hey're awfully curious about _t'other_ horse;
_Dissolution_, you know. Try to pump me.

_Noble Owner._ Of course!
Very natural, you know, _I_ should be, in their case.
If they knew that this nag couldn't win the big race,
Or was not meant to run, then their course would be clear.

[_Espies_ Stranger _approaching._

Hillo! Not too near, ARTHUR! (_Aside._) Whom have we _here_?

_Polite Stranger_ (_insinuatingly_). Beg pardon, my Lord!
A bit out of my track.
Missed my way. But--ahem!--is that really the "crack"?
Why, he _looks_ cherry ripe--at a distance. I've heard
All sorts of reports--gossips _are_ so absurd!
But--_would_ you mind telling me--_has_ the Great Horse
Been really--got at? _Entre nous_, mind!--

_Noble Owner_ (_drily_). Of course!
_Dissolution's_ shy backers would much like to know.
But--_tell them who sent you to ask--it's no go!_

[_Exit, leaving_ Polite Stranger _plante la._

* * * * *

A LAY SERMON.

(SUGGESTED BY CERTAIN RECENT MANIFESTATIONS OF THE NONCONFORMIST
CONSCIENCE.)

Thou shalt not steal! That's a command
Which grips us with an iron hand;
And "he who prigs what isn't his'n,
When he is cotched shall go to prison!"
So runs the Cockney doggerel, clear
If ungrammatical, austere,
With not a saving clause to qualify
Its rigid Spartan rule, or mollify
Theft's Nemesis. Thou shalt _not_ steal!
At least,--ahem!--well, all must feel
That property in thoughts and phrases,
The verbal filagree that raises
Flat fustian into "oratory,"
And makes the pulpit place of glory,
Such property is not so easy
To settle, and a conscience queasy
O'er picking pockets, oft remains
Quite unperturbed while--_picking brains!_
A Sermon is not minted coin;
It you may borrow, buy, purloin,
In part or wholly, and yet preach it
As your own work. Who'll dare impeach it,
This innocent transaction? Not
Your "brethren," save, perchance, some hot
And ultra-honest (which means "rancorous")
Parsonic rival. "How cantankerous!"
The reverend Assembly shouts.
It mocks at scruples, flames at doubts,
Hints at the stern objector's animus,
In the prig's praises is unanimous.
Oh, Happy Cleric Land, where unity
Breeds such unquestioning community
Of property--in Sermons! True it
Strikes some as queer; but _they all do it_,
If one may trust