The JONESES--hurr! Let me get at them! Back--unhand me! Ha!---- [Illustration] [_He swoons. Curtain._ * * * * * TRIOLET. (_Written whilst you wait._) A woman who's late Is, of course, in the fashion. She's quite up-to-date, The woman who's late. The man has to wait, And swears in his passion. A woman who's late, Is, of course, in the fashion. * * * * * WEATHER WISDOM. "_Hark! I hear the Asses bray_, _We shall have some rain to-day_." So the nursery jingle goes, Is it truthful? Goodness knows! But if vocal donkey's strain Brings indeed the daily rain 'Tis no marvel altogether We are worried with wet weather. * * * * * A "Wonder-Kid." [A licence was recently applied for to enable NELLIE WICK, aged eight years, to shave in public. Mr. DE RUTZEN, in granting the application, remarked that "the child was not likely to suffer any injury from the performance." Let us hope no one else will, either.] The latest infant-prodigy is literally a _shaver_, A little lady-Figaro, who'll _raze_ you like the wind! Though brave may be this barber-child, her victims will be braver-- A _kind_ of _wounder_, possibly, might prove this "_wunderkind_!" * * * * * [Illustration: LEAVING THE PARENTAL NEST. _The Bride's Father (to Bridegroom)._ "OH, JOHN, YOU'LL TAKE _CARE_ OF HER, _WON'T_ YOU!"] * * * * * THE MODERN MEDUSA. ["The views and objects of the 'Commonweal' group of Anarchists are published in a journal called the _Commonweal_ ... and by reference to which it appears that they applaud and justify the wholesale massacre of innocent persons as a legitimate method for the attainment of their ends."--_Mr. Asquith._] Gorgon Medusa of the snaky locks, Whose loathly lair was 'midst the wave-washed rocks, Thou wert less hideous than our monstrous, mad Belated birth of Nemesis and Nox. Gendered of vengeful hatred and blind wrath, Crawling malign in Civilisation's path! Venomous vermin, of relentless fang, Foul spawn of wrong, oppression's aftermath. Dark is the monstrous mystery of thy birth, Sinister scourge of a time-wearied earth; But all men's hands against thee must be raised, Foe of all love and murderer of all mirth. Negation of all progress, hope's chill blight, Black bringer-back of Chaos and Old Night; The one unfaltering foe of humankind[A] Which all that's human to the death, must fight. With thee weak tenderness must make no truce, Parley with thee were pity's mere abuse. The hand that halts, the sword that shrinks or spares, But lets the Gorgon's snaky offspring loose.