"BUTCHER'D TO MAKE—."
[On Monday the 14th a "lion-tamer" was torn to pieces in a show at Hednesford.]
Shame to the callous French, who goad
The horse that pulls a heavy load!
Shame to the Spanish bull-fight! Shame
To those who make of death a game!
We English are a better race:
We love the long and solemn face;
We fly from any cheerful place,—
On Sunday.
But, other days, we like a show.
There may be danger, as we know;
We put the thought of that aside,
For noble sport is England's pride:
We'd advertise a railway trip,
To see a wretched tamer slip
And die beneath the lion's grip,—
On Monday!
A REALLY EXCEPTIONALLY REMARKABLE AND NOTEWORTHY FACT.—To-day, Thursday, March 17.—Fine Spring weather. Have sat for over half-an-hour at a window looking on to the street, between 3·30 and 4·15 P.M., and have not once heard either the whole or any portion of the now strangely popular "Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!" ... As I write this ... ha!... The grocer's book!... "Boom-de-ay" without the "Ta-ra." The spell is broken! N.B.—As this delightful song has now a certain number of Music-"hall-marks," the places where it is sung can be spotted and remembered as "Ta-ra's Halls."