FOUND WANTING.
Reading edition
Appoint a Poet Laureate, some prate, But that's impossible, and wise men know it, Because, 'midst many a would-be Laureate, We cannot find a—Poet! Well, there is one; but him both Whig and Tory hate; Whence he, although a Poet, is not Laureate! And, after all, John Bull is little loth To wait, until he finds one who is both. For, after Tennyson, the choice, we see, Doth lie 'twixt—Tweedledum and Tweedledee! Because they are not good enough who crave it, Whilst one or two more worthy will not have it.
Addition To Magistrate's Decision.—Professor to be henceforth entitled "Il Ré Galantuomo." Who? Ray! Hooray!
SCRAPS FROM CHAPS.—A Spirit Licence.—At the Limerick Quarter Sessions, a landlord at Loughgur sought a new licence for his inn.
The applicant stated that he intended to keep a boat there for the convenience of tourists.
His Honour—What are the features of antiquity there?
The Applicant—there are old castles and ruins.
Mr. Lowndes—And the White Knight of Desmond crosses the lake once every five or ten years.
His Honour—And he is only seen by your patrols. (Laughter.) If this licence were granted, I suppose the White Knight would cross the lake every night! (Laughter.)
Of course he would! A phantom in a boat, if properly advertised, would probably "draw" the Saxon tourist in his hundreds. Here is a chance for the Psychical Research Society.