A WASTED “INFANCY.” (_The Lay of a Man of Forty._) I was not so very old, Twenty years ago! Quite an “infant,” I am told, Twenty years ago! How I _might_ have gone the pace At the cost of tradesmen base, If I’d only had the face Twenty years ago! But I was a trifle shy, Twenty years ago! Let the golden time slip by, Twenty years ago! Didn’t buy on tick, alas, “Necessary” things _en masse_―― All which branded me an ass, Twenty years ago! _Funny Folks._ April 5, 1884. ―――― THE SCUTTLE. Of all the plans there are on earth For Statesmen still to cherish O Commend me to the Premier’s own Whose glory ne’er will perish O! O the Scuttle, the base, ignoble Scuttle. Chosen fad of Lib and Rad, Our dear old Gladstone’s Scuttle O! Forth, forth, from Egypt let us slope As fast as we can manage O! And let the Mahdi work his will The B.P.’ll pay the damage O! O the Scuttle, the base, ignoble Scuttle, Chosen fad of Lib and Rad, Our dear old Gladstone’s Scuttle O! Forth from Afghanistan as well In spite of all our bunkum O! The only way to beat the Russ Is evermore to funk ’em O! O the Scuttle, the base, ignoble Scuttle, Chosen fad of Lib and Rad, Our _dear_ old Gladstone’s Scuttle O! So wheresoever threats a foe, Or dangers England worry O! We will surmount them all by flight And out of trouble hurry O! O the Scuttle, the base, ignoble Scuttle, Chosen fad of Lib and Rad, Our dear old Gladstone’s Scuttle O! _Moonshine._ May, 1885. ―――― THE ARGOSY BRACES Ye who are cumbersome and slow, Awkward and ungainly, We would have you know The cause is BRACES! mainly Those of the old fashioned type, Impeding every movement. Really the time was ripe For marvellous improvement. Then if you’re tired of the vice-like gripping Grasping, clutching, and irritating slipping, And your principal complaint Is physical restraint, You needn’t have a taint Of it now. But when you’re next engaged in shopping, Into a hosier’s go you popping, Give the “ARGOSY” a trial; Then with a placid smile, Cast off the old ones vile, As we do. ―――― KNOX ET PRÆTEREA NIHIL! (_After King Gama’s song in the “Princess Ida.”_) SCENE.――_Dromore. Leaders of the Local Orange Lodges discovered in Council._ _First Orange Leader._ Common sense we bar, That is not our bent; On the whole we are _Not_ intelligent. _Chorus of Leaders._