_Ars longa est!_ All know what once that meant; But cranks corrupt so sickeningly have shindied About _their_ ART of late, 'tis evident The rendering now must be, "Art is long-winded!" For _Vita brevis_,--all true men must hope, Brief life for such base Art--and a short rope! * * * * * MOTTO--SLIGHTLY MODIFIED FROM GRAY'S "ELEGY"--FOR STODDART'S ELEVEN.--"Still in those 'ashes' live their wonted fire." * * * * * SATURDAY NIGHT IN THE EDGWARE ROAD. _For over half a mile the pavement on the East side of the road is thronged with promenaders, and the curbstone lined with stalls and barrows, and hawkers of various wares. Marketing housewives with covered baskets oscillate undecidedly from stalls to shops, and put off purchasing to the last possible moment. Maids-of-all-work perambulate arm in arm, exchanging airy badinage with youths of their acquaintance, though the latter seem to prefer the society of their own sex. A man with a switchback skittle-board plays gloomy games by himself to an unspeculative group of small boys. The tradesmen stand outside their shops and conduct their business with a happy blend of the methods of a travelling showman and a clown._ _Burlesque Butcher._ Now then all o' _you_ there! Buy, buy, buy! Jest give yer minds to spendin' yer money! (_In a tone of artless wonder._) Where _does_ the Butcher git this _luverly_ meat? What can I do fur _you_ now, Marm? (_Triumphantly, after selling the scrag-end of a neck of mutton._) _Now_ we're busy! _Farcical Fishmonger_ (_with two Comic Assistants_). Ahar! (_To crowd._) Come 'ere, you silly young snorkers! I've the quali_tee!_ I've the quali_tay!_ _Keep_ takin' money! _First Comic Assistant._ Ahye! Foppence a pound nice plaice! Kippers two fur three 'apence. _We_'re the Perfeshnal Curers! What are yer all goin' to _do?_ Sort 'em out cheap! _Second C. A._ I don't mind. What care I? (_Bursting into song._) "'Ow, she rowled me 'ed, and rumbled in the 'ay!" On me word, she did, ladies! [_He executes a double shuffle, and knocks over several boxes of bloaters in the gaiety of his heart._ _A Hawker of Penny Memorandum Books_ (_to an audience of small boys_). Those among you 'oo are not mechanics, decidedly you 'ave mechanical _hideers!_ [_He enlarges upon the convenience of having a note-book in which to jot down any inspirations of this kind; but his hearers do not appear to agree with him._ _A Lugubrious Vendor._ One penny for six comic pypers. Hevery one different! _A Rude Boy._ You ain't bin _readin'_ o' any on 'em, 'ave yer, guv'nor? [Illustration: 'You ain't bin a _readin'_ o' any on 'em, 'ave yer, guv'nor?"]