Are ample for getting our difference rectified.
What is a Laureate paid for, I ask The Times,
If not to recant in prose his patriot rhymes?
I stamp my foot on my wrath's last smouldering ember,
And for my motto I take "Lest we remember."
O. S.
THE SUPERFECTION LAUNDRY.
I let myself into my flat to find a young woman sitting on one of those comfortless chairs designed by upholsterers for persons of second quality who are bidden to wait in the hall.
"You want to see me?" I inquired. "Yes; what is it?"