Gather ye Taxes while ye may,
The time is fleetly flying;
And tenants who'd stump up to-day,
To-morrow may be shying.
That annual "Lump," the Income Tax,
Still higher aye seems getting;
The sooner that for it you "ax,"
The nearer you'll be netting.
That payer's best who payeth first
The Exchequer's pert purse-stormer:
As the year wags still worse and worst
Times, still succeed the former.
Then be not lax, but keep your time,
And dun, and press, and harry;
Tax-payers shirk, nor deem it crime,
If long Collectors tarry.
* * * * *
"WHERE SHALL WE GO?" is of course an important subject in the
holiday-time, and one to which _Sala's Journal_ devotes a column or
two weekly; but a still more important one is "_How shall we go it?_"
and having totted up the items there comes the final question, "_Where
shall we stay?_" And the wise, but seldom-given answer is--"_At
Home_." In any case, the traveller's motto should always be, "Wherever
you go, make yourself quite at Home"--and stay there, may be added by
the London Club Cynic, who wants everything all to himself.
* * * * *