My poor Mayonnaise, they have sullied your fame! They would alter your spelling, my sweet Mayonnaise. The younger Dumas has e-mended your name And sent you forth "o"-less the rest of your days. So this man of romances—this writer of plays— Who has woven full many a plot in his time— Would force us to spell you henceforth Mayennaise. Nay! this is a plot little short of a crime! 'Twill make not an atom of diff'rence to me. The younger Dumas may discourse as he will; He's welcome, with Weller, to "spell with a 'wee'"— To me and the world you are Mayonnaise still. He says, at the time when the city Mayenne Was besieged by an army and riddled with shot, Your charms were acknowledged and praised by the men. Was that army not led by Sir Thomas de Rot? Say, Queen of the Sauces, which vow'l shall it be? Will you yield up the name your admirers bestow? Pronounce—while your lover is down on an "E"— Is it that which you choose? Is it yes? or a "NO"?
***This correspondence must now cease.—Ed.
"Where is He?"—With diamond robberies and darksome murders, of which the perpetrators are still at large, we are all crying out for a real genuine "Sherlock Holmes." We, Watsons, are waiting for him to step forward and drag various dark mysteries into the light of day. Cheerfully shall the coming Holmes be saluted with Mr. Brookfield's refrain, "O Sherlock, you wonderful man!" [210]
SOCIAL AGONIES.
Hostess. "I heard you met my Cousin, Maud Leslie, at the Gibsons at Dinner, Mr. Wilkinson, and that you were charmed with her!"
Mr. Wilkinson. "Charmed with her? I should think so! Who wouldn't be? Why, I've absolutely forgotten who the Lady was I took into Dinner, and who sat on my other side!"
Lady Visitor. "I'm afraid it happened to be Me, Mr. Wilkinson!"