PUNCH TO SALISBURY. I hold it true, whate'er befall, Though Jingo bounce and patriot rail, 'Twere better far to meet and fail, Than never try to meet at all. * * * * * THE RINKER'S SOLACE. I hold it true whoe'er may fall, I _feel_ it when I tumble most, 'Tis better to have rinked and lost Than never to have rinked at all. _Tennyson_ (revised). * * * * * BEHIND TIME. She looked quite cross--her face had not The smile that once lured one and all, While waiting at that seaside spot For him she loved;--divinely tall; Her sloe-black eyes showed restless change, Small sparks of anger you might catch, And yet those eyes you could not match, Were you throughout the world to range, "Alas! I'm getting weary, weary-- Waiting here for Fred; He said he'd take me sailing--query? He's not come yet," she said. "He asked me when we met last night, If I would like a sail or row; I answered 'Yes,' with great delight; He said at one o'clock we'd go. 'Tis now five minutes past the hour, And where is _he_, I'd like to know? Oh! if I did not love him so I'd punish him--and show my pow'r. But oh, alas! it _is_ so dreary When I am not with Fred; I feel like Moore's lamenting Peri: Why _won't_ he come?" she said. The tear-drops then welled from her eyes, And down her damask cheek they crept; Her bosom heaved with sundry sighs, She cried, "I'll _no_ excuse accept. I will not speak to him," said she; "How _dare_ he keep me waiting here!" When suddenly, approaching near, Her tardy swain she chanced to see; And then, forgetting she'd been weary, She cried, "Oh, here comes Fred!" And somehow then she seemed less dreary, "How _nice_ he looks!" she said. H. C. NEWTON. From _Tom Hood's Comic Annual_, 1884. The Poet Laureate's cruise with Sir Donald Currie, in the autumn of 1883, was an event of some importance, as he was then afforded an opportunity of reading his poems to a select audience of Royal personages; it is generally supposed that it was during that trip also that the Prime Minister offered him the title, his acceptance of which has since been the subject of so much comment and censure. _Punch_ (September 22, 1883) described the voyage to the north in the following comical medley of parodies of the Laureate's poems:-- A LAUREATE'S LOG. (_Rough Weather Notes from the New Berth-day Book_.) MONDAY. If you're waking, please don't call me, please don't call me, CURRIE dear, For they tell me that to-morrow t'wards the open we're to steer! No doubt, for you and those aloft, the maddest merriest way,-- But _I_ always feel best in a bay, CURRIE, _I_ always feel best in a bay! TUESDAY.