Death, cold and cruel Death,
      Removes the Bridal Wreath
  England for England’s daughter had designed. 
      Love cannot stay that hand,
      And Hymen’s rosy band
  Is rent; so will the Fates austere and blind.

      Blind and austere!  Ah, no! 
      The chill succeeds the glow,
  As winter hastes at summer’s hurrying heel. 
      Flowers, soft and virgin-white,
      Meant for the Bride’s delight,
  May deck the pall where love in tears must kneel.

      Flowers are they, blossoms still,
      Born of Benignant Will,
  Not of the Sphingian Fate, which hath no heed
      For human smiles or tears;
      The long-revolving years
  Have brought humanity a happier creed.

      Prince-Sire of the young dead,
      Mother whose comely head
  Is bowed above him in so bitter grief;
      Betrothed one, and bereaved,
      Queen who so oft hath grieved,—­
  Ye all were nurtured in this blest belief.

      Hence is there comfort still,
      In a whole land’s good-will,
  In hope that pallid spectre shall not slay. 
      The unwelcome hand of Death
      Closes on that white wreath;
  But there is that Death cannot take away!

[Footnote 1:  See Cartoon, “England, Home, and Beauty!” p. 295, December 19, 1891.]

* * * * *

AT MRS. RAM’S.—­They were talking of Mr. JOHN MORLEY.  “He’s not a practical politician,” said some one, “he’s a doctrinaire.”  “Is he, indeed?” said our excellent old Lady, “then I daresay I met him when I was in Scotland.”  Observing their puzzled expression, she added, “Yet it’s more than likely I didn’t, as, when in the North, I was so uncommonly well that I never wanted a medical man.”  Subsequently it turned out that she had understood Mr. J.M. to be a “Doctor in Ayr.”

* * * * *

SONG FOR LORD ROSEBERY.

(AFTER “TOM TUG,” IN THE “WATERMAN.")

  Then farewell, my County Council,
    Cheek, and fads, and bosh farewell,
  Never more in Whitehall Gardens
    Shall your ROSEB’RY take a spell.

* * * * *

CHANGE OF NAME SUGGESTED.—­Why call the place Monte Carlo, why not Mont “Blanc” Junior?  The Leviathan Winner who broke the record and the tables, Mr. HILL WELLS, might also alter his name according to his luck.  A run of HILL-luck would settle him:  but when “WELL’s the word,” he could forget the HILL-doing of the previous day.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  JANUARY 14, 1892.]

* * * * *

CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER.

II.—­THE SOCIAL DUFFER.