(The PRIME MINISTER to Mr. ASQUITH)

  Welcome, for Old Long Since’s sake,
    Home to your ancient seat! 
  It needed only this to make
    My cup of joy complete;
  The weary waiting time is past;
    The yawning vacuum is mended;
  And here we have you back at last—­
    Oh, Herbert, this is splendid!

  As one whose wisdom overflows
    With human nature’s lore,
  You know they make the keenest foes
    Who have been friends before;
  We loved as only Liberals do
    Until their rival sabres rattle
  And Greek joins Greek (like me and you)—­
    Then is the tug of battle.

  As an old Parliamentary hand
    Familiar with the ropes,
  Those perils you will understand
    With which a Premier copes
  Whose big battalions run to seed,
    Having indulged a taste for slacking,
  And let their muscles moult for need
    Of foemen worth the whacking.

  Such was my case.  By habit’s use
    They still obeyed the whip,
  But loyal zeal grew limp and loose
    And things were left to rip;
  I had no hope to stay the rot
    And fortify their old affections
  (Save for the stimulus they got
    From losing by-elections).

  Daily I took, to keep me fit,
    My tonic in The Times;
  Daily recovered tone and grit
    Reading about my crimes;
  But one strong foe is what we lack
    To put us on our best behaviour;
  That’s why in you I welcome back
    The Coalition’s saviour.

  O.S.

* * * * *

Auction in the spacious times.

“It is Our Royal pleasure to will and declare one diamond,” said the virgin queen, when the Keeper of the Privy Purse had arranged her hand for her.  Sir Walter Raleigh, who sat on her left, was on his feet in a twinkling.  “Like to like, ’twas ever thus,” he murmured, bowing low to his Sovereign.  “I crave leave to call two humble clubs, as becometh so mean a subject of Your Majesty,” It is not known whether his allusion to the queen’s call was intended to refer to the diamond rings upon her majesty’s fingers or to the scintillating glint in her majesty’s eyes, but she inclined her head graciously in acknowledgment of his remarks before turning to her partner.

“What say you, my Lord of Leicester?” she asked.  “Wilt support a poor weak woman?” His Lordship, however, looked down his noble nose and said nothing for quite a long time.  He found himself, to use a vulgar phrase, in the consomme.  His hand contained the ace, king and six other spades, nothing to write home about in hearts or clubs, and one small diamond.  To take from his partner the right to play the hand would be the act of a fool—­the mere thought made him raise a hand to his neck as though to assure himself of its continuity.  Even failure to support her call would be looked on as ungallant, if nothing worse.