FRAGMENT OF A POLICE "REPORT D'ARTHUR."
Then he that made the little songs For Arthur—deftly could he make the same— Budged not; but Arthur rose and silently, Whether by malice of the mind prepense, Or by the merest inadvertency, (As he alleged that felt it,) drew his fist And smote him on the digit heavily, And ceased,
But lo! Arthur was 'ware of one that winked on him, Clothed all in sable, stout, constabular: Then murmured Arthur, "Place me in the dock!" So to the dock they came eventually. And there the pressmen came and sampled him; And later came the Bar and pleaded for him; And last the Bench observed, "More things are wrought By misadventure than you might suppose, And such the case before us; yea, a tort Committed in a temporary state Of sheer oblivion. We dismiss the suit."
So from the Court serenely Arthur passed, And passing held communion with himself How he should work it up for future gag.
Friendly French Feeling and Fishing.—Oh, of course, nothing could be nicer. They are so fond of us English in France! Can't possibly do without us. The latest development of it, in a small way, being the seizure of a Ramsgate fishing-smack, called the Bonnie Bell, by a French fishing-boat, which hauled the B. B. into Gravelines. "Hard lines" this. Anyway it is a nasty fishing "smack" in the eye, given and taken. And where's the friendly feeling?
STUDIES IN ANIMAL LIFE.
The Sea-Lion ashore.