For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar: 
  ’Tis Union and Strikes, my lads, must do
  That you affect; and so must you resolve
  That what you cannot severally achieve,
  United you may manage as you will. 
  A speedier course than lingering languishment
  Must we pursue, and I have found the path. 
  My lads, a biggish business is in hand;
  Together let brave British Bobbies troop: 
  The City streets are numerous and wealthy,
  And many unfrequented nooks there be,
  Fitted by kind for violence and theft;
  But take you thence, and many a watchful ruffian
  Will soon strike home, by force and not by words: 
  This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. 
  Come, come, our comrades, with more sluggish wit,
  To vigilance and duty consecrate,
  Will we acquaint with all that we intend,
  And we will so commit them to our cause
  That they cannot stand off or “square” themselves;
  But to your wishes’ height you’ll all advance. 
  The City’s courts have houses of ill-fame,
  Town’s palaces are full of wanton wealth,
  The slums are ruthless, ravenous ripe for crime.
  Then speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turn!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  INFELICITOUS QUOTATIONS.

Fair Authoress.  “SO SORRY TO BE SO LATE.  I’M AFRAID I’M LAST!”

Genial Host. “‘LAST—­BUT NOT LEAST!’”]

* * * * *

SONG SENTIMENTIANA.

(A DELIGHTFUL “ALL-THE-YEAR-SOUND” RESORT FOR THE FASHIONABLE COMPOSER.)

EXAMPLE V.—­OF THE TRANSFORMATIVE POWERS OF LOVE, UNDER CONDITION OF PROXIMITY.

  When thou art near, the hemisphere
    Commissioned to surround me,
  (As well as you,) is subject to
    Some changes that astound me. 
  Where’er I look I seem mistook;
    All objects—­what, I care not—­
  At once arrange to make a change
    To something that they were not! 
      When thou art near, love,
        Strange things occur—­
      Thickness is clear, love,
        Clearness a blur. 
      Penguins are weasels,
        Cheap things are dear,
      “Jumps” are but measles
        When thou art near!

  When thou art close, the doctor’s dose
    Is quite a decent tonic. 
  Thy presence, too, makes all things new,
    And five-act plays laconic. 
  And, with thee by, the earth’s the sky,
    And your “day out” is my day,
  While tailors’ bills are daffodils,
    And Saturday is Friday! 
      When thou art here, love,
        Just where you are,
      Far things are near, love,
        Near things are far. 
      Beef-tea is wine, love,
        Champagne is beer,
      Wet days are fine, love,
        When thou art near.