I would love’s fires should, to the last,
Still burn as they begin;
And beauty’s reign too soon is past,
So—has she ony tin?
LADY MORGAN’S LITTLE ONE.
Her ladyship, at her last conversazione, propounded to PUNCH the following classical poser:—“How would you translate the Latin words, puella, defectus, puteus, dies, into four English interjections?” Our wooden Roscius hammered his pate for full five minutes, and then exclaimed—“A-lass! a-lack! a-well a-day!” Her ladyship protested that the answer would have done honour to the professor of languages at the London University.
