Her Little Feet

Now the first faction fight in ould Ireland, they say,
Was all on account of Saint Pathrick's birthday,

59

Some fought for the eighth-for the ninth more would die.

And who wouldn't see right, sure they blacken'd his eye! At last, both the factions so positive grew,

That each kept a birthday, so Pat then had two,

Till Father Mulcahy, who showed them their sins, Said, No one could have two birthdays but a twins."

Says he, "Boys, don't be fightin' for eight or for nine,
Don't be always dividin'-but sometimes combine;
Combine eight with nine, and seventeen is the mark,
So let that be his birthday."-" Amen," says the clerk.
"If he wasn't a twins, sure our hist'ry will show-
That, at least, he's worth any two saints that we know!"
Then they all got blind dhrunk-which complated their

bliss,

And we keep up the practice from that day to this.

Samuel Lover.

HER LITTLE FEET

HER little feet! . . . Beneath us ranged the sea,
She sat, from sun and wind umbrella-shaded,

One shoe above the other danglingly,

And lo! a Something exquisitely graded,
Brown rings and white, distracting-to the knee!

The band was loud. A wild waltz melody
Flowed rhythmic forth. The nobodies paraded.
And thro' my dream went pulsing fast and free:
Her little feet.

Till she made room for some one. It was He!
A port-wine flavored He, a He who traded,
Rich, rosy, round, obese to a degree!

A sense of injury overmastered me.
Quite bulbously his ample boots upbraided
Her little feet.

William Ernest Henley.

SCHOOL

If there is a vile, pernicious,
Wicked and degraded rule,
Tending to debase the vicious,
And corrupt the harmless fool;
If there is a hateful habit

Making man a senseless tool,
With the feelings of a rabbit

And the wisdom of a mule;
It's the rule which inculcates,
It's the habit which dictates
The wrong and sinful practice of
going into school.

If there's anything improving
To an erring sinner's state,
Which is useful in removing
All the ills of human fate;
If there's any glorious custom
Which our faults can dissipate,
And can casually thrust 'em

Out of sight and make us great;
It's the plan by which we shirk
Half our matu-ti-nal work,
The glorious institution of always
being late.

James Kenneth Stephen.

THE MILLENNIUM

TO R. K.

As long I dwell on some stupendous
And tremendous (Heaven defend us!)

"Exactly So"

61

Monstr'-inform'-ingens-horrendous

Demoniaco-seraphic

Penman's latest piece of graphic.

-ROBERT BROWNING.

WILL there never come a season
Which shall rid us from the curse
Of a prose which knows no reason
And an unmelodious verse:

When the world shall cease to wonder
At the genius of an Ass,

And a boy's eccentric blunder
Shall not bring success to pass:

When mankind shall be delivered
From the clash of magazines,
And the inkstand shall be shivered
Into countless smithereens:

When there stands a muzzled stripling,
Mute, beside a muzzled bore:

When the Rudyards cease from Kipling

And the Haggards Ride no more?

James Kenneth Stephen.

"EXACTLY SO"

A SPEECH, both pithy and concise,

Marks a mind acute and wise;

What speech, my friend, say, do you know,
Can stand before "Exactly so?"

I have a dear and witty friend

Who turns this phrase to every end;
None can deny that "Yes" or "No"
Is meant in this " Exactly so."

Or when a bore his ear assails,
Good-humour in his bosom fails,
No response from his lips will flow,
Save, now and then, "Exactly so."

Is there remark on matters grave
That he may wish perchance to waive,
Or thinks perhaps is rather slow,
He stops it by "Exactly so."

It saves the trouble of a thought—
No sour dispute can thence be sought;
It leaves the thing in statu quo,
This beautiful "Exactly so."

It has another charm, this phrase,
For it implies the speaker's praise
Of what has just been said-ergo-
It pleases, this "Exactly so."

Nor need the conscience feel distress,
By answ'ring wrongly "No" or "Yes;"
It 'scapes a falsehood, which is low,
And substitutes "Exactly so."

Each mortal loves to think he's right,
That his opinion, too, is bright;

Then, Christian, you may soothe your foe
By chiming in "Exactly so."

Whoe'er these lines may chance peruse,
Of this famed word will see the use,
And mention where'er he may go,
The praises of "Exactly so."

Of this more could my muse relate,
But you, kind reader, I'll not sate;
For if I did you'd cry "Hallo!
I've heard enough "-" Exactly so."

Lady T. Hastings.

Companions

63

COMPANIONS

A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER

I KNOW not of what we ponder'd

Or made pretty pretence to talk,

As, her hand within mine, we wander'd

Tow'rd the pool by the lime-tree walk,

While the dew fell in showers from the passion flowers And the blush-rose bent on her stalk.

I cannot recall her figure:

Was it regal as Juno's own?

Or only a trifle bigger

Than the elves who surround the throne Of the Faëry Queen, and are seen, I ween, By mortals in dreams alone?

What her eyes were like, I know not:
Perhaps they were blurr'd with tears;
And perhaps in your skies there glow not
(On the contrary) clearer spheres.
No! as to her eyes I am just as wise
As you or the cat, my dears.

Or as straight as a beadle's wand?

That I fail'd to remark;-it was rather dark
And shadowy round the pond.

Then the hand that reposed so snugly

In mine, was it plump or spare?

Was the countenance fair or ugly?
Nay, children, you have me there!

My eyes were p'r'aps blurr'd; and besides I'd heard
That it's horribly rude to stare.