Business done.—­Thunderstorm and Prorogation.

* * * * *

THE BUILDER AND THE ARCHITECT.

[Illustration]

  The sun was shining on the fog,
    Shining with all his might: 
  He did his very best to make
    The London day look bright—­
  And yet it seemed as though it were
    The middle of the night.

  The Builder and the Architect
    Were walking close at hand;
  They wept like anything to see
    Such eligible land: 
  “If this were only built upon,”
    They said, “it would be grand!”

  “Oh, Tenants, come and live with us!”
    The Builder did entreat,
  “And take a little villa in
    This countrified retreat,
  Where stand straight rows of houses,
    So very new and neat!”

  The elder Tenants looked at him,
    But never a word said they;
  The elder Tenants winked their eyes,
    As though they meant to say,
  “Old birds, like we, are never caught
    By chaff in such a way.”

  But four young Tenants hurried up,
    Each eager to rent one;
  Their looks were pale, their faces white,
    Like muffins underdone—­
  Which was not odd, because, you know,
    They never saw the sun.

  The Builder and the Architect
    Went on a year or so
  Building damp villas on damp ground
    Conveniently low: 
  And still some little houses stood
    Quite empty in the row.

  “I cannot think,” the Builder said,
    “Why people should complain
  Of mortar made of mud from roads,
    Or roofs that let in rain,
  Or sewer-gas that comes from an
    Unventilated drain.”

  “A fair return,” the Builder said,
    “Two hundred, say, per cent.,
  Is all the profit that I want
    On anything I’ve spent,
  Now, if you’re ready, Tenants dear,
    I’ll take the quarter’s rent.”

  “But not from us,” the Tenants cried,
    “The houses are so new,
  They’ve made us all so very ill
    We don’t know what to do.” 
  “The County Court,” the Builder said,
    “Is very near to you.”

  “I tell you what,” the Builder said,
    “I fear that I must seize
  Your furniture, unless you pay;
    So fork out, if you please.” 
  And even he, in that damp air,
    Began to cough and sneeze.

  “Oh, Tenants,” said the Architect,
    “Just think what I have done,
  Designing such aesthetic homes!”
    But answer came there none—­
  And this was scarcely odd, because
    They’d perished every one.

* * * * *

UNDER CONSIDERATION, AUGUST 21.

No appointment could be more appropriate and in accordance with the fitness of things than to make a GARDNER the new Minister of Agriculture.  Of course it has been suggested that a Rural Dean should succeed to the vacant Chaplincy.