Unless—­ah! unless—­there is hope in that word!—­
  Mrs. JEUNE’S kindly plea by the Public is heard. 
  Heard?  Everyone feels ’tis a duty to listen. 
  The eyes of the children will sparkle and glisten,
  In hope of the beauty, at thought of the fun,
  For they know their kind champion, and what she has done,
  And is ready to do for them all once again,
  If folks heed her appeal.  Shall she make it in vain? 
  Three weeks in the country for poor BOB and BESS! 
  Do you know what that means, wealthy cit?  Can you guess,
  Dainty lady of fashion, with “dots” of your own,
  Bright-eyed and trim-vestured, well-fed and well-grown? 
  Well, BOBBY’S a cripple, and BESS has a cough,
  Which, untended, next winter may “carry her off,”
  As her folks in their unrefined diction declare;
  They are dying, these children, for food and fresh air,
  And their slum is much more like a sewer than a street,
  Whilst their food is—­not such as your servants would eat;
  Were they housed like your horses, or fed like your dogs. 
  They would think themselves lucky; that’s how the world jogs! 
  But three weeks in the country!  Why, that would mean joy,
  And new life for the girl, and fresh strength for the boy. 
  The meadow would heal them, the mountain might save,
  Won’t you give them a chance on the moor, by the wave? 
  Why, of course! You have only to know, Punch to ask,
  And you’ll jump at the job as a joy, not a task! 
  Come, delicate dame, City CROESUS rotund,
  And assist Mrs. JEUNE’S “Country Holiday Fund!”
  Mr. Punch asks, for her, your spare cash, and will trouble you
  To send it to Thirty-seven, Wimpole Street, W.!

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THE EMPIRE IS PIECE, OR, RATHER, BALLET.

Now that the weather is so uncertain, that one day it may be as sultry as the tropics, and the next suggestive of Siberia, it is as well to know where to go, especially when al fresco entertainments are impossible.  To those who are fond of glitter tempered with good taste, something suitable to their requirements is sure to be found at the Empire.  At this moment (or, rather, every evening at 10:30 and 9) there are two excellent ballets being played there, called respectively Cecile and the Dream of Wealth.  The first is dramatic in the extreme, and the last, with its precious metals and harmonious setting, is worth its weight in notes—­musical notes.  There is plenty of poetry in both spectacles—­the poetry of motion.  Further, as containing an excellent moral, it may be said that this pair of spectacles is suitable to the sight of everyone, from Materfamilias up from the country to Master JACKY home for his Midsummer holidays.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  BANK HOLIDAY SPORTS.  “KISS-IN-THE-RING.”