e when seasons were rotten,
When the cold put my courage to flight,
Or the sergeant, perchance, had forgotten
To kiss me good-night.

In a world that is apt to be trying,
When things are inclined to go ill
And I'm sitting despondently sighing,
Perhaps they will comfort me still;
At the sight of these humble mementoes
It may be once more I shall know
From the crown of my head to my ten toes
That radiant glow.

* * * * *

Journalistic Candour.

"CHANCES MISSED.

By _The Daily Mail_ correspondent recently in France."--_Daily Mail._

* * * * *

"'The Trojan Person in Pink' will fill the bill at the
Haymarket."--_Evening Paper._

Is this intended for a description of the lady to whom Paris gave the
golden apple?

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE WORM TURNS.

A JUGGLER'S COMIC ASSISTANT REFUSES TO MUFF HIS TRICKS.]

* * * * *

PRESENCE OF MIND.

Proud is not the word for me
When I hear my 8-h.p.
Latest model motor-bike,
Having dodged the latest strike,
Is awaiting me complete
At the garage down the street.

Joyfully I take my way
(And a cheque-book too to pay
The two hundred odd they thought it
Right to charge the man who bought it).
Still, it is a lovely creature,
Up-to-date in every feature,
_And_ a side-car, painted carmine--
Joy! to think they really _are_ mine!

Time is short; I don't lose much in
Starting, and I let the clutch in;
Lest I should accelerate
Passing through the garage-gate,
Feeling certain as to what'll
Happen, I shut off the throttle,
When--my heart begins to beat--
I'm propelled across the street
In a way I never reckoned,
Gathering speed at every second.

Frantic, I apply the brake,
Realising my mistake
With my last remaining wit:
_I've not shut, but opened it!_
In another instant I
Hit the curb and start to fly.
Aeronautic friends of mine
Say that flying is divine;
Now I've tried it I confess
Few things interest me less,
Still, I own that in a sense
It is an experience.

These and other thoughts are there
As I whistle through the air,
And continue till I stop
In an ironmonger's shop
(Kept by Mr. Horne, a kind
Soul, but deaf and very blind).
Still--I mention this with pride,
For it shows how well