Punch, Or The London Charivari Volume 107, September 29th, 1894 _edited by Sir Francis Burnand_ THE INVASION OF WOMAN. [Illustration] When STREPHON shuts the ledger to, Relinquishing his duties, And takes the train from Waterloo For Clapham's rural beauties He dearly loves _en route_, we read, To smoke the solitary weed. His hopes, alas, are quickly dashed, For CHLOË, maid provoking! Alertly enters, unabashed, The carriage labelled "Smoking"; His frown, his powerful cigar, His match--all unavailing are. Yes, CHLOË comes, and brings no doubt, A friend to talk of fashions, While STREPHON lets his weed go out, A prey to angry passions, Which, later on, released will be Within the excellent _D. T._ Yet grieve not so, ungallant swain, Nor curse this innovation, Or, even if you do, refrain From words like "frequentation," But really, you should do no less Than cease to curse, and wholly bless. For if the charm this female band Finds in you so immense is, That they contentedly can stand The smell your weed dispenses, A compliment they pay you then You will not gain from fellow-men! * * * * * A CERTAIN CURE. ["Eating sugarplums is the best cure for mundane sorrows."--_A Ladies' Journal, Sept. 19._] Whatever the sorrows that chasten your life, A cure for them all you will quickly receive, If PHYLLIS should prove an unsuitable wife, If children undutiful cause you to grieve, Just get at the nearest confectioner's shop, The cheap and the comforting chocolate drop! If the treatise at which you have constantly worked, (Four volumes portraying "the Growth of Mankind,") By editors still is consistently burked, If publishers still to its merits are blind, You grieve at their foolish perversity; well, There's healing and balm in the sweet caramel. Perhaps you may find--many do--that your debts Are steadily growing, while incomes decay, And constant attempts to increase your assets By bold speculation seem hardly to pay; Though "Turks" may decline, do not grieve at your plight, But buy, as a substitute, Turkish Delight! In fact, if misfortunes should seem to oppress, No longer their burden you'll sadly endure, You'll have in the midst of calamity's stress A certain specific that cannot but cure; "Away with all sorrow!" our teacher repeats, "Don't grieve at existence, but taste of its _sweets_!" * * * * * TO ALTHEA IN CHURCH. You weren't so far off but I knew you, I instantly knew you were there! On my Ancient and Modern I drew you Between the first hymn and the prayer. I'm glad that my eyes keen and quick are, When there are such prospects to see. You're looking straight up at the Vicar-- I wish you'd look over at me!