The twenty-first day, and no signs of a budge!—­
    And it isn’t for want of “suggestion.” 
  I begin to suspect Hospitality’s fudge,
    Meaning—­mutually ruined digestion! 
  He is such a bore, and his wife is so fat,
    And as fond of her bed as a dormouse. 
  My girls say—­in confidence—­she is a cat;
    I’m sure he’s a prig and a poor-mouse. 
  I fancied he’d “influence,” which he might use
    For DICK, our third son, who’s a duffer. 
  It doesn’t come off, and I really refuse
    In DICK’s interests longer to suffer. 
  PAYN’s right, and a Chamberlain would be a boon. 
    Ah!  I know so precisely what PAYN meant. 
  What!  Be entertained—­by one’s guests?  I’d as soon
    From a locust-swarm seek—­Entertainment!

Guest (concerning Host):—­

  Hah!  He wants to get rid of us, currish old cub! 
    But, although it’s by no means amusing,
  My only alternative now is the Club. 
    Confound Mrs. JONES for refusing
  McMUNGO’s “invite” into Scotland.  She thought
    This crib was as swell, and more cosy. 
  She hoped, too, to meet that young MAGNUS MCNAUGHT,
    Who once seemed so sweet on our ROSIE. 
  We’re bored to extinction, and BLOGGS is a “foots”;
    If we’re late down to breakfast, he snorts at us. 
  He worries our lives out with pic-nics and shoots,
    And will flourish his Clarets and Ports at us. 
  My wife likes her ease and her breakfast in bed;
    I hate cellar-swagger and scurry. 
  Entertainment indeed!  We’re as lumpish as lead
    When we’re not on the whirl or the worry. 
  But turn out to-morrow, my BLOGGS?  No, not me,
    Though I know what your “little hints” signify. 
  Your “dear DICK” forsooth!  Such a noodle as he
    The title of “duffer” would dignify
  You’ve given up hope about him, and so now
    You would have us “make room.”  Not precisely! 
  Till the Tenth, when we’re due at Dunclacket, somehow
    “The Doldrums” will do pretty nicely. 
  PAYN’s right.  With “high rank and no manners,” a man
    His guests may “evict” at his pleasure;
  But BLOGGS—­till he hits on some “Chamberlain” plan—­
    Must leave ’em to flit at their leisure. 
  I made up my mind when I came to this place;
    For a month, at the least, to remain meant. 
  Though now my amusement at BLOGGS’s wry face
    Is nearly my sole “Entertainment.”

* * * * *

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