(_Some way after Sir Walter Raleigh._)
If I were sure 'twere sooth thou'st sung,
That truth were on thy silvery tongue;
These pleasures must my passion move
To live with thee and be thy love.
But art _thou_ sure the Allotted Field
A present paradise will yield,
Making a lady of a thrall,
As dreamed at the Memorial Hall?
Thy Village Council, Cottage cosy,
Present in sooth a prospect rosy,
But promises so oft are rotten;
I've oft been wooed--and oft forgotten!
Free vote, fair rating, open school,
Good wage, intelligent self-rule,--
These are enticements me would move
To live with thee and be thy love.
If thy zeal last, if love, indeed,
Fire thee my hapless lot to heed;
Then such delights my mind shall move
To live with thee and be thy love.
* * * * *
A LOST OPPORTUNITY.--During a recent _cause célèbre_ in the Divorce
Court the petitioner was asked by Sir CHARLES RUSSELL, Q.C., M.P.,
P.T.P.C., "Did he do anything?" to which the reply was, "He took up
a salt-cellar and threw the contents in my face." Mr. FRANK LOCKWOOD,
Q.C., M.P., V.P.T.P.C. has been lamenting ever since that he could
not have appeared as _amicus curiæ_ to point out that this testimony,
until flatly contradicted, "must be taken as _primâ facie_ evidence of
_a salting her_."
* * * * *