What would you do now if distant tidings,
    Thy fame’s confidings should undermine,—­
  Of some “Star” abiding ’neath other skies,
    In the public eyes yet more bright than thine? 
  Oh, name it not!  ’Twould bring shade and shame
    On my new-made name, and it can’t be true. 
  This far fame of mine, did some rival share it,
    I could not bear it—­what would I do?

  What would you do, now, if home returning,
    With anger burning at the fickle crew,
  You found the prospect of another Boom,
    To dispel your gloom—­ah! what would you do? 
  Why then by Ta-Ra, I’d bless the morrow
    And banish sorrow, and raise my “screw.” 
  I’d re-string this Harp hung no more on the willow,
    And with tears my pillow no more bedew.

* * * * *

TO BE, OR NOT TO BE—­DISCOVERED!

    SCENE—­A Borough. TIME—­Within measurable distance of the
    General Election.  Enter BROWN and JONES.

Brown. Well JONES, I am glad to hear that you purpose standing for Parliament.  You are a first-class man, and the House will be all the better for having your assistance.

Jones. You are mistaken, my dear BROWN.  I did intend to stand for Parliament, but since the Archbishop has published his letter, I have determined to retire from the contest.

Brown. What nonsense!  Why I, as you know, have been in the House for years and I assure you I have never met a more suitable man for the place.  Why, my dear JONES, you are absolutely cut out for Parliament—­absolutely cut out for it!

Jones (sadly).  I wish I could think so.  But alas, no, after the Archbishop’s letter, I must, I will give it up.

Brown. Have you not made the question of the Criminal Code your own?

Jones. Yes, but I must admit (and I make the admission with shame) that years ago at school I was rightly accused of stealing apples.

Brown. And was the accusation believed—­were you punished?

Jones (struggling with his emotion).  Alas! it was, and I received (from the Bench) a severe reprimand.  It brings the red blood into my cheeks—­a severe reprimand!

Brown.  Then you know all about the Libel Acts,—­you are up in a slander?

Jones (bitterly).  And should I not be?  Do you not know that I was once fined ten shillings and costs for saying that a drunken cook was intoxicated!

Brown. Surely there was not much harm in that?

Jones. It was immoral to call the cook intoxicated, and the Archbishop says, “that persons previously condemned on grounds of immorality of all kinds are not proper legislators.”  Under the circumstances I have detailed, I should not be a proper legislator!

Brown. But look at me!  Here am I living a free life, doing exactly what I please, and deserving the censure of the Bench five times a week!  I will undertake to say that you are three times as good a fellow as I am; yet I am as certain of my seat as possible.