A MOONLIGHT FLIT.
SCARCE a sound was heard, not a word was spoke,
As a van down the back way they hurried;
For some tenants were bolting, not paying their rent,
And looking confoundedly flurried.
They'd packed up in silence at dead of night,
And, having no thought of returning,
Had nailed up the shutters to keep in the light
Of the paraffin-lamp left a-burning.
But just as they'd got the loading done,
And with the last chair were retiring,
They heard the butcher (that son of a gun)
At the door for his money inquiring.
Sharp and short was the answer he got—
They told him "It gave them much sorrow;
It wasn't convenient to settle just then,
But they'd certainly do so to-morrow."
Slowly and sadly they hurried away
From that snug little house of one storey,
Chucked the key in the water-butt, out of harm's way,
And left it alone in its glory.
Loudly they'll talk of the tenants now gone,
And the landlords will say they were rum 'uns;
But little they'll care if he lets them alone,
And don't find them out with a summons.
ANONYMOUS.
Two old parodies of the same original, on theatrical matters, may also, for the sake of completeness, be inserted here. They are both taken from The Man in the Moon, which was a small comic magazine, edited by the late Angus B. Reach, with many funny illustrations by Hine, Sala, and other humorous artists. The Man in the Moon was started in 1847, and five volumes in all were issued; its contents are now, of course, somewhat out of date, but there are some clever parodies which will be inserted in this collection—many of these parodies were, no doubt, from the facile pen of Albert Smith, who was one of the principal contributors to the magazine.