Without you stand quite close at hand,
    A broker is a broker;
  But stick by me, and then he’ll be
    A very pleasant joker! 
  Without thee by, a lie’s a lie—­
    The truth is nought but truthful. 
  But by me stay, and night is day—­
    And even you are youthful
      When thou art near, love,—­
        Not, love, unless,—­
      Thick soup is clear, love,
        Football is chess. 
      IRVINGS are TOOLES, love,
        Tadpoles are deer,
      Wise men are fools, love,
        When thou art near!

* * * * *

When KENNEDY fell out of his boat at Henley, his antagonist, PSOTTA, magnanimously waited for him to get in again.  He must be a good Psotta chap.

* * * * *

LOST OPPORTUNITIES.—­Last Tuesday week the members of the Incorporated Cain-and-Abel-Authors’ Society lost a great treat when Mr. GEORGE AUGUSTUS lost a indignantly refused to take his seat “below the salt,” and walked out without making the speech with which his name was associated on the toast-list.  But, on the other hand, what a big chance Orator GEORGE AUGUSTUS lost of coming out strong in opposition, and astonishing the Pen-and-Inkorporated ones with a few stirring remarks, in his most genial vein, on the brotherhood of Authors, and their appreciation of distinguished services in the field of Literature.  It was an opportunity, too, for suggesting “Re-distribution of Seats.”

* * * * *

TO MRS. H.M.  STANLEY.

  The merry bells do naught but ring,
   The streets are gay with flag and pennant,
  The birds more sweetly seem to sing—­
    A Heart to Let has found a TENNANT! 
  No more will HENRY MORTON roam,
    Nor from your charms away for long go,
  But, honeymooning here at home,
    Forget he ever saw the Congo!

  To Oxford ’twas your husband went—­
    The stately home of Don and Proctor—­
  Where, ’mid the deafening cheers that rent
    The air, he straight became a Doctor. 
  As one whose valour none can shake,
    We’ve sung him in a thousand ditties,
  And freedoms too we’ve made him take
    Of goodness knows how many cities!

  Yet while to honour and to praise
    With one another we’ve been vying,
  Has he not told us for the days
    Of rest to come he ne’er ceased sighing? 
  And when, with pomp of high degree,
    Your marriage vows and troth you plighted,
  Why, everyone was glad to see
    Art and Adventure thus united!

  “To those about to Marry.—­Don’t!”
    So Mr. Punch did once advise us. 
  Spread the advice?  I’m sure you won’t. 
    A course which hardly need surprise us. 
  O lovely wife of one we think
    Above all others brave and manly,
  We clink our glasses as we drink
    Long life and health to Mrs. STANLEY!