It will fade from mortal vision,
So the fashion-plates ordain;
Worthy subject of derision,
Not the mail, but female, train!
It has goaded men to mutter
Words unhappily profane,
Trailed in ball-room or in gutter,
Whether cheap or first-class train.
Far and wide, on floor and paving,
Spread the dress to catch the swain;
Sometimes long--in distance waving;
Sometimes wide--a "broad-gauge train."
It has dragged a long existence
Through the dust, the mud, the rain,
Great is feminine persistence,
She would never lose the train.
Booby-traps were beaten hollow,
Hapless man stepped back in vain,
Knowing what a trip would follow
If he only caught the train!
Oh, the anguish that it gave us,
Quite unnecessary pain!
WORTH, not WESTINGHOUSE, will save us,
And at last will stop the train!
* * * * *
MRS. R., hearing her Nephew say that he had been discussing some
"Two-year-old Stakes" with a friend, observed that she was afraid they
must have been dreadfully tough, adding, after consideration, "Perhaps
they were frozen meat."
* * * * *
[Illustration: AN EXCITING TIME.
POOR JONES IS CONVINCED THAT HIS WORST FEARS ARE AT LAST REALISED, AND
HE _IS_ LEFT ALONE WITH A _DANGEROUS LUNATIC_!! (IT WAS ONLY LITTLE
WOBBLES RUNNING ANXIOUSLY OVER THE POINTS OF HIS COMING SPEECH TO THE
ELECTORS OF PLUMPWELL-ON-TYME!!)]
* * * * *