ciples of WELLS
Emitted a chorus of yells,
And they fell upon Age
With unfilial rage
And gave it all manner of hells.
I am, Sir, Yours,
GALLIO JUNIOR.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Meanest Member_ (_seeking free advice, after driving out of
bounds, from professional who is giving a lesson to another player_).
"FUNNY THING, BUT EVERY TIME I DRIVE THIS MORNING I SLICE LIKE THAT. WHAT
DO YOU THINK IS THE CAUSE?"
_Professional_ (_after deep thought_). "WELL, SIR, MEBBE YE'RE NO' HITTIN'
'EM RIGHT."]
* * * * *
"SWITZERLAND AGAIN.
Fine weather has resigned with only brief interruptions since the
season began."--_Times._
Just as in England.
* * * * *
"Alice ----, a married woman, was charged with unlawfully wounding her
husband, Charles ----, a labourer, by striking him with a pair of
tongues."--_Local Paper._
CHARLES has our sympathy. He might just as well have been a bigamist.
* * * * *
WESTWARD HO!
James, if from life's little worries and trouble you
Sigh to be wafted afar,
Meet me at Paddington Station, G.W.
R.
Thence, if our plans be not baulked by some latterday
Railwayman-unionist freak,
We'll make a bold bid for freedom on Saturday
Week.
Care may ride pillion or on the ship's deck set her
Foot, but she'll hunt us in vain
Once we've set ours on the ten-thirty Exeter
Train.
Ours no "resort" where you run up iniquitous
Bills at the "Royal" or "Grand,"
Blatant with pier and parade and ubiquitous
Band.
No "silver sea" where the gaudy and giddy come;
We're for a peacefuller air
Breathing of _Uncle Tom Cobley_ and Widdicombe
Fair.
Warm as a welcome the red of the tillage is,
Green are the pastures, and deep
Down in the combes little thatch-covered villages
Sleep.
Far from society (praises to Allah be!),
Wearing demobilised boots,
Clad in our countrified (Deeley-cum-Mallaby)
Suits,
We'll o'er the moor where the ways never weary us,
Lunch at a primitive pub,
Loaf till it's time to get back to more serious
Grub.
Haply some neighbouring Dartymoor brooklet'll
Tempt us at eve to set out,
Greenheart in hand, and e
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