PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

CAN'T A FELLOW LIE ON THE SOFA FOR TEN MINUTES WITHOUT BEING

GREEN JEALOUSY.

My appetite for tea had been miserably spoilt by my having to listen to the virtues of a model young man whom Josephine and her mother had come across at a bazaar.

Before such excellence I was cowed into silence. However, tea at last came to an end, and her mother with exemplary tact had found an excuse to withdraw.

"I will leave my little girl to amuse you," she said archly, at the door.

"If you promise not to tell," I said to mother's little girl as I returned to the fireplace, "I'll have that last piece. of brown bread-and-butter, and you can have another cup of tea. Shall we?"

"Well, perhaps I will have just half a cup."

"That makes your fourth," I reminded her. "To-morrow you'll come out in spots and your complexion will be ruined. Now it's your turn to amuse," I added. Come, amuse me! I'm waiting, Josephine. You heard what your mother said. You know you 're not amusing me properly."

But in the end it was bound to come to it; I had to provide my own entertainment.

"The other night I went to the Maxwells'," I observed carelessly, settling back in my chair. Josephine paused with her cup half-way to her mouth and looked up in surprise.

66

Why, I thought you never went to dances," she said.

There was a suspicious noise in her throat, she had her hands to her eyes,

-and I wafted an airy kiss at the
ceiling.
"Perhaps your tie wasn't straight?" and her cigarette had fallen to the
she suggested.
floor. Poor jealous Josephine! It was
that bit about the hair that did it; she
is very proud of her hair. I got up in
alarm and went over to her, but her
hands resisted my efforts to remove
them.

'No, it wasn't that. And there
were no smuts on my nose, and no one
had been chalking things on my back.
I especially asked Henry, to make sure.
He said it was clearly a case. That's
what your own brother Henry said."
"I don't believe it," said Josephine
simply.

Come,
Don't
Shall

No, neither did I, at first.
be a sportsman, Josephine!
grudge me my little triumphs!
I show you how I smiled at her?"
I showed her. She broke into a
loud inconsequent peal of laughter, but
I took out my cigarette-case and waited
patiently for it to subside.

I wasn't crying," she said, "it was
It-it went the wrong

"This isn't a smoking-compartment the smoke. -at least, it doesn't say so on the way. And, anyhow, I knew there window, but may I? Have one, too? wasn't a Winifred." So she said. No, not that one; he's put his foot I think I did it rather well. through his nightshirt ... his little bedfellow on the right."

I lit a match for her, and lapsed
again into silence, musing and lazily
blowing smoke rings at the shepherdess
on the mantelpiece.

"She has beautiful dreamy brown
eyes," I resumed, tenderly stroking my
chin. "Her name's Winnie, short for
Winifred, you know-little Winnie."
"How nice!" said Josephine. Jose-
phine's eyes are blue.

Yes, she was," I agreed; "you 'd be surprised. Give me brown eyes, say I, for the winter months, at any rate. And as for her complexion-"Words I don't, as a rule." I slipped down failed me for describing her complexion. in the chair, prepared to enjoy myself, "Oh yes, and she has beautiful rich and, crossing my legs, gazed wistfully chestnut hair. Rolls and rolls of it." up at the ceiling. "It was a very "Really," said Josephine. Josenice dance," I added. "Won't you phine's hair is a summer complete in drink up your tea?" Josephine buried itself. her face in it, and for a while silence "Yes, I'm very fond of that-coloured ensued. "A very nice dance, indeed," hair. What a pity you don't take I repeated, partly to myself. "Let me more care of your complexion! I did put down your cup for you!" tell you her name, didn't I? Pretty name, Winifred."

"Thanks, I can manage." From the corner of my eye I watched her I rolled it round on my tongue pick up a crumb she was nursing and several times, to get the full flavour of carefully put it into the fire. So it. The "fred" begins to sound rather you enjoyed yourself?" she said, still funny at the ninth or tenth time of intent on the crumbs. saying. Then I added my surname, to see how it sounded with that. The combination was distinctly melodious, tickling the ear.

"I couldn't very well help it," I replied; "I had an adventure. No, I didn't tread on anyone's frock or upset the sandwiches, if that's what you 're thinking of. Oh, dear, no!"

Nothing so conventional, I suppose," she murmured," that is, for you.'

Now let us dip into the future," I said, when I was tired of repeating it.

I dipped into the future by taking out an old envelope, writing our two names on the back of it, and crossing "There was one beautiful young girl out the letters common to both. I in particular," I went on affably, "who quietly handed her the answer. took a great fancy to me. The daring "There you are. Love on both way sheWell, I'm sure people Why, what on earth's the matter, must have noticed. Dear little girl!" Josephine?

"

PET!

[". . . be there, love!" "Yes, pet!"-Fragment of conversation accidentally overheard on the Telephone.]

FORGIVE my 'phone's unwitting lapse,
Or operator's joke, perhaps,

In wafting me this snippet!
The wires, no doubt, were fused or
crossed,

And tantalizingly was lost

The rest that left your lip, Pet.
But on a fairly recent date
It seemed a tea and tête-à-tête
Were topics "on the carpet;"
Don't be alarmed-I'll play the game-
I didn't catch
your caller's name,

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS.

WHY SHOULD THEY BE MADE TO BE BROKEN? IT DEPENDS ENTIRELY ON THE WISE CHOICE OF ONE'S RESOLUTIONS.

The songs of nightingales, larks, cuckoos, and other birds associated with poetic stimulus will be reproduced faithfully on the gramophone.

Tenants of the Nests will not be under any compulsion to produce a fixed number of lines every day, but they will naturally be expected to throw in their lot with those who are endeavouring to enlarge the borders of true art. The art of the Songshop will have nothing to say to sterile formalism, empty rhetoric, jingling rhymes or flat heavy blank-verse. Yet the line must be drawn somewhere;"formlessness is only permissible when it is absolutely necessary," and the Songsmiths "will uphold a positive distinction between prose and verse."

More than that, however, they are prepared to afford special facilities to those anxious to study the art of lyrical expression under the most favourable conditions. The premises being most extensive, rooms will be let at a moderate rate to meritorious minstrels. These Lord AVEBURY, who, according to will be known as Nests and will be The Sunday Times, is a contributor to equipped with all the necessary imple- the January number of The Poetry ments of inspiration-hammocks to Review, has permanently engaged one provide that gentle motion which is so of the largest Nests, which is built in essential to metrical utterance; paper the form of a Beehive, where it is exof different vivid colours to fit the pected that he will shortly make things chequered emotions of the singer; hum. The cuisine of the Songshop

will be under his special charge, and he has already made a metrical list of the Hundred Best Cooks, headed with the motto, "The hand that holds the ladle rules the world." Mr.HERBERT TRENCH, the author of the famous Illuminated Symphony, who has repeatedly been pronounced by some of the most gifted press agents to be the greatest living poet, will be attached to the institution as Polychromatic Adviser, and Mr. PARIS SINGER, Mr. WILKIE BARD, Mrs. ORMISTON CHANT and Mr. HENRY BIRD will, it is hoped, form a House Committee, whose special duty will be to watch over the warblers and, when necessary, extricate them from precarious metrical positions.

THE NEW YEAR. "I SAY, AUNT EUROPA, YOU HAVE GOT THIS THING INTO A MUDDLE. IT 'LL TAKE US ALL OUR TIME TO GET IT RIGHT."