King Arthur, growing very tired indeed Of wild Tintagel, now that Launcelot Had gone to Jersey or to Jericho, And there was nobody to make a rhyme, And Cornish girls were christened Jennifer, And the Round Table had grown rickety, Said unto Merlin (who had been asleep For a few centuries in Broceliande, But woke, and had a bath, and felt refreshed): “What shall I do to pull myself together?” Quoth Merlin, “Salad is the very thing, And you can get it at the _Cheshire Cheese_” King Arthur went there; _verily_, I believe That he has dined there every day since then. Have you not marked the portly gentleman In his cool corner, with his plate of greens? The great knight Launcelot prefers the _Cock_, Where port is excellent (in pints), and waiters Are portlier than kings, and steaks are tender, And poets have been known to meditate―― Ox-fed orating ominous ostasticks. * * * * * The first edition of _The British Birds_ soon went out of print, and became very scarce. But in December, 1885, Mrs. Mortimer Collins wrote a letter to the editor of Parodies, which has now a melancholy interest:――“I believe copies of British Birds can still be had at Mr. Bentley’s, as I brought out a second edition there some eight years ago. Yes, there are some parodies of Swinburne, Tennyson and Browning. But the best known bits of the book are not parodies, unless you call the whole book a parody of Aristophanes. “The ‘Positivists’ is the most famous piece in the book, containing the lines:―― “There was an APE in the days that were earlier; Centuries passed, and his hair became curlier; Centuries more gave a thumb to his wrist―― Then he was MAN, and a Positivist.” “and ‘Skymaking’ is another oft quoted bit. I thought, perhaps, that you had written parodies on these; though it seemed unlikely, because satiric verse does not lend itself to parody. I am always interested in anything connected with my husband’s works, because I truly believe in his genius. I may perhaps be somewhat partial in my judgment, for Mortimer was a more brilliant talker than writer. Day after day I enjoyed his wit, and I used to be so sorry there were not more to hear it: but he was quite content with his audience of one. “My husband has written many parodies. If you would like to quote them I can refer you to them.” But this kind offer of assistance was not to be fulfilled, for Mrs. Collins complained at the end of the letter of her failing strength, and in less than three months she passed away. ――――:o:―――― A MATCH. (_Matched._) If I were Anglo-Saxon, And you were Japanese, We’d study storks together, Pluck out the peacock’s feather And lean our languid backs on The stiffest of settees; If I were Anglo-Saxon, And you were Japanese.