EUROPA. "AGAIN! BUT THIS TIME I HAVE A WEAPON AT HAND!"] * * * * * MARY JONES. (_By her Husband._) As I'm daily jolted down On the early bus to town, Through the yellow fog and brown, O'er the stones, I inhale the tawny air, And I deem it ether rare, For my soul is full of fair MARY JONES. Fellow-passengers are fain To abuse the wind and rain, And the weather, they complain, Chills their bones: But I laugh at snow and sleet As I bump upon my seat, For I'm thinking of my sweet MARY JONES. With a lightsome heart and gay To the Bank I wend my way. Where I calculate all day Debts and loans; Though anon my fancies flee From the rows of £ _s. d._, And they wander off to thee, MARY JONES. And I cannot blame their taste, Though a little time they waste For my MARY would have graced Monarchs' thrones. What are pounds and pence to her?-- No. I cannot but concur With their choice when they prefer MARY JONES. Then I hurry home to tea, And I pass an A. B. C., Where I purchase two or three Cakes and scones: For I love the smiles that rise In your laughing hazel eyes When I offer you my prize, MARY JONES. And when tea is cleared away, And you kindle me my clay, As I listen to your gay Dulcet tones, Then I sometimes wonder who In the world's the best to do?-- 'Gad, it's either I or you, MARY JONES! [Illustration: A VERY VULGAR BOY. "ASKIN' YER PARDON, MISS, BUT MIGHT THAT 'ERE LITTLE DOG'S TAIL HA' BEEN CUT OFF OR DRUV' IN?"] * * * * * THE MODERN SOCIETY PLAY. It surely should not be allowed, The Modern Society Play, That dreadfully shocking _Kate Cloud_, That bad _Mrs. P. Tanqueray._ That's what said X. Y. Z. It elevates everyone, The Modern Society Play, You stupid old son of a gun. Replied, bursting into the fray, Fearless, free, H. B. TREE. Why make such a clamour? Oh, blow The Modern Society Play! As nothing compels you to go, X. Y. Z., you can just stop away; Don't you see? So say we. * * * * * LOST IN LONDON. 1. Hymn-book stolen. Original price, in superior binding, 11-¾_d._ 2. Hymn-book pawned for 2-½_d._ by thief. 3. Pawnbroker, finding my name inside, tells Police. 4. Police inform me I can have the book restored to me "on application." 5. Go to Scotland Yard. Told hymn-book is at Bow Street. Cost of my journey so far, 4-½_d._ 6. At Bow Street have to take out summons against Chief Commissioner! This is "the invariable rule," I am informed. Cost of summons and "service"--not the Church Service--3_s._ Could have got _three new hymn-books_ with the sum.