You write to me, sweetest, with envy Of "zephyrs" and "summerlike stars;" You say women, horses, and men vie In chorus of croups and catarrhs; You picture me safe from the snarling Of Winter's tyrannical sway. This isn't, believe me, my darling, The Mediterranean way. You rave of the "shimmering light on An ocean pellucidly fair." You get it, my darling, at Brighton, And coals that can warm you are _there_: Of "boughs with hot oranges breaking"-- Cold comfort, while fortunes we pay For faggots that mock us in making Their Mediterranean way! You dream of me rapt by a casement Mimosa caresses and rose; _This_ window was surely the place meant For mistral to buffet my nose. Of tennis and dances and drums in "That Eden for Eves"--did you say? Apt phrase! Nothing masculine comes in Our Mediterranean way. And "Esterel's amethyst ranges Of gossamer shapes"--and the rest. Good gracious, how scenery changes! They too have a cold on their chest. At "delicate lungs," dear, and so on No more for this climate I'll play, But homeward in ecstasy go on My Mediterranean way. * * * * * [Illustration: THE "PAPER-CHASE." RIGHT HON. GEO. J. G-SCH-N (_the Hare_). "WONDER WHETHER THEY'LL FOLLOW?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE OYSTERS AT WHITSTABLE FROZEN IN THEIR BEDS! (_See Daily Papers_.)] * * * * * THE OLD WOMAN AND HER WATER SUPPLY. (_AN OLD NURSERY RHYME WITH A NEW BURDEN._) There was an old Woman, as I've heard say, The frost froze her water-pipes fast one day; The frost froze her water-pipes fast at first, Till a thaw came at last, and the water-pipes burst. By came the Company, greedy of gain, And it cut her water all off at the main, It cut her water off sharp, if you please, Though it wasn't _her_ fault that the pipes began to freeze. It wasn't _her_ fault that the water-pipes burst. So she had no water for cleansing or thirst, She had no water, and she began to cry, "Oh, what a cruel buzzum has a Water Company But I'll repair the pipes, since so it must be, And the plumber, I'm aware, will make pickings out of me. If there's a frost I've no water for my pail, And if there's a thaw then the rate-collectors rail." On Law the old Woman is entirely in the dark; There seems no one to save her from the fresh-water shark; The shark does what he likes, and she can only cry, "Who'll help a poor old Woman 'gainst the Water Company?" * * * * * MOI-MEM.