I dodge past frightened City gents,
    And sometimes send them flying,
  Which makes them cherish sentiments
    Not wholly edifying.

  I wind about, and in and out,
    Along the crowded pavement,
  While here and there the mockers flout
    My costume and behavement.

  I slip, I slide, I flash, I flee
    Amid the teeming traffic,
  And drivers often use to me
    Idioms extremely graphic.

  I murmur when a Lawyer’s view
    Absurdly tries to hinder
  My turning public roads into
    A private path of cinder.

  Yet still to “spurt,” agile, alert,
    Shall be my one endeavour;
  For Cits may stare, and Jehus swear,
    But I run on for ever!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  THE BLIZZARD.

MRS. SELDOM-FESTIVE “AT HOME” (AND THE BEST PLACE TOO!), MARCH 9, 1891.

(10 to 1 Nobody turns up.)]

* * * * *

A DIARY OF DOVER.

March, 1891.—­Fearful storm in the Channel, when the Victoria is all but lost.  Proposals in all the newspapers for the immediate commencement of an adequate harbour.

April, 1892.—­Hurricane in the Channel, when seventeen ships are lost, and the Club Train Boat (without passengers) is carried, high and dry, as far as Amiens, by the force of the weather.  Renewed suggestions for the immediate building of an adequate harbour.

May, 1893.—­Cyclone in the Channel, in which the British Fleet disappears.  The newspapers once more urge the immediate commencement of the proposed adequate harbour.

June, 1894.—­Disaster in the Channel.  Every single vessel swamped, owing to the terrific weather.  Again the Press invites commencement of an adequate harbour.

July, 1895.—­Members of both Houses of Parliament, invited to take part in a State function at Calais, having been put to considerable inconvenience, immediate orders are given for the prompt commencement of the much-needed adequate harbour at Dover.

August, 19—­.—­Proposed adequate harbour having employed the hands, night and day, of thousands of workmen, at enormous expense (owing to urgent pressure), is at length opened to the public, amidst universal rejoicing.

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH’S POCKET IBSEN.

(CONDENSED AND REVISED VERSION BY MR. P.’S OWN HARMLESS IBSENITE.)

NO.  I.—­ROSMERSHOeLM.

ACT I.

Sitting-room at Rosmershoelm, with a stove, flower-stand, windows, ancient and modern ancestors, doors, and everything handsome about it, REBECCA WEST is sitting knitting a large antimacassar which is nearly finished.  Now and then she looks out of a window, and smiles and nods expectantly to someone outside.  Madam HELSETH is laying the table for supper.

Rebecca (folding up her work slowly).  But tell me precisely, what about this White Horse? [Smiling quietly.