pans and pickle-tubs,
Tables, chairs and doors;
Wormwood scrubs the public seats
And the City Halls;
Wormwood scrubs the London streets,
Wormwood scrubs Saint Paul's;
Wormwood scrubs on her hands and knees,
But oh, it's plainly seen,
Though she use a ton of elbow-grease
She'll _never_ get it clean!

* * * * *

A TRUE PESSIMIST.

[Illustration: _Shaun._ "'Tis a German!"

_Mike._ "Glory be! How can ye tell that?"

_Shaun._ "I cannot tell ut. 'Tis a guess."]

* * * * *

THE LOAN.

It was past ten o'clock and the maid was, or should have been, asleep,
so when there came a knock at the front-door Bertha got up to answer it
herself.

"Whoever can it be at this time of night?" I said.

"It's Evelyn come to borrow again," said Bertha. "I know her knock."

"Don't always look on the dark side of things," I counselled; "be an
optimist like me. Now I have a feeling that she has come to pay back
what they borrowed last week."

A minute later Bertha returned. "I knew it," she said; "it is as I
feared. Jack has sent her over to borrow three more."

"Three more!" I gasped; "but it's preposterous. They borrowed five only
last Monday and they'll never pay them back, of course. What did you say
to her?"

"I said I couldn't manage it myself, but I would ask you."

"I suppose we shall have to do it," I said, crossing over to the bureau
and unlocking it.

"Haven't you got any on you?" asked Bertha.

"Only one; I never carry more than that in case I might get my pockets
picked. It's a bit thick," I continued, "we economise and deny ourselves
in all kinds of ways and then that spend-thrift comes--or, rather, sends
his wife--and borrows all our hard-earned savings."

From a secret drawer in the bureau I drew forth a small box that I
opened with fingers that trembled like _Gaspard's_.

Bertha joined me and, side by side, we stood gazing at the contents in a
hush that was akin to worship.

"Well," said I, at last breaking the silence, "here you are, and for
goodness' sake tell her not to waste them!" and into my wife's
outstretched hand I carefully counted out--three matches.

* * * * *

AT THE PLAY.

"The Mayor of Troy."

The admirable "Q" has shot his arrow into the gold so often and carried
off so mountainous a load of trophies that he can see with equanimity
his last shot signalled an ou