No. III.—OFF FOR MY HOLIDAY.
Yes! I'm off for my holiday. Forty odd pieces
Of luggage, three cabs, and a van, and a 'bus too.
Without counting loose wraps, and umbrellas in creases,
And sweets that my darlings are sucking with gusto.
Yes! I'm off for my holiday—wife in hysterics,
Since nowhere on earth can her poodle be found;
And the nurses and children—ANNES, LILIANS, ERICS—
All screaming, and fussing, and fuming around!
Yes! I'm off for my holiday—Tyneside, or Deeside,
Or Lakes, or that Switzerland English, Hind Head,
Or the thousand monotonies known as "The Seaside"—
Ask not whither my fugitive footsteps are led.
For whatever the place, it is ever the same thing;
Poor Paterfamilias always must suffer.
A dyspeptic, a costly, a lame and a tame thing
Is Holiday-time for a family buffer.
Yes! I'm off for my holiday—where I won't mention;
They are pulling the blinds of my drawing-room down:
But next year—if I live—it's my solemn intention
To stay, upon business, en garçon, in Town.
FAIR PROSPECTS OF FINE WEATHER.—No rain on St. Swithin's, and last week the County of Inverness discarded its MACKINTOSH.
NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.