Robed in senescent garb that seems in sooth Too long a prey to Chronos's iron tooth, Behold the man whose amorous lips incline, Full with Eros's osculative sign, To the lorn maiden whose lactalbic hands Drew albulactic bovine wealth from lacteal glands Of that immortal bovine, by whose horn Distort to realm ethereal was borne The beast catulean, vexed of the sly Ulysses quadrupedal, who made die The old mordacious rat that dared devour Antecedaneous ale in John's domestic bower. Lo! here, with hirsute honors doffed, succinct Of saponaceous locks, the priest who linked In Hymen's golden bands the torn unthrift, Whose means exiguous stared through many a rift, Even as he kissed the virgin all forlorn, Who milked the cow with implicated horn, Who in fine wrath the canine torturer skied, That dared to vex the insidious muricide, Who let auroral effluence through the pelt Of the sly rat that robbed the palace Jack had built. The loud cantankerous Shanghai comes at last, Whose shouts aroused the shorn ecclesiast, Who sealed the vows of Hymen's sacrament, To him, who, robed in garments indigent, Exosculates the damsel lachrymose, The emulgator of that horned brute morose, That tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that kilt The rat that ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. * * * * * The late Mr. William R. Travers liked Bermuda enormously, but it would seem that he found its comforts not altogether unalloyed. A friend who once visited him there was congratulating him on his improved appearance. "This is a grand place for change and rest," said his friend. "Just what you needed." "Yes," replied Mr. Travers, sadly. "Th-th-this is a magn-ni-ni-nif-ficent place f-f-f-for b-b-both. The ni-ni-niggers look out f-f-f-for the ch-ch-ch-_change_, and the hotel ke-ke-keepers take th-th-the _rest_." [ANONYMOUS] ST. PETER AT THE GATE