Mister Close expressed a wish that he could only get anigh to me.
And Mister Martin Tupper sent the following reply to me:—
"A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit."
Which I think must have been clever, for I didn't understand it.
Seven weary years I wandered—Patagonia, China, Norway,
Till at last I sank exhausted at a pastrycook his doorway.
There were fuchsias and geraniums, and daffodils and myrtle,
So I entered, and I ordered half a basin of mock turtle.
He was plump and he was chubby, he was smooth and he was rosy,