* * * * * [Illustration: SYMPATHY. _Mamma_ (_to Cook_)--"AND MRS. STUBBS, THE CREAM WITH THE APPLE-TART YESTERDAY OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN WHIPPED." _Ethel_ (_who has a grateful remembrance of the dish in question_). "OH, MUMMY DEAR! 'OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN WHIPPED!' I THOUGHT IT WAS PARTICULARLY GOOD!"] * * * * * APRIL SHOWERS; OR, A SPOILED EASTER HOLIDAY. (_A VACATION CANTATA._) _Master George (stretching forth his fingers to feel if the shower is abating) sings_:-- Rain! Rain! Go away! Come again Another day! _Master Arthur_ (_gloomily_). Pooh! Rain won't go away, not in these times, By being sung at to old nursery rhymes: Especially in such a voice as yours! _Master George._ Needn't be nasty, ARTHUR! _Master Robert._ How it pours! Thought we were going to have a real jolly day, And now it's set in wet, to spoil our holiday. _Master George._ Always the way at Easter. Shall we trudge it? _Master Arthur._ Not yet. What have you got, GEORGE, in your Budget? _Master George._ Not very much, I fear! _Master Arthur._ Ah, that's vexatious! It might have cheered us up a bit. _Master George_ (_indignantly_). Good gracious! You're always down on me, with no good reasons. You know _I_'m not the ruler of the Seasons. Now if I'd been in _your_ place--but no matter! _Master Robert._ By Jingo, how the raindrops rush and clatter! Ah, Primrose-gathering is not half so jolly As once it used to be. _Master Arthur._ Ah! my dear SOLLY, The springs are now so awfully wet and cold, The "cry" don't seem so fetching as of old. [_Pipes up._ _Recitative_. "_Who will buy my pretty, pretty Pri-im-ro-o-ses!_ _All fresh gathered from the va-a-a-ll-ey?_" _Master George._ The wet and cold have got into your throat, A quaver and a crack on every note! _Master Robert._ Don't aggravate each other, boys; 'tis wrong, But while it rains _I_'ll tootle out a song:-- (_Sings._) The days we went a-Primrosing! AIR--"_The days we went a-Gipsying!_" The days are gone, the happy days When _we_ were in our Spring; When all the Primrose loved to praise, And join its gathering. Oh! we could sing like anything, We felt the conqueror's glow, In the days when we went Primrosing, A long time ago. _Chorus._--In the days, &c. Then April's flowery return Was "Peace-with-Honour's" goal. And the bright brimstone-bunch would burn In every button-hole. Our Dames were gaily on the wing, With blossoms in full blow, In the days when we went Primrosing, A long time ago. _Chorus._--In the days, &c.