Beasts of burden, ye peoples, still Ridden hard by a ruthless will! Militarism is mounted firm. The saddled slaves may shudder and squirm, The bridled brutes may shy and shrink, The road is long, and the gulf's black brink Seems distant yet, and is scarcely seen By the rival riders, whose pride and spleen Blind them--save to each other's glare, To the pace they make, and the weight they bear, Those hot-urged horses! Lash and goad, Rash riders!--but, at the end of the road, When the growing burden's last possible pound Is piled; when the steed's last staggering bound Is made, when the last short, labouring breath Is breathed, when over, in shuddering death, The charger rolls, with a sickening crash, And responds no more to the spur or lash; And the gulf yawns close, sheer slope to air, Black, unavoidable, ruinous there-- Then, gallant rider, how will _you_ fare? * * * * * IN THE COUNTY COUNCIL. CHARRINGTON forgot his manners, Pleading for the _Jolly Tanners_; He gave his tongue, at serious cost, The Licence which the _Tanners_ lost. * * * * * [Illustration: THE ROAD TO RUIN.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE TROUBLES OF STALKING!! _Irate Gillie_ (_on discovering in the distance, for the third time that morning, a "Brute of a Man" moving about in his favourite bit of "Forest"_). "OH! DEIL TAKE THE PEOPLE! COME AWA,' MUSTER BROWN, SIR; _IT'S JUST PEKKADILLY!!!_"] * * * * * AN AUTUMN AFTERNOON AT NAZARETH HOUSE. O wealthy and world-weary triflers, O idle and opulent folk, For whom time is a foe to be slain, and life's self but a bore or a joke, Take yourselves, and your hearts, and your purses to Nazareth House and behold The brave service of well-bestowed time, the brave uses of well-applied gold!