you may pinch with ease
One of these here carnation Pekinese.

"You see them nasty spikes on that there wall?
Climb it, and you shall find a little yard;
An unlatched casement leads you to a hall,
Thence to the crib where, odorous with nard,
Slumbers the petted plaything; 'twere not hard
Out of his cushioned ease (and gorged belike
With sweetmeats) to appropriate the tyke."

So, filled with high ambition and the hope
Of gaining huge emolument, this man
Hung to the toothed battlements a rope,
Climbed and leapt down to execute his plan--
But even as he leapt a noise began
As when the Arctic icebergs break and grind;
This was because his pants were caught behind.

Awhile they tore, then stayed. And helpless there
Betwixt the silvery moonlight and the ground
He hung convulsive, grasping at the air,
For two full hours it may be, whilst a hound
Of the Great Danish breed, that made no sound
Save a deep snarl, below him watching stood
(This portion of my dream was very good).

And much he vowed because of his great pain
That he was the most dashed of all dashed fools
And never would he steal a dog again,
No (strite!) he would not. He recalled the rules
That teachers taught him in the Sunday Schools
And thought on serious happenings and the grave;
And with dawn's earliest flush his trousers gave.

* * * * *

And having waited for a time I went
To see him in the hospital. And hours
Of earnest converse with the man I spent,
Told him of Nemesis and what dark powers
Punish our mortal crimes, and brought him flowers,
Dog-roses and dog-violets, and read
The Eighth Commandment out beside his bed.

EVOE.

* * * * *

_The Daily Telegraph_ on the next Drury Lane melodrama:--

"We are able to say on the very best authority that the idea at the
root of the story is of a quite unusual nature; indeed, if secrecy
were not for the moment imposed, one might even go a step further and
declare it to be of startling originality."

As it is, one doesn't; for if once the secret got about that the play was
to be original there would be riots in Fleet Street.

* * * * *

"Song, 'March of the Men of Garlick' (Tune, Welsh melody)."

_Ripon Observer._

A pardonable mistake. The national emblem is of course