Then the Umpire's boat a nuisance we vote, It interrupts calm contemplation; Its discordant tone, and horrid steam moan, Is death to serene meditation! The roar of the crowd should not be allowed; The gun with its fierce fulmination, Abolish it, pray--'tis fatal, they say, To pleasant and quiet flirtation! _I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c._ If athletes must pant--I don't say they shan't-- But give them some decent employment; And let it be clear, they don't interfere With other folks' quiet enjoyment! When luncheon you're o'er, tis really a bore-- And I think it a very hard case is-- To have to look up, from _páté_ or cup, And gaze on those tiresome Races! _I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c._ The Races, to me, seem to strike a wrong key, Mid dreamy delightful diversion; There isn't much fun seeing men in the sun, Who suffer from over-exertion! In sweet idle days, when all love to laze, Such violent work a disgrace is! Let's hope we shall see, with me they'll agree, And next year abolish the Races! _I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c._ * * * * * [Illustration: KNOW THYSELF! _Miss Featherweight._ "I tell you what, Alfred, if you took me for a row in a thing like that I'd scream all the time. Why, he isn't more than half out of the water!"] * * * * * HENLEY REGATTA _By Jingle Junior on the Jaunt_