The minstrel sang:

"O Estimate!
Thy name is great,
MEDUSA's head thou sure must own.
Do as we will,
Thy coming still
Turns all our hard-earned cash to stone."

The dwarf, now sunk in Lethe's mud, did snore; knowing the sign, the
minstrel then forbore.

[Illustration]

* * * * *


ODE TO THE MISSING COLLECTOR.

BY REGALIA REYNA.


Where are _you now_, MR. BAILEY?
We've been looking for you daily,
Sometimes sadly, sometimes gayly,
Ever since the week begun.
Loving you so dear as we do,
Doting on you, doubting for you,
Looking for you, longing for you,
Waiting for you, watching for you,