I write not on a slate, but foolscap fair:
It falls to the Waste-paper Basket's care.
If _not_, the Minor Poet's still ill-fated,
'Tis by some Minor Critic now he's "slated."
Far better than that stabber's spiteful lunge,
Were "a clean slate" and kind oblivion's "sponge."
[Illustration: "THROUGH THE LOCK."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: QUITE A LITTLE PARABLE.
_The Rector (returning from day's fishing--in reply to usual
question)._ "SPORT? OH! WRETCHED!! WRETCHED!!! TRIED EVERY DODGE I
COULD THINK OF, BUT NOTHING WOULD TEMPT 'EM."
_Canny Scot (who rather suspects the Rector of a fondness for good
living)._ "A--WEEL RECTHOR, NA DOOT THEY SET SOME ON US A POORFUL
EXAMPLE I' NO GIVIN' WAY TO THEIR CARNAL PROCLEEVITIES, AND REFUSIN'
TO BE TA'EN IN BY THE FA'SE BLANDISHMENTS O' THE DEEVIL, I' THE SHAPE
O' YER _AWN_ ARTIFEECIAL FLEES."]
* * * * *