"Trust not the gas," the old man said, "Dingy and dull the lamps o'er head-- The illumination is ill supplied," But loud that sandwich bearer cried, "OZOKERIT." "O stay," the maiden said, "or rest Until your mystery is guessed!" A wink obscured his cunning eye, As still he mentioned in reply-- "OZOKERIT." Beware the peeler, stern and staunch, With bull's-eye pendant at his haunch. This was the pleasant last "Good-day," A voice replied, some streets away, "OZOKERIT." At break of day, while reeled along, Shouting their oft repeated song. Some "Jolly Dogs," with blinking stare, They heard a voice ring through the air, "OZOKERIT." The speaking, tracing by the sound, They, sitting on a doorstep, found A man, who bore upon his back A placard, with that word in black, "OZOKERIT." There on the doorstep, cold and flat, Puzzled by pondering he sat; And with the hoarseness of catarrh, He sighed, "I wonders what it are!" "OZOKERIT." From _Fun_, October 22, 1870. * * * * * CURFEW. I. Solemnly, mournfully Dealing its dole, The Curfew Bell Is beginning to toll. Cover the embers, And put out the light, Toil comes with the morning, And rest with the night. Dark grow the windows, And quenched is the fire, Sound fades into silence,-- All footsteps retire. No voice in the chambers, No sound in the hall! Sleep and oblivion Reign over all! LONGFELLOW. * * * * * CLOSE OF THE SEASON. I. Suddenly, joyfully, Leaving the Row, The London Belle Is beginning to go. Cover the couches And shut out the light, Calls cease in the morning, And parties at night. Closed are the windows, And out is the fire. The knockers are silent All footmen retire. No groom in the chambers, No porter in hall: Dust and brown holland Reign over all! II. The season is ended, And closed like the play, And the swells that adorned it Vanish away. Dim grow its dances, Forgotten they'll be, Like the ends of cigars, Thrown into the sea. Squares lapse into silence, The Railways are full The windows are papered, The West End is dull. Fewer and fewer The people to call Sweeps and the charwoman, Reign over all. * * * * * THE END. Tuesday, September 7, 1880. (_A Vague Reminiscence of Longfellow._) Tardily, wearily, Reacheth its goal The Session of '80, Tired old soul!