AT A RINK.
Round and round, and to and fro
At a rink,
Pretty girls, with cheeks that glow
Rosy pink;
Graceful, gleeful, gliding, go,
Whilst they link
Arms together, like the flow
Past its brink
Of a river's eddy—so
Duffers think
They can glide. See one start slow,
Shyly shrink,
Fearful lest his end be woe,
Sheepish slink,
Skates on unaccustomed toe
Strangely clink,
Hot and thirsty he will grow,
Long for drink;
All around amusement show,
Laugh and wink,
But they look as black as crow,
Or as ink,
If he fall against them. Oh,
In a twink
On the floor, not soft but low,
See him sink!
Whilst he murmurs gently, "Blow
This old rink!"
Logical and Engine-ious.—Why object (though we do) to Advertisements of all sorts along our Railway lines? Surely, wherever the Locomotive goes, there is the very place for puffing.
