(_Modern Teutonic Version._)
["My complaint being of a nervous character, I share the
opinion of my doctor that, if I pass the winter in the midst
of my accustomed surroundings and occupations, it will be
the most likely means of promoting my recovery."--_Prince
Bismarck's reply to the German Emperor's Letter._]
_Diogenes_ (_of Kissingen_) loquitur:--
_Only to leave me to my tub!_ Ha! had him _there_ I flatter me!
Too late, my ALEXANDER, now to butter or to batter me!
You "Dropped the Pilot"--with that youthful confidence that some adore--
The "whirligig of time" has turned; the "Pilot" drops the "Commodore."
A _fico_ for Imperial "Pots," and their young princely progenies.
Belated condescension won't conciliate DIOGENES.
Cynic and Conqueror exchange compliments Ciceronian,
But--there's a sting in some smooth words, for a mouthing Macedonian.
Mine are not _sanitary_ "tubs," the Varzin, or the other one
At Friedrichsruh, you hint. Oh get away, and do not bother one!
I've got a "nervous system" now, and noisy, young, despotical,
"Shock-headed Peters" worry one, when aged and neurotical.
Your castles, and your palaces, and things, in Central Germany,
I "trample on"--like Plato's pride. Ha! does that make you squirm any?
Confer with your Court Marshal, if you like; I only promise I'll
Transfer my Tub--to Friedrichsruh, when up to change of domicile.
"How to command men" is my skill, as 'twas of him of Pontus, Sire,
_You_ can't command such men as I just when you chance to want us, Sire!
As soon as Doctor SCHWENINGER says he has no objection, Sire,
I'll travel to another Tub--but not of your selection, Sire.
_Sings_--
'Midst castles and palaces though I _might_ roam,
Be it ever so humble there's no place like home.
The charm of the Tub seems to hallow me there,
Which all Central Germany's castles can't share.
Home! home! Sweet, sweet home!
Though 'tis only a Tub, there is no place like home!
An exile from court, castles dazzle in vain.
Oh! give me my Tub and I'll gladly remain.
A proud ALEXANDER I'm sorry (!) to snub,
But--keep your fine castles, leave me to my Tub!
Home! home! Sweet, sweet home!
Though you mayn't like its "climate," there's no place like home!
[_Left curled up in it._
* * * * *
"PAS MEME ACADEMICIEN!"
[ALBERT MOORE, the exquisite decorative painter, died on
September 25, at the age of fifty-two, "without Academic
honour."]
"LOVE is enough." Beauty, it seems, is not.
And yet upon our land's artistic fame,
It seems--does it not, Sirs?--a bitter blot
That the official roll lacks this great name!
No matter! The R. A., with tight-closed door,
Hath less--of honour; English Art hath MOORE.
* * * * *
"Did you hear PADEREWSKI the pianist?" asked someone of our old friend
Mrs. R. "Oh, yes," she replied; "I was most fortunate. He played for
several hours at a friend's house, and he gave us the whole of his
Repartee."
* * * * *
RIDDLE BY 'ARRY.--"Look 'ere, if you're speakin' of a young unmarried
lady bein' rather 'uffy, what well-known river would you name?--Why,
_'Miss is 'ippy'_, o' course."
* * * * *
[Illustration: ALEXANDER AND DIOGENES.
ALEXANDER. "IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO FOR YOU? CASTLE? OR ANYTHING OF
THAT SORT?" DIOGENES. "NO--ONLY TO LEAVE ME TO MY TUB!!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: GUESTS TO BE AVOIDED.
"HULLO, OLD MAN! HOW'S IT YOU'RE DINING AT THE CLUB? THOUGHT YOUR WIFE
TOLD ME SHE HAD THE BROWNS AND SMITHS TO DINNER THIS EVENING?"
"NO--THAT WAS YESTERDAY. THIS EVENING SHE HAS THE ODDS AND ENDS!"]
* * * * *