MODERN MOON-RAKERS.
Porta, the once notorious Michigander,
Who launched the now exploded solar slander,
Whereat ten thousand negroes stood aghast,
In one short month into oblivion passed,
But Pickering's momentous lunar screed
Proves the persistence of this wondrous breed.
Yet this in Pickering's favour let us state:
He has no scare or scandal to relate—
Nothing in any way that may impugn
The credit or the morals of the moon;
And on the other hand it does attract us
To learn that she is growing sage and cactus.
Hardly romantic vegetables, these,
And not so edible as good green cheese
Which nursery rhymers (banned by Montessori)
Associated with the lunar story.
Still Pickering's vegetable views are tame
Contrasted with Professor Goddard's aim;
For he, as from the daily Press we learn,
An obvious plagiarist of good Jules Verne,
Would have us build a Bertha fat enough
To send a charge of high explosive stuff
Across the intervening seas of space
Bang into Luna's unoffending face.
Meanwhile our own alert star-gazing chief,
Dyson (Sir Frank), is rather moved to grief
Than anger by the astronomic pranks
Played by unbalanced professorial cranks,
Who study science in the wild-cat vein
And "ruin along the illimitable inane."
The New Naval Uniform.
"For Sale, Naval Cadet's (R.N.) Mess-dress; 39 inches side seam; pair cricket boots, purple velour hat, grey chiffon velvet dress."—Daily Paper.
"Suede Turnip, best varieties."—Advt. in Tasmanian Paper.
No kid about this offer.
"Wanted, at once, respectable Man for Polishing Porter."—Daily Paper.
The manners of some of our porters notoriously leave much to be desired.
