lgarians, pride
And terror of his decent daughters;
_Old_ Don GIOVANNI, fraught with warm
Flirtations, free to fling his cash on
The dining Duchess, "mould of form!"
Antique, good-looking "glass of fashion."

[Illustration]

He gossiped how the Viscount bets
(Some heiress he must really "pick up"),
How noble dames smoke cigarettes
And noble heels in ballets kick up.
How "H.R.H."--_n'importe!_ my friend
Experience shows me that the _laches_
Of such as air these letters tend
In the direction of their "H"'s.

He chatted next of German Spas,
Of Continental, English "P.B.'s,"
And how our matchmaking Mammas
Are scared by Transatlantic Hebes,
How he with Royalties had graced
The latest function--genial patrons--
While Beauty, perched on barrows, raced
Before the virtuous British matrons.

And then his compliments began
To rain like drops of Frangipanni,
A most insinuating man
He was, this ancient DON GIOVANNI.
You felt, if you could half believe,
You'd but to word a whim to find it,
You quite forgot he owned a sleeve,
And several teeth to laugh behind it.

There may be kindness, lofty souls,
Great Brains, and whatso ne'er grows older,
_Him_ the Material controls:
He shrugs a sleek, good-natured shoulder.
Time scatters dalliance, joy, and joke;
Your choicest vintage passes; e'en your
Supreme tobacco ends in smoke--
And so will poor DON JUAN, Senior.

* * * * *

MRS. MALAPROP is much puzzled at the announcement that it is proposed
to construct a new Tubercular Railway between England and France.

* * * * *

SONGS BY A CYNIC.

LOVE.

What's Love, and all that Love can bring,
Youth's earliest illusion:
What tender words _she_ used to sing,
And blush with sweet confusion.
How you would hang upon each word,
When under spells of Cupid;
When half she said was most absurd,
And all extremely stupid.

You loved her for her hair of gold.
Unwitting that she dyed it;
She vowed her love could ne'er grow cold,
Though Time had never tried it.
Your worship came to such a pass,
That, when you calmly view it,
You feel you were an utter ass,
Though then you never knew it.

What happened? Why, the usual thing:
While round her you would linger,
Her love was fragile as the ring
Y