THE FIN DE SIÈCLE SUITOR.
I love you in an all-absorbing, fond, unselfish way,
I dream of you the long night thro', I think of you each day,
Whene'er I hear your voice, my dear, a spell o'er me is cast,
The rapture of your presence is (I'm certain) bound to last.
On you I'll pour the loving store and treasures of my heart,
With riches of an earthly kind I am more loth to part,
I'll sing your praise in loving ways, for are you not my queen?
You'll find the verses published in our local magazine.
So deep is my affection I would joyfully propose,
But for one great objection, which now I will disclose,
Intense is your suspense, so I'll endeavour to be short,
The fact is, that a husband you're not able to support.
New Dish for a Wedding Breakfast.—Curried favour.
The Best Cure for the Heartburn.—Marriage.
Young Bride. "Do you let your husband have a latchkey, Mrs. Jones?"
Mrs. Jones. "No, my dear; it would be useless. I give it to the milkman!"
PROGNOSTICATION
When Mrs. Tubbles awoke (she sleeps very soundly), the morning after that farmers' dinner, she found John by her side with his boots on and the umbrella open! His explanation was that, besides being very tired, he perhaps "fansh'd there wash 'shtorm comin' on!"
[It came!