His helpless victim.

With cruel zest he beat me well,
He beat me till in parts I grew--
I shudder as the tale I tell--
All black and blue.

But what on earth he was about,
I could not guess, do what I would;
But when at length he cleaned me out
I understood.

Yet do not shed a tear, because
You've heard my story told in metre,
For I'm a Carpet, and he was
A Carpet-Beater.

* * * * *

LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY.

_Thursday, June 12_.--Letters from Billsbury arrive by every post,
Horticultural Societies, sea-side excursions, Sunday School pic-nics,
cricket club _fêtes_, all demand subscriptions, and, as a rule,
get them. If this goes on much longer I shall be wound up in the
Bankruptcy Court. Shall have to make a stand soon, but how to begin is
the difficulty. Pretty certain in any case to put my foot down in the
wrong place, and offend everybody. Amongst other letters came this
one:--