So the traffic each night sinks to rest; The barrister turns to his square: The bustle all hurries due West, Yet still I sit here in the air! And if you could _then_ see my face, You’d say, “He has had it so hot―― Has that brute, that he knows his disgrace, And _admits_ he’s a precious bad lot!” _Punch._ November 20, 1880. ―――― THE PARVENU. I’m monarch of all I survey; At least, when I put it like that, I mean, if I’m willing to pay, There’s nothing that I can’t get at. I heard it was so from the fust, When I thought that I would be a swell, If I liked to come down with the dust, Why everything then would be well. Now a wife was my most pressing need, That ’ad plenty of breeding and blood; Well, I bought ’er――I mean it, indeed―― Yes, bought ’er like one of my stud. For the Herl o’ Stoke Pogis was poor, And he couldn’t afford to say “No,” When he ’ad a good chance to secure Such a rich son-in-law at a blow. Well, next, goaded on by the Herl, A seat in the ’Ouse ’twas I bought; Which was dear at the price, I may say, For it’s not so much fun as I thought. Then the Baronet hafter my name―― This, too, was a stiffish affair; But I don’t begrudge that, all the same, For I liked it no hend as Lord Mayor. Then I bought a big Family Tree, With roots which to Normandy spread; Whilst my ancestors cost――let me see! Yes, close on two ’underd per ’ed. And though they look well on the wall, And come out exceedingly nice, Yet I’m bound to admit that I call ’Em uncommonly dear at the price. Well, I’ve also bought dozens of “friends,” Not by paying ’em money down straight; No, it on their position depends, And there isn’t a regular rate. To some ’tis a loan that I make, Or berths to their boys I hallot; Some I buy for a dinner-card’s sake, Some by lending a horse or a yacht. Why, I’ve Dooks as is under my thumb, And the proudest my cards don’t decline. Since I’ve heven got Princes to come And sit at my table and dine. In short, if he’s money, like me, There’s nothing, I’m ready to vow, That a man who is lavishly free Can’t do in Society now! __Truth. Christmas Number_, 1882. ―――― LAWN-TENNIS. I am monarch of all British Games, My right there is none to contest, For Britons all over the world Acknowledge that I am the best. Oh, Billiards! say where are the charms, That some people see in thy face; Better have a good “rally” with me, And endeavour “to keep up the pace.” Other Games I admit are at hand, But conscience constrains me to own, There are maidens and men by the score, Who live but for Tennis alone. There is Croquet, that once was the rage, Folks now with indifference see, And candour compels me to say Its tameness is shocking to me.