A COMPLAINT OF THE CENSUS.

[For the first time the sixth column in the Census Schedule is simply headed "Profession or Occupation.">[

Oh! I'm a reg'lar rightdown Duke:

The trying part I act and look

Right nobly, so they tell me.

Yet I would have you understand

Why I am thoroughly unmanned

At what of late befell me.

A week or something less ago,

A schedule came to let me know

The Census Day was Sunday.

The many details, one and all,

Must he filled in, and then they'd call

To fetch it on the Monday.

I found it easy to contrive

To answer columns one to five—

I filled them up discreetly;

But when I came to column six

I got into an awful fix,

And lost my head completely.

For "Rank" alas! had disappeared.

I'd never for an instant feared

It wouldn't really be there.

Your "Occupation" you could state,

"Profession," too, you might relate,

But I—a Duke—had neither!

His Grace the Duke of PLAZA-TOR'

Would call himself, I'm pretty sure,

A "public entertainer."

But I and my blue-blooded wife,

We lead a simple blameless life,

No life could well be plainer.

In such a plight what could I do?

I searched the paper through and through,

Each paragraph I read. You'll

Scarce credit it but those who "live

On their own means" had got to give

This statement in the schedule!

I put it, but my ducal pen

I saw distinctly sputtered when

I did so. All of which he

Will please remember when I say

I thought it in a minor way

Unkind of Mr. RITCHIE!