Volume 100 / Act 2 — A COMPLAINT OF THE CENSUS.

Oh! I'm a reg'lar rightdown Duke: The trying part I act and look Right nobly, so they tell me. Yet I would have you understand Why I am thoroughly unmanned At what of late befell me. A week or something less ago, A schedule came to let me know The Census Day was Sunday. The many details, one and all, Must he filled in, and then they'd call To fetch it on the Monday. I found it easy to contrive To answer columns one to five— I filled them up discreetly; But when I came to column six I got into an awful fix, And lost my head completely. For "Rank" alas! had disappeared. I'd never for an instant feared It wouldn't really be there. Your "Occupation" you could state, "Profession," too, you might relate, But I—a Duke—had neither! His Grace the Duke of PLAZA-TOR' Would call himself, I'm pretty sure, A "public entertainer." But I and my blue-blooded wife, We lead a simple blameless life, No life could well be plainer. In such a plight what could I do? I searched the paper through and through, Each paragraph I read. You'll Scarce credit it but those who "live On their own means" had got to give This statement in the schedule! I put it, but my ducal pen I saw distinctly sputtered when I did so. All of which he Will please remember when I say I thought it in a minor way Unkind of Mr. RITCHIE!