Brief interval for lunch, and then a drizzle Fell on the dreary field. Like some dead moth The thing remained. Chagrin commenced to sizzle, And certain people cried, "A thillingth loth." Others, "Hey, Mister Airman, it's a swizzle!" Then a stern man came out, and with a cloth Lightly, as one well used to such a feat, Swaddled the brute's propeller and its seat. The skies grew darkling, and there went a rumour, "The thing is off; he will not fly to-day;" And forth we wandered, some in rare ill-humour, But not, oh, not the bard. Yet this I say-- There are two kinds of courage: one's a boomer Avid of gold and glory; this is A, Crowned with a palm, and in her hands I see Sheaves of press cuttings. There is also B. Not venturesome, this last, to brave the billows, To beard the panther in his hidden lair, To probe the epiderms of armadillos, Nor execute wild cart-wheels in the air; But who shall say how much Britannia still owes To B, the kind of courage that can bear Dauntless to wait, whate'er the skies portend, (Having paid entrance) to the bitter end? The heavenly hero in his suit of leather Soars through Olympus with the world beneath Sometimes, and sometimes, owing to the weather, Scratches his fixtures in the tempest's teeth. Shall the high gods, who gaze on both together, Count him the nobler, or confer their wreath On the brave bull-dog bard, who risks his thews Standing about all day in thin-soled shoes? EVOE. * * * * * [Illustration: "HERE'S ONE I'M SURE YOU'LL LIKE, TREVOR." "WHAT IS IT?" "_ROBINSON CRUSOE_." "IN WHAT LANGUAGE?"] * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. (_BY MR. PUNCH'S STAFF OF LEARNED CLERKS._)