A SARTORIAL TRAGEDY.
["To be fashionable one must have the waist so narrow that there is a strain upon the second button when the jacket is fastened."
Note on Men's Dress.]
Garbed in the very height and pink of fashion,
To-day I sallied forth to greet my fair,
Nursing within my ardent heart a passion
I long had had a craving to declare;
Being convinced that never would there fall so
Goodly a chance again, I mused how she
Was good and kind and beautiful, and also
Expecting me to tea.
And after tea I stood before her, feeling
Now was the moment when the maid would melt,
My buttoned jacket helpfully revealing
The graces of a figure trimly svelte,
But, all unworthy to adorn a poet
Who'd bought it for a fabulous amount,
Just as I knelt to put the question, lo, it
Popped on its own account.
The button, dodging my attempts to hide it,
Rolled to her very feet and rested there,
And when I laid my loving heart beside it
She only smiled at that incongruous pair—
Smiled, then in contrite pity for the gloomy
Air that I wore of one whose chance is gone,
Promised that she would be a sister to me
And sew the button on.
A Test of Endurance.
"The dancing will commence at 9 p.m. and conclude at 2 p.m. Anyone still wanting tickets may procure same at the Victoria."
East African Paper.
For ourselves, after seventeen hours' continuous dancing, we shall not want any more tickets.
From a parish magazine:—
"A nation will not remain virulent which destroys the barriers which protect the Sunday."
We are all for protecting the Sunday, but we don't want to remain virulent. It is a terrible dilemma.
Situation: Burglar caught red-handed.
Woman. "The sorce o' the feller! 'E pretended to be me 'usband and called out, 'It's all right, darlin'—it's only me.' It was the word 'darlin'' wot give 'im away."