Of her and him,
As suits my whim,
I sing, and I hymn her bonnets!"

(_Chorus of Pantalettina and River Nymphs._)

So, hail to the Bard so merry,
To Lazy Laureate STERRY!
He'll sing of a Lock on the Thames! oh rare!
Or hymn a Lock of his Lady's hair.

* * * * *

CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.

The subject of Lunch, my dear young friends, has now been exhausted.
We have done, for the time, with poetry, and descend again to the
ordinary prose of every-day shooting. Yet stay--before we proceed
further, there is one matter apart from the mere details of sport,
which may be profitably considered in this treatise. It is the divine,
the delightful subject of

SMOKING.

First, I ask, do you know--(1), the man who never smokes from the
night of the 11th of August up to the night of the 1st of February in
the following year, for fear of injuring his sight and his shooting
nerve? (2), the host who forbids all smoking amongst the guests
assembled at his house for a shooting-party?