Some advance on Peace's journey
We may reckon. War's disasters
Won't attend this great Chess Tourney.
And the Meeting of the Masters.
STEINITZ, LASKER, TSCHIGORIN,
BLACKBURNE, BIRD, or any other,
Whichsoever champion win,
Will be hailed as friend and brother.
Senlac saw another sight
When the Norman whipped the Saxon.
This serene and bloodless fight
Skill and patience lay sole tax on.
Here no arrow ends the fray,
(Though _a narrow_ victory may do,)
Whereat _Punch_ must shout hooray!
Play on, great Chess Masters, pray do!
May the best man meet success!
(Big guns have had pretty bastings!)
And no Battles, save at Chess,
Ever stain our English Hastings!
* * * * *
A Voice from the Table.
(_At Swearing-in Time for the new M.P.'s_).
The cry is still they come--the new M.P.'s!
The difference 'twixt them and us, no doubt,
Seems but one letter, but how vast it is!--
They are "sworn in," but we are just worn out!
* * * * *
[Illustration: SATISFACTORY!
_Nervous Traveller._ "HI, MAN, STEADY! DON'T DRIVE SO FAST!"
_Hibernian Driver._ "SURE, YER HONNER, AN' I'M ONLY THRYIN' TO MAKE
THE OULD MARE FORGET HOW OFTEN SHE HAS BEEN ON HER NOSE AT THIS
BLISSED HILL!"]
* * * * *