(_By Our Dyspeptic Poet._)
When the doctor's stern decree
Rings the knell of libertee,
And dismisses from my sight
All the dishes that delight;
When my temperature is high--
When to pastry and to pie
Duty bids me say farewell,
Then I hail thy fragrant smell!
When the doctor shakes his head,
Banning wine or white or red,
And at all my well-loved joints
Disapproving finger points;
When my poultry too he stops,
Then, reduced to taking "slops,"
I, for solace and relief,
Fly to thee, O Tea of Beef!
But--if simple truth I tell--
I can brook thee none too well;
Thy delights, O Bovine Tea,
Have no special charm for me!
Though thou comest piping hot,
Oh, believe I love thee not!
Weary of thy gentle reign--
Give me oysters and champagne!
* * * * *
"CLUBS! CLUBS!"
["FRY of Wadham," illustrious all-round athlete of Oxford, holds
that Golf is no better than "glorified Croquet."]
Oh, FRY of Wadham, you've opened your mouth,
And "put your foot in it!" Here in the South,
Talked to death by wild golfers, we're likely to cry
Hooray, to see Link-lovers roasted by FRY.
Golf-glorification's a terrible tax on
The muscular Cricketing, Footballing Saxon,
To whom the game seems just a little bit pokey.
But FRY of Wadham, Sir, "glorified Croquet"!
Champion of Champions, you're going to catch it!
Each man loves his sport, swears no other can match it
_Chacun à son goût!_ And he's rather to blame
Who's prompt to make game of another man's Game!
* * * * *
"TO BE TAKEN AS READ."
DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Thanks to the action of the Circulating Libraries, it
seems that the old-fashioned three-volume novel is doomed to become a
work of the past. Most of the popular writers have abandoned it, and now
the publishers are beginning to fight shy of it. The principal argument,
I believe, in favour of its retention is that it gives a chance to "the
little read." The Circulating Libraries are called upon to fill boxes
intended for the edification of subscribers in the country, and in these
receptacles of light literature I believe the unpopular authors have
their greatest chance. But as a matter of fact, although a romance may
be sent to a peruser, it is not within the scope of civilisation to
cause that romance to be read. According to statistics I believe about
sixty per cent of the second and third rate is only sampled by the
recipients of the aforesaid boxes. The last couple of pages of the third
volume are largely read, whilst the remainder of the work is saved from
the labours of the paper-knife. As this is so, would it not be as well
to give a "common form" _finale_ to serve as a model for novels _in
extremis_? To make my meaning plainer I will give an example.
[Illustration]
Let me suppose that the country subscriber has received a novel per
parcels post called _The Deed in Drab_. Instead of having to cut some
nine hundred pages, he finds gummed to the inside of the cover what I
may call