The Irish Landlord has lost his tenants,
And doesn't know where to find them;
Let them alone, and they'll come home,
And bring rents (in their pockets) behind them.
A Real "Inky Flood."
"Here lies one whose name was written in water," the sad but happily inappropriate epitaph which Keats suggested for himself. Had he lived in our days he would have felt it to be equivocal. People are writing to the papers with "ink," said to be made out of Thames water. Styx itself was surely nothing to this. An inkstand has been called "mare nigrum," but hitherto no poetic trope-maker has been bold enough to speak of a river as an inkstand. Facts are stranger than fiction!