GOING TO THE COUNTRY.
(By another Sporting M.P.)
We have talked and divided and sat till we're ill,
At the mercy of every pestiferous bore.
It's a Wilde kind of thing to be saying, but still
Now like Oliver Twist we keep "asking for moor."
There are some who think politics naught but a game
'Twixt the Ins and the Outs that is played in the House,
But the game that we sigh for (and are we to blame?)
Is the covey of partridge or moor-loving grouse.
Now we're well in September, and work nearly finished,
I'm off, whilst the Commons get lost in the bogs
Of Supply and stay on with their zeal undiminished,
For the Country may go—like myself—to the dogs!
Legal Promotion (Comment by an Indignant Radical).—Lord Justice Bowen made a Lord of Appeal, vice Lord Hannen, resigned. Very natural—there's no "Justice" in the House of Lords!
Love and Time; or, The Three Stages of Passion.
["The question whether gifts bestowed during an engagement should be returned when it is broken off has always been a debated one."—James Payn.]
Debated? Sentiment must surely weep!
If passion, hot at first, should cool at last,
How should a loveless Future stoop to keep
The Present of the Past?
Why is a man who has dined a little too well at the "Star and Garter" like Richard the Third?—Because he sees "six Richmonds in the field."