* * * * *

MY PRETTY JANE.

(LATEST VERSION.)

    [It is said that the price of wheat and the marriage-rate go
    together, most people getting married when wheat is highest.]

  My pretty JANE, my dearest JANE,
    Ah, never look so shy,
  But meet me, meet me in the market,
    When the price of wheat rules high. 
  The glut is waning fast, my love,
    And corn is getting dear;
  Good (Hymen) times are coming, love,
    Ceres our hearts shall cheer. 
      Then pretty JANE, though poorish JANE,
        Ah, never pipe your eye,
      But meet me, meet me at the Altar,
        For the price of wheat rules high!

  Yes, name the day, the happy day,
    I can afford the ring;
  For corn rules high, the marriage rate
    Mounts up like anything;
  The “quarter” stands at fifty, love,
    Which, for Mark Lane is dear. 
  Our wedding day is coming, love,
    Our married course is clear. 
      Then, pretty JANE, if poorish JANE,
        Ah, never look so shy;
      But meet me, meet me at the Altar,
        When the price of wheat rules high!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  TAKEN ON TRUST.

Viscount Conamorey (whose recollections of the antique are somewhat hazy).  “AW—­A—­WHAT BEAUTIFUL ARMS AND HANDS YOU’VE GOT, MRS. BOUNDER!  THEY REMIND ME OF THE VENUS OF MILO’S!”

Mrs. B. (who has never even seen the Venus of Milo). “OH!  YOU FLATTERER!”]

* * * * *

AN INVOCATION.

(BY A TOWN MOUSE.)

[Illustration]

Come back to Town!  Why wander where
The snow-clad peaks arise? 
Our English sunsets are as fair,
With red September skies. 
Soft is the matutinal mist
Through which the trees loom brown;
Come back, if only to be kist,—­
Come back to Town!

For evermore, in days like these,
When musing on your face,
My sad imagination sees
Another in my place. 
Say, do you listen to his prayer,
Or slay him with a frown? 
At any rate I can’t be there. 
Come back to Town!

Why linger by some far-off lake
Or Continental strand? 
St. Martin’s Summer comes to make
A glory in the land. 
The river runs a golden stream
Where WREN’S great dome looks down;
Thine eyes, methinks, have brighter gleam;
Come back to Town!

I hear your voice upon the wind,
In dreamland you appear;
But do you wonder that I find
The day so long and drear?
Lentis adhaerens brachiis come
Once more my life to crown;
Without thee ’tis too burdensome. 
Come back to Town!

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH’S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.

AT AN AFTERNOON CALL.