But the most delightful object I saw upon that shore
  Was a ruddy-faced and chubby-legged philosopher of four. 
  Though his sisters capered round him, the sage refused to budge,
  He continued quietly digging just as solemn as a judge;
  And if he fell, as men may fall, he spurned their proffered aid,
  But lay awhile and pondered, while he clutched his wooden spade;
  Then, having thought some problem out, and found that life was vain,
  He slowly raised his three-foot form, and set to work again.

  And so the round of pleasure goes; a man could scarce believe
  How swift the merry hours spin by from dewy morn to eve. 
  The goat-carts never want for fares fresh from their nurses’ arms,
  All day the patient donkeys bear some maid’s or matron’s charms. 
  The haughty ones may carp and sneer, we know their sorry style,
  But we who revel on this shore can hear them with a smile. 
  We may be vulgar; what’s the odds?  We’re cottage-folk, not “Grands,”
  And our simple pleasures please us on the jolly Ramsgate Sands.

* * * * *

DRURIOLANUS’S NEXT.—­The Prodigal Daughter is to be produced, when she’s of proper age to come out, at Drury Lane.  Who gave her that name?  Is it her “Pettitt nom,” or was it her Godfather, Sir DRURIOLANUS LE GRAND, or was it the joint effort of GRAND et PETTITT, so as to satisfy all comers Great and Small? The Prodigal Son has already served as the title of an Opera directly founded on the Scriptural parable of the Prodigal, and has recently been used as the title of the now famous ballet d’action.  There was also a Pere Prodigue—­which the English schoolboy thought was French for an uncommonly big Marie Louise specimen; so there is justification and authority for bringing this new member of The Prodigal family before the Public.  Having once started, there maybe no end to the family of Prodigals.  There will follow—­The Prodigal Aunt, The Prodigal Uncle, The Prodigal Second Cousin by first Husband’s Marriage, and so on, ad infinitum.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “THE LITTLE VULGAR BOY.”

MASTER LABBY (to the Butler).  “WON’T GIVE ME A SITUATION, WON’T YER? 
THEN I’LL BREAK YER WINDOWS!  YA-AH!!”]

* * * * *

THE LAND OF THE (RATHER TOO) FREE.

    SCENE—­The Landing-Stage of an English Port.

Custom-House Officer (through an interpreter).  Do you speak English?

Emigrant (ditto).  No.

Cust.-H.  Off. (as before).  Have you any money?

Emi. (ditto).  Not a kopeck.

Cust.-H.  Off. Where do you come from?

Emi. Polish Russia.

Cust.-H.  Off. Have you any family?