_From a Dramatist to an Intimate Friend._--My dear BILL,--Thank you for the marked paper you have forwarded to me. But the statistics are misleading. Talk about this being the greatest frost on record! You would not say so if you had been present at the first night of my play, _The Force of Circumstances_.--Yours gloomily, SHAKSPEARE TOMKINS. _From a Celestial Official to the Public._--Poor creatures,--You think you have seen the worst of the winter! Just like your presumption! When I can manage a sky salad of rain, fog, snow, thunderbolts and sunshine all mixed together in the course of ten minutes and set it before a London audience in the midst of a modern January, don't you be too sure of anything! Wait, my melancholy maniacs, and you shall see what you may possibly live to witness.--Yours disrespectfully, THE CLERK OF THE WEATHER. * * * * * THE SLY OYSTER. "There is an exception to every Rule." _Bayliss's "Mayden Lane."_ 'Tis the voice of the Oyster, I heard him complain, "You have woke me too soon, I must slumber again. I'm fat and quite well-- Have no doubt on that head-- But say that I'm ill, And _do_ leave me in bed. "Just a little more sleep, Just a little more rest; How sweet, my dear friends, I shall be at my best! Oh, let me repose Say till May--May the one'th-- When, as everyone knows, There's no 'R' in the month!" * * * * * [Illustration: "THE LIGHT FANTASTIC!" THE GREAT SAGACIOUS ELEPHANT "SIR BILL" IN HIS "THRILLING ACT."] * * * * * A VALENTYNE. (_And a Remonstrance._) [Illustration] This day to yow, dere ladye, wol I schowe Myn hertes wissche--_cum privilegio_. Of alle seintes nis ther more benigne To man and mayden noon thanne Valentyne; Sith everych yeer on that swete seintes day Man can to mayden al his herte displaie (Bye Cupid arwes smit in sory plighte-- One grote al pleyn, and twayn ypeinted brighte). Then wol I mak my playnte, so maist ye knowe Yon whele, dere ladye, don me mochel wo. Algates I greve, whanne that scorchours I mete That riden reccheles adoun the strete: I praie, bethynke yow, swiche diversioun Ben weel for mayde of mene condicioun, But ladye fayre in brekes al ydighte Certes meseems ne verray semelye sighte. Swiche gere, yclept "raccionale," parde, Righte sone wol be the dethe of chivalrye; And we schal heren, whanne that it be dede, The verdite, "Dethe by--Newe Womman-hede." Heede then theffect and end of my prayere, Upyeve thy whele, ne mannissche brekes were, Contente in graces maydenlye to schyne, So mote ye be myn owen Valentyne. * * * * *