Then, silence. Some fancied they heard in the air A weary and wandering sigh That sounded like "--jum!" but the others declare It was only a breeze that went by.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THEN, SILENCE"]

They hunted till darkness came on, but they found Not a b.u.t.ton, or feather, or mark, By which they could tell that they stood on the ground Where the Baker had met with the Snark.

In the midst of the word he was trying to say, In the midst of his laughter and glee, He had softly and suddenly vanished away-- For the Snark _was_ a Boojum, you see.

SIZE AND TEARS.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

When on the sandy sh.o.r.e I sit, Beside the salt sea-wave, And fall into a weeping fit Because I dare not shave-- A little whisper at my ear Enquires the reason of my fear.

I answer "If that ruffian Jones Should recognise me here, He'd bellow out my name in tones Offensive to the ear: He chaffs me so on being stout (A thing that always puts me out)."

Ah me! I see him on the cliff!

Farewell, farewell to hope, If he should look this way, and if He's got his telescope!

To whatsoever place I flee, My odious rival follows me!

For every night, and everywhere, I meet him out at dinner; And when I've found some charming fair, And vowed to die or win her, The wretch (he's thin and I am stout) Is sure to come and cut me out!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE'S THIN AND I AM STOUT"]

The girls (just like them!) all agree To praise J. Jones, Esquire: I ask them what on earth they see About him to admire?

They cry "He is so sleek and slim, It's quite a treat to look at him!"

They vanish in tobacco smoke, Those visionary maids-- I feel a sharp and sudden poke Between the shoulder-blades-- "Why, Brown, my boy! You're growing stout!"

(I told you he would find me out!)

"My growth is not _your_ business, Sir!"

"No more it is, my boy!

But if it's _yours_, as I infer, Why, Brown, I give you joy!

A man, whose business prospers so, Is just the sort of man to know!

"It's hardly safe, though, talking here-- I'd best get out of reach: For such a weight as yours, I fear, Must shortly sink the beach!"--

Insult me thus because I'm stout!

I vow I'll go and call him out!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

ATALANTA IN CAMDEN-TOWN.

Ay, 'twas here, on this spot, In that summer of yore, Atalanta did not Vote my presence a bore, Nor reply to my tenderest talk "She had heard all that nonsense before."

She'd the brooch I had bought And the necklace and sash on, And her heart, as I thought, Was alive to my pa.s.sion; And she'd done up her hair in the style that the Empress had brought into fashion.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

I had been to the play With my pearl of a Peri-- But, for all I could say, She declared she was weary, That "the place was so crowded and hot, and she couldn't abide that Dundreary."

Then I thought "'Tis for me That she whines and she whimpers!"

And it soothed me to see Those sensational simpers, And I said "This is scrumptious!"--a phrase I had learned from the Devonshire shrimpers.

And I vowed "'Twill be said I'm a fortunate fellow, When the breakfast is spread, When the topers are mellow, When the foam of the bride-cake is white, and the fierce orange-blossoms are yellow!"

O that languishing yawn!

O those eloquent eyes!

I was drunk with the dawn Of a splendid surmise-- I was stung by a look, I was slain by a tear, by a tempest of sighs.

And I whispered "'Tis time!

Is not Love at its deepest?

Shall we squander Life's prime, While thou waitest and weepest?

Let us settle it, License or Banns?--though undoubtedly Banns are the cheapest."

"Ah, my Hero," said I, "Let me be thy Leander!"

But I lost her reply-- Something ending with "gander"-- For the omnibus rattled so loud that no mortal could quite understand her.

THE LANG COORTIN'.

The ladye she stood at her lattice high, Wi' her doggie at her feet; Thorough the lattice she can spy The pa.s.sers in the street.

"There's one that standeth at the door, And tirleth at the pin: Now speak and say, my popinjay, If I sall let him in."

Then up and spake the popinjay That flew abune her head: "Gae let him in that tirls the pin: He cometh thee to wed."

O when he cam' the parlour in, A woeful man was he!

"And dinna ye ken your lover agen, Sae well that loveth thee?"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"And how wad I ken ye loved me, Sir, That have been sae lang away?

And how wad I ken ye loved me, Sir?

Ye never telled me sae."

Said--"Ladye dear," and the salt, salt tear Cam' rinnin' doon his cheek, "I have sent thee tokens of my love This many and many a week.