_A candid M.P. showeth cause._ Fair Waitress at the A. B. C., To which I most resort, Bring me a roll and cup of tea-- No longer bards drink port. No more the lusty, generous vine In bardic veins makes summer; That's why Apollo's lyre divine Knows but the sorry strummer. No rich libation at the "Cock," Degenerate race, we pour, And tea, not port, at five o'clock, Is what we all adore. In coffee, tea, and lemon squash The Muse ne'er dips her laurel, So what we write is either "wash," Or hopelessly immoral. When life, each quarter, is made out Of still more jaundiced hue, The needy bard must join the shout, His verse be jaundiced too: But tea's the spell, these latter times, As of some fell narcotic, That makes us weave our random rhymes All rotten, or neurotic. We modern bardlets, tea-inspired, Condemn th' "old-fashioned gang," And yet we miss the spark that fired The songs our fathers sang: Their tastes were healthier than their sons', Their rhymes were "none so dusty," When bards ate beef instead of buns, And loved their fine old "crusty." This sere and yellow poesy Faint draws its sickly breath, And--doctors say--Society Will soon acclaim its death: No stone upon its grave we'll place, But tea-pots at each corner-- Fair Waitress, you the scene shall grace As chief, and only, mourner. * * * * * [Illustration: Le "Yellow Book" (Africain) Officiel ROMANS POUR LES ANGLOPHOBES Paris: Ribot, Hanotaux et C.^{ie} GRATIS] "M. HANOTAUX, Minister of Foreign Affairs, will shortly have distributed in the Chamber and the Senate a _Yellow Book_ relative to the conventions recently concluded between France and Great Britain for the delimitation of their respective possessions on the West Coast of Africa." _Our Artist could not be restrained from designing a Cover, which we respectfully offer to M. Hanotaux._ * * * * * The Jabez is Coming. The JABEZ is coming! Oh dear! how queer! Is JABEZ a-coming? What cheer? what cheer? There's nothing much left though to hear We fear. We'll believe he has come when he's here. Hear! Hear! * * * * * NOTE BY A HIGHLY CULTIVATED BUT UNSUCCESSFUL DRAMATIST.--About the most fatal opinion that can be given on any play is to say that "it _reads_ well." A play that is "a treat to read" is, as a rule, utter boredom to see; for in proportion to the success in the study is, in the majority of cases, the failure on the stage. * * * * *