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Page 7
* * * * *
[Illustration: FELINE AMENITIES.
"I'VE BROUGHT YOU SOME LACE FOR YOUR STALL AT THE BAZAAR, LIZZIE. I'M
AFRAID IT'S NOT QUITE OLD ENOUGH TO BE _REALLY_ VALUABLE. I HAD IT
WHEN I WAS A LITTLE GIRL."
"OH, _THAT'S_ OLD ENOUGH FOR _ANYTHING_, DEAREST! HOW LOVELY! THANKS
SO _VERY_ MUCH!"]
* * * * *
"LE GRAND FRAN�AIS."
["With all his faults, M. DE LESSEPS is perhaps the most
remarkable--we may even say the most illustrious--of living
Frenchmen."--_The Times_.]
JACQUES BONHOMME _loquitur_:--
_Someone_ should suffer--yes, of course--
For the depletion of my stocking;
But _Le Grand Fran�ais_? Bah! Remorse
Moves me to tears. It seems too shocking.
Get back my money? _Pas de chance_!
And then he is the pride of France!
I raged, I know, four years ago,
Against those Panama projectors.
The law seemed slack, inquiry slow;
How I denounced them, the Directors,
Including _him_--in some vague fashion;
But then--BONHOMME was in a passion!
And now to see the _gendarme's_ hand--
Half-shrinkingly--upon _his_ shoulder,
Our _Grand Fran�ais_--_so_ old, _so_ grand!
_Ma foi_, it palsies the beholder.
And will it lessen my large loss
To fix a stain on the Grand Cross?
Too sanguine? Too seductive? Yes!
But was it not such hopeful charming
That led him to his old success?
The thought is softening, and disarming;
O'er Suez and the Red Sea glance,
And see what he has done for France!
_Peste_ on this Panama affair!
Egyptian sands sucked not our savings
As did those swamps. Still I can't bear
To see _him_ suffer. 'Midst my cravings
For _la revanche_, I'd fain not touch
Our Greatest Frenchman--'tis too much!
* * * * *
SHORT AND SWEET.
["The Young Ladies of Nottingham have formed a Short-skirt
League."--_Daily Graphic_.]
Ye pretty girls of England,
So famous for your looks,
Whose sense has braved a thousand fads
Of foolish fashion-books,
Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe,
And refrain
From the train
While the stormy tempests blow,
While the sodden streets are thick with mud,
And the stormy tempests blow!
See how the girls of Nottingham
Inaugurate a League
For skirts five inches from the ground;
They'll walk without fatigue,
No longer plagued with trains to lift
Above the slush or snow;
They'll not sweep
Mud that's deep
While the stormy tempests blow;
Long dresses do the Vestry's work,
While stormy tempests blow.
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