arrers went straighter, and 'ers wos the heaviest bag.
"Let _me_ 'ave a try, Miss," sez I, "with that trifle from Lowther Arcade!"
I tried, and hit one of her dogs, as she didn't think sport I'm afraid.

The 'ound didn't seem much to mind it; immortal, I spose, like Miss D.;
Then we 'ad a slap arter the deer, and she'd very soon nailed two or three.
_I_ wos out of it, couldn't pot one, and it needled me orful, dear boy,
To be licked by a gal, _though_ a goddess, and armed with a archery toy!

Her togs wos a little bit quisby--for moors as ain't pitched in the Moon,
And _there wasn't no pic-nic, dear boy!_ I got peckish and parched pooty
soon.
_She_ lapped from a brook, and her hoptics went wide as a cop on the watch,
When I hinted around rayther square, _I_ should like a small drop of cold
Scotch.

Well, well; I must cut this yarn short. We'd a turn at Moon Sports like all
round,
Wish I'd time to describe our Big Boar Hunt--DIANNER's pet pastime I found,
Can't say it was _mine_; bit too risky. Pigsticking in Ingy may suit
White Shikkarries or Princes, dear boy, but yer Boar is a nasty big brute.

Too much tusk for my taste! 'Owsomever DIANNER she speared him to rights,
And I dropped from the tree I'd shinned up when the boar had made tracks
for my tights.
"Bravo, Miss DIANNER!" I sez. "You are smart, for a gal, with that spear.
But didn't yer get jest a mossel alarmed--fur yer 'ARRY, my dear?"

Put it hamorous like, with a wink, snugging up to the lady, I did;
For she'd found a weak spot in my 'art, this cold classical gal, and no kid.
I'd been 'aving a pull at my flask, up that tree, and her pluck and blue eyes
Made me feel a bit spoony; in fact I was mashed. But, O wot a surprise!

"Alarmed? about _you_, Sir! And _why_?" sez DIANNER, with eyes all aflash,
I sez, "Don't yer remember Adonis, love, Venus's boar-'unting mash?
No wonder the lady felt fainty like; fear for a sweetheart, yer see.
And--well, if I'm not quite Adonis, _you found your Enjimmyun_ in _Me_!

[Illustration]

"One more, only one, dear DIANNER," I sez. And I aimed for a kiss,
I made for her lips, a bee-line. But great snakes, my dear boy, wot a miss!
Hit me over the 'ed with her boar-spear, a spanker, she did, like a shot.
Don't you never spoon goddesses, CHARLIE; you'll find it a dashed sight
too 'ot!

"Adonis!" she cried. "Nay, Actaeon! And his shal