HORACE IN LONDON.
TO A WAITER. (AD PUERUM.)
None of your mispronounced Gallic shams, Waiter;
Call not "Potato" a "Pomme-de-terre, maîter
D'ottle." I'd rather you styled it "Pertater,"
As Britons, sure, may.
As for décor, let the linen be stainless—
Crowns of exotics are gauds for the brainless.
Crowns, indeed! Here's half-a-crown; you would gain less
Oft from a gourmet.
MRS. R. has just purchased the first two volumes of The History of the Popes (edited by F. ANTROBUS), "because," she says, "I particularly want to read about the time of the Reminiscence, with all about FIFTUS THE SIXTH and the Humorists."
SERIOUS CASE.—A patient who doesn't want it known that there's anything the matter with him, has placed himself under the care of Dr. ROBSON ROOSETEM PASHA, "because," he says, "his visits then are 'sub Roose-ah!'" [Now we know what's the matter with him.—ED.]