I said: "What does your dwelling lack? The pretty hearthside tone?

The note of domesticity?" He gave a fearful groan.

"Alas!" he cried, while from his seat he slowly upward bobbed

And seized his hat, "a flat's a flat!" Together then we sobbed:

"One rubber plant can never make a home;
One day did not suffice for building Rome.

One gas-log and a cat

Can't civilize a flat.

No! Something more is needed for a home."

Unknown

FOUR LIMERICKS

A CANNER, exceedingly canny,

One morning remarked to his granny,
"A canner can can

Anything that he can;

But a canner can't can a can, can he?"

A BRIGHT little maid of St. Thomas

One day found a suit of pajamas;
Said the maiden, "Well, well,
What these are, I can't tell,

But I'm certain the garments ain't mama's."

A TUTOR who tooted a flute

Tried to teach two young tooters to toot.

Said the two to the tutor,

"Is it harder to toot, or

To tutor two tooters to toot?"

THERE was a young fellow named Tait,

Who dined with his girl at 8:08;

As Tait did not state,

I cannot relate

What Tait and his tête-à-tête ate at 8:08.

Carolyn Wells [18

MORE LIMERICKS

THERE was an old man of Tarentum,

Who gnashed his false teeth till he bent 'em:

And when asked for the cost

Of what he had lost,

Said, "I really can't tell, for I rent 'em!"

A LADY there was of Antigua,

Who said to her spouse, "What a pig you are!"
He answered, "My queen,

Is it manners you mean,
Or do you refer to my figure?"

THE poor benighted Hindoo,
He does the best he kinddo;
He sticks to caste
From first to last;

For pants he makes his skindoo.

THERE were three young women of Birmingham,
And I know a sad story concerning 'em:
They stuck needles and pins

In the reverend shins

Of the Bishop engaged in confirming 'em.

THERE was a young lady of Niger
Who smiled as she rode on a tiger;
They returned from the ride
With the lady inside,

And the smile on the face of the tiger.

THERE was a young lady of Wilts,
Who walked up to Scotland on stilts;
When they said it was shocking
To show so much stocking,

She answered: "Then what about kilts?'

THERE was a young girl of Lahore,
The same shape behind as before.
As no one knew where

To offer a chair,

She had to sit down on the floor.

Cosmo Monkhouse [1840-1901]

IN good looks I am not a star.
There are others more lovely by far.
But my face--I don't mind it,
Because I'm behind it-

It's the people in front that I jar.

THERE was a small boy of Quebec,
Who was buried in snow to his neck;
When they said, Are you friz?"
He replied, "Yes, I is-

But we don't call this cold in Quebec."
Rudyard Kipling (1865-

THERE was a young man so benighted
He didn't know when he was slighted,
But went to the party
And ate just as hearty

As if he'd been duly invited!

THERE was an old man of Nantucket

Who kept all his cash in a bucket;
But his daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man-

And as for the bucket, Nantucket.

OLD FAVORITES

AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG

From "The Vicar of Wakefield "

GOOD people all, of every sort,

Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,—
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,-
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes:
The naked every day he clad,--
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,-

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;

But when a pique began,

The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighboring streets

The wondering neighbors ran,

And swore the dog had losts his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye:

And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,

That showed the rogues they lied:

The man recovered of the bite,

The dog it was that died.

Oliver Goldsmith [1728-1774)

AN ELEGY

ON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE

GOOD people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word-
From those who spoke her praise.

The needy seldom passed her door,
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor-
Who left a pledge behind.

She strove the neighborhood to please
With manners wondrous winning;
And never followed wicked ways-
Unless when she was sinning.

At church, in silks and satins new
With hoop of monstrous size,
She never slumbered in her pew—
But when she shut her eyes.

Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
The King himself has followed her—
When she has walked before.