* * * * * [Illustration: QUITE A CATCH. _Young Splinter_ (_driving Nervous Old Party to Covert_). "YES, I LOVE A BARGAIN IN HORSEFLESH! NOW, IF YOU BELIEVE ME, I PICKED THIS LITTLE BEGGAR UP THE OTHER DAY FOR A MERE SONG. BOLTED WITH A TRAP--KICKED EVERYTHING TO SMASH. BID THE FELLOW A TENNER FOR HER, AND THERE SHE IS!" [_Old Party begins to feel that "'E don' know where 'e are," or will be presently._] * * * * * "MUSIC HATH CHARMS." A SONG FOR A SUMMER DAY, 1895. (_A Very Long Way after Dryden._) ["Mr. HERBERT GLADSTONE, in reply to Mr. AIRD, said he was glad to tell the hon. gentleman that he had been informed by his Royal Highness the Duke of CAMBRIDGE that arrangements were being made for a military band to play in Hyde Park on certain days in summer."--_Parliamentary Report._] I. In harmony, in public harmony, This bit of pleasant news began. St. Stephen's underneath a heap Of burning questions lay. When HERBERT raised his head His tuneful voice was heard on high, And this is what it said: That Great GEORGE RANGER could descry A chance of making a big leap To pop-u-lar-i-ty. That Music's power should have full summer sway, And the bands begin to play! With harmony, with general harmony, Around the information ran That harmony, sweet harmony, Should stay mere rumpus with its rataplan, And make Hyde Park a pleasant place to Man! II. What passion cannot Music raise and quell? When HERBERT thumps the side-drum well The listening nursemaids well may stand around, A-wondering at that curly swell, A-worshipping the rattling sound. Less than a dook they think can hardly dwell In that drum major's toffy togs. He startles even the stray dogs! What passion cannot Music raise and quell? III. The populace charms, The kettledrum-banger The baby alarms. At the double, double, double beat Of young GLADSTONE'S drum The Socialist spouters from back street and slum Cry, "Hark! our foes come! Way oh! _We_'ad better retreat!" IV. The shrill and sprightly flute Startles the seculurist spouts and shovers. The crowds of music-lovers Flock to its sound and leave tub-thumpers mute. V. Dark Anarchists proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation, Fury, frantic indignation, Depths of spite and heights of passion. Music mars _their_ little game. VI.