Wink at the scourge, and dally with the shackle,
Such, though they vaunt their zeal and orthodoxy,
Seem--for philanthropists--a trifle foxy!

* * * * *

Réclame (Gratis).--Where is the Lessee of the Haymarket? He ought
to have been in India. He was wanted there. The _Daily News_, last
week, told us in its Morning News Columns that "at a place called
Beerbhoom"--clearly the Indian spelling of Beerbohm--"there was
a desirable piece of land lying waste"--the very spot for a
theatre--"because it was reputed to be haunted by a malignant
goddess,"--that wouldn't matter as long as the "gods" were well
provided for. Then it continues, "They" (who?) "did all they could to
propitiate her, setting apart a tree--." Yes; but it wasn't the right
tree: of course it ought to have been a BEERBHOOM TREE. His first
drama might have shown how a Buddhist priest couldn't keep a secret.
Thrilling!

* * * * *

WOMAN'S HAPPIEST HOUR.

(_BY A SOUR OLD CYNIC._)

A Yankee Journal raises wordy strife
About "the happiest hour of Woman's life."
I'll answer in less compass than a sonnet:--
"When she outshines her best friend's smartest bonnet!"