"Your chairs must all be Chippendale,
Your tables of the native oak,
Your sofas"—but of what avail!
To further urge this little joke?
For in this cot the chairs may be
Much chipped, but hardly Chippendale,
Unless the lady will agree
To costs "upon the hire scale."
Said a prim Bachelor, in a nasty temper, after a struggle with an ultra-stiffened clean shirt, "I should like to indict my laundress at the Old Bailey, charge her with murdering my linen, and, as evidence, I'd produce the mangled remains in Court."
Mrs. R. has been studying architecture, She says that "all Schoolmasters' Houses ought to be built in the Early Perpendicular Tutor style."
LIQUID AIR.
A learned Professor, the other day,
At the Royal Institution,
Explained, in a quite scientific way,
How, helped by a contribution
From the Goldsmiths' Company, he'd prepare
Some liquid oxygen—you're aware
This is what plain English folks call "air"
Unspoilt by smoky pollution.
No doubt he meant well, and the Goldsmiths too,
In their noble work together;
But was it the very best thing to do,
In that showery, soaking weather;
When drizzle, or downpour, of dogs and cats,
From the "liquid air" made us all drowned rats,
And ruined our clothes and our best top-hats,
And spoilt boots of the stoutest leather?