Mind you, as I said at the beginning, I wasn't there myself, but I helped to steer three boxes to the seaside during the Easter holiday without the blandishments of Art. So I know something. EVOE. * * * * * LABUNTUR ANNI. TO A CHITAL HEAD ON THE WALL OF A LONDON CLUB. Light in the East, the dawn wind singing, Solemn and grey and chill, Rose in the sky, with Orion swinging Down to the distant hill; The grass dew-pearled and the _mohwa_ shaking Her scented petals across the track, And the herd astir to the new day breaking-- Gods! how it all comes back. So it was, and on such a morning Somebody's bullet sped, And you, as you called to the herd a warning, Dropped in the grasses dead; And some stout hunter's heart was brimming For joy that the gods of sport were good-- With a lump in his throat and his eyes a-dimming, As the eyes of sportsmen should;-- As mine have done in the springtime running, As mine in the halcyon days Ere trigger-finger had lapsed from cunning Or foot from the forest ways, When I'd wake with the stars and the sunrise meeting In the dewy fragrance of myrrh and musk, Peacock and spurfowl sounding a greeting And the jungle mine till dusk. You take me back to the valleys of laughter, The hills that hunters love, The sudden rain and the sunshine after, The cloud and the blue above, The morning mist and creatures crying, The beat in the drowsy afternoon, Clear-washed eve with the sunset dying, Night and the hunter's moon. Not till all trees and jungles perish Shall we go back that way To those dear hills that the hunters cherish, Where the hearts of the hunters stay; So you dream on of the ancient glories, Of water-meadows and hinds and stags, While I and my like tell old, old stories ... Ah! but it drags--it drags. H. B. * * * * * "MATRIMONY. Accountant would write up Books, also Tax Returns; moderate charges." _Liverpool Paper._ This is much more delicate than the usual crude stipulation that the lady must have means. * * * * * [Illustration: MANNERS AND MODES. A NEO-GEORGIAN TRIES TO MAKE THEM UNDERSTAND.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Art Patron_ (_who has heard something about a Modern Movement_). "NOW YOU'RE NOT GOING TO TELL ME THAT'S A VALUABLE BIT OF WORK? WHY, HANG IT ALL, I CAN RECOGNISE THE PLACE."] * * * * * PEACE WITH HONOUR. This is the story of Mr. Holmes, the Curate, and of how he brought peace to our troubled house. The principal characters are John, my brother-in-law, and Margery, my unmarried sister, and, at the bottom of the programme, in large letters, Mr. Holmes, the Curate. I have a small walking-on part. The story will now commence.