_Lady Rosehugh_ (_to_ Mr. LUKE WALMER, _on the way home_). You know I _do_ think it's _such_ a cheering sign of the times, Society getting simpler in its tastes, and sharing the pleasures of the Dear People, and all that; it must tend to bring all classes more _together_, don't you know! _Mr. Luke Walmer._ Perhaps. Only I was thinking, I don't remember seeing any of the Dear People _about_. _Lady Rosehugh._ No; somebody was telling me they had taken to playing Polo on bicycles in Hyde Park. So extraordinary of them--a place nobody ever goes _near_ now, you know! * * * * * THE LAST TOURNAMENT (OF TENNIS--IN THE NORTH). _By a Manchester Enthusiast of Tennis-onian Tastes and Hibernian Sympathies._ ["For once in a way the Northern Tournament, which has long boasted of being second only to Wimbledon, has not proved an unqualified success.... The withdrawal of Messrs. PIM and STOKER must for some time be severely felt by tournaments of first-class importance."--_Bradford Observer._] AIR--"_The Battle of the Baltic._" Of Tennis in the North, Sing the--more or less--renown! But--some champions of worth From the netted lists are flown; The Great Brethren from the verdant courts are gone! Once they mustered a brave band, LAWFORD long, and LEWIS grand, Whilst the RENSHAWS, hand o'er hand, Smashed--and won! Now the other--BADDELEY--twins Have it nearly their own way; And they score repeated wins, Though the ALLENS, too, can play, And can send a swift one down the centre line. When those twins are on the job It is little use to lob. Then there's BARLOW,--bet your bob _He_ is fine! But the might of England flush'd In those courts of emerald sheen. WILFRID flew, and H. B. rush'd.-- Oh! the wearing of the Green!-- Where is Irish PIM, where STOKER, that great gun? Though they smashed and volley'd madly, The Hibernians murmured sadly, "Faix! Auld Erin's beaten--BADDELEY At this fun!" Then there's sweet Miss DOD again! Oh, how sad it seems, and odd. To survey the chalk-marged plain In the absence of Miss DOD, Who they say is wholly given up to GOLF!!! Shall the links then lick the Court? Tennis champions run short? And the slaves of the Scotch sport Jeer and scoff? True MAHONEY and Miss MARTIN Did their best our sport to save; And Miss COOPER took stout part In mixed doubles--which was brave: But where was Mrs. HILLYARD, "whom we knew?" (As Ulysses said of him In the Shades.) Oh, STOKER, PIM! E'en bright Manchester looked dim Missing you! Still, joy, Old England, raise! For the tidings of your might! Yet we hope that Golfing craze Will not come, like a big blight, And seduce our DODS and RENSHAWS any more. For to mar the sweet content Of our Northern Tournament, By much time on links misspent Were a Bore!!! * * * * *