Now girls whom you would scarce believe Would not turn up their nose at soiling Their dainty hands, to dewy eve From early morn keep ever toiling. There's ETHEL of the golden hair Who flutters through existence gaily (Her father is a millionnaire), Hops hard and does her twelve hours daily. Then pretty MAUD, with laughing eyes, Who hardly knew what daily wage meant, To everybody's great surprise Proceeds to cut this, that engagement. Amid the vines she daily goes, And picks till weary fingers tingle, The sweetest music now she knows Is hearing hard-earned sovereigns jingle. This latest move, it's very true, Appears to be a rather rum thing, But yet for idle hands to do We know that Someone will find something. Will fashionable hopping last? Well, this it's safe to lay your cash on, Before another year has passed There'll be another female fashion. * * * * * VIVE LA RAIN DU BALLET A L'ALHAMBRA!--"Certainly," says MR. JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD, "Ve've la rain. It comes pouring down on the stage, and the people come pouring in to see it. I suppose," says he, "they'll now call me 'The Wetter'un?" The ballet is very effective, not a drop too much, and "not a drop in the business" in front of the house, though there is, as is evident, on the stage. If Manager JOHN liked to quote SHAKSPEARE with a difference, in his advertisements, he might say, "With a hey, ho, the Wind and the Rain! For the Rain it raineth every night!" For some time to come this show will be the raining favourite at the Alhambra. By the way, the _Sheffield Telegraph_, describing the alterations and improvements in front at the Alhambra, wrote--"The ceiling has been bevelled with porous plasters so as to hide the girders." We know that hand:--it's Our "Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM," and she "comes from Sheffield." However, "porous plasters" would be another attraction at the Alhambra, or anywhere, as they certainly ought to _draw_. * * * * * LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS. _Mount Street, Grosvenor Square_. DEAR MR. PUNCH, Unlucky Leicester was even more unlucky than usual--and when the big race was run last Wednesday, so thick was the rain, that the horses could only be seen for the last half mile! Of course this made all the difference to the horse I selected--_Windgall_--who finished second;--as he only gives his _best_ performances _in public_, and as he doubtless _knew he couldn't be seen_, he thought it was only a private trial until he got close home, when his gallant effort was too late to be of any use!--at least, this is how _I_ read the result of the race, and who can know more about a horse than the racing-prophet, I should like to know?