[Illustration: _Little Maid_ (_to new owner of country cottage_) "OH, IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, HERE'S THE CHAIRMAN OF THE LITTLE CHIPPINGHAM AND WEST HAMBLETON STREET LIGHTING COMMITTEE." (_Confidentially_) "IT'S REALLY ONLY MR. BINKS, THE BUTCHER."] * * * * * THE CALL OF THE BLOOD. Happy the man who brushes up his topper And sallies forth to call upon a maid, Knowing his converse and his coat are proper, That, come what may, he will not be afraid, Not lose his nerve, and yawn, or tell a whopper, Or drop the marmalade. Not such the bard; not thus--but Clotho (drat her) Was wakeful still, and plied a hostile loom-- I sought Miss Pritt. She mooted some grave matter And looked for light; my lips were like the tomb, Sealed, though they say they heard my molars chatter Up in the smoking-room. Cold eyes regarded me. My front-stud fretted; A stiff slow smirk belied my deep unrest; My tea-cup trembled and my cake was wetted; My beauteous tie worked round toward the West; My brow--forgive me, but it really sweated; I did not look my best. To Zeus, that oft would make a mist and smother Some swain beset, and screen him from the crowd, I prayed for vapours; but his mind was other: Yet was I answered, though the god was proud, For, anyhow, I trod on Miss Pritt's mother And left beneath a cloud. Not to return. O'er fair free hills and valleys I can converse and carry on _ad lib._; On active tennis-courts (between the rallies) I can be confident, and none more glib; But not in drawing-rooms my bright star dallies-- I'm not that sort of nib. We'll meet no more; but I shall send some token Of what I'm worth outside the world of teas-- A handsome photograph, some smart things spoken, A few sweet verses (not so bad as these), And hockey-groups that show me stern and oaken And nude about the knees. It may be, though she deemed me dunder-headed, She'll sometimes take them from her chamber-wall, Or where they lie in lavender embedded, And tell her family about them all-- About the gentleman she might have wedded, Only _he could not call_. * * * * * "John William Burrow, of Overton, who is about 16 years old, caught six salmon in the heave net last week, their respective weights being 9 lbs., 28 lbs., 5-1/2 lbs., 12 lbs., 22 lbs., 13 lbs., a total of 89-1/2 lbs. Last season, when between 13 and 14 years old, he caught three salmon. His record is probably unique for inshore fisher boys."--_Lancaster Guardian._ Anyhow the rate at which he grows up is. * * * * * [Illustration: THE TRIUMPH OF THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM. LORD HALDANE. "GROSSLY ILLEGAL AND UTTERLY UNCONSTITUTIONAL!--AS I SAID THE OTHER DAY AT OXFORD; BUT TO THE HEART OF AN EX-WAR-LORD, HOW BEAUTIFUL!"] * * * * *