"I JUST LET MY FOOT OUT ON THE STIRRUP, AND THIS BEAST OF A PONY'S
TROD ON MY TOE!"]

* * * * *

HYMEN AND CUPID.

(_FIN-DE-SIÈCLE VERSION, SOME WAY AFTER MOORE._)

HYMEN, late, his love-knots selling,
Called at many a maiden's dwelling;
But he found too well they knew him;
None were prompter to pooh-pooh him.
"Who'll buy my love-knots?
Who'll buy my love-knots?"
Soon as that old cry resounded.
How his baskets were surrounded!

Maidens mocked, with laughter dying,
Those fool-knots of HYMEN's tying;
Dames, who once with him had sided,
Openly his wares derided.
"Who'll buy my love-knots?
Who'll buy my love-knots?"
All at that old cry came flocking,
Mocking in a style quite shocking.

"Here are knots," said HYMEN, taking
Some loose nooses of Law's making.
"Pooh!" the nymphs cried. "Who can trust 'em?