You are young enough to be delighted at the idea of such a pretty little comedy, and you trip away to the study, and archly keep dear WILLIAM in conversation until the Captain is ready to make his appearance. At last, a little impatiently, you give the cue by mentioning that there is a clock-winder in the drawing-room. WILLIAM is amusingly suspicious, and insists on seeing the man. As the scene will be just as funny in the drawing-room, you accompany him thither—but there is no gallant Captain there affecting to wind your charming little Sèvres clock (a wedding present)—he has gone, and—alas! without leaving a timepiece for anybody else to wind. And WILLIAM is most disagreeable and unpleasant about it!
NOTES FROM A NURSERY-GARDEN.
(By an Awfully Clever Child.)
DEAR MR. PUNCH,—I am a Poetess. I am told that the Age is old, and that Poetry is over. My age is ten, and my poetry is certainly not over. My nurse (one of those horrid critics) has ventured to suggest that I am not original. I leave you to judge. Yours impatiently, ENFANT TERRIBLE.
N.W.
Alack! up Northern Primrose Hill
(Sing, oh, JACK! sing, ah, GILL!)
They climbed, and deemed it Helicon,
Those childish bards, GILLETTE and JOHN,