THE POET LAUREATESHIP IN ABEYANCE.--Why not go to the City for our Poet Laureate? If a name be any indication, the choice ought at once to fall upon "Alderman RYMER." * * * * * THE COUNTRY OF COCKAIGNE. A MONOLOGUE--WITH A MORAL. SCENE--_An airless Court in a London back street._ TIME--_August._ _Jimmy_ (_aged eight, to_ FLORRIE, _aged seven_). No, I ain't comin' to the Reckereation Groun', not jess yit, I carn't.... I'm goin' ter wyte about 'ere till the lidy comes.... Why, 'er as is comin' to see my Muvver 'bout sendin' me fur a fortnight in the kerntry.... Yus, where I was larst year.... It's settled as I'm ter go agine--leastways as _good_ as settled. My Farver 'e've sent in a happlication to the K'mitty, and Teacher 'e sez 'e kin reckermend me, an' Mr. and Mrs. DELVES--them as 'ad the cottidge where I went afore--they've arst fur to 'ave me agin--so yer see, FLORRIE, it's all _right_. On'y I carn't settle to nuffink afore I know when I'm goin', an' about the trine an' that. Yer 'ave ter roide in a trine ter git to the kerntry, yer know.... Wot, ain't yer never bin there?... Yer'd wanter fawst enough if yer knoo what it was loike.... There's grorss there, an' trees an' that.... Na-ow, a _lot_ better 'n the Reckereation Groun'--that's all mide outer old grivestones as the deaders 'as done wiv. There's 'ills an' bushes an' 'edges where yer can pick flowers. ...There ain't no perlice to _git_ yer locked up.... An' everyfink smells so lovelly, kinder 'elthy like--it mikes yer feel 'ungry.... Not like sassages an' inions azackly--'tain't that sorter smell.... On'y 'ere an' there, an' yer'd 'ardly tell they _was_ shops, they kerry 'em on that quoiet.... Yer wouldn' call it poky if yer was there. Mr. DELVES 'e _was_ a kind man, 'e was; mide me a whistle outer a sickermore brornch, 'e did; an' Mrs. DELVES she lemme 'elp her feed the chickings.... They 'ad a garding beyind, an' there was rasberries an' gooseberries a growin on bushes--strite, they was--I ain't tellin' yer no lies--an' eat as many as yer like, yer could. An' they 'ad a dog--_Rover 'is_ nime was--'e was a koind dog, lemme lay insoide of 'is kennel orfen, 'e would.... I'd like ter 'ave a run over thet Common agen, too. I dessay as I shell--p'reps the d'y arter to-morrer.... There's a pond on it, an' geese, an' they comes at yer a stritching out their necks an' a-'i sin' thet sevidge.... Na-ow, yer've on'y got ter walk up to 'em, an' they goes orf purtendin' they took yer fur somebody else, an' wasn't meanin' no offence. I ain't afride o' no geese, I ain't--nor yet LILY wasn't neither. We sor a pig 'aving a ring put froo 'is nose one day. 'E 'ollered out like 'e was bein' killed--but 'e wasn't. An' there was a blecksmiff's, where they put the 'orse's shoes on red 'ot, an' the 'orse 'e never took no notice. Me an' LILY used ter go fur long walks, all under trees. Once she showed me a squill--"sqerl" _she_ kep' a-callin' of