"OH, THE MISTLETOE BOUGH!"Father Christmas."HA! HA! WITH ALL THEIR NEW-FANGLED NOTIONS, HERE'S ONE OLD CUSTOM ALL AGREE IN KEEPING UP!"
"OH, THE MISTLETOE BOUGH!"
Father Christmas."HA! HA! WITH ALL THEIR NEW-FANGLED NOTIONS, HERE'S ONE OLD CUSTOM ALL AGREE IN KEEPING UP!"
Strolling through Pimlico the other day Mrs. R. was attracted by evidence of a sale by auction going forward in one of the residences in that desirable quarter. Having half an hour to spare she thought she would look in. "I was quite surprised," she writes to her son, "when I entered the room to see a gentleman standing in a pulpit which I knew was Mr.Pipchose, leastway, his whiskers were not so mutton-choppy; but I could not mistake him, though meeting him only once at tea at Mrs.Brown'swhere he was very pressing with the muffins. He looked at me in just the same meaning way as when he said, 'Mrs.Ram. won't you take another piece of sugar, though as I know it's carrying coals to Newcastle?' I'm not above recognising my friends, wherever I meet them, and gave him a friendly nod, and before I knew where I was, I found I had bought for £3 9s.6d.a wool mattress; a pair of tongs (rather bent); a barometer (with the quicksilver missing); a small iron bedstead; a set of tea-things (mostly cracked); an armchair, and a sofa warranted hair-stuffed, but certainly having only three legs. It wasn't Mr.Pipchoseat all, as I might have known if I had taken another look at his whiskers, but only a forward auctioneer."
"The Chinese Government," observed theCity Timeslast week, "is seeking new channels for money." Decidedly China is in straits, and will soon be apparently quite at sea.
TO MELENDA.(A Repentance in Triolets.)I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there,Though I knew all the time there was none.As I stole a sweet kiss from you out on the stairI swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there.I have plenty of sins on my soul, dear, to bear,But at least I've confessed now to one.I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe thereThough I knew all the time there was none.I am sorry. I never will do it again,And please am I fully forgiven?In the future from falsehood I mean to refrain.I am sorry. I never will do it again,But look at yourself in your glass to explainWhy to mistletoe tale I was driven.I am sorry. I never will do it again,And please am I fully forgiven?There's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind,That will make me feel free from all blame.I hope you'll be glad, dearMelenda, to findThere's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind.It's this, "Though the mistletoe was but a blind,Still with none I'd have done just the same."There's the answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kindThat will make me feel free from all blame.
(A Repentance in Triolets.)
I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there,Though I knew all the time there was none.As I stole a sweet kiss from you out on the stairI swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there.I have plenty of sins on my soul, dear, to bear,But at least I've confessed now to one.I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe thereThough I knew all the time there was none.I am sorry. I never will do it again,And please am I fully forgiven?In the future from falsehood I mean to refrain.I am sorry. I never will do it again,But look at yourself in your glass to explainWhy to mistletoe tale I was driven.I am sorry. I never will do it again,And please am I fully forgiven?There's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind,That will make me feel free from all blame.I hope you'll be glad, dearMelenda, to findThere's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind.It's this, "Though the mistletoe was but a blind,Still with none I'd have done just the same."There's the answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kindThat will make me feel free from all blame.
I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there,Though I knew all the time there was none.As I stole a sweet kiss from you out on the stairI swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there.I have plenty of sins on my soul, dear, to bear,But at least I've confessed now to one.I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe thereThough I knew all the time there was none.
I am sorry. I never will do it again,And please am I fully forgiven?In the future from falsehood I mean to refrain.I am sorry. I never will do it again,But look at yourself in your glass to explainWhy to mistletoe tale I was driven.I am sorry. I never will do it again,And please am I fully forgiven?
There's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind,That will make me feel free from all blame.I hope you'll be glad, dearMelenda, to findThere's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind.It's this, "Though the mistletoe was but a blind,Still with none I'd have done just the same."There's the answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kindThat will make me feel free from all blame.
The Baron's P.S.—The Border Waverley, brought out byNimmo, and edited byAndrew Lang, is now concluded, and a fine set of volumes it makes. No better collection of books as a Christmas present for anyone with a regard to a future of literary enjoyment.
Nos omnesne laudamus Nimmo?Et respondit Echo: "Immo."
Nos omnesne laudamus Nimmo?Et respondit Echo: "Immo."
Nos omnesne laudamus Nimmo?Et respondit Echo: "Immo."
"Ha! ha! I don't go to a Westminster Play for nothing quoth the Baron;" though he addedsotto voce, "Yes I do though, as I'm a guest."
Genoa in November. It is summer time. Put on thin suit, drink mycafé au laitby open window, and stroll out into beautiful Genoa, basking in the sunshine.Déjeunerin the garden of a restaurant, among the old palaces. Sit in the shade, without my hat. Think of all the poor people in London. Wonder if anyone is having a frugal lunch at the funny little open-air restaurant in Hyde Park. Lemonade and a bath bun in a fog. Should imagine not.
Charming place, Genoa. Hardly any Germans. Can at last hear people talking Italian. In Venice there are so many Germans that one might as well be in Germany. Sitting out on the Piazza, one hears incessantly their monotonous, guttural chatter, always in the same tone of voice, without inflections, without emotion, and, worst of all, without end. Watched at the hoteltable d'hôtea German lady sitting between two German gentlemen. One man talked loudly without ceasing, mouth full or mouth empty, from soup to dessert. The other man, rather older and feebler, also talked without ceasing, but he could not equal the other's noise; he only added to it. As for the lady, her lips moved all the time; one could imagine theja wohl, theach, so?theja, ja, ja, but one could not hear a word. At Florence, at Milan, on the Lakes it is the same. If by chance one hears a Frenchman speak, his charming language sounds more vivacious and melodious than ever before. So it is good to be in Genoa, where even the best hotel is kept by Italians. Apparently every other good hotel in Italy is kept byHerr Schmidt, orHerr Weber, orHerr Somethingorother, and all the servants are German also. There is one hotel in Genoa kept by a German. It faces the harbour. All night long there are whistles, screams, bangs, rumblings, bumps, roars, and other sounds from trains, ships, and tramways. All day long there is the same noise, only more of it. But the Germans do not mind; they talk just the same, and they make each other hear through it all.
Charming place, Genoa, with a town hall that is the gayest imaginable. Marble staircases, vestibules adorned with palms, beautiful little gardens, at all sorts of levels, outside the windows of the various offices. Everywhere flowers. If the town rates in Genoa are paid at the Town Hall, the paying of them must be almost pleasant. One would go with that horrible demand note, if that is used also in Italy, and fancy that one was arriving at a ball. The palm-decorated entrance looks just like it. It only needs a lady rate collector, such as one hears of in England, and one surely, in whatever manner the Italians may say it, would beg the charming signora to give one the honour and pleasure of a dance, and scribble her name on the programme—I mean the demand note. And no doubt, the Italian officials being leisurely and the space being ample, one could find time for a waltz in the intervals of rate paying, or at least sit it out in one of the delightful little gardens of this ideal Palazzo Municipale.
And so farewell to sunny Genoa, and off to Turin. German hotel again, German proprietor, German servants. Solitary German visitor drinking his morning coffee. The hotels of Turin are not crowded; he and I are alone. What will the poor man do? He must talk his awful language to someone. He shan't talk it to me, for I will pretend I do not understand even one word. The waiter has left the room. Must the poor man be silent? Thunderweather, ah no! Happilywise he is saved. The considerate proprietor, thoughtful of his countryman's needs, enters; he stands by the visitor's table, and the talk begins. When it ends I cannot say, for I leave them, well started and in good voice, and hear, as I think, their sweetly melodious phrases for the last time in Italy. The train carries me away. There is not much more of Italy now, for here is the Mont Cenis tunnel. Farewell, beautiful country, beautiful pictures, beautiful language! There is someone leaning out of the next carriage window. No doubt he is also saddened; he is speaking to others inside, his voice is cheerful, he is evidently trying not to give way to despair. Now I hear what he says, "Da werde ich ein Glas Bier trinken, ja, ja, ja!"
A First Impressionist.
Wanted!a Perfect Cure for the incompatibility of Judges' sentences.
PREHISTORIC PEEPS.During a considerable portion of the Year the Skating was excellent, and was much enjoyed by all Classes.
PREHISTORIC PEEPS.
During a considerable portion of the Year the Skating was excellent, and was much enjoyed by all Classes.
INDEX
INDEX
LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., LIMITED. PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS
Transcriber's Note:Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.