The straining eyeballs are prepared to see
The Apparition hovering.
With doubt, with fear, their features are o'ercast;
SALISBURY at Covent Garden might have spoken,
But, save for Rumour's whispers on the blast,
The silence is unbroken.
And over all there hangs a cloud of fear,
The Spook of Dissolution all has daunted,
And says as plain as whisper in the ear,
The House is Haunted!
* * * * *
[Illustration: SOCIAL PROBLEMS NOT HAPPILY SOLVED.
_Husband._ "OH, SIR JOHN, SO GLAD YOU HAVE CALLED!--AND SO KIND OF
LADY DASHWOOD TO HAVE ASKED us TO HER PARTY!--BUT WE ARE QUITE IN A
FIX WHEN TO COME, BECAUSE THE CARD SAYS 'EARLY AND LATE.'"
_Sir John._ "OH, I THINK I CAN TELL YOU. SEND YOUR WIFE VERY EARLY
INDEED, AND YOU CAN COME AS LATE AS YOU LIKE!"
_Husband_ (_who does not quite see it_). "THANKS! THANKS! VERY MANY
THANKS!"]
* * * * *
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
"Upon what principle," one of my Baronites writes, "do people
collecting a number of short stories for publication in one volume,
select that which shall give the book its title?" Of course I know,
but shan't say; am not here to answer conundrums.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51