But never a stanza shall measure The joy of that desperate crew Of four-year-olds scouring for treasure Astride a bamboo. Their fathers smoke, huddled in sorrow, Their mothers chew betel and fret, And the pariahs howl for a morrow Which shall not be wet; The plovers wheel o'er them complaining, And it's only the babies who pray That the skies may be raining and raining For ever and aye. J.M.S. * * * * * ANOTHER MESOPOTAMIAN SCANDAL. "The commodious and fast ss. 40 will leave Basrah for Baghdad and all intermediate ports on Saturday morning at 9 A.M. Passengers will embark at 10 A.M."--_Basrah Times._ * * * * * "END OF COTTON SUIT. DRAMATIC COLLAPSE."--_Daily Paper._ We are more than ever convinced of the superior wearing qualities of woollen. * * * * * "The Government of the Commonwealth of Australia agrees to the admission on passport of Indian merchants, students, tourests, with there irrespective wives."--_Indian Paper._ But ought any Government to encourage this sort of thing? * * * * * [Illustration: _Dancing Man_ (_at Galleries of New Primitive Art Society_). "ONE WOULD HAVE THOUGHT, WITH SUCH A GOOD FLOOR, THEY MIGHT HAVE PUT UP SOME BETTER PICTURES."] * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. (_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)