Fair Visitor. "Do Play something, Dear! I love to hear your Music!"
Fair Hostess. "Sorry, Dear, but this Piano is so dreadfully out of tune! That's the worst of living in Apartments! My Music-Master says that to use such a Piano as that is fatal to real Playing! But won't you play something, Dear?"
THROUGH THE LOCK.
Grand Old Puntsman pipes up:—
"Lock! Lock! Lock!"
Heaven be thanked, we're through it!
Spite of crush, and jam, and shock,
That's the way to do it!
Now for a fair "flowing tide,"