Various

“ I have tried it every way—ballades by the bale, sonnets by the dozen, loyal odes, seditious songs, drawing-room poetry, an Epic on the history of Labducuo, erotic verse, all fire, foam, and fangs, reflective ditto, humble natural ballads about signal-men and newspaper-boys, Life-boat rescues, Idyls, Nocturnes in rhyme, tragedies in blank verse. Nobody will print them, or, if anybody prints them, he regrets that he cannot pay for them. My moral and discursive essays are rejected, my descriptions of nature do not even get into the newspapers. ”

“ I have let my hair grow long; I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and attitudinised in the picture-galleries, but nobody asked who I am. I have endeavoured to hang on to well-known poets and novelists—they have not welcomed my advances. ”

“ I have puffed myself in all the modes which study and research can suggest. If anybody has, I have been "up to date." But Fortune is my foe, and I see others flourish by the very arts which fail in my hands. ”

“ And the music stops us thinkin' when they play it in the street.
"MARIE, COME UP!"—When Miss MARIE LLOYD, who, unprofessionally, when at home, is known as Mrs. PERCY COURTENAY, which her Christian name is MATILDA, recently appeared at Bow-Street Police Court, having summoned her husband for an assault, the Magistrate, Mr. LUSHINGTON, ought to have called on the Complainant to sing "Whacky, Whacky, Whack!" which would have come in most appropriately. Let us hope that the pair will make it up, and, as the story-books say, "live happily ever afterwards." ”

“ When she's only tryin' all she can to earn a honest brown.
Still, though I'm mad to 'ear 'em play, and sometimes join the dance,
I often wish one music gave the other kind a chance.
The orgin might have two days, and the cornet take a third,
While the pipe-man tried o' Thursdays 'ow to imitate a bird.
But they allus comes together, singin' playin' as they meet
With their pipes and 'orns and orgins in the middle of our street.
But there, I can't stand chatterin', pore mother's mortal bad,
And she's got to work the whole day long to keep things straight for dad.
Complain? Not she. ”

“ Our music allus visits us, and never goes away.
And when they've tooned theirselves to-rights, I tell yer it's a treat
Just to listen to the lot of 'em a-playin' in our street.
There's a chap as turns the orgin—the best I ever 'eard—
Oh lor' he does just jabber, but you can't make out a word. ”

“ HENLEY, or anybody else who happens to possess a personal equation, will point out to me the heroic quality in these poems, I shall feel deeply grateful. And how, in the name of all that is or ever was heroic, has "Auld Lang Syne" crept into this collection of heroic verse? As for Mr. ALFRED AUSTIN, I cannot think by what right he secures a place in such a compilation. I have rarely read a piece of his which did not contain at least one glaring infelicity. In "Is Life Worth Living?" ”

“ And I much prefers the cornet when 'e ain't bin drinkin' gin.
And there's Concertina-JIMMY, it makes yer want to shout
When 'e acts just like a windmill and waves 'is arms about.
Oh, I'll lay you 'alf a tanner, you'll find it 'ard to beat
The good old 'eaps of music that they gives us in our street. ”

“ And 'e smiles and turns 'is orgin very proper, that he do.
Sometimes 'e plays a polker and sometimes it's a march,
And I see 'is teeth all shinin' through 'is lovely black mustarch.
And the little uns dance round him, you'd laugh until you cried
If you saw my little brothers do their 'ornpipes side by side,
And the gals they spin about as well, and don't they move their feet,
When they 'ear that pianner-orgin man, as plays about our street.
There's a feller plays a cornet too, and wears a ulster coat,
My eye, 'e does puff out 'is cheeks a-tryin' for 'is note. ”

“ Parts of it are written in my own hand, more in that of my housemaid, to whom I have dictated passages; a good deal is in the hand of my wife. There are sentences which I have written a dozen times, on the margins, with lines leading up to them in red ink. The story is written on paper of all sorts and sizes, and bits of paper are pasted on, here and there, containing revised versions of incidents and dialogue. The whole packet is now far from clean, and has a business-like and travelled air about it, which should command respect. ”

“ Don't those tall fellows look smart with the red feathers in their cocked 'ats? What do they call them?
Jem (a young man, who thinks for himself) . Well, I shouldn't wonder if those were the parties they call "Doges"—sort o' police over there, d'ye see?
Lizzie. They're 'andsomer than 'elmets, I will say that for them. (They enter Modern Venice, amidst cries of "This way for Gondoala Tickets! Pass along, please! Keep to your right!" &c., &c.) It does have a foreign look, with all those queer names written up. ”

“ Tells story all over again to the Chancery Judges.
L.C. Yes—excellent. I thought it took place at Chester—but really, now, we must get to business. So, first of all, will anyone kindly tell me what the business is?
Mr. Justice A. (a very young Judge) . Well, the fact is, I believe the Public—
Chorus of Judges. The what?
Mr. Justice A. (with hesitation) . Why—I was going to say there seems to be a sort of discontent amongst the Public—
L.C. (with dignity) . Really, really—what have we to do with the Public? ”

“ He secures, tickets, and presently the LAVENDER SALTS, find themselves part of a long queue, being marshalled between barriers by Italian gendarmes in a state of politely suppressed amusement.
Mrs. L.S. (over her shoulder to her husband, as she imagines) . I'd no idea we should have to go through all this! Must we really herd in with all these people? Can't we two manage to get a gondola all to ourselves?
A Voice (not LAVENDER's—in her ear) . I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited ”

“ In fact, he is the model of a modern German Peeping Tom!
I bounce into the Ball-Room when they think I'm fast asleep at home,
And measure steps and skirts and things and mark what state folks keep at home ”

“ IN THE GONDOLA.—Mr. and Mrs. L.S. are seated in the back seat, supported on one side by the Humorous 'ARRY and his Fiancée, and on the other by a pale, bloated youth, with a particularly rank cigar, and the Sturdy Democrat, whose two small boys occupy the seat in front.
The St. Dem. (with malice aforethought) . If you two lads ain't [pg 53] got room there, I dessay this lady won't mind takin' one of yer on her lap. (To Mrs. L.S., who is frozen with horror at the suggestion.) They're 'umin beans, Mum, like yerself! ”

“ Proceeds to tell the same story all over again, substituting Appleby for Exeter. At the conclusion of story, Great laughter from Chancery Judges. Common Law Judges look bored, having all told same story on and about their own Circuits. ”

“ Raisons de Plus en Défaites.
[pg 55]
"SHORT 'ANDED."MRS. H-LSB-RY. "I TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, MRS. COLEY, MUM,—IF ALL THIS 'ERE DIRTY LINEN'S TO BE GOT THROUGH, WE MUST 'AVE 'ELP, MUM!!"
[pg 57]
"THE MUSIC IN OUR STREET." (A word from a Girl who lives in it.)
Did you ever 'ear our music? What, never? There's a shame;
I tell yer it's golopshus, we do 'ave such a game.
When the sun's a-shinin' brightly, when the fog's upon the town,
When the frost 'as bust the water-pipes, when rain comes pourin' down ”