CHAPTER OF FROISSART

(GRANDPAPA LOQUITUR)

lon't know Froissart now, young folks. s age, I think, prefers recitals

h-spiced crime, with "slang" for jokes, And startling titles.

n my time, when still some few

"ed "old Montaigne," and praised Pope's Homer

thought to style him "poet" too, Were scarce misnomer),

hn was less ignored. Indeed,

an recall how Some-one present spoils her grandson, Frank!) would read

And find him pleasant;

ng since, in an old house in Surrey,

Where men knew more of "morning ale"

Than "Lindley Murray,"

In a dim-lighted, whip-hung hall,

'Neath Hogarth's "Midnight Conversation,"

It stood; and oft 'twixt spring and fall,
With fond elation,

I turned the old brown leaves. For there
All through one hopeful happy summer,
At such a page (I well knew where),
Some secret comer,

Whom I can picture, 'Trix, like you (Though scarcely such a colt unbroken), Would sometimes place for private view

A rose-leaf meaning "Garden Wall,"
An ivy leaf for "Orchard corner,'

A thorn to say "Don't come at all,”

Unwelcome warner!

A CHAPTER OF FROISSART

Chat, in truth, our friends gainsaid;
t then Romance required dissembling,
Radcliffe taught us that!) which bred
Some genuine trembling;

gh, as a rule, all used to end
such kind confidential parley

ay to you kind Fortune send, You long-legged Charlie,

n your time comes. How years slip on!
e had our crosses like our betters;
sometimes looked askance upon
Those floral letters;

once, for three long days disdained,
e dust upon the folio settled;
some-one, in the right, was pained,
And some-one nettled,

sure was in the wrong, but spake fixed intent and purpose stony erve King George, enlist and make

Minced-meat of "Boney,"

A CHAPTER OF FROISSART

Who yet survived

- ten years at least.

And so, when she I mean came hither, One day that need for letters ceased, She brought this with her!

Here is the leaf-stained chapter:- How The English King laid Siege to Calais;

I think Gran. knows it even now,

Go ask her, Alice.

AUSTIN DOBSON

years ago! how many a thought ed pains and pleasures

hispered syllables have brought Memory's hoarded treasures!

ls, the farms, the bats, the books, lories and disgraces,

ces of dear friends, the looks

familiar faces!