(_A Poem of Recognition._)
Oh, what is this faint perfume that I smell,
And smelling seem, somehow, to know so well?
What recollections should it start again,
What memories of the past bring in its train?
Is it a whiff of country come to-day,
Of mangel-wurzels, or of new-mown hay?
Or was it when She witched me with a glance
The subtle odour reached me--at the dance?
Where'er it was, I'm certain that I know it,
As certain as I am I'm not a poet,
But stay, was it when influenza gripped us?
It was! _Eureka!_ Yes, it's Eucalyptus!
* * * * *
On Certain Philistine Pedagogues.
Greek and Philosophy but tire and twist 'em.
Duncedom they praise, and dub it "democratic,"
And their abuse of the great Attic system
Is systematic!
* * * * *
MEM. FROM ACCRINGTON.--Liberal party in a fix here. Naturally anxious
to keep a LEESE-hold on the constituency, it looks a little awkward to
pose as the labourer's friend, and at the same time to keep (HERMON)
HODGE out of Parliament!
* * * * *
MEM. BY A HORSE-BUYER WHO HAS BEEN "HAD."--"Novice" does not always
mean no vice.
* * * * *