She’ll talk about statistics, and ask if you’re inclined To join the progress movement for development of mind. If you enquire what that means, she’ll frown and say ’tis best Such matter should be understood, but never be express’d, By a stern suggestive Bluestocking in this mystic modern time. She’ll converse upon aesthetics, and then refer to figures, And turn from angels bright and fair to sympathise with niggers, Whom she’ll style “our sable brethren,” and pretend are martyrs quite; And with Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, she’ll swear that black is white, Like a trans-Atlantic Bluestocking, one of the modern time. She never makes a pudding, and she never makes a shirt, And if she’s got some little ones, they’re black and blue with dirt; When the wretched man her husband comes, though tired he may be, She’ll regenerate society instead of making tea, Like a real strong-minded Bluestocking, The plague of the modern time. MORAL. The moral of my song is this, just leave all “ics” and “ologies” For men to exercise their brains, on platforms and in colleges; Let woman’s proud and honour’d place be still the fireside, And still man’s household deities, his mother and his bride, In this our nineteenth century, The favour’d child of Time. FRANK E. SMEDLEY. _Gathered Leaves._ London, Virtue Brothers, 1865. (This parody originally appeared in _Mirth and Metre_.) ―――― THE FINE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN OF THE PRESENT TIME. I’ll sing you a fine old song, improved by a modern pate, Of a fine Old English Gentleman, who owns a large estate, But pays the labourers on it at a very shabby rate. Some seven shillings each a week for early work and late, Gives this fine Old English Gentleman, one of the present time. His hall so brave is hung around with pictures, all in rows, Of oxen that have gained the prize at agricultural shows, And pigs so fat that they can’t see an inch before their nose; For the whole of his attention on his cattle he bestows, Like a fine Old English Gentleman, one of the present time. In winter’s cold, when poor and old, for some assistance call, And come to beg a trifle at the portals of his hall, He refers them to the workhouse, that stands open wide for all; For this is how the parish great relieve the parish small, Like this fine Old English Gentleman, one of the present time.