The Modesty of Genius.
When TRAILL his list of Minor Poets drew,
SPRUGGE's friends exclaimed, "Why, SPRUGGE, he's left out you!"
To which SPRUGGE calmly answered, "Yes, I know it;
And he is right. I'm not a Minor Poet."
FROM AN IRISH REPORTER IN A TROUBLED DISTRICT.—"The Police patrolled the street all night, but for all that there was no disturbance."
NEW SONG OF TRIUMPH FOR SALVATIONISTS AT EASTBOURNE, ACCOMPANIED BY DRUM AND IRRELIGIOUS CYMBALS.—"Tra-la-la-Booth-te-ray!"
DEMEANING THEMSELVES so!—Mrs. R. cannot understand our aristocracy being constantly Chairmen at public dinners. She wouldn't be a Chairwoman for anything.
WHERE "GHOSTS" OUGHT TO EXIST.—"Haunt 'un Street, W." It's an artistic quarter. [Is this Hornton Street? Possibly.—ED.]
PEOPLE WHO WOULD BE ALL THE BETTER FOR BECOMING TEMPERANCE MEN.—"The Lushais."
