* * * * * BALLADE OF EARLSCOURT. I've really been extremely gay-- I've done most things (I mean, in reason)-- And, though "it is not always _May_," It has been, during my first season. At balls and parties I've had fun; I've listened to Home-Rule disputes; There's only one thing I've not done-- Alas! I've not been down "the Chutes"! With screams and laughter from the height I saw men splash their nice new suits; It seemed to cause them great delight; But still--I have not shot the Chutes. I've been to all the good first nights, I've cried at DUSE, laughed at PENLEY, I have seen all the London sights, I've been to Sandown, Lord's, and Henley. At IBSEN I've serenely smiled, While suff'ring torture from new boots; GLADSTONE I've met, and OSCAR WILDE-- But ah! I've not been down the Chutes! _Envoi._ Prince, one regret I feel on leaving For country air, and flowers, and fruits-- I quit gay London only grieving To think I have not shot the Chutes! * * * * * "A deuce of a mess between France and Siam," observed a Bow-window Politician of Clubland. "A deuce of a mess?" repeated the other Bow-window man. "You mean, as far as France is concerned, it's the very DEVELLE!" * * * * * WHY ELINOR IS EVER YOUNG. (_By a Fiance a la Mode._) [Illustration] ["... The women they might have married--the girls whom they danced with when they were youths--have grown too old for our middle-aged suitors."--_Standard._] I'm just engaged: I'm forty-five-- Our modern prime for wedded blisses. The age _par excellence_ to wive With blooming _fin-de-siecle_ Misses; I'm very happy; so's my Love; I don't regret that long I've tarried;-- And yet I can't help thinking of The damozels I might have married. Yes; there was JANET, slim and pert; I took her in last night to dinner, And cannot honestly assert That years conspire to make her thinner; Yet once we cooed o'er tea and buns; She quite forgets how on we carried, Nor owns, with undergraduate sons, That _she_ was one I might have married. And LILIAN, emanation soft, Fair widow of the latter Sixties, Ideal of the faith that oft With earliest homage intermixt is; I used to dream her, oh! so young; She's wrinkled now and bent and arid; It almost desecrates my tongue, But _she_ was one I might have married. A truce to recollection sore; I'm still considered smart and youthful; And trusting, darling ELINOR Assures me so with passion truthful; In my fond eyes she'll wither ne'er, Because--the fact can scarce be parried-- I shan't survive to see her share The fate of those I might have married! Mixed.