If you’re anxious for to shine in the high æsthetic line As a man of culture rare, You must get up all the germs of the transcendental terms, And plant them everywhere. You must lie upon the daisies and discourse in novel phrases Of your complicated state of mind. The meaning doesn’t matter if it’s only idle chatter Of a transcendental kind. And everyone will say, As you walk your mystic way, “If this young man expresses himself in terms too deep for _me_, Why, what a very singularly deep young man this deep young man must be!” * * * * * THE CULTURED ASSISTANT. If you want to cut a shine in Professor Attfield’s line Of high-class pharmacy, You must get up all the germs and the new-notation terms Of everything you see. You must learn about the daisies, and cram botanic phrases On every flower you find. If you’ve only got a smattering, be everlasting chattering To expose your “cultured mind.” And every one shall say, as you walk your mystic way, “If this young man converses in terms that are far too deep for me, Why, what a pharmaceutically-deep young man, then, this young man must be.” Be sure you never praise those very ancient days When trade was sure to pay, But make them plainly see that eighteen eighty-three Is “culture’s” palmiest day. Of course you will pooh pooh whate’er they used to do, And pronounce it crude and mean, And declare “that oil and smalts, or pennyworths of salts, Are things you’ve never seen.” And everyone will say, as you walk your mystic way, “If that’s not good enough for him, that is good enough for me, Why, what a very cultivated kind of youth this kind of youth must be.” You must study sight and sound, for these, it has been found, Are required in making pills; And in keeping up your stock, the philosophy of Locke A wond’rous power instills. And mind you never drop a word about the “shop” For it’s plain as plain can be, You bid farewell to trade, when acquaintance has been made With high-class pharmacy; Though employers oft may say, as you walk your “cultured” way, “If _he’s_ content with scientific lore, he’ll certainly _not_ suit me, For a money-making, practical, and business man _my_ kind of man must be.” PHIL. BOSECIC. _From a Chemical Journal._ ――――:o:―――― DUET. _Patience and Grosvenor._ _Grosvenor_――