(_BY A TROUBLED TAPSTER._)
I tap you early, tap you late,
In vain!
We get--whatever _you_ may state--
Much rain.
The Woodpecker of which fools sing
Ne'er tapped
Half so persistently. Since Spring
I've rapped
Your fair false dial day by day,
And yet
The end--whatever you may say
Is wet!
'Twas wet in June, and in July
Wet too;
In August it is wetter. Why,
Trust _you_?
Barometer, you false old chap,
You bore!
I'm no Woodpecker, and I'll tap
No more!
* * * * *
"NOTHING IN THE PAPERS!"
_OR, VOLUNTARY CONTRIBUTIONS UN-GRATEFULLY RECEIVED._
SCENE--_A Railway Compartment. BROWN and SMITH _looking up
from their Daily Papers._
_Brown_. Now that Parliament stands prorogued, I suppose there is
nothing to read?
_Smith_. Nothing. Except this article upon Australia. Tells one
all about Capital and Labour in _that_ part of the world. Most
interesting. Wonder how they found room for it! Have you seen it?
_Brown_. Well, no. Fact is I have been reading about Argentina. Very
exhaustive article this, and on a matter of serious moment. I hold
some shares as a trustee. Seems that they will all come right in the
end. Would you like to see it?
_Smith_. When I have time to read it. But, to tell the truth, it takes
me a good hour to get through the City Intelligence. And the racing,
too, that always interests me; but I don't think it is so exciting as
the Stock Exchange.
_Brown_. No more do I. By the way, is there anything good in the
correspondence line in your paper?
_Smith_. The usual sensational recess subjects. Some of the letters
are too good for the general public; they must have been written in
the office.
_Brown_. I daresay. And perhaps these sketches of places away from
Town are also written in London?
_Smith_. Not a bit of it! I happen to know that the papers spend
thousands and thousands upon obtaining information in every quarter of
the globe. Bogus articles are things of the past.
_Brown_. Only fancy! And all this expense for nothing in the recess!
When no one reads the papers!
_Smith_. Yes, and when there's nothing in them!
[_They resume perusal of their papers until interrupted by a
tunnel. Curtain._
* * * * *