How many apples have you had?" "And are you sure you took no more, 66 Oh, please, sir, mother gave me four, "If that's the case," I stammered out, I wondered hugely what she meant, "Now, if you won't reform," said I, POSTSCRIPT. To borrow WORDSWORTH's name were wrong, Or slightly misapplied; And so I'd better call my song, 66 Lines after ACHE-INSIDE.' (From "Carols of Cockayne," by permission of Messrs. Chatto & Windus.) WANTED-A LANDLADY! LEOPOLD WAGNER. A LANDLADY Worthy the name, you must know, A woman that's motherly, homely and clean, Contented to let off her rooms with a view A landlady, then, with a bedroom to spare, Whose rooms are not stuffy for lack of a scour; Whose ceilings are free from the cobwebs we loath; A landlady careful to air her clean sheets Who closes her windows when evening sets in, Who thinks of her lodger as well as herself; Who's willing to stitch up a rent in his clothes; A landlady clever at counting the time, Who never forgets that her lodger exists, Who sees that his breakfast is ready betimes; Who'll polish his boots at the heels as elsewhere; A landlady prone to be generous and kind, Who'd scorn to be hard on her lodger because He may be in want of a berth; Who'll nurse him thro' sickness, who'll cheer him in health; Who'll strive to be homely and nice If only a creature like this could be found, A lodger might know Paradise! (Copyright of the Author.) THE OWL CRITIC. JAMES T. FIELDS. "WHO stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop! The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading The Daily, the Herald, the Post, little heeding The young man who blurted out such a blunt question; And the barber kept on shaving. "Don't you see, Mister Brown," How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is- I make no apology, I've learned owl-eology. I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections, And cannot be blinded to any deflections Arising from unskilful fingers that fail To stuff a bird right from his beak to his tail. Do take that bird down, Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!" And the barber kept on shaving. "I've studied owls, And other night fowls, And I tell you What I know to be true; An owl cannot roost With his limbs so unloosed. Ever had his claws curled, Ever had his bill canted, 'He can't do it, because That can't turn out so! I've made the while owl my study for years, And to see such a job almost moves me to tears! Mister Brown, I'm amazed You should be so gone crazed As to put up a bird In that posture absurd! To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness; The man who stuffed him don't half know his business And the barber kept on shaving. "Examine those eyes, Off on you such poor glass; Have him stuffed again, Brown!" And the barber kept on shaving. "With some sawdust and bark I could stuff in the dark Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather, Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, I'm an owl; you're another, Sir Critic, good day!" (From "Harper's Magazine.") THE COCKNEY. JOHN GODFREY SAXE. [An American author, born in 1816. He is a prolific contributor of humorous verse to the U.S. periodicals.] It was in my foreign travel, At a famous Flemish inn, And his hair was something sandy, And was done in knotty curls, And was parted in the middle, He was clad in checkered trousers, Such as soldiers often use; I addressed the man in English, And he answered in the same, Where the letter should have been, When I spoke with admiration When I named the Colosseum, Then we talked of other countries, When I left the man in gaiters, Of that famous Flemish inn; That was mentioned in the bill! LAUGH AND GET FAT. W. M. PRAED. [See page 505.] THERE's nothing here on earth deserves One half the thought we waste about it, And thinking but destroys the nerves, When we could do as well without it. |