Thus, thus, in close embrace,
The messenger of death we’ll meet—
The slayer of our race.
“Then do not weep, my daughter!”—
“Oh mother, ’tis not that—
But Donald Roy the carrotty boy
Has killed our old tom cat.”
From Puck on Pegasus, by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell.
Chatto and Windus, London,)
——:o:——
The Lawn Tennis Match.