Your taste in the region of letters
    I only can dimly foresee,
  But guess that from metrical fetters
    The verse you’ll affect must be free;
  And I shan’t be surprised or astounded
    If your generation rebels
  Against adulation unbounded
    Of MASEFIELD and BENNETT and WELLS.

  Upholding ancestral tradition
    Your uncle has booked you at Lord’s,
  But I doubt if you’ll sate your ambition
    Athletic on well-levelled swards;
  No, I rather opine that you’ll follow
    The lead that we owe to the WRIGHTS,
  And soar like the eagle or swallow
    On far and adventurous flights.

  But no matter—­in joy and affliction,
    In seasons of failure or fame,
  I cherish the certain conviction
    You’ll never dishonour your name;
  For the love of the mother that bore you,
    The life and the death of your sire
  Will shine as a lantern before you,
    To guide and exalt and inspire.

* * * * *

Life’s Little Ironies.

    “Ever-ready Safety Razor, strop, outfit, 12 blades, new; exchange
    something useful.”—­The Model Engineer and Electrician.

* * * * *

    “The marriage of Captain ——­, Grenadier Guards, to Miss ——­ was a very
    quiet affair, and not more than a score of people attended the ceremony
    at St. Andrew’s, Wells-street, during the week.—­Observer.

Quiet, perhaps, but unusually protracted.

* * * * *

How it Happened.

From a publisher’s advt.:—­

  “NEW NOVELS
    THE HISTORY OF AN ATTRACTION
    HE LOOKED IN MY WINDOW.”

* * * * *

Collectors of coincidences will not fail to notice that what the papers call “The Great Allied Sweep” in France was contemporaneous with the arrival of General SMUTS in England.

* * * * *

CHILDREN’S TALES FOR GROWN-UPS.

IV.

THE HUNGER-STRIKE.

“Did you hear that?” cried the white hen.

“What?” asked all the other hens.

“He called us—­cluck-cluck-cluck,” said the white hen.

“Why shouldn’t he?” asked all the other hens.

“I didn’t mean he called us ‘cluck-cluck-cluck,’” said the white hen hastily.  “I was only choking with rage when I said that.  He called us—­cluck-cluck-cluck—­”

“She’s going to lay an egg,” said the black hen with interest.

“Poultry!” screamed the white hen suddenly.

“Poultry?” gasped the other hens.

“Poultry!—­he called us ’poultry’—­oh, cluck-cluck-cluck—­”

“Something must be done,” said the yellow hen.

“Something must be done,” repeated all the hens.

“We must have a hunger-strike till he apologises,” said the thin hen importantly.