morn,
And a song--from KIT MARLOW--between,
Would fire a fine-dressed modern MAUDLIN with scorn,
And move modish MOLLY to spleen.

The Dairymaid's true "golden age" is long fled
With Summer, and pippins and cream;
Like little _Bo-Peep_ and _Boy-Blue_, it is dead,
Save as parts of a pastoral dream.

O where and O where is our Dairymaid gone?
O where, and O where can she be?
Well, they make cockney shop-girls of PHILLIS and JOAN,
And I guess that they make such with _she_!

[Footnote 1:

"I would I were a milkmaid
To sing, love, marry, churn, brew, bake and die."

TENNYSON's _Queen Mary_.]

* * * * *

A MATTER OF CORSET.--At Sydenham, Ontario (it is stated), the Corset
has been declared to be "incompatible with Christianity!" If some of
our fashionable dames uttered their innermost feelings, they would
doubtless reply, "So much the worse for--Christianity." It is so
obvious that many modish Mammas care much more for their daughters'
bodices than their souls.

* * * * *

[Illustration: MR. PUNCH ON TOUR. HE ARRIVES AT KINGSTOWN BY THE IRISH
MAIL.]

* * * * *

THE GUZZLING CURE.

[Sir DYCE DUCKWORTH, in a letter written to a Vegetarian
Correspondent, says, "I believe in the value of animal food
and alcoholic drinks for the best interests of man. The abuse
or misuse of either is another matter."]

[Illustration]

O plump Head-waiter, I have read
What worthy DUCKWORTH writes!
And that is why I've swiftly sped
To where your door invites.
I kept my indigestion down
Of old, by sheer starvation;
But now no longer shall I frown
On food assimilation.

I pledge him in your oldest port,
_This_ medical adviser,
For vainly elsewhere might be sought
A cheerier or a wiser,
He bids me speedily return
To ordinary diet--
A sage prescription!--and I burn
To chance results, and try it!

I've lived on air; on food for Lent;
On what some Doctor calls
"Nitrogenous environment"--
A fare that quickly palls.
I'll eat the chops I once did eat;
All care and thought I banish;
And with this unexpected treat
My old dyspeptics vanish.

What though they warn me that at first--
It may be merely fancy--
The stomach's sure to try its worst
In base recalcitrancy?
When half-sta