And how he thought his favourite pea
Had found the soil too dry
(And here I feared my yawns would be
Apparent to his eye).

On fruit and blossom good and bad
He rambled on unchecked,
Until his conversation had
Such curative effect
That in the end it drove away
My weak despondent mood.
I clasped his hand and blessed the day
He came to do me good.

* * * * *

"MORE DEARER PUBLICATIONS."--_Daily Mail._

More dearer nor what they was? Dear, dear!

* * * * *

From _Young India_, the organ of Mr. GANDHI:--

"In our last issue the number of those in receipt of relief is given at
500. This is a printer's devil. The number is 5,000."

Mr. GANDHI ought to exorcise that devil.

* * * * *