When the penniless lordling to get a rich wife
Of his own nationality fails,
He crosses the ocean with heart light and gay
And robs the United States males.
Husband—My dear, how would you like a book for a present?
Wife—Very much.
"Well, what sort of a book would you like—a book of poems, for instance?"
"No; a bank-book."
"That sounds like the charity bawl," said the nurse, as the babies in the orphan asylum began to yell.
He went on a lark,
So his wife did remark,
And some angry words, too, did she mutter.
On a lark he went out,
Of that fact there's no doubt,
But he came in, alas! on a shutter.