“That’s not bad,” said the Poet.

[Illustration:  “‘WE WOOED THE SELF-SAME MAID’”]

“Thanks,” returned the Idiot.  “I wish you were an editor.  I wrote that last spring, and it has been coming back to me at the rate of once a week ever since.”

“It is too short,” said the Bibliomaniac.

“It’s an epigram,” said the Idiot.  “How many yards long do you think epigrams should be?”

The Bibliomaniac scorned to reply.

“I agree with the Bibliomaniac,” said the School-master.  “It is too short.  People want greater quantity.”

“Well, here is quantity for you,” said the Idiot.  “Quantity as she is not wanted by nine comic papers I wot of.  This poem is called: 

     “THE TURNING OF THE WORM.

    “’How hard my fate perhaps you’ll gather in,
      My dearest reader, when I tell you that
    I entered into this fair world a twin—­
      The one was spare enough, the other fat.

    “’I was, of course, the lean one of the two,
      The homelier as well, and consequently
    In ecstasy o’er Jim my parents flew,
      And good of me was spoken accident’ly.

    “’As boys, we went to school, and Jim, of course,
      Was e’er his teacher’s favorite, and ranked
    Among the lads renowned for moral force,
      Whilst I was every day right soundly spanked.

    “’Jim had an angel face, but there he stopped. 
      I never knew a lad who’d sin so oft
    And look so like a branch of heaven lopped
      From off the parent trunk that grows aloft.

    “’I seemed an imp—­indeed ’twas often said
      That I resembled much Beelzebub. 
    My face was freckled and my hair was red—­
      The kind of looking boy that men call scrub.

    “’Kind deeds, however, were my constant thought;
      In everything I did the best I could;
    I said my prayers thrice daily, and I sought
      In all my ways to do the right and good.

    “’On Saturdays I’d do my Monday’s sums,
      While Jim would spend the day in search of fun;
    He’d sneak away and steal the neighbors’ plums,
      And, strange to say, to earth was never run.

    “’Whilst I, when study-time was haply through,
      Would seek my brother in the neighbor’s orchard;
    Would find the neighbor there with anger blue,
      And as the thieving culprit would be tortured.

    “’The sums I’d done he’d steal, this lad forsaken,
      Then change my work, so that a paltry four
    Would be my mark, whilst he had overtaken
      The maximum and all the prizes bore.

    “’In later years we loved the self-same maid;
      We sent her little presents, sweets, bouquets,
    For which, alas! ’twas I that always paid;
      And Jim the maid now honors and obeys.

    “’We entered politics—­in different roles,
      And for a minor office each did run. 
    ’Twas I was left—­left badly at the polls,
      Because of fishy things that Jim had done.