ASQUITH’s clear, certain sound,
  Will spread dismay around;
    Some circles.  “We believed! 
  ASQUITH was on our side,”
  The roughs will say.  “He’s tried,
    And we—­well, we’re deceived. 
  If we’re permitted in this Square
  To muster there, why should we care? 
    The game has lost its beauty! 
  Licence unfettered is our plan. 
  Who cares a cuss for Rights of Man,
    Checked by that bugbear Duty?”

* * * * *

PRESENTED AT COURT.

MR. PUNCH, SIR,

I am indignant—­disgusted!  I went last night to see a new piece, called The Guardsman, at the Court Theatre, the plot of which, reminded me—­’tis merely a coincidence—­of Incognita, now going strong in St. Martin’s Lane.  The coincident being that a certain young man won’t marry an uncertain young lady whom they want him to marry, because he is in love with quite another young lady (as he thinks) who (the incognita) turns out to be the very lady whom he is required to wed.  However, that’s not what I’m writing about.  I leave criticism to your “professional gent.”  Well, Sir, it was very amusing, and very well acted.  But from a military point of view, shameful, Sir!—­shameful!  The people about me were laughing, and said that the lines were good; that, take it all round, it ought to be a success; that it was most amusing.  But how could I appreciate anything when I found a Captain in the Guards, on the Queen’s Birthday, walking about in plain leather boots!  It was as bad, in my mind, as when Mr. CHARLES WARNER, in the piece called In the Ranks, appeared as a private in the same distinguished Regiment in patent leathers!  And what was the Captain doing, Sir, in mess uniform at his uncle’s chambers, when he was supposed to be on guard at the Tower?  At least so I understood him to be, but I may have been wrong.  At any rate, an odd sort of place to dine at, if he was not on duty, and if he were, he should not have left his post.  Moreover, where was his scarf, as orderly officer?  But perhaps he was not on duty, and had dropped in upon the mess (in the height of the Season!) in a friendly sort of way.  Well, that might explain matters a bit, but not to my entire satisfaction.  And my wife tells me that it is rather late to make alterations in a Court dress the day before the Drawing-Room.  And she says, too, that she has never been hustled and crushed when she has gone to Buckingham Palace.  And if it comes to that, Sir, I have accompanied her, and can vouch for the strict accuracy of the statement.  But these are minor matters.  What I cannot stand are The Guardsman’s boots!

Yours more in anger than in sorrow,

AN OLD SOLDIER.

Mars Lodge, Cutsaddleborough, Tomatkinshire.

* * * * *

RHYMES FOR THE TIMES.