’Tis Juliet now—­not Rosaline;
    Well, Romeo, take my benediction. 
  The Maid is fair, her dwelling fine. 
    And here you need not fear “Eviction.” 
  “Disturbance” caused some indignation,
  But, after all, there’s “Compensation.”

  Your New Love’s fair, furze-garmented,
    And brightly crowned with golden bracken. 
  Your loyalty of heart and head,
    Of love (and lead) I’m sure won’t slacken. 
  “Bless ye, my children!  May your New Love
  Be firm and lasting as ’tis true love!”

* * * * *

THE PROFESSIONAL GUEST.

ON A HOUSE-BOAT AT HENLEY.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

When I received a wire from an old and dear school-friend, saying, “LUCY disappointed; come for week; wire me, Goldfields, Henley—­KITTY,” I felt that the Art which I had been so assiduously cultivating for some time past was to be put in practice at last.  I had long decided that there was a grand opening for girls (the true unemployed) in the idea, and I had determined to make a good thing out of it myself.  KITTY’ S telegram was somewhat vague, I admit; but gossip having thrown a side-light on it, I knew that it came from Henley, where she and her husband (whom I had never yet seen) had a House-boat for the Regatta week.  To answer in the affirmative, pack my box, and catch the next train to Henley, was small work to a “Professional Guest.”

[Illustration]

When I arrived, I walked straight out of the station to the nearest wharf, and, chartering a punt, had my luggage and myself placed on board, and then told the small boy, who “manned” the craft, to take me to the Goldfields.  I was not too well pleased when he threw doubts, not only on her whereabouts, but on her existence.  Neither the small boy nor a big man, nor an old woman standing by, knew anything about it; and I had determined to take the next train to Town, when a flannel-clad young man, with a heavy face and a peevish voice, called out from the bank, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”  It proved to be KITTY’S husband, but, as we were totally unacquainted with each other’s appearances, it was not wonderful that his search for me had been ineffectual.  He seemed much annoyed, however, and only vouchsafed one remark as we punted, or, rather, waltzed (for the small boy was a “dry bob,” I think), down stream towards the Goldfields.  “It’s all KITTY’S fault,—­LUCY’S come.”  Of course this was awkward, but, on arrival, KITTY was so hospitable, and LUCY so pretty, that, though our sleeping and dressing apartment was astonishingly small, and I made the odd girl out at dinner, I felt I could not mind much, and I also got over the little contretemps of my dressing-bag being dropped into the river—­“by accident,” said KITTY’S husband.