POLICE PROTECTION FOR PIANISTS!!
Made necessary by the antics of the Padded-roomski Devotees at St. James's hall, who rush at, try to embrace, and deck with Roses, a certain Master whenever he appears.
A QUESTION OF TINT.
["Who will paint London?"—Daily News.]
What a question to ask! If the colour be blue,
A batch of our London Minervas will do:
For each one will dye—the allusion is shocking—
Our town and its streets with the tint of her stocking.
Our pessimist frauds and the Ibsensite pack
Will groan as they thickly bedaub it in black.
Asiatic Sir Edwin, the Poet of Light,
He will wipe out their work, and arrange it in white.
Then the Company-gulls will arrive on the scene,
And, presto, the colour of London is green.
And a rare crew of "Johnnies" will stay out of bed
Till the daylight appears, while they paint the town red.
In fact—and you'll thank me for giving the hint—
Painting London is merely a question of tint.
Mrs. R. cannot call to mind where the original picture of "The Waterloo Blanket" is to be seen.