'Twas a lively morning, my hirsute Jehu, In Petersburg once we together spent; And now in my sketch-book I still can see you (The annexed for your portrait's humbly meant). Your costume resembled in part a butcher's-- A dull blue gown of a vast extent, With top-boots, like each of the other _kutschers_ And shocking bad hat, all "bashed" and bent. Ere long you called me your "little brother," Or else--your knowledge of Court to show-- (What one Russian "High Excellence" styles another) "_Vuisókoprevoskhodítelstvo._" You wanted to learn how to greet an acquaintance In English; I said, to be _comme il faut_, That "God save the Queen" was the proper sentence-- I own that my hoax was a trifle low. A large percentage, my gay _izvostchik_, I failed of your jokes to understand; But I safely say you displayed the _most_ cheek Of any I've met by sea or land. When you pitched me clean out on the Nevski pavement, With syllable brief I loudly banned; But as _dam_ in your lingo "I'll give" (you knave!) meant, You grinned, and for "tea-money" held your hand. I shall never forget that awful jolting I got as you whirled me round about In your backless car; for your bumping, bolting, You really, my Vanka, deserved the knout. Well, I won't say "Good-bye," but "_Do svidanya_"-- Though whether we'll meet again I doubt; If you ever _should_ wander to far BRITANNIA, I fear you will probably find me "Out." * * * * * MOTTO FOR PROFESSORS OF PALMISTRY.-- "_Palmam qui meruit ferat._" _i.e._, "Who has paid his money may bare his palm." * * * * * It is proposed to establish a fire-station, "with fifty men, on the Thames Embankment." For what purpose? In case of anybody setting the Thames on Fire? * * * * * Mrs. R. says she never has toast for breakfast, but always "fresh-airated bread." * * * * * THE MOAN OF A THEATRE-MANAGER. Who gets, by hook or crook, from me Admittance free, though well knows he That myriads turned away will be? The Deadhead. Who, while he for his programme pays The smallest silver coin, inveighs Against such fraud with eyes ablaze? The Deadhead. Who to his neighbour spins harangues, On how he views with grievous pangs The dust that on our hangings hangs? The Deadhead. Who, in a voice which rings afar, Declares, while standing at the bar, Our drinks most deleterious are? The Deadhead. Who aye withholds the claps and cheers That others give? Who jeers and sneers At all he sees and all he hears? The Deadhead. Who loudly, as the drama's plot Unfolds, declares the tale a lot Of balderdash and tommy-rot? The Deadhead.