Does up her dresses without saying, "Blow it"; Pays and forgets to say "Bother" or "Biff"; Asks her to scatter the money and go it, Beams at her bills when the totals are stiff. As for his daughters, he gives them their chances, Rushes them round to reception and fete; Takes them himself to their concerts and dances; Always looks pleased when they want to stay late. Then he has meals which would make you grow thinner, Often absorbing with infinite glee Sponge-cakes at breakfast and crumpets at dinner, Whitstable oysters at five o'clock tea. Next he loves laughter: that is, to be laughed at-- Every way's right for the man to be rubbed; Grins when he's sneered at and jeered at and chaffed at; Wriggles with pleasure whenever he's snubbed. Fiction, in short, in a million disguises Never created a crankier clod, More unaccountably made of surprises, More topsy-turvily fashioned and odd. * * * * * CARPET SALES. (_In accordance with the current announcements of the leading West-End houses, and with no reference to Anglo-Russian diplomacy._) Carpets of Persia fashioned on Orient looms-- Webs which the craftsman's hand with a patient cunning Wrought through the perfect marriage of warp and woof-- Such as were laid, I imagine, in Bahram's rooms Where (since their removal) the lion and lizard lie sunning, And the ass, according to OMAR, stamps his hoof-- Are selling off cheap, it is stated, for money down: _Oh, have you a remnant of Persia for half-a-crown?_ Carpets of Persia! (None of your home-made stuffs!) After long years on the loom and infinite labour, Piled in bales on piratical Arab dhows At Bunder Abbas, and brought by a crew of roughs (Each looking more of a cut-throat rip than his neighbour) Down Ormuz Strait through a series of storms and rows-- Surely they ought to be bargains in London Town? _Oh, have you a remnant of Persia for half-a-crown?_ Carpets of Persia! Though not, perhaps, one of the best, Like those which adorn the Victoria and Albert Museum, Yet, since you assert that you're selling authentic antiques, I'd like to have one which the foot of a Caliph has pressed, Or one where the wives of a Wazir (I fancy I see 'em) Were wont to recline, curled up in their shimmering breeks, Or one whereon foreheads were rubbed before mighty HAROUN-- _Oh, have you a remnant of Persia for half-a-crown?_ * * * * * A POLITICAL CORRESPONDENCE.