(_A long way after "The Throstle."_)
Vacation is over, vacation is over,
I know it, I know it, I know it.
Back to the Strand again, home to the Courts again,
Come counsel and clients to go it.
Welcome awaits you, High Court of Justice,
Thousands will flock to you daily.
"You, you, you, you." Is it then for you,
That we forget the Old Bailey?
Jostling and squeezing and struggling and shoving,
What else were the Courts ever made for?
The Courts 'twixt the Temple and grey Lincoln's Inn,
They're not yet entirely paid for!
Now till next year, all of us cry,
We'll say (for a fee) what we're bidden.
Vacation is over, is over, hurrah!
And all past sorrow is hidden.
* * * * *
THE PICKWICKIAN EXAMINATION PAPER.--Pickwickian students are well to
the front. The first answer to our question in last week's number
was sent from Maidstone. Fitting that it should come from DICKENS'S
favourite county, Kent. Yes. The only mention of champagne in
_Pickwick_ is when _Mr. Tupman_ drank a bottle of it after an
exhilarating quadrille.
* * * * *