A BILLIARD LESSON. WAS pleasant on the winter nights, Her classic head bent low; And watch her snowy fingers make And though she said it was a sin There's Kudos in the rattling strokes, No "hazard" that my cunning cue And though I lost such heaps of gloves And since she teased me night and day, The "cannon on the table green Will to a Canon come I ween, Who'll tie me to a wife; H. SAVILE CLARKE, IN THE ROYAL ACADEMY. HUGH (on furlough). HELEN (his cousin). HELEN. HEY have not come! And ten is past, Unless, by chance, my watch is fast; HUGH. I doubt if she can do it, then. "ten." Nay; it is scarcely mine, the crime, HELEN. Then here we'll stay, please. Once for all, From now until we go in June I shall hear nothing but this tune : Whether I like Long's "Vashti," or HUGH. "Paint you some pictures!" Come, that's kind! You know I'm nearly colour-blind. HELEN. Paint then, in words. You did before : And say if they are "out" or "in." HELEN. I shall reject them all. Begin. HUGH. Here is the first. An antique Hall Before a portrait in a ruff. He meanwhile watches. . . HELEN, That's enough, It wants "verve," "brio," " breadth," 99.66 Besides it's English. I decline. design," HUGH. This is the next. "Tis finer far: HELEN. "Which she accords with smile seraphic." I know it, it was in the "Graphic." Declined. HUGH. Once more, and I forego All hopes of hanging, high or low: In bungalow and palankeen. . . . HELEN. What!-all at once! But that's absurd ;- HUGH. —'Tis a Panorama, Permit me In which the person of the drama, Mid orientals dusk and tawny, Mid warriors drinking brandy pawnee, Mid scorpions, dowagers, and griffins, He puts that faded scrap before It guides, directs his every act, And word and thought-In short-in fact— (Opening bis locket). Look, Helen, that's the heather! (Too late! Here come both Aunts together.) HELEN. What heather, Sir? (After a pause.) And why..."too late?") -Aunt Dora, how you've made us wait! Don't you agree that it's a pity Portraits are hung by the Committee? AUSTIN DOBSON. PORTRAIT OF A LADY IN THE EXHIBITION OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY. HAT are you, Lady?—nought is here |