"Poems in Prose" seem all the go. _They_'re bad enough, but worse The dreary hotch-potch we all know Too sadly;--prose in verse! * * * * * OLD THREE-VOL. There rose two Book-Kings in the West, Two Kings both great and high; And they have sworn a solemn oath Good old Three-Vol. shall die. They took a pen and wrote him down, Piled sins upon his head; And they have sworn a solemn oath Good old Three-Vol. is dead. But when "the Season" comes once more, And folks for fiction call, Old Three-Vol. _may_ rise up again, And sore surprise them all! * * * * * REMNANTS. (_A Pindaric Fragment._) In the young season's prime Yon remnant felt its major portion reft, And waited for the surplus time Ingloriously left. For it no glories of the lawn, No whirling in the valse that greets the dawn, No record in the fleeting roll of fame That gives the wearer's name, And tells a waiting world what gown she wore; While that which went before No cheaply-sober destiny has found But graced fair Fashion's ground, Where Pleasure, gaily deck'd, Within the fancied circle of select, Watches the Polo cavalry at war, The victim pigeons tumbled in their gore, The rival Blues at Lord's, the racing steeds On Ascot's piney meads, Or where luxuriant Goodwood's massy trees Murmur to no common breeze, And see afar the glint of England's summer seas. Impute no fault, ye proud, nor grandeur mock, If frugal Elegance, discreet and fair, The aftermath of lavish Fashion reap, And, having waited long with nought to wear, Get the same goods, though late, and get them cheap. Next year the daintiest gowns by lawn and lock May haply be the fruit of surplus summer stock. * * * * * POPE FOR THE EMANCIPATED SEX.--"The understudy of mankind is woman." * * * * * LYRE AND LANCET. (_A Story in Scenes._) PART VI.--ROUND PEGS IN SQUARE HOLES. SCENE IX.--_The Entrance Hall at Wyvern._ _Tredwell_ (_to_ Lady CANTIRE). This way, if you please, my lady. Her ladyship is in the Hamber Boudwore. _Lady Cantire._ Wait. (_She looks round._) What has become of that young Mr. ANDROM----? (_Perceiving_ SPURRELL, _who has been modestly endeavouring to efface himself._) Ah, _there_ he is! Now, come along, and be presented to my sister-in-law. She'll be enchanted to know you! _Spurrell._ But indeed, my lady I--I think I'd better wait till she sends for me. _Lady Cant._ Wait? Fiddlesticks! What! A famous young man like you! Remember _Andromeda_, and don't make yourself so ridiculous! _Spurr._ (_miserably_). Well, Lady CANTIRE, if her ladyship _says_ anything, I hope you'll bear me out that it wasn't----