's well-concealed 'motif,'
+ Or waltzes of the nimble Strauss;
+ And all discordant bands he sends
+ Abroad, to soothe his foreign friends.
+
+ When he is glad at anything
+ He cheers like a dyspeptic goat,
+ 'Hoch! hoch!' You'd think him suffering
+ From some affection of the throat.
+ A disagreeable noise, 'tis true,
+ But pleases him and don't hurt you!
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ A glass of lager underneath the bough,
+ A long 'churchwarden' and an ample 'frau'
+ Beside me sitting in a Biergarten,
+ Ach! Biergarten were paradise enow!
+
+
+X
+
+HOLLAND
+
+ This country is extremely flat,
+ Just like your father's head, and were
+ It not for dykes and things like that
+ There would not be much country there,
+ For, if these banks should broken be,
+ What now is land would soon be sea.
+
+ So, any child who glory seeks,
+ And in a dyke observes a hole,
+ Must hold his finger there for weeks,
+ And keep the water from its goal,
+ Until the local plumbers come,
+ Or other persons who can plumb.
+
+ The Hollanders have somehow got
+ The name of Dutch (why, goodness knows!),
+ But Mrs. Hollander is not
+ A 'duchess' as you might suppose;
+ Mynheer Von Vanderpump is much
+ More used to style her his 'Old Dutch.'
+
+ Their cities' names are somewhat odd,
+ But much in vogue with golfing men
+ Who miss a 'put' or slice a sod,
+ (Whose thoughts I would not dare to pen),
+ 'Oh, Rotterdam!' they can exclaim,
+ And blamelessly resume the game.
+
+ The Dutchman's dress is very neat;
+ He minds his little flock of goats
+ In cotton blouse, and on his feet
+ He dons a pair of wooden boats.
+ (He evidently does not trust
+ Those dykes I mentioned not to bust).
+
+ He has the reputation too
+ Of being what is known as 'slim,'
+ Which merely means he does to you
+ What you had hoped to do to him;
+ He has a business head, that's all,
+ And takes some beating, does Oom Paul.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Avoid a country where the sea
+ May any day drop in to tea,
+ Rememb'ring that, at golf, one touch
+ Of bunker makes the whole world Dutch!
+
+
+XI
+
+ICELAND
+
+ The climate is intensely cold;
+ Wild curates would not drag me there;
+ Not tho' they brought great bags of gold,
+ And piled them underneath my chair.
+ If twenty bishops bade me go,
+ I should decidedly say, 'No!'
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ If ev'ry man has got his price,
+ As generally is agreed,
+ You will, by taking my advice,
+ Let yours be very large indeed.
+ Corruption is not nice at all,
+ Unless the bribe be far from small.
+
+
+XII
+
+ITALY
+
+ In Italy the sky is blue;
+ The native loafs and lolls about,
+ He's nothing in the world to do,
+ And does it fairly well, no doubt;
+ (Ital-i-ans are disinclined
+ To honest work of any kind).
+
+ A light Chianti wine he drinks,
+ And fancies it extremely good;
+ (It tastes like Stephens' Blue-black Inks);--
+ While macaroni is his food.
+ (I think it must be rather hard
+ To eat one's breakfast by the yard).
+
+ And, when he leaves his country for
+ Some northern climate, 'tis his dream
+ To be an organ grinder, or
+ Retail bacilli in ice-cream.
+ (The French or German student terms
+ These creatures '_Paris_ites' or '_Germs_.')
+
+ Sometimes an anarchist is he,
+ And wants to slay a king or queen;
+ So with some dynamite, may be,
+ Concocts a murderous machine;
+ 'Here goes!' he shouts, 'For Freedom's sake!'
+ Then blows himself up by mistake.
+
+ Naples and Florence both repay
+ A visit, and, if fortune takes
+ Your toddling little feet that way,
+ Do stop a moment at The Lakes.
+ While, should you go to Rome, I hope
+ You'll leave your card upon the Pope.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Don't work too hard, but use a wise discretion;
+ Adopt the least laborious profession.
+ Don't be an anarchist, but, if you must,
+ Don't let your bombshell prematurely bust.
+
+
+XIII
+
+JAPAN
+
+ Inhabitants of far Japan
+ Are happy as the day is long
+ To sit behind a paper fan
+ And sing a kind of tuneless song,
+ Desisting, ev'ry little while,
+ To have a public bath, or smile.
+
+ The members of the fairer sex
+ Are clad in a becoming dress,
+ One garment reaching from their necks
+ Down to the ankles more or less;
+ Behind each dainty ear they wear
+ A cherry-blossom in their hair.
+
+ If 'Imitation's flattery'
+ (We learn it at our mother's lap),
+ A flatterer by birth must be
+ Our clever little friend the Jap,
+ Who does whatever we can do,
+ And does it rather better too.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Be happy all the time, and plan
+ To wash as often as you can.
+
+
+XIV
+
+PORTUGAL
+
+ You are requested, if you please,
+ To note that here a people lives
+ Referred to as the Portuguese;
+ A fact which naturally gives
+ The funny man a good excuse
+ To call his friend a Portugoose.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Avoid the obvious, if you can,
+ And _never_ be a funny man.
+
+
+XV
+
+RUSSIA
+
+ The Russian Empire, as you see,
+ Is governed by an Autocrat,
+ A sort of human target he
+ For anarchists to practise at;
+ And much relieved most people are
+ Not to be lodging with the Czar.
+
+ The Russian lets his whiskers grow,
+ Smokes cigarettes at meal-times, and
+ Imbibes more 'vodki' than 'il faut';
+ A habit which (I understand)
+ Enables him with ease to tell
+ His name, which nobody could spell.
+
+ The climate here is cold, with snow,
+ And you go driving in a sleigh,
+ With bells and all the rest, you know,
+ Just like a Henry Irving play;
+ While, all around you, glare the eyes
+ Of secret officers and spies!
+
+ The Russian prisons have no drains,
+ No windows or such things as that;
+ You have no playthings there but chains,
+ And no companion but a rat;
+ When once behind the dungeon door,
+ Your friends don't see you any more.
+
+ I further could enlarge, 'tis true,
+ But fear my trembling pen confines;
+ I have no wish to travel to
+ Siberia and work the mines.
+ (In Russia you must write with care,
+ Or the police will take you there.)
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ If you hold morbid views about
+ A monarch's premature decease,
+ You only need a--Hi! Look out!
+ Here comes an agent of police!
+ . . . . .
+ (In future my address will be
+ 'Siberia, Cell 63.')
+
+
+XVI
+
+SPAIN
+
+ 'Tis here the Spanish onion grows,
+ And they eat garlic all the day,
+ So, if you have a tender nose,
+ 'Tis best to go the other way,
+ Or else you may discern, at length,
+ The fact that 'Onion is strength.'
+
+ The chestnuts flourish in this land,
+ Quite good to eat, as you will find,
+ For they are not, you understand,
+ The ancient after-dinner kind
+ That Yankees are accustomed to
+ From Mr. Chauncey M. Depew.
+
+ The Spanish lady, by the bye,
+ Is an alluring person who
+ Has got a bright and flashing eye,
+ And knows just how to use it too;
+ It's quite a treat to see her meet
+ The proud hidalgo on the street.
+
+ He wears a sort of soft felt hat,
+ A dagger, and a cloak, you know,
+ Just like the wicked villains that
+ We met in plays of long ago,
+ Who sneaked about with aspect glum,
+ Remarking, 'Ha! A time will come!'
+
+ His blood, of blue cerulean hue,
+ Runs in his veins like liquid fire,
+ And he can be most rude if you
+ Should rob him of his heart's desire;
+ 'Caramba!' he exclaims, and whack!
+ His dagger perforates your back!
+
+ If you should care to patronise
+ A bull-fight, as you will no doubt,
+ You'll see a horse with blinded eyes
+ Be very badly mauled about;
+ By such a scene a weak inside
+ Is sometimes rather sorely tried.
+
+ And, if the bull is full of fun,
+ The horse is generally gored,
+ So then they fetch another one,
+ Or else the first one is encored;
+ The humour of the sport, of course,
+ Is not so patent to the horse.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Be kind to ev'ry bull you meet,
+ Remember how the creature feels;
+ Don't wink at ladies in the street;
+ And don't make speeches after meals;
+ And lastly, I need not explain,
+ If you're a horse, don't go to Spain.
+
+
+XVII
+
+SWITZERLAND
+
+ This atmosphere is pure ozone!
+ To climb the hills you promptly start;
+ Unless you happen to be prone
+ To palpitations of the heart;
+ In which case swarming up the Alps
+ Brings on a bad attack of palps.
+
+ The nicest method is to stay
+ Quite comfortably down below,
+ And, from the steps of your chalet,
+ Watch other people upwards go.
+ Then you can buy an alpenstock,
+ And scratch your name upon a rock.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Don't do fatiguing things which you
+ Can pay another man to do.
+ Let friends assume (they may be wrong),
+ That you each year ascend Mong Blong.
+ Some things you can _pretend_ you've done,
+ And climbing up the Alps is one.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+TURKEY
+
+ The Sultan of the Purple East
+ Is quite a cynic, in his way,
+ And really doesn't mind the least
+ His nickname of 'Abdul the ----' (Nay!
+ I might perhaps come in for blame
+ If I divulged this monarch's name.)
+
+ The Turk is such a kindly man,
+ But his ideas of sport are crude;
+ He to the poor Armenian
+ Is not intentionally rude,
+ But still it is his heartless habit
+ To treat him as _we_ treat the rabbit.
+
+ If he wants bracing up a bit,
+ His pleasing little custom is
+ To take a hatchet and commit
+ A series of atrocities.
+ I should not fancy, after dark,
+ To meet him, say, in Regent's Park.
+
+ A deeply married man is he,
+ 'Early and often' is his rule;
+ He practises polygamy
+ Directly after leaving school,
+ And so arranges that his wives
+ Live happy but secluded lives.
+
+ If they attend a public place,
+ They have to do so in disguise,
+ And so conceal one-half their face
+ That nothing but a pair of eyes
+ Suggests the hidden charm that lurks
+ Beneath the veils of lady Turks.
+
+ Then too in Turkey all the men
+ Smoke water-pipes and cross their legs;
+ They watch their harem as a hen
+ That guards her first attempt at eggs.
+ (If you don't know what harems are,
+ Just run and ask your dear papa.)
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Wives of great men oft remind us
+ We should make our wives sublime,
+ But the years advancing find us
+ Vainly working over-time.
+ We could minimise our work
+ By the methods of the Turk.
+
+
+XIX
+
+DREAMLAND
+
+ Here you will see strange happenings
+ With absolutely placid eyes;
+ If all your uncles sprouted wings
+ You would not feel the least surprise;
+ The oddest things that you can do
+ Don't seem a bit absurd to you.
+
+ You go (in Dreamland) to a ball,
+ And suddenly are shocked to find
+ That you have nothing on at all,--
+ But somehow no one seems to mind;
+ And, naturally, _you_ don't care,
+ If they can bear what you can bare!
+
+ Then, in a moment, you're pursued
+ By engines on a railway track!
+ Your legs are tied, your feet are glued,
+ The train comes snorting down your back!
+ One last attempt at flight you make
+ And so (in bed) perspiring wake.
+
+ You feel so free from weight of cares
+ That, if the staircase you should climb,
+ You gaily mount, not single stairs,
+ But whole battalions at a time;
+ (My metaphor is mixed, may be,
+ I quote from Shakespeare, as you see).
+
+ If you should eat too much, you pay
+ (In dreams) the penalty for this;
+ A nightmare carries you away
+ And drops you down a precipice!
+ Down! down! until, with sudden smack,
+ You strike the mattress with your back.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ At meals decline to be a beast;
+ 'Too much is better than a feast.'
+
+
+XX
+
+STAGELAND
+
+ The customs of this land have all
+ Been published in a bulky tome.
+ The author is a man they call
+ Jer_ome_ K. J_er_ome _K_. Jer_ome_.
+ So, lest on his preserves I poach,
+ This subject I refuse to broach.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ The moral here is plain to see.
+ If true the hackneyed witticism
+ Which stamps Originality
+ As 'undetected plagiarism,'
+ What a vocation I have miss'd
+ As undetected plagiarist!
+
+
+XXI
+
+LOVERLAND
+
+ This is the land where minor bards
+ And other lunatics repair,
+ To live in houses made of cards,
+ Or build their castles in the air;
+ To feed on hope, and idly dream
+ That things are really what they seem.
+
+ The natives are a motley lot,
+ Of ev'ry age and creed and race,
+ But each inhabitant has got
+ The same expression on his face;
+ They look, when this their features fills,
+ Like angels with internal chills.
+
+ The lover sits, the livelong day,
+ Quite inarticulate of speech;
+ He simply brims with things to say;
+ Alas! the words he cannot reach,
+ And, silent, lets occasion pass,
+ Feeling a fulminating ass.
+
+ It is the lady lover's wont
+ To blush, and look demure or coy,
+ To say, 'You mustn't!' and, 'Oh! don't!'
+ Or, 'Please leave off, you naughty boy!'
+ (But this, of course, is just her way,
+ She wouldn't wish you to obey.)
+
+ The lover, in a trembling voice,
+ Demands the hand of his lovee,
+ And begs the lady of his choice
+ To share some cottage-by-the-sea;
+ With _her_ a prison would be nice,
+ A coal-cellar a Paradise!
+
+ 'Love in a cottage' sounds so well;
+ But oh, my too impatient bride,
+ No drainage and a constant smell
+ Of something being over-fried
+ Is not the sort of atmosphere
+ That makes for wedded bliss, my dear.
+
+ And when the bills are rather high,
+ And when the money's rather low,
+ See poor Virginia sit and sigh,
+ And ask why Paul _must_ grumble so!
+ He slams the door and strides about,
+ And, through the window, Love creeps out.
+
+ 'Tis said that Cupid blinds our sight
+ With fire of passion from above,
+ Nor ever bids us see aright
+ The many faults in those we love;
+ Ah no! I deem it otherwise,
+ For lovers have the clearest eyes.
+
+ They see the faults, the failures, and
+ The great temptations, and they know,
+ Although they cannot understand,
+ That they would have the loved one so.
+ Believe me, Love is never blind,
+ His smiling eyes are wise and kind.
+
+ Tho' lovers quarrel, yet, I ween,
+ 'Tis but to make it up again;
+ The sunshine seems the more serene
+ That follows after April rain;
+ And love should lead, if love be true,
+ To perfect understanding too.
+
+ If in our hearts this love beats strong,
+ We shall not ever seek to earn
+ Forgiveness for some fancied wrong,
+ Nor need to pardon in return;
+ But learn this lesson as we live,
+ 'To understand is to forgive.'
+
+ And all you little girls and boys
+ Will find this out yourselves, some day,
+ When you have done with childish toys
+ And put your infant books away.
+ Ah! then I pray that hand-in-hand
+ You tread the paths of Loverland.
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ Don't fall in love, but, when you do,
+ Take care that he (or she) does too;
+ And, lastly, to misquote the bard,
+ If you _must_ love, don't love too hard.
+
+
+XXII
+
+HOMELAND
+
+ The tour is over! We must part!
+ Our mutual journey at an end.
+ O bid farewell, with aching heart,
+ To guide, philosopher, and friend;
+ And note, as you remark 'Good-bye!'
+ The kindly tear that dims his eye.
+
+ The tour is ended! Sad but true!
+ No more together may we roam!
+ We turn our lonely footsteps to
+ The spot that's known as Home, Sweet Home.
+ Nor time nor temper can afford
+ A more protracted trip abroad.
+
+ O Home! where we must always be
+ So hopelessly misunderstood;
+ Where waits a tactless family,
+ To tell us things 'for our own good';
+ Where relatives, with searchlight eyes,
+ Can penetrate our choicest lies.
+
+ Where all our kith and kin combine
+ To prove that we are worse than rude,
+ If we should criticise the wine
+ Or make complaints about the food.
+ Thank goodness, then, to quote the pome,
+ Thank goodness there's 'no place like Home!'
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+_CHILDISH COMPLAINTS_
+
+AND
+
+_OTHER RUTHLESS RHYMES_
+
+
+
+
+CHILDISH COMPLAINTS
+
+
+PRELUDE
+
+(_By Way of Advertisement_)
+
+ I have no knowledge of disease,
+ No notion what ill-health may be,
+ Since Housemaid's Throat and Smoker's Knees
+ Mean something different to me
+ To what they do to other folk.
+ (This is, I vow, no vulgar joke.)
+
+ Of course, when young, I had complaints,
+ And little childish accidents;
+ For twice I ate a box of paints,
+ And once I swallowed eighteen pence.
+ (_N.B._, I missed the paints a lot,
+ But got the coins back on the spot.)
+
+ But no practitioner has seen
+ My tongue since then, down to the present,
+ And I, alas! have never been
+ An interesting convalescent.
+ Ah! why am I alone denied
+ The Humour of a weak inside?
+
+ Why is it? I will tell you why;
+ A certain mixture is to blame.
+ One day for fun I chanced to try
+ A bottle of--what _is_ the name?
+ That thing they advertise a lot,--
+ (Oh, what a memory I've got!)
+
+ It's stuff you must, of course, have seen,
+ Retailed in bottles, tins, or pots,
+ In cakes or little pills, I mean--
+ (Oh goodness me! I've bought such lots,
+ That I am really much to blame
+ For not remembering the name!)
+
+ Still, let me recommend a keg
+ (With maker's name, be sure, above it),
+ 'Tis sweeter than a new-mown egg,
+ And village idiots simply love it;
+ Old persons sit and scream for it,--
+ I do so hope you'll try a bit!
+
+ So efficacious is this stuff,
+ Its virtue and its strength are such,
+ One single bottle is enough,--
+ In fact, at times, 'tis far too much.
+ (The patient dies in frightful pain,
+ Or else survives, and tries again.)
+
+ An aunt of mine felt anyhow,
+ All kind-of-odd, and gone-to-bits,
+ Had freckles badly too; but now
+ She doesn't have a thing but fits.
+ She's just as strong as any horse,--
+ Tho' still an invalid, of course.
+
+ I had an uncle, too, that way,
+ His health was in a dreadful plight;
+ Would often spend a sleepless day,
+ And lie unconscious half the night.
+ He took two bottles, large and small,
+ And now--he has no health at all!
+
+ The Moral plainly bids you buy
+ This stuff, whose name I have forgotten;
+ You won't regret it, if you try--
+ (My memory is simply rotten!)
+ My funds will profit, in addition,
+ Since I enjoy a small commission!
+
+
+CHILDISH COMPLAINTS
+
+_No. 1 (Appendicitis)_
+
+ I've got Appendicitis
+ In my Appendicit,
+ But I don't mind,
+ Because I find
+ I'm quite 'cut out' for it.
+
+
+_No. 2. (Whooping-cough)_
+
+ If only I had Whooping-cough!
+ I'd join a Circus troupe!
+ And folks would clamour at the door,
+ And pay a shilling--even more,
+ To see me 'Whoop The Whoop.'
+
+
+_No. 3. (Measles)_
+
+ Of illnesses like chickenpox
+ And measles I've had lots;
+ I do not like them much, you know,
+ They are not really nice, altho'
+ They're rather nice in spots.
+
+
+_No. 4. (Adenoids)_
+
+ A Cockney maid produced such snores,
+ Folks left the City to avoid them;
+ And all becos,
+ She said, it was
+ Her adenoids that 'ad annoyed them!
+
+
+_No. 5. (Croup)_
+
+ I had the Croup, in years gone by,
+ And that is why to-day,
+ Altho' no longer youthful, I
+ Am still a Croupier.
+
+
+
+
+RUTHLESS RHYMES
+
+
+I
+
+MOTHER-WIT
+
+ When wilful little Willie Black
+ Threw all the tea-things at his mother,
+ She murmured, as she hurled them back,
+ 'One good Tea-urn deserves another!'
+
+
+II
+
+UNCLE JOE
+
+ Poor Uncle Joe has gone, you know,
+ To rest beyond the stars.
+ I miss him, oh! I miss him so,--
+ He had _such_ good cigars.
+
+
+III
+
+AUNT ELIZA
+
+ In the drinking-well
+ (Which the plumber built her)
+ Aunt Eliza fell,----
+ We must buy a filter.
+
+
+IV
+
+ABSENT-MINDEDNESS
+
+ Absent-minded Edward Brown
+ Drove his lady into town;
+ Suddenly the horse fell down!
+ Mrs. Ned
+ (Newly wed)
+ Threw a fit and lay for dead.
+
+ Edward, lacking in resource,
+ Chafed the fetlocks of his horse,
+ Sitting with unpleasant force
+ (Just like lead)
+ On the head
+ Of the prostrate Mrs. Ned.
+
+ She demanded a divorce,
+ Jealous of the favoured horse.
+ Edward had it shot, of course.
+
+ . . . . .
+
+ Years have sped;
+ She and Ned
+ Drive a motor now instead.
+
+
+V
+
+JOHN
+
+ John, across the broad Atlantic,
+ Tried to navigate a barque,
+ But he met an unromantic
+ And extremely hungry shark.
+
+ John (I blame his childhood's teachers)
+ Thought to treat this as a lark,
+ Ignorant of how these creatures
+ Do delight to bite a barque.
+
+ Said, 'This animal's a bore!' and,
+ With a scornful sort of grin,
+ Handled an adjacent oar and
+ Chucked it underneath the chin.
+
+ At this unexpected juncture,
+ Which he had not reckoned on,
+ Mr. Shark he made a puncture
+ In the barque--and then in John.
+
+ . . . . .
+
+ Sad am I, and sore at thinking
+ John had on some clothes of mine;
+ I can almost see them shrinking,
+ Washed repeatedly in brine.
+
+ I shall never cease regretting
+ That I lent my hat to him,
+ For I fear a thorough wetting
+ Cannot well improve the brim.
+
+ Oh! to know a shark is browsing,
+ Boldly, blandly, on my boots!
+ Coldly, cruelly carousing
+ On the choicest of my suits!
+
+ Creatures I regard with loathing,
+ Who can calmly take their fill
+ Of one's Jaeger underclothing:--
+ Down, my aching heart, be still!
+
+
+VI
+
+BABY
+
+ Baby roused its father's ire,
+ By a cold and formal lisp;
+ So he placed it on the fire,
+ And reduced it to a crisp.
+ Mother said, 'Oh, stop a bit!
+ This is _overdoing_ it!'
+
+
+VII
+
+THE CAT
+
+(_Advice to the Young_)
+
+ My children, you should imitate
+ The harmless, necessary cat,
+ Who eats whatever's on his plate,
+ And doesn't even leave the fat;
+ Who never stays in bed too late,
+ Or does immoral things like that;
+ Instead of saying, 'Shan't!' or 'Bosh!'
+ He'll sit and wash, and wash, and wash!
+
+ When shadows fall and lights grow dim,
+ He sits beneath the kitchen stair;
+ Regardless as to life and limb,
+ A shady lair he chooses there;
+ And if you tumble over him,
+ He simply loves to hear you swear.
+ And, while bad language _you_ prefer,
+ He'll sit and purr, and purr, and purr!
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+_PERVERTED PROVERBS_
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+'VIRTUE IS ITS OWN REWARD'
+
+ Virtue its own reward? Alas!
+ And what a poor one, as a rule!
+ Be Virtuous, and Life will pass
+ Like one long term of Sunday-school.
+ (No prospect, truly, could one find
+ More unalluring to the mind.)
+
+ The Model Child has got to keep
+ His fingers and his garments white;
+ In church he may not go to sleep,
+ Nor ask to stop up late at night.
+ In fact he must not ever do
+ A single thing he wishes to.
+
+ He may not paddle in his boots,
+ Like naughty children, at the sea;
+ The sweetness of Forbidden Fruits
+ Is not, alas! for such as he.
+ He watches, with pathetic eyes,
+ His weaker brethren make mud-pies.
+
+ He must not answer back, oh no!
+ However rude grown-ups may be;
+ But keep politely silent, tho'
+ He brim with scathing repartee;
+ For nothing is considered worse
+ Than scoring off Mamma or Nurse.
+
+ He must not eat too much at meals,
+ Nor scatter crumbs upon the floor;
+ However vacuous he feels,
+ He may not pass his plate for more;
+ --Not tho' his ev'ry organ ache
+ For further slabs of Christmas cake.
+
+ He is commanded not to waste
+ The fleeting hours of childhood's days,
+ By giving way to any taste
+ For circuses or matinees;
+ For him the entertainments planned
+ Are 'Lectures on the Holy Land.'
+
+ He never reads a story-book
+ By Rider H. or Winston C.,
+ In vain upon his desk you'd look
+ For tales by Arthur Conan D.,
+ Nor could you find upon his shelf
+ The works of Rudyard--or myself!
+
+ He always fears that he may do
+ Some action that is _infra dig._,
+ And so he lives his short life through
+ In the most noxious role of Prig.
+ ('Short Life' I say, for it's agreed
+ The Good die very young indeed.)
+
+ Ah me! how sad it is to think
+ He could have lived like me--or you!
+ With practice, and a taste for drink,
+ Our joys he might have known, he too!
+ And shared the pleasure _we_ have had
+ In being gloriously bad!
+
+ The Naughty Boy gets much delight
+ From doing what he should not do;
+ But, as such conduct isn't Right,
+ He sometimes suffers for it, too.
+ Yet, what's a spanking to the fun
+ Of leaving vital things Undone?
+
+ The Wicked flourish like the bay,
+ At Cards or Love they always win,
+ Good Fortune dogs their steps all day,
+ They fatten while the Good grow thin.
+ The Righteous Man has much to bear;
+ The Bad becomes a Bullionaire!
+
+ For, though he be the greatest sham,
+ Luck favours him, his whole life through;
+ At 'Bridge' he always makes a Slam
+ After declaring 'Sans atout';
+ With ev'ry deal his fate has planned
+ A hundred Aces in his hand.
+
+ Yes, it is always just the same;
+ He somehow manages to win,
+ By mere good fortune, any game
+ That he may be competing in.
+ At Golf no bunker breaks his club,
+ For him the green provides no 'rub.'
+
+ At Billiards, too, he flukes away
+ (With quite unnecessary 'side');
+ No matter what he tries to play,
+ For him the pockets open wide;
+ He never finds both balls in baulk,
+ Or makes miss-cues for want of chalk.
+
+ He swears; he very likely bets;
+ He even wears a flaming necktie;
+ Inhales Egyptian cigarettes,
+ And has a 'Mens Inconscia Recti';
+ Yet, spite of all, one must confess
+ That nought succeeds like his excess.
+
+ There's no occasion to be Just,
+ No need for motives that are fine,
+ To be Director of a Trust,
+ Or Manager of a Combine;
+ Your Corner is a public curse,
+ Perhaps, but it will fill your purse.
+
+ Then stride across the Public's bones,
+ Crush all opponents under you,
+ Until you 'rise on stepping-stones
+ Of their dead selves'; and, when you do,
+ The widow's and the orphan's tears
+ Shall comfort your declining years!
+
+ . . . . .
+
+ Myself, how lucky I must be,
+ That need not fear so gross an end;
+ Since Fortune has not favoured me
+ With many million pounds to spend.
+ (Still, did that fickle Dame relent,
+ I'd show you how they _should_ be spent!)
+
+ I am not saint enough to feel
+ My shoulder ripen to a wing,
+ Nor have I wits enough to steal
+ His title from the Copper King;
+ And there's a vasty gulf between
+ The man I Am and Might Have Been;
+
+ But tho' at dinner I may take
+ Too much of Heidsick (extra dry),
+ And underneath the table make
+ My simple couch just where I lie,
+ My mode of roosting on the floor
+ Is just a trick and nothing more.
+
+ And when, not Wisely but too Well,
+ My thirst I have contrived to quench,
+ The stories I am apt to tell
+ May be, perhaps, a trifle French;--
+ (For 'tis in anecdote, no doubt,
+ That what's Bred in the Beaune comes out.)--
+
+ It does not render me unfit
+ To give advice, both wise and right,
+ Because I do not follow it
+ Myself as closely as I might;
+ There's nothing that I wouldn't do
+ To point the proper road to _you_.
+
+ And this I'm sure of, more or less,
+ And trust that you will all agree--
+ The Elements of Happiness
+ Consist in being--just like Me;
+ No sinner, nor a saint perhaps,
+ But--well, the very best of chaps.
+
+ Share the Experience I have had,
+ Consider all I've known and seen,
+ And Don't be Good, and Don't be Bad,
+ But cultivate a Golden Mean.
+
+ . . . . .
+
+ What makes Existence _really_ nice
+ Is Virtue--with a dash of Vice.
+
+
+II
+
+'ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST'
+
+ What is Enough? An idle dream!
+ One cannot have enough, I swear,
+ Of Ices or Meringues-and-Cream,
+ Nougat or Chocolate Eclairs,
+ Of Oysters or of Caviar,
+ Of Prawns or Pate de Foie _Grar_!
+
+ Who would not willingly forsake
+ Kindred and Home, without a fuss,
+ For Icing from a Birthday Cake,
+ Or juicy fat Asparagus,
+ And journey over countless seas
+ For New Potatoes and Green Peas?
+
+ They say that a Contented Mind
+ Is a Continual Feast;--but where
+ The mental frame, and how to find,
+ Which can with Turtle Soup compare?
+ No mind, however full of Ease,
+ Could be Continual Toasted Cheese.
+
+ For dinner have a sole to eat
+ (Some Perrier Jouet, '92),
+ An Entree then (and, with the meat,
+ A bottle of Lafitte will do),
+ A quail, a glass of port (just one),
+ Liqueurs and coffee, and you've done.
+
+ Your tastes may be of simpler type;--
+ A homely pint of 'half-and-half,'
+ An onion and a dish of tripe,
+ Or headpiece of the kindly calf.
+ (Cruel perhaps, but then, you know,
+ ''_Faut tout souffrir pour etre veau_!')
+
+ 'Tis a mistake to eat too much
+ Of any dishes but the best;
+ And you, of course, should never touch
+ A thing you _know_ you can't digest;
+ For instance, lobster:--if you _do_,
+ Well,--I'm amayonnaised at you!
+
+ Let this be your heraldic crest:
+ A bottle (charge) of Champagne,
+ A chicken (gorged) with salad (dress'd),
+ Below, this motto to explain--
+ 'Enough is Very Good, may be;
+ Too Much is Good Enough for Me!'
+
+
+III
+
+'DON'T BUY A PIG IN A POKE'
+
+ Unscrupulous Pigmongers will
+ Attempt to wheedle and to coax
+ The ignorant young housewife till
+ She purchases her pigs in pokes;
+ Beasts that have got a Lurid Past,
+ Or else are far Too Good to Last.
+
+ So, should you not desire to be
+ The victim of a cruel hoax,
+ Then promise me, ah! promise me,
+ You will not purchase pigs in pokes!
+ ('Twould be an error just as big
+ To poke your purchase in a pig.)
+
+ Too well I know the bitter cost,
+ To turn this subject off with jokes;
+ How many fortunes have been lost
+ By men who purchased pigs in pokes.
+ (Ah! think on such when you would talk
+ With mouths that are replete with pork!)
+
+ And, after dinner, round the fire,
+ Astride of Grandpa's rugged knee,
+ Implore your bored but patient sire
+ To tell you what a Poke may be.
+ The fact he might disclose to you--
+ Which is far more than _I_ can do.
+
+ . . . . .
+
+ The Moral of The Pigs and Pokes
+ Is not to make your choice too quick.
+ In purchasing a Book of Jokes,
+ Pray poke around and take your pick.
+ Who knows how rich a mental meal
+ The covers of _this_ book conceal?
+
+
+IV
+
+'LEARN TO TAKE THINGS EASILY'
+
+ To these few words, it seems to me,
+ A wealth of sound instruction clings;
+ O Learn to Take things easily--
+ Espeshly Other People's Things;
+ And Time will make your fingers deft
+ At what is known as Petty Theft.
+
+ 'Fools and Their Money soon must part!'
+ And you can help this on, may be,
+ If, in the kindness of your Heart,
+ You Learn to Take things easily;
+ And be, with little education,
+ A Prince of Misappropriation.
+
+
+V
+
+'A ROLLING STONE GATHERS NO MOSS'
+
+ I never understood, I own,
+ What anybody (with a soul)
+ Could mean by offering a Stone
+ This needless warning not to Roll;
+ And what inducement there can be
+ To gather Moss, I fail to see.
+
+ I'd sooner gather anything,
+ Like primroses, or news perhaps,
+ Or even wool (when suffering
+ A momentary mental lapse);
+ But could forgo my share of moss,
+ Nor ever realise the loss.
+
+ 'Tis a botanical disease,
+ And worthy of remark as such;
+ Lending a dignity to trees,
+ To ruins a romantic touch;
+ A timely adjunct, I've no doubt,
+ But not worth writing home about.
+
+ Of all the Stones I ever met,
+ In calm repose upon the ground,
+ I really never found one yet
+ With a desire to roll around;
+ Theirs is a stationary role.
+ (A joke,--and feeble on the whole.)
+
+ But, if I were a stone, I swear
+ I'd sooner move and view the World,
+ Than sit and grow the greenest hair
+ That ever Nature combed and curled.
+ I see no single saving grace
+ In being known as 'Mossyface'!
+
+ Instead, I might prove useful for
+ A weapon in the hand of Crime,
+ A paperweight, a milestone, or
+ A missile at Election-time;
+ In each capacity I could
+ Do quite incalculable good.
+
+ When well directed from the Pit,
+ I might promote a welcome death,
+ If fortunate enough to hit
+ Some budding Hamlet or Macbeth,
+ Who twice each day the playhouse fills,--
+ (For Further Notice see Small Bills).
+
+ At concerts, too, if you prefer,
+ I could prevent your growing deaf
+ By silencing the amateur
+ Before she reached that upper F;
+ Or else, in lieu of half-a-brick,
+ Restrain some local Kubelik.
+
+ Then, human stones, take my advice,
+ (As you should always do, indeed);
+ This proverb may be very nice,
+ But don't you pay it any heed,
+ And, tho' you make the critics cross,
+ Roll on, and never mind the moss!
+
+
+VI
+
+'IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND'
+
+ Since it can never be too late
+ To change your life, or else renew it,
+ Let the unpleasant process wait,
+ Until you are _compelled_ to do it.
+ The State provides (and gratis too)
+ Establishments for such as you.
+
+ Remember this, and pluck up heart,
+ That, be you publican or parson,
+ Your ev'ry art must have a start,
+ From petty larceny to arson;
+ And even in the burglar's trade,
+ The cracksman is not born, but made.
+
+ So, if in your career of crime,
+ You fail to carry out some 'coup,'
+ Then try again a second time,
+ And yet again, until you _do_;
+ And don't despair, or fear the worst,
+ Because you get found out at first.
+
+ Perhaps the battle will not go,
+ On all occasions, to the strongest;
+ You may be fairly certain tho'
+ That He Laughs Last who Laughs the Longest.
+ So keep a good reserve of laughter,
+ Which may be found of use hereafter.
+
+ Believe me that, howe'er well meant,
+ A good resolve is always brief;
+ Don't let your precious hours be spent
+ In turning over a new leaf.
+ Such leaves, like Nature's, soon decay,
+ And then are only in the way.
+
+ The Road to--well, a certain spot
+ (A road of very fair dimensions),
+ Has, so the proverb tells us, got
+ A parquet-floor of Good Intentions.
+ Take care, in your desire to please,
+ You do not add a brick to these.
+
+ For there may come a moment when
+ You shall be mended, willy-nilly,
+ With many more misguided men,
+ Whose skill is undermined with skilly.
+ Till then procrastinate, my friend;
+ 'It _Never_ is Too Late to Mend!'
+
+
+VII
+
+'A BAD WORKMAN COMPLAINS OF HIS TOOLS'
+
+ This pen of mine is simply grand,
+ I never loved a pen so much;
+ This paper (underneath my hand)
+ Is really a delight to touch;
+ And never in my life, I think,
+ Did I make use of finer ink.
+
+ The subject upon which I write
+ Is ev'rything that I could choose;
+ I seldom knew my wits more bright,
+ More cosmopolitan my views;
+ Nor ever did my head contain
+ So surplus a supply of brain!
+
+
+VIII
+
+'DON'T LOOK A GIFT-HORSE IN THE MOUTH'
+
+ I knew a man who lived down South;
+ He thought this maxim to defy;
+ He looked a Gift-horse in the Mouth;
+ The Gift-horse bit him in the Eye!
+ And, while the steed enjoyed his bite,
+ My Southern friend mislaid his sight.
+
+ Now, had this foolish man, that day,
+ Observed the Gift-horse in the _Heel_,
+ It might have kicked his brains away,
+ But that's a loss he would not feel;
+ Because, you see (need I explain?),
+ My Southern friend has got no brain.
+
+ When any one to you presents
+ A poodle, or a pocket-knife,
+ A set of Ping-pong instruments,
+ A banjo or a lady-wife,
+ 'Tis churlish, as I understand,
+ To grumble that they're second-hand.
+
+ And he who termed Ingratitude
+ As 'worser nor a servant's tooth'
+ Was evidently well imbued
+ With all the elements of Truth;
+ (While he who said 'Uneasy lies
+ The tooth that wears a crown' was wise).
+
+ 'One must be poor,' George Eliot said,
+ 'To know the luxury of giving';
+ So too one really should be dead
+ To realise the joy of living.
+ (I'd sooner be--I don't know which--
+ I'd _like_ to be alive and rich!)
+
+ _This_ book may be a Gift-horse too,
+ And one you surely ought to prize;
+ If so, I beg you, read it through,
+ With kindly and uncaptious eyes,
+ Not grumbling because this particular line doesn't happen to scan,
+ And this one doesn't rhyme!
+
+
+IX
+
+POTPOURRI
+
+ There are many more Maxims to which
+ I would like to accord a front place,
+ But alas! I have got
+ To omit a whole lot,
+ For the lack of available space;
+ And the rest I am forced to boil down and condense
+ To the following Essence of Sound without Sense:
+
+ Now the Pitcher that journeys too oft
+ To the Well will get broken at last.
+ But you'll find it a fact
+ That, by using some tact,
+ Such a danger as this can be past.
+ (There's an obvious way, and a simple, you'll own,
+ Which is, if you're a Pitcher, to Let Well alone.)
+
+ Half a loafer is never well-bred,
+ And Self-Praise is a Dangerous Thing.
+ And the mice are at play
+ When the Cat is away,
+ For a moment, inspecting a King.
+ (Tho' if Care kills a Cat, as the Proverbs declare,
+ It is right to suppose that the King will take care.)
+
+ Don't Halloo till you're out of the Wood,
+ When a Stitch in Good Time will save Nine,
+ While a Bird in the Hand
+ Is worth Two, understand,
+ In the Bush that Needs no Good Wine.
+ (Tho' the two, if they _Can_ sing but Won't, have been known,
+ By an accurate aim to be killed with one Stone.)
+
+ Never Harness the Cart to the Horse;
+ Since the latter should be _a la carte_.
+ Also, Birds of a Feather
+ Come Flocking Together,
+ --Because they can't well Flock Apart.
+ (You may cast any Bread on the Waters, I think,
+ But, unless I'm mistaken, you can't make it Sink.)
+
+ It is only the Fool who remarks
+ That there Can't be a Fire without Smoke;
+ Has he never yet learned
+ How the gas can be turned
+ On the best incombustible coke?
+ (Would you value a man by the checks on his suits,
+ And forget '_que c'est le premier passbook qui Coutts?_')
+
+ Now '_De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum_,'
+ Is Latin, as ev'ry one owns;
+ If your domicile be
+ Near a Mortuaree,
+ You should always avoid throwing bones.
+ (I would further remark, if I could,--but I couldn't--
+ That People Residing in Glasshouses shouldn't.)
+
+ You have heard of the Punctual Bird,
+ Who was First in presenting his Bill;
+ But I pray you'll be firm,
+ And remember the Worm
+ Had to get up much earlier still;
+ (So that, if you _can't_ rise in the morning, then Don't;
+ And be certain that Where there's a Will there's a Won't.)
+
+ You can give a bad name to a Dog,
+ And hang him by way of excuse;
+ Whereas Hunger, of course;
+ Is by far the Best Sauce
+ For the Gander as well as the Goose.
+ (But you shouldn't judge any one just by his looks,
+ For a Surfeit of Broth ruins too many Cooks.)
+
+ With the fact that Necessity knows
+ Nine Points of the Law, you'll agree.
+ There are just as Good Fish
+ To be found on a Dish
+ As you ever could catch in the Sea.
+ (You should Look ere you Leap on a Weasel Asleep,
+ And I've also remarked that Still Daughters Run Cheap.)
+
+ The much trodden-on Lane _will_ Turn,
+ And a Friend is in Need of a Friend;
+ But the Wisest of Saws,
+ Like the Camel's Last Straws,
+ Or the Longest of Worms, have an end.
+ So, before out of Patience a Virtue you make,
+ A decisive farewell of these maxims we'll take.
+
+
+
+
+PART IV
+
+_OTHER VERSES_
+
+
+
+
+BILL
+
+(_Told by the Hospital Orderly_)
+
+ At Modder, where I met 'im fust,
+ I thought as 'ow ole Bill was dead;
+ A splinter, from a shell wot bust,
+ 'Ad fetched 'im somewheres in the 'ead;
+ But there! It takes a deal to kill
+ Them thick-thatched sort o' blokes like Bill.
+
+ In the field-'orspital, nex' day,
+ The doctors was a-makin' out
+ The 'casualty returns,' an' they
+ Comes up an' pulls ole Bill about;
+ Ole Colonel Wilks, 'e turns to me,
+ 'Report this "dangerous,"' sez 'e.
+
+ But Bill, 'oo must 'ave 'eard it too,
+ 'E calls the doctor, quick as thought:
+ 'I'd take it kindly, sir, if you
+ 'Could keep me out o' the report.
+ 'For tho' I'm 'it, an' 'it severe,
+ 'I doesn't want my friends to 'ear.
+
+ 'I've a ole mother, 'way in Kent,
+ ''Oo thinks the very world o' me;
+ 'I'd thank you if I wasn't sent
+ 'As "wounded dangerous,"' sez 'e;
+ 'For if she 'ears I'm badly hit,
+ 'I lay she won't get over it.
+
+ 'At Landman's Drift she lost a lad
+ '(With the 18th 'Ussars 'e fell),
+ 'Poor soul, she'd take it mighty bad
+ 'To think o' losin' me as well;
+ 'So please, sir, if it's hall the same,
+ 'I'd ask you not to send my name.'
+
+ The Colonel bloke 'e thinks a bit,
+ 'Oh, well,' sez 'e, 'per'aps you're right.
+ 'And, now I come to look at it,
+ 'I'll send you in as "scalp-wound, slight."
+ 'O' course it's wrong of me, but still--'
+ 'Gawd bless you, sir, an' thanks!' sez Bill.
+
+ . . . . . .
+
+ 'E didn't die; 'e scrambled through.
+ They hoperated on 'is 'ead,
+ An' Gawd knows wot they didn't do,--
+ 'Tripoded' 'im, I think they said.
+ I see'd 'im, Toosday, in Pall Mall,
+ Nor never knowed 'im look so well.
+
+ Yes, Bill 'e's going strong just now,
+ In London, an' employed again;
+ Tho' it's a fact, 'e sez, as 'ow
+ The doctors took out 'alf 'is brain!
+ Ho well, 'e won't 'ave need o' this--
+ 'E's working at the War Office.
+
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE AUTHOR
+
+(_A long way after Ingoldsby_)
+
+ When Anthony Adamson first went to school
+ The reception he got was decidedly cool;
+ And, because he was utterly hopeless at games,
+ He was given all sorts of opprobrious names,
+ Which ranged the whole gamut from 'fat-head' to 'fool';
+ For boys as a rule, Are what nurses call 'crool,'
+ 'Tis their natural instinct, which nobody blames,
+ Any more than the habits Peculiar to rabbits,
+ To label a duffer 'old woman' or 'muff,' or
+ Some name calculated to cause him to suffer.
+ They failed in their treatment this time, on the whole,
+ Since our Anthony thoroughly pitied the role
+ Of the oaf who is muddied, (For Kipling he'd studied),
+ However strong-hearted, broad-limbed, and warm-blooded,
+ Who sits in a goal, Quite deficient of soul,
+ And as blind to the beauties of Life as a mole.
+ He was rather a curious boy, was this youth,
+ And a bit of a prig, if you must know the truth,
+ And his comrades considered him weird and uncouth,
+ For he didn't much mind When they left him behind,
+ And, intent upon cricket, Went off to the wicket;
+ Some other less heating employment he'd find,
+ And, while his young playfellows fielded and batted,
+ This curious fat-head, Ink-fingered, hair-matted,
+ Would take a new pen from his pocket, and lick it,
+ Then into the ink-bottle thoughtfully stick it,
+ And, chewing the holder ('Twas fashioned of gold,
+ Or at least so 'twas sold By a stationer bold,
+ And at any rate furnished a good imitation),
+ In deep rumination, With much mastication,
+ And wonderful patience, Await inspirations;
+ And brilliant ideas would arrive on occasions;
+ When frequently followed, The pen being swallowed,
+ As up to his eyes in the inkpot he wallowed.
+
+ So all the day long and for half of the night
+ Would young Anthony Adamson nibble and write,
+ With extravagant feelings of joy and delight,
+ And it may sound absurd, But 'twas thus, as I've heard,
+ That he learnt to acquire the appropriate word;
+ And altho' composition, Which was his ambition,
+ At first proved a trifle untamed and refractory;
+ Arrived in a while At evolving a style
+ Which a Stevenson even might deem satisfactory.
+
+ Now when Anthony A. was as yet in his 'teens
+ He began to take aim at the big magazines,
+ With articles, verses, and little love-scenes;
+ And short stories he wrote, Which he sent with a note
+ (Which I haven't the space nor the leisure to quote),
+ Containing a humble request, and a hope,
+ And some stamps and a clearly addressed envelope.
+
+ Now a few of these got to the Editor's desk,
+ And he found them well-written and quite picturesque,
+ And he sighed to see talent like this go to waste
+ On what couldn't appeal to the popular taste.
+ For the Public, you see (With a capital P),
+ Doesn't care what it reads, just so long as it be
+ Something really exciting, however bad writing,
+ With wonderful heroes, And villains like Neroes,
+ Who, running as serials, Wearing imperials,
+ Revel in bloodshed and bombast and fighting.
+
+ So back to the Author his manuscript went;
+ Altho' sometimes a friendly old Editor sent
+ An encouraging letter, To say he'd do better
+ To lower his style to the popular level;
+ When Anthony proudly (Of course not out loudly,
+ But mentally) told him to go to the devil!
+
+ But a few of his articles never came back,
+ And their whereabouts no one was able to track,
+ For some persons who edited, (Can it be credited?)
+ Finding it paid them, Unduly mislaid them
+ (Behaviour most rare Nowadays anywhere,
+ And to ev'ry tradition entirely opposed),
+ And grew fat on the numerous stamps he enclosed.
+ Tho' to this I am really unable to swear,
+ Or at any rate haven't the courage to dare.
+
+ Now when Anthony Adamson grew rather older,
+ And wiser, and bolder, And broader of shoulder,
+ He thought he'd a fancy to write for the Press,--
+ 'Tis a common idea with the young, more or less;--
+ And he saw himself doing Critiques and reviewing
+ The latest new books as they came from the printers;
+ To set them on thrones or to smash them to splinters,
+ To damn with faint praise, Or with eulogies raise,
+ As he banned or he blest, Just whatever seemed best
+ To the wit and the wisdom of twenty-three winters.
+ But when he had carefully read thro' the papers,
+ Arranged to the taste of our nation of drapers,
+ And wisely as Solomon Studied each column, an
+ Awful attack of despair and depression
+ Assailed him, and then, As he threw down his pen,
+ He was forced to confess To no hope of success,
+ If he entered the great journalistic profession.
+
+ For the only description of 'copy' that pays,
+ In the journals that ev'ry one reads nowadays,
+ Is the personal matter, Impertinent chatter,
+ The tales of the tailor, the barber, the hatter;
+ Society small talk, And mere servants'-hall talk,
+ The sort of what's-nobody's-business-at-all-talk;
+ And those who can handle The latest big scandal
+ With the taste of a Thug and the tact of a Vandal,
+ Whatever society paper they write in,
+ Can always provide what their readers delight in.
+ An article, vulgarly written, which deals
+ With the food that celebrities eat at their meals
+ To the popular intellect always appeals.
+ People laugh themselves hoarse At the latest divorce,
+ While a peer's breach of promise is comic, of course;
+ How eager each face is, As ev'ry one races
+ To read the details of the Cruelty cases!
+ And a magistrate's pun Is considered good fun,
+ And arouses the bench of reporters from torpor,
+ When it's at the expense of some broken-down pauper!
+
+ So Anthony pondered the different ways
+ Of attaining and gaining the popular praise;
+ And selected a score of his brightest essays,
+ Just enough for a book, Which he hopefully took
+ To some publishers, thinking perhaps they would look
+ At what might (as he couldn't help modestly hinting)
+ Repay the expense and the trouble of printing.
+ Now the publishers all were extremely polite,
+ And encouraging quite, For they saw he could write;
+ But the answer they gave him was always the same.
+ 'You are not,' so they said, 'in the least bit to blame,
+ And your style is so good, Be it well understood,
+ We'd be happy to publish your work if we could;
+ But alas! All the people who know are agreed
+ This is not what the Public demands, or would read.
+ 'It is over the head Of the people,' they said.
+ 'If you'd only write down to the popular level!'
+ (Once more, he replied, they could go to the devil!)
+ The result to our author was not unexpected,
+ And, as on his failures he sadly reflected,
+ He took out his pen and a nib he selected,
+ Then wrote (and his verses Were studded with curses)
+ This poem, the Lay of the Author (Rejected).
+
+ _The rejected Author's cup
+ Comes from out a bitter bin,
+ Constable won't 'take him up,'
+ Chambers will not 'take him in.'_
+
+ _Publishers, when interviewed,
+ Each alas! in turn looks Black;
+ De la Rue is De-la-rude,
+ Nutt is far too hard to crack._
+
+ _Author, humble as a vassal
+ (He is feeling Low as well),
+ Sadly waits without the Cassell,
+ Vainly tries to press the Bell._
+
+ _Author, hourly growing leaner,
+ Finds each day his jokes more rare,
+ Asks the Longman if he's Green, or
+ Spottiswoode to take the Eyre._
+
+ _Author, blithe as lark each morning,
+ Finds each night his tale unheard,
+ And, when Fred'rick gives him Warn(e)ing,
+ Is not Gay as any Bird._
+
+ _Author, to his writings partial,
+ Musters their array en bloc,
+ Which the Simpkins will not Marshall,
+ And the Elliot will not Stock._
+
+ _Tho' for little he be yearning,
+ Yet that little Long he'll want,
+ When the Lane has got no turning,
+ And the Richards will not Grant._
+
+ Now when Anthony's life it grew harder and harder;
+ Less coal in the cellar, less meat in the larder;
+ He thought for a while, And at last (with a smile)
+ He determined to sacrifice even his style.
+ So he wrote just whatever came into his head,
+ Without any regard for the living or dead,
+ Or for what his friends thought or his enemies said.
+ From his style he effaced, As incentives to waste,
+ All the canons of grammar and even good taste;
+ And so book after book after book he brought out,
+ Which you've probably read, and you know all about;
+ For the publishers bought them, And ev'ry one thought them
+ So splendidly vulgar, that no one had ever
+ Read anything quite so improperly clever.
+
+ He tried ev'ry style, from the fashion of Ouida's
+ (His characters being Society Leaders;
+ The Heroine, suited to middle-class readers,--
+ A governess she, who might well have been humbler;
+ The Hero a Duke, an inveterate grumbler;
+ And a Guardsman who drank creme-de-menthe from a tumbler)
+ To that of another more popular lady,
+ And wrote about aristocrats who were shady,
+ And showed that the persons you happen to meet
+ In the Very Best Houses are always effete;
+ That they gamble all night, in particular sets,
+ And (Oh, hasn't she said it, Tho' can it be credit-
+ Ed?) have no intention of paying their debts!
+
+ His best, which the Critics said 'teemed with expression,'
+ Was the one-volume novel 'A Drunkard's Confession';
+ The next, 'My Good Woman. A Love Tale'; another,
+ Most popular this, 'The Flirtations of Mother';
+ And lastly, the crowning success of his life,
+ 'How the Other Half Lives. By a Baronet's Wife.'
+ And the Publishers now are all down on their knees,
+ As they offer what fees He may happen to please;
+ And success he discerns As with rapture he learns
+ The amount that he earns From his roy'lty returns.
+ (N.B.--I omit the last 'a' here in Royalty,
+ For reasons of scansion and not from disloyalty.)
+
+ The moral of this is quite easy to see;
+ If a popular author you're anxious to be,
+ You won't care a digamma For truth or for grammar,
+ Be far from straitlaced Upon questions of taste,
+ And don't trouble to polish your style or to bevel,
+ But always write down to the popular level;
+ Be vulgar and smart, And you'll get to the heart
+ Of the persons directing the lit'rary mart,
+ And your writings must reach (It's a figure of speech)
+ The--(well, what shall we call it--compositor's) devil!
+
+
+THE MOTRIOT
+
+(_After Robert Browning_)
+
+ 'It was chickens, chickens, all the way,
+ With children crossing the road like mad;
+ Police disguised in the hedgerows lay,
+ Stop-watches and large white flags they had,
+ At nine o'clock o' this very day.
+
+ 'I broke the record to Tunbridge Wells,
+ And I shouted aloud, to all concerned,
+ "Give room, good folk, do you hear my bells?"
+ But my motor skidded and overturned;
+ Then exploded--and afterwards, what smells!
+
+ 'Alack! it was I rode over the son
+ Of a butcher; rolled him all of a heap!
+ Nought man could do did I leave undone;
+ And I thought that butcher's boys were cheap,--
+ But this, poor man, 'twas his only one.
+
+ 'There's nobody in my motor now,--
+ Just a tangled car in the ditch upset;
+ For the fun of the fair is, all allow,
+ At the County Court, or, better yet,
+ By the very foot of the dock, I trow.
+
+ . . . . .
+
+ 'Thus I entered, and thus I go;
+ In Court the magistrate sternly said,
+ "Five guineas fine, and the costs you owe!"
+ I might not question, so promptly paid.
+ Henceforth I _walk_; I am safer so.'
+
+
+THE BALLAD OF THE ARTIST
+
+ Archibald Ames is an artist,
+ And a widely renowned R.A.,
+ For albeit his pictures are thoroughly bad,
+ The greatest success he has always had,
+ And he makes his profession pay.
+
+ He has no idea of proportion,
+ No notion of colour or line,
+ But perhaps for such there is little need,
+ Since everybody is fully agreed
+ That his _subjects_ are quite divine.
+
+ His pictures are sweetly simple;
+ The ingredients all must know,--
+ Just a fair-haired child and a dog or two,
+ A very old man, and a baby's shoe,
+ And some bunches of mistletoe.
+
+ In some, an angelic infant
+ Is helping a kitten to play,
+ Or dressing a cat in Grandpapa's hat
+ (Which is equally hard on the hat and the cat),
+ Or teaching a 'dolly' to pray.
+
+ Or else there's a runaway couple,
+ With a distant view of papa,
+ An elderly party with rich man's gout,
+ Who swears himself rapidly inside out,
+ In a broken-down motor-car.
+
+ Or it may be a scene in the Workhouse,
+ Where a widow of high degree,
+ With almost suspiciously puce-coloured hair,
+ Has arrived in a gorgeous carriage-and-pair,
+ To distribute a pound of tea.
+
+ Sometimes he portrays a battle,
+ With a 'square' like a Rugby scrum,
+ Where a bugler, the colours grasped in his hand,
+ And making a final determined stand,
+ Plays 'God Save the King' on a drum.
+
+ This is the kind of subject
+ That he gives to us day by day;
+ You may jeer at the absence of all technique,
+ But these are the pictures the people seek
+ From this justly renowned R.A.
+
+ In distant suburban boudoirs
+ You will find them, in gilded frames,
+ 'The Prodigal Calf' (a homely scene)
+ 'Grandmamma's Boots,' or 'To Gretna Green,'
+ The Works of Archibald Ames.
+
+ And, if they appeal to the public,
+ In the usual course of events,
+ Some enterprising manager comes,
+ And buys them up for enormous sums,
+ And they serve as advertisements.
+
+ Where the child is painting the kitten
+ With Potter's Indelible Dye,
+ While Grandpapa shows to the reckless cat
+ McBride's Indestructible Gibus Hat,
+ (Which Ev'ry one ought to buy).
+
+ And the Gretna Green arrangement
+ An interest new acquires,
+ By depicting how great the advantages are
+ Of the Patented Spoofenhauss Auto-car,
+ With unpuncturable tyres.
+
+ And the widow (Try Kay's for mourning),
+ As black as Stevenson's Ink,
+ Is curing the paupers of sundry ills
+ By the gift of a box of the Palest Pills
+ For persons who may be Pink.
+
+ And the bugler-boy in the battle,
+ With trousers of Blackett's Blue,
+ Unshrinking as Simpson's Serge, and free
+ As Winkleson's Patent Ear-drum he,
+ And steadfast as Holdhard's Glue.
+
+ This is the modern fashion
+ In the popular art of the day,
+ And this is the reason that Archibald Ames
+ Ranks high among other familiar names
+ As a very well-known R.A.
+
+
+THE BALLAD OF PING-PONG
+
+(_After Swinburne_)
+
+ The murmurous moments of May-time,
+ What bountiful blessings they bring!
+ As dew to the dawn of the day-time,
+ Suspicions of Summer to Spring!
+
+ Let others imagine the time light,
+ With maidens or books on their knee,
+ Or live in the languorous limelight
+ That tinges the trunk of the Tree.
+
+ Let the timorous turn to their tennis,
+ Or the bowls to which bumpkins belong,
+ But the thing for grown women and men is
+ The pastime of ping and of pong.
+
+ The game of the glorious glamour!
+ The feeling to fight till you fall!
+ The hurricane hail and the hammer!
+ The batter and bruise of the ball!
+
+ The glory of getting behind it!
+ The brief but bewildering bliss!
+ The fear of the failure to find it!
+ The madness at making a miss!
+
+ The sound of the sphere as you smack it,
+ Derisive, decisive, divine!
+ The riotous rush of your racket,
+ To mix and to mingle with mine!
+
+ The diadem dear to the King is,
+ How sweet to the singer his song;
+ To me so the plea of the ping is,
+ And the passionate plaint of the pong.
+
+ I live for it, love for it, like it;
+ Delight of my dearest of dreams!
+ To stand and to strive and to strike it,--
+ So certain, so simple it seems!
+
+ Then give me the game of the gay time,
+ The ball on its wandering wing,
+ The pastime for night or for day-time,
+ The Pong, not to mention the Ping!
+
+
+THE PESSIMIST
+
+(_After Maeterlinck_)
+
+ Life's bed is full of crumbs and rice,
+ No roses float on my lagoon;
+ There are no fingers, white and nice,
+ To rub my head with scented ice,
+ Or feed me with a spoon.
+
+ I think of all the days gone by,
+ Replete with black and blue regret;
+ No comets light my glaucous sky,
+ My tears are hardly ever dry,
+ I never can forget!
+
+ I see the yellow dog, Desire,
+ That strains against the lead of Hope,
+ With lilac eyes and lips of fire,
+ As all in vain he strives to tire
+ The hand that holds the rope.
+
+ I see the kisses of the past,
+ Like lambkins dying in the snow,
+ The honeymoon that did not last,
+ The tinted youth that flew so fast,
+ And all this vale of woe.
+
+ So, raising high my raucous cry,
+ I ask (and Fates no answer give),
+ Why am I pre-ordained to die?
+ O cruel Fortune, tell me, why
+ Am I allowed to live?
+
+
+THE PLACE WHERE THE OLD CLEEK BROKE
+
+(_After Whyte-Melville_)
+
+Life is hollow to the golfer, of however high his rank,
+ If the dock-leaf and the nettle grow too free,
+If a bramble bar his progress, if he's bunkered by a bank,
+ If his golf-ball jerks and wobbles off the tee.
+There's a ditch I never pass, full of stones and broken glass,
+ And I'd sooner lift my ball and count a stroke,
+For the tears my vision blot when I see the fatal spot,
+ 'Tis the place where my old cleek broke.
+
+There's his haft upon the table, there's his head upon a chair;
+ And a better never felt the summer rain;
+I may curse and I may swear, my umbrella-stand is bare,
+ I shall never use my gallant cleek again!
+With what unaccustomed speed would he strike the Golf-ball teed!
+ How it sounded on his metal at each stroke!
+Not a flyer in the game such parabolas could claim,
+ At the place where the old cleek broke!
+
+Was he cracked? I hardly think it. Did he slip? I do not know.
+ He had struck the ball for forty yards or more;
+He was driving smooth and even, just as hard as he could go,
+ I had never seen him striking so before.
+But I hardly can complain, for there must have been a strain
+ I had forced beyond the compass of a joke--
+And no club, however strong, could have lasted over long
+ At the place where the old cleek broke!
+
+There are men, both staid and sound, who hold it happiness unique,
+ At which only the irreverent can scoff,
+That is reached by means of brassey, driver, niblick, spoon, or cleek,
+ And that life is not worth living without Golf.
+Well, I hope it may be so; for myself I only know
+ That I never more shall try another stroke;
+Yes, I've wearied of the sport, since a lesson I was taught,
+ At the place where the old cleek broke.
+
+
+THE HOMES OF LONDON
+
+(_After Mrs. Hemans_)
+
+ The happy homes of London,
+ How beautiful they stand!
+ The crowded human rookeries
+ That mar this Christian land.
+ Where cats in hordes upon the roof
+ For nightly music meet,
+ And the horse, with non-adhesive hoof,
+ Skates slowly down the street.
+
+ The merry homes of London!
+ Around bare hearths at night,
+ With hungry looks and sickly mien,
+ The children wail and fight.
+ There woman's voice is only heard
+ In shrill, abusive key,
+ And men can hardly speak a word
+ That is not blasphemy.
+
+ The healthy homes of London!
+ With weekly wifely wage,
+ The hopeless husbands, out of work,
+ Their daily thirst assuage.
+ The overcrowded tenement
+ Is comfortless and bare,
+ The atmosphere is redolent
+ Of hunger and despair.
+
+ The blessed homes of London!
+ By thousands, on her stones,
+ The helpless, homeless, destitute,
+ Do nightly rest their bones.
+ On pavements Piccadilly way,
+ In slumber like the dead,
+ Their wan pathetic forms they lay,
+ And make their humble bed.
+
+ The free, fair homes of London!
+ From all the thinking throng,
+ Who mourn a nation's apathy,
+ The cry goes up, 'How long!'
+ And those who love old England's name,
+ Her welfare and renown,
+ Can only contemplate with shame
+ The homes of London town.
+
+
+THE HAPPIEST LAND
+
+(_After Longfellow_)
+
+ There sat one day in a tavern,
+ Somewhere near Lincoln's Inn,
+ Six sleepy-looking working men,
+ Imbibing 'twos' of gin.
+
+ The Potman filled their tankards
+ With the liquor each preferred,
+ Torpid and somnolent they sat,
+ And spake not one rude word.
+
+ But when the potman vanished,
+ A brawny Scot stood forth;
+ 'Change here,' quoth he, 'for Aberdeen,
+ Strathpeffer and the North!
+
+ 'No country in the world, I ken,
+ With Scotia can compare,
+ With all the dour and canny men,
+ And the bonnie lasses there.
+
+ 'I hae a wee bit hoosie,
+ An' a burn runs greetin' by,
+ An' unco crockit Minister
+ An' a bairn to milk the ki';
+
+ 'I hae a muckle haggis,
+ A bap an' a skian-dhu,
+ A cairngorm and a bannock,
+ An' a sonsy kailyard too!'
+
+ 'Bejabers!' said an Irishman,
+ 'Acushla and Ochone!
+ There's but one country on the Earth,
+ Ould Oireland stands alone!
+
+ 'Give me the Emerald Isle, avick!
+ With murphies for to ate,
+ An' as many pigs and childer
+ As the fingers on me _fate_.'
+
+ Exclaimed a Frenchman, 'Par Exemple!
+ Donnez-moi ma Patrie!
+ Vin ordinaire and savoir faire
+ Are good enough for me!
+
+ 'Have you the penknife of my Aunt?
+ Mais non, helas! but then,
+ The female gardener has got
+ Some paper and a pen!'
+
+ Then spoke a Greek, 'The Isles of Greece!
+ What can compare with those?
+ Thalassa! and Eureka!
+ Rhododaktylos eos!'
+
+ 'On London streets I'm working,
+ With a vat of asphalt stew,
+ Putting off the old macadam,
+ And a-laying down the new;
+
+ 'But the country of my childhood
+ Is the best that man may know,
+ Oh didemi also phemi,
+ Zoe mou sas agapo!'
+
+ Straight rose a German and remarked
+ 'Vot of die Vaterland?
+ Ach Himmel! Unberuefen!
+ And the luffly German band?
+
+ 'Gif me some Gotterdammerung,
+ And nuddings more I need,
+ But ewigkeit and sauerkraut
+ And niebelungenlied!'
+
+ 'Nonsense!' exclaimed an Englishman.
+ ('I surely ought to know!)
+ Old England is the only place
+ Where any man should go!
+
+ 'Show me the something furriner
+ Who such a fact denies,
+ And, if I can't convince 'im,
+ I can black 'is bloomin' eyes!'
+
+ Then entered in the potman,
+ And pointed to the door;
+ 'Outside,' said he, 'is where _you_'ll go,
+ If I have any more!'
+
+ . . . . .
+
+ It was six friendly working men,
+ Brimming with 'twos' of gin,
+ Who crept from out the tavern,
+ As the Dawn came creeping in.
+
+
+A LONDON INVOLUNTARY
+
+(_After W. E. Henley_)
+
+_Spizzicato non poco skirtsando_
+
+ Old Palace Yard!
+ Hark how their breath draws lank and hard,
+ The sallow stern police!
+ Breaking the desultory midnight peace
+ With plangent call, to cry
+ 'Division'! This their first especial charge.
+ And now, low, luminous, and large,
+ The slumbrous Member hurries by.
+ Let us take cab, Dear Heart, take cab and go
+ From out the lith of this loud world (I know
+ The meaning of the word). Come, let us hie
+ To where the lamp-posts ouch the troubled sky,--
+ (And if there is one thing for which I vouch
+ It is my knowledge of the verb to ouch.)
+ So, as we steal
+ Homeward together, we shall feel
+ The buxom breeze,--
+ (Observe the epithet; an apt one, if you please.)
+ Down through the sober paven street,
+ Which, purged and sweet,
+ Gleams in the ambient deluge of the water-cart,
+ Bemused and blurred and pinkly lustrous, where
+ The blandest lion in Trafalgar Square
+ Seems but a part
+ Of the great continent of light,--
+ An attribute of the embittered night,--
+ How new, how naked and how clean!
+ Couchant, slow, shimmering, superb!
+ Constant to one environment, nor even seen
+ Pottering aimlessly along the kerb.
+ Lo!
+ On the pavement, one of those
+ Grim men who go down to the sea in ships,
+ Blaspheming, reeling in a foul ellipse,
+ Home to some tangled alley-bedside goes,--
+ Oozing and flushed, sharing his elemental mirth
+ With all the jocund undissembling earth;
+ Drooping his shameless nose,
+ Nor hitching up his drifting, shifting clothes.
+ And here is Piccadilly! Loudly dense,
+ Intractable, voluminous, immense!
+ (Dear, dear my heart's desire, can I be talking sense?)
+
+
+BLUEBEARD
+
+ Yes, I am Bluebeard, and my name
+ Is one that children cannot stand;
+ Yet once I used to be so tame
+ I'd eat out of a person's hand;
+ So gentle was I wont to be,
+ A Curate might have played with me.
+
+ People accord me little praise,
+ Yet I am not the least alarming;
+ I can recall, in bygone days,
+ A maid once said she thought me charming.
+ She was my friend,--no more I vow,--
+ And--she's in an asylum now.
+
+ Girls used to clamour for my hand,
+ Girls I refused in simple dozens;
+ I said I'd be their brother, and
+ They promised they would be my cousins.
+ (One I accepted,--more or less,--
+ But I've forgotten her address.)
+
+ They worried me like anything
+ By their proposals ev'ry day;
+ Until at last I had to ring
+ The bell, and have them cleared away;
+ They longed to share my lofty rank,
+ Also my balance at the bank.
+
+ My hospitality to those
+ Whom I invite to come and stay
+ Is famed; my wine like water flows,--
+ Exactly like, some people say;
+ But this is mere impertinence
+ To one who never spares expense.
+
+ When through the streets I walk about,
+ My subjects stand and kiss their hands,
+ Raise a refined metallic shout,
+ Wave flags and warble tunes on bands;
+ While bunting hangs on ev'ry front,--
+ With my commands to let it bunt!
+
+ When I come home again, of course,
+ Retainers are employed to cheer,
+ My paid domestics get quite hoarse
+ Acclaiming me, and you can hear
+ The welkin ringing to the sky,--
+ Ay, ay, and let it welk, say I!
+
+ And yet, in spite of this, there are
+ Some persons who, at diff'rent times,
+ --(Because I am so popular)--
+ Accuse me of most awful crimes;
+ A girl once said I was a flirt!
+ Oh my! how the expression hurt!
+
+ I _never_ flirted in the least,
+ Never for very long, I mean,--
+ Ask any lady (now deceased)
+ Who partner of my life has been;--
+ Oh well, of course, sometimes, perhaps,
+ I meet a girl, like other chaps,--
+
+ And, if I like her very much,
+ And if she cares for me a bit,
+ Where is the harm of look or touch,
+ If neither of us mentions it?
+ It isn't right, I don't suppose,
+ But no one's hurt if no one knows!
+
+ One should not break oneself _too_ fast
+ Of little habits of this sort,
+ Which may be definitely classed
+ With gambling, or a taste for port;
+ They should be _slowly_ dropped, until
+ The Heart is subject to the Will.
+
+ I knew a man (in Regent Street)
+ Who, at a very slight expense,
+ By persevering, was complete-
+ Ly cured of Total Abstinence
+ An altered life he has begun
+ And takes a glass with any one.
+
+ I knew another man, whose wife
+ Was an invet'rate suicide;
+ She daily strove to take her life,
+ And (naturally) nearly died;
+ But some such system she essayed,
+ And now--she's eighty in the shade.
+
+ Ah, the new leaves I try to turn!
+ But, like so many men in town,
+ I seem (as with regret I learn)
+ Merely to turn the corner down;
+ A habit which, I fear, alack!
+ Makes it more easy to turn back.
+
+ I have been criticised a lot;
+ I venture to inquire what for?
+ Because, forsooth, I have not got
+ The instincts of a bachelor!
+ Just hear my story, you will find
+ How grossly I have been maligned.
+
+ I was unlucky with my wives,
+ So are the most of married men;
+ Undoubtedly they lost their lives,--
+ Of course, but even so, what then?
+ I loved them like no other man,
+ And I _can_ love, you bet I can!
+
+ My first was little Emmeline,
+ More beautiful than day was she;
+ Her proud, aristocratic mien
+ Was what at once attracted me.
+ I naturally did not know
+ That I should soon dislike her so.
+
+ But there it was! And you'll infer
+ I had not very long to wait
+ Before my red-hot love for her
+ Turned to unutterable hate.
+ So, when this state of things I found,
+ I had her casually drowned.
+
+ My next was Sarah, sweet but shy,
+ And quite inordinately meek;
+ Yes, even now I wonder why
+ I had her hanged within the week;
+ Perhaps I felt a bit upset,
+ Or else she bored me. I forget.
+
+ Then came Evangeline, my third,
+ And when I chanced to be away,
+ She, so I subsequently heard,
+ Was wont (I deeply grieve to say)
+ With my small retinue to flirt.
+ I strangled her. I hope it hurt.
+
+ Isabel was, I think, my next,--
+ (That is, if I remember right),--
+ And I was really very vexed
+ To find her hair come off at night;
+ To falsehood I could not connive,
+ And so I had her boiled alive.
+
+ Then came Sophia, I believe,
+ Her coiffure was at least her own;
+ Alas! she fancied to deceive
+ Her friends, by altering its tone.
+ She dyed her locks a flaming red!
+ I suffocated her in bed.
+
+ Susannah Maud was number six,
+ But she did not survive a day;
+ Poor Sue, she had no parlour tricks,
+ And hardly anything to say.
+ A little strychnine in her tea
+ Finished her off, and I was free.
+
+ Yet I did not despair, and soon,
+ In spite of failures, started off
+ Upon my seventh honeymoon,
+ With Jane; but could not stand her cough.
+ 'Twas chronic. Kindness was in vain.
+ I pushed her underneath the train.
+
+ Well, after her, I married Kate,
+ A most unpleasant woman. Oh!
+ I caught her at the garden gate,
+ Kissing a man I didn't know;
+ And, as that didn't suit me quite,
+ I blew her up with dynamite.
+
+ Most married men, so sorely tried
+ As this, would have been rather bored.
+ Not I, but chose another bride,
+ And married Ruth. Alas! she snored!
+ I served her just the same as Kate,
+ And so she joined the other eight.
+
+ My last was Grace; I am not clear,
+ I _think_ she didn't like me much;
+ She used to scream when I came near,
+ And shuddered at my lightest touch.
+ She seemed to wish to keep aloof,
+ And so I threw her off the roof.
+
+ This is the point I wish to make;--
+ From all the wives for whom I grieve,
+ Whose lives I had perforce to take,
+ Not one complaint did I receive;
+ And no expense was spared to please
+ My spouses at their obsequies.
+
+ My habits, I would have you know,
+ Are perfect, as they've always been;
+ You ask if I am good, and go
+ To church, and keep my fingers clean?
+ I do, I mean to say I am,
+ I have the morals of a lamb.
+
+ In my domains there is no sin,
+ Virtue is rampant all the time,
+ Since I so thoughtfully brought in
+ A bill which legalises crime;
+ Committing things that are not wrong
+ Must pall before so very long.
+
+ And if what you imagine vice
+ Is not considered so at all,
+ Crime doesn't seem the least bit nice,
+ There's no temptation then to fall;
+ For half the charm of things we do
+ Is knowing that we oughtn't to.
+
+ Believe me, then, I am not bad,
+ Though in my youth I had to trek,
+ Because I happened to have had
+ Some difficulties with a cheque.
+ What forgery in some might be
+ Is absent-mindedness in me!
+
+ I know that I was much abused,
+ No doubt when I was young and rash,
+ But I should not have been accused
+ Of misappropriating cash.
+ I may have sneaked a silver dish;--
+ Well, you may search me if you wish!
+
+ So, now you see me, more or less,
+ As I would figure in your thoughts;
+ A trifle given to excess,
+ And prone perhaps to vice of sorts;
+ When tempted, rather apt to fall,
+ But still--a good chap after all!
+
+
+'THE WOMAN WITH THE DEAD SOLES'
+
+(_After Stephen Phillips_)
+
+ Attracted to the frozen river's brink,
+ Where on a small impromptu snow-swept rink,
+ The happy skaters darted left and right,
+ Or circled amorously out of sight,
+ Some self-supporting; some, like falling stars,
+ Spread-eagling ankle-weak parabolas;
+ I watched the human swarm, and I was 'ware
+ A woman, disarranged, knelt on a chair.
+ She had cold feet on which she could not run,
+ And piteously she thawed them in the sun.
+ Those feet were of a woman that alone
+ Was kneeling; a pink liquid by her shone,
+ Which raising to her luminous, lantern jaw,
+ She sipped; or idly stirred it with a straw.
+ Upon her hat she wore a kind of fowl,
+ An hummingbird, I ween, or else an owl.
+ Then turned to me. I looked the other way,
+ Trembling; I knew the words she wished to say.
+ So warm her gaze the blood rushed to my head,
+ Instinctively I knew her feet were dead.
+ Amorphous feet, like monumental moons,
+ Pavement-obliterating, vast, pontoons,
+ Superbly varnished, to the ice had come,
+ And now, snow-kissed, frost-fettered, dangled numb.
+ Gently she spoke,--the while my senses whirled,
+ Of 'largest circulations in the world';
+ Wildly she spoke, as babble men in dreams,
+ Of feeling life's blood 'rushing to extremes';
+ But I ignored her with deliberate stare,
+ Until the indelicate thing began to swear.
+ Sensations as of pins and needles rose,
+ Apollinaris-like, in tingled toes.
+ She felt the hungry frost that punctured holes,
+ Like concentrated seidlitz, in her soles.
+ Feebly she stept; and sudden was aware
+ Her feet had gone,--they were no longer there,--
+ And from her boots was willing to be freed;
+ She would not keep what she could never need.
+ Sullenly I consented, and withdrew
+ From either heel a huge chaotic shoe;
+ Yet for a time laboriously and slow
+ She journeyed with her ponderous boots, as though
+ Along with her she could not help but bear
+ The bargelike burdens she was wont to wear.
+ Towards me she reeled; and 'Oh! my Uncle,' cried,
+ 'My Uncle!' but I pushed her to one side,
+ Then smiled upon her so she could not stay,--
+ (My smile can frighten motor-cars away):--
+ While thus I grinned, not knowing what to do,
+ A belted beadle, in immaculate blue,
+ Plucked at my sleeve, and shattered my romance,
+ Wheeling on cushion tires an ambulance.
+ Deliberately then he laid her there,
+ Tucked in and bore away; I did not care!
+
+
+ROSEMARY
+
+(_A Ballad of the Boudoir_)
+
+ 'E'er August be turned to September,
+ Nor Summer to Autumn as yet,
+ My darling, you Autumn remember
+ What Summer so sure to forget.
+
+ 'Though age may extinguish the ember
+ That glowed in our hearts when we met,
+ Remember, my love, to remember,
+ And I will forget to forget.
+
+ 'Who knows but the winds of December
+ May drift us asunder, my pet;
+ And if I forget to remember,
+ Remember, my sweet, to forget!
+
+ 'My beauty will fade, as the posy
+ You gave me that night on the stairs;
+ My lips will not always be rosy,
+ My head cannot give itself 'airs.
+
+ 'Alas! as we both become older,
+ Existence draws nigh to a close;
+ So, until I've forgotten your shoulder,
+ You must not remember my nose.
+
+ 'Our days were not all sunny weather;
+ Even so we have nought to regret,--
+ Ah! let us remember together,
+ Until we forget to forget!'
+
+
+PORTKNOCKIE'S PORTER
+
+(_With apologies to Porphyria's Lover_)
+
+ The train came early in to-night,
+ The sullen guard was soon awake,
+ And threw my luggage down, for spite,
+ To where the platform seemed a lake;
+ And did his best my box to break.
+ When sidled up a porter; straight,
+ He mopped the platform with a broom,
+ And, kneeling, made the well-filled grate
+ Blaze up within the waiting-room,
+ And so dispelled the usual gloom.
+ Which done, he came and took his seat
+ Beside me, doffed his coat, untied
+ His bootlaces, and let his feet
+ Peep coyly out on either side;
+ Then called me. When no voice replied,
+ He rolled his shirt-sleeve up, and rose,
+ And laid his brawny biceps bare,
+ And, where my eyebrows meet my nose,
+ He slowly shook his fist, just there,
+ And seized me by my yellow hair.
+ Then roughly asked me, had I got
+ A head as empty as a bubble?
+ Bidding me sternly, did I not
+ Desire henceforth to see things double,
+ To give him something for his trouble.
+ Nor could my arguments prevail;
+ Entreaties, threats were all in vain!
+ Returned he to the twice-told tale
+ Of how, from out the midnight train,
+ He bore my luggage through the rain.
+ I fixed him with my cold grey eye,
+ But all in vain; at last I knew
+ That porter hated me; (though why
+ I cannot understand, can you?)
+ And what on earth was I to do!
+ Next moment, though I still perspire
+ To think of it, I quickly found
+ A thing to do; and on the fire
+ I pushed him backwards with a bound,
+ And piled the coal up all around.
+ Cremated him. No pain he felt.
+ As a shut coop that holds a hen,
+ I oped the register and smelt
+ An odour as of burnt quill-pen.
+ My laughter bubbled over then.
+ I seized him lightly, with the tongs
+ About his waist; and through the door
+ I bore him, burning with my wrongs,
+ And laid him on the line. What's more,
+ The down express was due at four.
+
+ . . . . .
+
+ The mark is on the metals still,
+ A gruesome stain, I must confess,
+ And, when I pass, it makes me ill
+ To note the somewhat painful mess
+ Concocted by the down express.
+ Portknockie's porter; so he died.
+ The date of inquest is deferred.
+ 'Tis thought a case of suicide;
+ And he who might have seen or heard,--
+ The guard,--has never said a word.
+
+
+THE BALLAD OF THE LITTLE JINGLANDER
+
+'WHEN THE MOTHER COUNTRY CALLS!'
+
+(_With apologies to all concerned_)
+
+_North and South and East and West, the message travels fast!
+East and West and North and South, the bugles blare and blast!
+North and West and East and South, the battle-cry grows plain!
+West and South and North and East, it echoes back again!_
+
+For the East is calling Westwards, and the North is speaking South,
+There's a threat on ev'ry curling lip, an oath in ev'ry mouth;
+'Tis the shadow of an Empire o'er the Universe that falls,
+And the winds of Heaven wonder when the Mother-country calls!
+
+Now the call is carried coastwise, from Calay to Bungapore,
+From the sunny South Pacific to the North Atlantic shore;
+Gathers volume in its footsteps and grows grander as it goes,
+From Jeboom to Pongawongo, where the Rumtumpootra flows.
+The 'native-born' he sits alert beneath a deodar,
+He sharpens up his 'cummerbund' and loads his 'khitmagar,'
+
+His 'ekkah' stands untasted, as he girds upon his brow
+The 'syce' his father gave him, saying 'unkah punkah jow!'
+
+ _Come forth, you babu jemadar,
+ No lackh of pice we bring,
+ Bid the ferash comb your moustashe,
+ And join the great White King!_
+
+And Westward, where 'Our Lady of the Sunshine' (not 'the Snows')
+Delights to herd the caribou, and where the chipmunk grows,
+The 'habitant' he sits amid a grove of maple trees,
+He decorates his shanty and he polishes his 'skis.'
+And see! Through ranch or lumber-camp, where'er the news shall go,
+The daughters cease to gather fruit, the sons to shovel snow!
+
+They love the dear old Mother-land that they have never seen,
+The Empire that they advertise as 'vaster than has been'!
+
+ _Come forth, you mild militiaman,
+ To conquer or to fail,
+ Who is it helps the Lion's whelps
+ Untwist the Lion's tail?_
+
+The pride of race, the pride of place, and bond of blood they feel,
+The Indies indicate it and New Zealand shows new zeal.
+The daughters in their Mother's house are mistress in their own;
+They are her heirs, her flesh is theirs, and they would share her bone!
+Lo! Greater Britain stretches out her hands across the sea;
+Australia forgets her impecuniositee;
+On Afric's shore the wily Boer is ready now to fight,
+For the Khaki and the rooinek, for the Empire and the Right!
+
+ _Come forth, you valiant volunteer,
+ Come forth to do or die,
+ You give a hand to Mother, and
+ She'll help you by and by!_
+
+Upon her score of distant shores the sun is always bright;
+(And always in her empire, too, it must somewhere be night!)
+Her birthplace is the Ocean, where her pennon braves the breeze;
+Her motto, 'What is ours we'll hold (and what is not we'll seize!)'
+Her rule is strong, her purse is long, her sons are stern and true,
+With iron hands she holds her lands (and other people's too).
+She sees her chance and cries 'Advance,' while others stand and gape,
+Her oxengoads shall claim the roads from Cairo to the Cape.
+
+ _Come out, you big black Fuzzy-Wuz,
+ You've got to take your share;
+ We'll make you sweat till you forget
+ You broke a British Square!_
+
+_North and South and East and West, the message travels fast!
+East and West and North and South, the bugles blare and blast!
+Hear we but a whisper that the foe is at the walls,
+And, by Gad, we'll show them something when the Mother Country calls!_
+
+
+AFTWORD
+
+ 'Tis done! We reach the final page
+ With feelings of relief, I'm certain;
+ And there arrives, at such a stage,
+ The moment to ring down the Curtain.
+ (This metaphor is freely taken
+ From Shakespeare,--or perhaps from Bacon.)
+
+ The Book perused, our Future brings
+ A plethora of blank to-morrows,
+ When memories of Happier Things
+ Will be our Sorrow's Crown of Sorrows.
+ (I trust you recognise this line
+ As being Tennyson's, not mine.)
+
+ My verses may indeed be few,
+ But are they not, to quote the poet,
+ 'The sweetest things that ever grew
+ Beside a human door'? I know it!
+ (What an _in_human door would be,
+ Enquire of Wordsworth, please, not me.)
+
+ 'Twas one of my most cherished dreams
+ To write a Moral Book some day;--
+ What says the Bard? 'The best laid schemes
+ Of Mice and Men gang aft agley!'
+ (The Bard here mentioned, by the bye,
+ Is Robbie Burns, of course,--not I.)
+
+ And tho' my pen records each thought
+ As swift as the phonetic Pitman,
+ Morality is not my 'forte,'
+ O Camarados! (_vide_ Whitman).
+ And, like the Porcupine, I still
+ Am forced to ply a fretful quill.
+
+ We may be Masters of our Fate,
+ (As Henley was inspired to mention),
+ Yet am I but the Second Mate
+ Upon the s.s. 'Good Intention';
+ For me the course direct is lacking,--
+ I have to do a deal of tacking.
+
+ To seek for Morals here's a task
+ Of which you well may be despairing;
+ 'What has become of them?' you ask.
+ They've given me the slip,--like Waring.
+ 'Look East!' said Browning once, and I
+ Would make a similar reply.
+
+ Look East, where in a garret drear,
+ The Author works, without cessation,
+ Composing verses for a mere-
+ Ly nominal remuneration;
+ And, while he has the strength to write 'em,
+ Will do so still--_ad infinitum!_
+
+
+ENVOI
+
+ Speed, flippant rhymes, throughout the land;
+ Disperse yourselves with patient zeal!
+ Go, perch upon the critic's hand,
+ Just after he has had a meal.
+ But should he still unfriendly be,
+ Unperch and hasten back to me.
+
+ . . . . .
+
+ O gentle maid, O happy boy,
+ This copy of my book is done;
+ But don't forget that I enjoy
+ A royalty on ev'ry one;
+ Just think how wealthy I should be,
+ If you would purchase two or three!
+
+
+ _MORAL_
+
+ No moral that I ever took
+ Seemed quite so evident before.
+ If purchasing an author's book
+ Will keep the wolf from his back-door,
+ It is our very obvious mission
+ To buy up the entire edition.
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty
+at the Edinburgh University Press
+
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
+
+Fiscal Ballads.
+
+(SECOND IMPRESSION.)
+
+_Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net._
+
+'The fiscal controversy has not been very fruitful in verse. So far as
+we are aware, only one balladist has found any genuine inspiration in
+it. That is Mr. Harry Graham, whose skill as a rhymer in other
+directions has already been abundantly proved. The ballads for the most
+part take a colloquial form, and while containing much humour, are full
+of sound doctrine.... Mr. Graham, it will be seen, has great facility
+in rhyme, and in all this rhyme there is reason. When the General
+Election comes this book should be a gold-mine for the political
+reciter.'--_Westminster Gazette_.
+
+'A most amusing contribution to the literature of the fiscal
+controversy.'--_Daily Telegraph_.
+
+'True ballads, with abundant vigour and piquancy.'--_Aberdeen Free
+Press_.
+
+'Good both in intention and execution.'--_Speaker_.
+
+'These ballads ... are very good. Indeed, we cannot remember any recent
+example of political truths expressed with such exactness as well as
+spirit in humorous verse. The fun is as good as the argument.... Of
+this admirable little book we will only say, in conclusion, that it
+will amuse and delight even those who had imagined that nothing more
+worth reading could possibly be printed on the fiscal question. We
+would strongly urge such persons to invest a shilling in "Fiscal
+Ballads," for we are confident they will not be disappointed. If the
+Free-Trade organisations are wise, they will seek leave to reprint
+selections from them in leaflets which can be circulated by the
+million.'--_Spectator_.
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43 MADDOX ST., W.
+
+
+
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
+
+Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes.
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY 'G. H.'
+
+_Oblong_ 4_to._ 3_s._ 6_d._
+
+
+'It is impossible not to be amused by some of the "Ruthless Rhymes for
+Heartless Homes," by Colonel D. Streamer, nor can any one with a sense
+of humour fail to appreciate the many amusing points in the
+illustrations.'--_Westminster._
+
+'"Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes" is the name of a really charming
+little book of rhymes. The words are by Col. D. Streamer, and the
+illustrations by "G. H.," and 'tis hard to say whether words or
+pictures are the cleverer.... The book is one which must, however, be
+seen to be appreciated; to properly describe it is
+impossible.'--_Calcutta Englishman._
+
+'Wise parents will, however, keep strictly to themselves "Ruthless
+Rhymes for Heartless Homes," by Col. D. Streamer. The illustrations by
+"G. H." are very amusing, and especially happy is that to "Equanimity,"
+when
+
+ "Aunt Jane observed the second time
+ She tumbled off a 'bus,
+ The step is short from the sublime
+ To the ridiculous."'
+
+ --_Daily Telegraph._
+
+'Another charming whimsicality published by Mr. Edward Arnold is
+"Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes."'--_Sydney Morning Herald._
+
+'The veriest nonsense, possessing the quality that makes it akin to
+Carroll's work.'--_New York Bookworm._
+
+'It is difficult to see the humour of
+
+ "Philip, foozling with his cleek,
+ Drove his ball through Helen's cheek.
+ Sad they bore her corpse away,
+ Seven up and six to play."'
+
+ --_Scotsman._
+
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43 MADDOX ST., W.
+
+
+
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
+
+Ballads of the Boer War.
+
+_Fcap. 8vo, buckram._ 3_s._ 6_d._ _net._
+
+(_Second Edition._)
+
+
+'There is unquestionably a good deal of human nature in the book, and
+as an expression of sentiments which have remained hitherto
+inarticulate, as a revelation not always edifying, but often
+illuminating, of the heart of the man in the ranks, this little volume
+is a distinct addition to the literature of the war.'--_Spectator._
+
+'Racy expressions of Tommy Atkins' feelings in Tommy Atkins'
+language.... "Coldstreamer's" verses in their kind are as good as any
+we have seen.'--_Academy._
+
+'These colloquial rhymes express the private soldier's views in his own
+language.'--_The Times._
+
+'These racy ballads make a book which many will read with interest and
+sympathy.'--_Scotsman._
+
+'As good as anything yet done in the vernacular of Mr. Thomas Atkins. A
+book for every friend of the army.'--_Outlook._
+
+'One of the liveliest books of light verse we have come across for a
+long time.'--_County Gentleman._
+
+'Vigorous Kiplingesque verses, with sound common-sense and genuine
+feeling. Well worth reading and buying.'--_To-Day._
+
+'Mephitic exhalations.'--_Daily News._
+
+
+LONDON: GRANT RICHARDS, 48 LEICESTER SQUARE, W.C.
+
+
+
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
+
+Misrepresentative Men.
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY F. STROTHMAN.
+
+(_Second Edition._)
+
+
+OPINIONS OF THE AMERICAN PRESS.
+
+'One of the most amusing books of the year. Mr. Graham is a fluent and
+ingenious rhymester, with an alert mind and a well-controlled sense of
+humour.'--_The Times_ (New York).
+
+'"Misrepresentative Men" shows so high-spirited a mastery of words and
+metre (the result, we take it, of laborious days) that it will be read
+with pleasure by the most fastidious lover of what is amusing.'--_The
+Nation_ (New York).
+
+'Mr. Graham's verses are exceedingly clever, and Mr. Strothman's
+illustrations add to their cleverness.'--_The Bookman_ (New York).
+
+'A very amusing little book, by that cleverly humorous versifier "Col.
+D. Streamer," whose _Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes_ has had such
+a deserved vogue.'--_Town Topics_ (New York).
+
+'The most amusing biographical caricatures of celebrities that we have
+read for a long time. There is not a dull line in the entire
+collection.'--_The Bookseller_ (New York).
+
+'These satirical verses have the same ingenious humour as the writer's
+previous rhymes. The book is altogether refreshing.'--_Town and
+Country_ (New York).
+
+'The hit of the season.'--_The Lexington Herald._
+
+'A most attractively humorous work.'--_The Pittsburg Despatch._
+
+'A little book of really clever verse.'--_The Milwaukee Sentinel._
+
+
+LONDON: GAY AND BIRD, 22 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND.
+
+
+
+
+SELECTIONS FROM
+MR. EDWARD ARNOLD'S LIST
+OF NEW AND RECENT BOOKS.
+
+
+THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE
+RIGHT HON. CECIL JOHN RHODES.
+
+By the HON. SIR LEWIS MICHELL.
+
+_Illustrated._ _Two volumes, demy 8vo._, 30s. net.
+
+This important work will take rank as the authoritative biography of
+one of the greatest of modern Englishmen. Sir Lewis Michell, who has
+been engaged upon the work for five years, is an executor of Mr.
+Rhodes' will, and a trustee of the Rhodes Estate. He was an intimate
+personal friend of Mr. Rhodes for many years, and has had access to all
+the papers at Groote Schuur. Hitherto, although many partial
+appreciations of the great man have been published in the Press or in
+small volumes, no complete and well-informed life of him has appeared.
+The gap has now been filled by Sir Lewis Michell so thoroughly that we
+have in these two volumes what will undoubtedly be the final estimate
+of Mr. Rhodes' career for many years to come.
+
+
+THE REMINISCENCES OF ADMIRAL MONTAGU.
+
+_With Illustrations._ _One volume, demy 8vo._, cloth, 15s. net.
+
+The Author of this entertaining book, Admiral the Hon. Victor Montagu,
+has passed a long life divided between the amusements of aristocratic
+society in this country and the duties of naval service afloat in many
+parts of the world. His memory recalls many anecdotes of well-known
+men, and he was honoured with the personal friendship of the late King
+Edward VII. and of the German Emperor, by whom his seamanship, as well
+as his social qualities, were highly esteemed. As a sportsman he has
+something to say about shooting, fishing, hunting, and cricket, and his
+stories of life in the great country houses where he was a frequent
+guest have a flavour of their own.
+
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43, MADDOX STREET, W.
+
+
+
+
+NOVELS.
+
+
+HOWARDS END.
+By E. M. FORSTER,
+
+AUTHOR OF 'A ROOM WITH A VIEW,' 'THE LONGEST JOURNEY,' ETC.
+
+6s.
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
+
+A ROOM WITH A VIEW. 6s.
+
+
+THE RETURN.
+By WALTER DE LA MARE.
+
+6s.
+
+'The Return' is the story of a man suddenly confronted, as if by the
+caprice of chance, with an ordeal that cuts him adrift from every
+certain hold he has upon the world immediately around him. He becomes
+acutely conscious of those unseen powers which to many, whether in
+reality or in imagination, are at all times vaguely present, haunting
+life with their influences. In this solitude--a solitude of the mind
+which the business of everyday life confuses and drives back--he faces
+as best he can, and gropes his way through his difficulties, and wins
+his way at last, if not to peace, at least to a clearer and quieter
+knowledge of self.
+
+
+THE GRAY MAN.
+By JANE WARDLE.
+
+6s.
+
+The writer is one of the very few present-day novelists who have
+consistently followed up the aim they originally set themselves--that
+of striking a mean between the Realist and the Romanticist. In her
+latest novel, 'The Gray Man,' which Miss Wardle herself believes to
+contain the best work she has so far produced, it will be found that
+she has as successfully avoided the bald one-sidedness of miscalled
+'Realism' on the one hand, as the sloppy sentimentality of the ordinary
+'Romance' on the other. At the same time, 'The Gray Man' contains both
+realism and romance in full measure, in the truer sense of both words.
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
+
+MARGERY PIGEON. 6s.
+THE PASQUE FLOWER. 6s.
+
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43, MADDOX STREET, W.
+
+
+
+
+NOVELS.
+
+
+THE PURSUIT.
+
+By FRANK SAVILE.
+
+6s.
+
+That the risk of being kidnapped, to which their great riches exposes
+multi-millionaires, is a very real one, is constantly being reaffirmed
+in the reports that are published of the elaborate precautions many of
+them take to preserve their personal liberty. In its present phase,
+where there is the great wealth on one side and a powerful gang--or
+rather syndicate--of clever rascals on the other, it possesses many
+characteristics appealing to those who enjoy a good thrilling romance.
+Mr. Savile has already won his spurs in this field, but his new tale
+should place him well in the front ranks of contemporary romancers.
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
+
+SEEKERS. _A Romance of the Balkans._ 6s. THE DESERT VENTURE. 6s.
+
+
+ANNE DOUGLAS SEDGWICK'S LATEST NOVEL.
+
+FRANKLIN KANE.
+
+By ANNE DOUGLAS SEDGWICK,
+
+AUTHOR OF 'VALERIE UPTON,' 'AMABEL CHANNICE,' ETC.
+
+_Second Impression._ 6s.
+
+'Anne Sedgwick is in the first rank of modern novelists, and nobody who
+cares for good work can afford to miss one line that she
+writes.'--_Punch._
+
+'A figure never to be forgotten.'--_Standard._
+
+'There are no stereotyped patterns here.'--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+'A very graceful and charming comedy.'--_Manchester Guardian._
+
+
+AN ADMIRABLE NOVEL BY A NEW WRITER.
+
+A STEPSON OF THE SOIL.
+
+By MARY J. H. SKRINE.
+
+_Second Impression._ 6s.
+
+'Mrs. Skrine's admirable novel is one of those unfortunately rare books
+which, without extenuating the hard facts of life, maintain and raise
+one's belief in human nature. The story is simple, but the manner of
+its telling is admirably uncommon. Her portraits are quite
+extraordinarily vivid.'--_Spectator._
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43, MADDOX STREET, W.
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS ON COUNTRY LIFE.
+
+FLY-LEAVES FROM A FISHERMAN'S DIARY.
+
+By CAPTAIN G. E. SHARP.
+
+_With Photogravure Illustrations. Crown 8vo._, 5s. net.
+
+This is a very charming little book containing the reflections on
+things piscatorial of a 'dry-fly' fisherman on a south country stream.
+Although the Author disclaims any right to pose as an expert, it is
+clear that he knows well his trout, and how to catch them. He is an
+enthusiast, who thinks nothing of cycling fifteen miles out for an
+evening's fishing, and home again when the 'rise' is over. Indeed, he
+confesses that there is no sport he loves so passionately, and this
+love of his art--surely dry-fly fishing is an art?--makes for writing
+that is pleasant to read, even as Isaac Walton's love thereof inspired
+the immortal pages of 'The Compleat Angler.'
+
+
+MEMORIES OF THE MONTHS.
+
+By the RIGHT HON. SIR HERBERT MAXWELL, Bart.,
+
+AUTHOR OF 'SCOTTISH GARDENS,' ETC.
+
+_SERIES I. to V._
+
+_With Photogravure Illustrations. Large crown 8vo._, 7s. 6d. each.
+
+Every year brings new changes in the old order of Nature, and the
+observant eye can always find fresh features on the face of the
+Seasons. Sir Herbert Maxwell goes out to meet Nature on the moor and
+loch, in garden and forest, and writes of what he sees and feels. This
+is what gives his work its abiding charm, and makes these memories fill
+the place of old friends on the library bookshelf.
+
+
+COLONEL MEYSEY-THOMPSON'S HANDBOOKS.
+
+A HUNTING CATECHISM.
+
+By COLONEL R. F. MEYSEY-THOMPSON,
+
+AUTHOR OF 'REMINISCENCES OF THE COURSE, THE CAMP, AND THE CHASE.'
+
+_Fcap. 8vo._, 3s. 6d. net.
+
+
+A FISHING CATECHISM. 3s. 6d. net.
+
+A SHOOTING CATECHISM. 3s. 6d. net.
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43, MADDOX STREET, W.
+
+
+A GAMEKEEPER'S NOTE-BOOK. By OWEN JONES and MARCUS WOODWARD. With
+Photogravure Illustrations. Large crown 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d. net.
+
+In this charming and romantic book we follow the gamekeeper in his
+secret paths, stand by him while with deft fingers he arranges his
+traps and snares, watch with what infinite care he tends his young game
+through all the long days of spring and summer--and in autumn and
+winter garners with equal eagerness the fruits of his labour. He takes
+us into the coverts at night, and with him we keep the long
+vigil--while poachers come, or come not.
+
+The authors know their subject through and through. This is a real
+series of studies from life, and the note-book from which all the
+impressions are drawn and all the pictures painted is the real
+note-book of a real gamekeeper.
+
+
+TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING. By OWEN JONES. With numerous Illustrations
+from Photographs by the Author. One volume, demy 8vo., cloth, 10s. 6d.
+net.
+
+'This is a book for all sportsmen, for all who take an interest in
+sport, and for all who love the English woodlands. Mr. Jones writes
+from triple view-points--those of sportsman, naturalist, and
+gamekeeper--and every page of his book reveals an intimate knowledge of
+the ways of the English wild, a perfect mastery of all that the word
+"woodcraft" may stand for, and a true instinct of sportsmanship. This
+book at once takes its place as a standard work; and its freshness will
+endure as surely as spring comes to the woods that inspired
+it.'--_Evening Standard._
+
+
+REGINALD FARRER'S GARDENING BOOKS.
+
+IN A YORKSHIRE GARDEN.
+
+By REGINALD FARRER.
+
+_With numerous Illustrations. Demy 8vo._, 10s. 6d. net.
+
+MY ROCK-GARDEN. Fully Illustrated. Large crown 8vo., 7s. 6d. net. Third
+Impression.
+
+ALPINES AND BOG-PLANTS. Fully Illustrated. Large crown 8vo., 7s. 6d.
+net.
+
+
+A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. By the late Very Rev. S. REYNOLDS HOLE, Dean of
+Rochester. Illustrated by G. H. MOON and G. S. ELGOOD, R.I.
+Twenty-fourth Impression. Presentation Edition, with Coloured Plates,
+6s. Popular Edition, 3s. 6d.
+
+A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN AND THE GARDENER. By the late Very Rev. S.
+REYNOLDS HOLE, Dean of Rochester. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo., 3s. 6d.
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43, MADDOX STREET, W.
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS OF TRAVEL.
+
+FOREST LIFE AND SPORT IN INDIA. By SAINTHILL EARDLEY-WILMOT, C.I.E.,
+lately Inspector-General of Forests to the Indian Government;
+Commissioner under the Development and Road Improvement Funds Act.
+Fully Illustrated. Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.
+
+The Author of this volume was appointed to the Indian Forest Service in
+days when the Indian Mutiny was fresh in the minds of his companions,
+and life in the department full of hardships, loneliness, and
+discomfort. These drawbacks, however, were largely compensated for by
+the splendid opportunities for sports of all kinds which almost every
+station in the Service offered, and it is in describing the pursuit of
+game that the most exciting episodes of the book are to be found.
+Tigers, spotted deer, wild buffaloes, mountain goats, sambhar, bears,
+and panthers, are the subject of endless yarns, in the relation of
+which innumerable useful hints, often the result of failure and even
+disasters, are given.
+
+IN FORBIDDEN SEAS: Recollections of Sea-Otter Hunting in the Kurils. By
+H. J. SNOW, F.R.G.S. Illustrated. Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.
+
+The Author of this interesting book has had an experience probably
+unique in an almost unknown part of the world. The stormy wind-swept
+and fog-bound regions of the Kuril Islands, between Japan and
+Kamchatka, have rarely been visited save by the adventurous hunters of
+the sea-otter, and the animal is now becoming so scarce that the
+hazardous occupation of these bold voyagers is no longer profitable.
+
+SPORT AND NATURE IN SPAIN. By ABEL CHAPMAN and WALTER J. BUCK, British
+Vice-Consul at Jerez. With 200 Illustrations by the AUTHORS, E.
+CALDWELL, and others, Sketch Maps, and Photographs.
+
+In Europe Spain is certainly far and away the wildest of wild
+lands--due as much to her physical formation as to any historic or
+racial causes. Naturally the Spanish fauna remains one of the richest
+and most varied in Europe. It is of these wild regions and of their
+wild inhabitants that the authors write, backed by lifelong experience.
+The present work represents nearly forty years of constant study, of
+practical experience in field and forest, combined with systematic
+note-taking and analysis by men who are recognized as specialists in
+their selected pursuits. These comprise every branch of sport with rod,
+gun, and rifle; and, beyond all that, the ability to elaborate the
+results in the light of modern zoological science.
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43, MADDOX STREET, W.
+
+
+TWENTY YEARS IN THE HIMALAYA. By Major the Hon. C. G. BRUCE, M.V.O.,
+Fifth Gurkha Rifles. Fully Illustrated. With Map. Demy 8vo., cloth.
+16s. net.
+
+The Himalaya is a world in itself, comprising many regions which differ
+widely from each other as regards their natural features, their fauna
+and flora, and the races and languages of their inhabitants. Major
+Bruce's relation to this world is absolutely unique--he has journeyed
+through it, now in one part, now in another, sometimes mountaineering,
+sometimes in pursuit of big game, sometimes in the performance of his
+professional duties, for more than twenty years; and now his
+acquaintance with it under all its diverse aspects, though naturally
+far from complete, is more varied and extensive than has ever been
+possessed by anyone else.
+
+RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD MOUNTAINEER. By WALTER LARDEN. Fully
+Illustrated. Demy 8vo., cloth. 14s. net.
+
+There are a few men in every generation, such as A. F. Mummery and L.
+Norman Neruda, who possess a natural genius for mountaineering. The
+ordinary lover of the mountains reads the story of their climbs with
+admiration and perhaps a tinge of envy, but with no thought of
+following in their footsteps--such feats are not for him. The great and
+special interest of Mr. Larden's book lies in the fact that he does not
+belong to this small and distinguished class. He tells us, and
+convinces us, that he began his Alpine career with no exceptional
+endowment of nerve or activity, and describes, fully and with supreme
+candour, how he made himself into what he very modestly calls a
+second-class climber--not 'a Grepon-crack man,' but one capable of
+securely and successfully leading a party of amateurs over such peaks
+as Mont Collon or the Combin.
+
+THE MISADVENTURES OF A HACK CRUISER. By F. CLAUDE KEMPSON, Author of
+'The _Green Finch_ Cruise.' With 50 Illustrations from the Author's
+sketches. Medium 8vo., cloth. 6s. net.
+
+Mr. Kempson's amusing account of 'The _Green Finch_ Cruise,' which was
+published last year, gave deep delight to the joyous fraternity of
+amateur sailor-men, and the success that book enjoyed has encouraged
+him to describe a rather more ambitious cruise he undertook
+subsequently. Mr. Kempson is not an expert, but he shows how anyone
+accustomed to a sportsman's life can, with a little instruction and
+common sense, have a thoroughly enjoyable time sailing a small boat.
+The book is full of 'tips and wrinkles' of all kinds, interspersed with
+amusing anecdotes and reflections. The Author's sketches are
+exquisitely humorous, and never more so than when he is depicting his
+own substantial person.
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43, MADDOX STREET, W.
+
+
+THE COTTAGE HOMES OF ENGLAND.
+
+CHARMINGLY ILLUSTRATED IN COLOUR BY MRS. ALLINGHAM.
+
+_With 64 Full-page Coloured Plates from Pictures by HELEN ALLINGHAM,
+never before reproduced_. 8_vo._ (9-1/2 _in._ by 7 _in._), 21s. net.
+_Also a limited Edition de Luxe_, 42s. net.
+
+
+A HISTORY OF THE LONDON HOSPITAL.
+
+By E. W. MORRIS,
+
+SECRETARY OF THE LONDON HOSPITAL.
+
+_With Illustrations._ 6s. net.
+
+'Besant long ago wrote "All Sorts and Conditions of Men," and won and
+built thereby the People's Palace. Here is a better book. Its people
+are real, its romance is facts, its palace is a hospital of a thousand
+beds.'--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+
+THE BOOK OF WINTER SPORTS.
+
+With an Introduction by the Rt. Hon. the EARL OF LYTTON, and
+contributions from experts in various branches of sport.
+
+Edited by EDGAR SYERS.
+
+_Fully Illustrated. Demy 8vo._, 15s. net.
+
+
+THE DUDLEY BOOK OF COOKERY AND HOUSEHOLD RECIPES.
+
+By GEORGIANA, COUNTESS OF DUDLEY.
+
+_Handsomely printed and bound. Third Impression._ 7s. 6d. net.
+
+COMMON-SENSE COOKERY: Based on Modern English and Continental
+Principles worked out in Detail. By Colonel A. KENNEY-HERBERT. Over 500
+pages. Illustrated. 6s. net.
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
+
+FIFTY BREAKFASTS. 2s. 6d.
+
+FIFTY LUNCHEONS. 2s. 6d.
+
+FIFTY DINNERS. 2s. 6d.
+
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43, MADDOX STREET, W.
+
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+Pages 148 and 149: The words noted below are transliterations of the
+original Greek characters.
+
+ Then spoke a Greek, 'The Isles of Greece!
+ What can compare with those?
+ [Greek: Thalassa]! and [Greek: Eureka]!
+ [Greek: Rhododaktylos eos]!'
+
+ 'But the country of my childhood
+ Is the best that man may know,
+ Oh [Greek: didemi] also [Greek: phemi],
+ [Greek: Zoe mou sas agapo]!'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Verse and Worse, by Harry Graham
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERSE AND WORSE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 36702.txt or 36702.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+ https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/7/0/36702/
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Diane Monico, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
+paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works. See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+ the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+ you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
+ owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+ has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+ Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
+ must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+ prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+ returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+ sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+ address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+ the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+ you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+ does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+ License. You must require such a user to return or
+ destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+ and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+ Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+ money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+ electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+ of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+ distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+ Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+ Chief Executive and Director
+ gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+ https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-01-01 14:25:16 +0000