AD JOVEM PLUVIUM.
["Ju Plu has been in his best form lately."— Sporting Paper.]
England farewell, when showers of rain From dewy eve to dawn pour, I fly across the heaving main To Aden or to Cawnpore.
The deep floods hide my native land, No more as land I rank it, I envy on some foreign strand The brown man in his blanket.
Through sandy deserts he may roam, But bright suns shine for him there, And if he wants to reach his home He never has to swim there.
There would I dwell, away, away I fly, these floods disdaining, Where Jupiter can rule the day Without a thought of raining.
Song to be Sung at the Reception of M. Alphonse Daudet (when he comes, and may it be soon!).—"We all love 'Jack'"!
For Grammarians.—The latest Oxymoron;—the new Pianist, Herr Sauer, playing a "suite."