That is, it _spelt_ all right. E'en admiration
Shan't tempt me to attempt _pronunciation_!
Eleven centuries we to Indian skill owe!
Will the East lick the West at its own "Willow?"
Here's luck to India and young RAN--Och, murther!
RAN-JIT-SIN-SIN--How's that! _Out_? Can't get further!
* * * * *

"OH NO, WE NEVER MENTION IT."--The KENDALS have got a Play by a young
American Author with the very uncompromising name of DAM. He, or his
Play, may be Dam good, or just the reverse: still, if he does turn out
to be the "big, big D," then all the Dam family, such as Amsterdam,
Rotterdam, Schiedam, and so forth, will be real proud of him. Future
Dams will revere him as their worthy ancestral sire, and American
Dam may become naturalised among us (we have a lot of English ones
quite a _specialite_ in that line, so the French say), and become
Dam-nationalised. What fame if the piece is successful, and DAM is
on every tongue! So will it be too, if unsuccessful. Englishmen will
welcome the new American playright with the name unmentionable to
ears polite, and will recognise in him, as _the_ Dam _par excellence_,
their brother, as one of the uncommon descendants of A-DAM. By the
way, the appropriate night for its production would be Christmas
Eve. Fancy the cries all over the House, calling for the successful
Author!!

* * * * *

[Illustration: IMMUNITIES OF THE SEA-SIDE.

"COME UNDER THE UMBRELLA, JACK, IT'S BEGUN TO RAIN, AND YOU'LL CATCH
COLD, AND MAMMA'LL BE VEXED!"

"POOH! AS IF SALT WATER EVER GAVE ONE COLD!"]

* * * * *

"PUNSCH"

(_IN THE READING-ROOM OF THE BERNERHOF._)

Although thy name is wrongly spelt
Upon thy case, what joy I felt
To find a place where thou hast dwelt,
My Punsch!

Yet wit and wisdom, even thine,
Can't wake up Berne, where folks supine
All go to bed at half-past nine,
My Punsch!

What art or jokes could entertain,
Such sleepy people? True, they feign
It's later, for they say "_halb zehn_,"
My Punsch!

My German "_Punsch_," what gender thine?
They who accept, likewise decline,
"_Das Weib_" might feminine assign--
Die Punsch!

No matter which, if I behold
Thy pages, worth their weight in gold--
It's true they're more than three weeks old,
My Punsch!

* * * *