ad a good few to choose from," he said. "I fancy this one is
about the best. My leading low-comedian writes all his own
lyrics--extraordinarily adequate little man. He opens briskly:--

"Pip-pip, girls!
As I was walking down the street,
Because it couldn't walk down me,
One day last week I chanced to meet
A German en-ee-mee.
He had a notebook in his hand (not a sausage)
And I said, ''Ere's a spy! Wot O!'
So I gripped him by the collar and--
And--then--I--let--him--go!
For he (ha! ha! he! he!)
Was bigger than me, you see,
So I thought it well to run and tell
The speshul constabularee!

"Yes," he gasped, "I thought that 'ud hit you. That's what I call a real
live piece of work. Here's another--in the old-fashioned style. Not
quite so much snap about it. But my fourth low-comedian thinks he can
make it go. It's called, 'When Father Threw his Wages at the Cat.'

"We're not a happy family, we're always on the nag,
Our miseries are dreadful to relate;
I've got two little sisters who are both a mass of blisters
From settling disagreements in the grate;

This afternoon my Uncle Charlie kicked me down the stairs
And walloped me for crumpling up the mat;
But this, though far from nice, is simply nothing to the crisis
When father threw his wages at the cat!

There _have_ been other ructions, and especially the day
That mother lent our dicky to the sweep,
When all of us were weeping and the baby gave up sleeping
Because it was impossible to sleep;
But all the rows that ever raged in any British home
Were never half so horrible as that
Which made the coppers rally to the storming of our alley
When father threw his wages at the cat!"

"Is that out of date?" said I. "If so, I like the old style best.'

He grunted. "It'll pass," he said; "but the other's the business."

"Well, give me pleasure first," said I. "As a true Briton I can always
take it sadly."

* * * * *

BARBARA'S BIRTHDAY BEAR.

Barbara's birthday comes once a year,
And Barbara's age you may surely know
If into the toy-box depths you'll peer
And count the Teddy-bears all in a row.

For by Barbara's law, which we all obey,
She claims each year, as the birthday-due
That her loyal subjects must cheerfully pay,
A new Teddy-bear for the toy-box Zoo.

Some of them growl and some of them squeak,
And one can play on