Volume 100 — CHAPTER IV.
Reading edition
"My faith," said Lord JOHN, "I am getting tired of this. Shall we never reach the Sun?"
"Courage, my friend," was the well-known reply of the brave little Doctor. "We deviated from our course one hair's-breadth on the twelfth day. This is the fortieth day, and by the formula for the precession of the equinoxes, squared by the parallelogram of an ellipsoidal bath-bun fresh from the glass cylinder of a refreshment bar, we find that we are now travelling in a perpetual circle at a distance of one billion marine gasmeters from the Sun. I have now accounted for the milk in the cocoa-nut."
"But not," said the Philosopher, as he popped up through a concealed trap-door, "for the hair outside. That remains for another volume." With that, he rang a gong. The iceberg splintered into a thousand pieces. The voyagers were each hurled violently down into their respective countries, where a savage public was waiting to devour them.
TOLSTOI ON TOBACCO.
[Count TOLSTOI has been declaiming against Tobacco in The Contemporary Review, and this in no way exaggerates his views.]
TOLSTOI fuming, in a pet, Raves against the cigarette; Says it's bad at any time, Leads to every kind of crime; And the man who smokes, quoth he, Is as wicked as can be. TOLSTOI knew a man who said He cut off a woman's head; But, when half the deed was done. Lo, the murderer's courage gone! And he finished, 'tis no joke, Only by the aid of smoke. TOLSTOI asks us, when do boys First essay Nicotian joys? And he answers, quite aghast, When their innocence is past. Gamblers smoke, and then again Smoking pleases the insane. TOLSTOI, when he writes this stuff, Swears he's serious enough; Lately Marriage earned his sneers; At Tobacco now he jeers; Proving that, without the weed, Some folks may be mad indeed.
THE SERENADE; OR, OVER THE GARDEN WALL.
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Latest Transatlantic Version.
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"Replying to Sir JOHN MACDONALD's manifesto, Mr. MERCIER said it was ridiculous to say that reciprocity was veiled treason, and meant annexation to the United States."—Times' Montreal Correspondent.
Uncle Sam (twangling his patent Reciprocity Banjo) sings:—
Oh, my love my passion can hear—and see, Over the garden wall; She is sighing, and casting sheeps' eyes at me, Over the garden wall: Miss CANADA muses; look at her there! My wooing and BULL's she is bound to compare, And she pretty soon will to join me prepare, Over the Garden Wall! Chorus (pianissimo). Over the garden wall, O sweetest girl of all! Come along do, you'll never regret; We were made for one another, you bet! 'Tis time our lips in kisses met, Over the Garden Wall! Your father will stamp and your father will rave, Over the garden wall; And like an old madman no doubt will behave, Over the garden wall. M'KINLEY has riled him, he's lost his head. MAC's Tariff is stiff, but if me you'll wed, I'll give Reciprocity, darling, instead, Over the Garden Wall! Chorus (piano). Over the garden wall! MACDONALD is bound to fall. 'Tis MAC against MAC, my Canadian pet. And M'KINLEY is bound to win, you bet! So join me, dear; we'll be happy yet, Over the Garden Wall! One day you'll jump down on the other side, Over the garden wall; There's plenty of room, and my arms are wide. Over the garden wall: JOHNNY may jib, and Sir JOHN may kick, I have an impression I'll lick them—slick; So come like a darling and join me quick, Over the Garden Wall! Chorus (forte). Over the garden wall! Dollars, dear, rule us all. Patriot sentiment's pretty, and yet Interest sways in the end, you bet! MERCIER's right; so pop, my pet, Over the Garden Wall! Where there's a will there's always a way, Over the garden wall! MACDONALD's a Boss, but he's had his day, Over the garden wall! Tariffs take money, but weddings are cheap, So wait till old JOHNNY is snoring asleep, Then give him the slip, and to JONATHAN creep. Over the Garden Wall! Chorus (fortissimo). Over the garden wall! Your "Grand Old Man" may squall, And swear Miss CANADA's loyal yet. But loyalty bows to Dollars—you bet! 'Tis time our lips in union met Over the Garden Wall!
[Left twangling seductively.
QUEER QUERIES.
DOMESTIC SERVICE.—My General Servant has just left me suddenly, on the ridiculous excuse that she was being "killed by overwork." She was not required to rise before 5 A.M., and she was generally in bed by twelve. Our house is not large, though rather lofty, and there are only fifteen in family. Of course I shall not pay her any wages, and shall retain her boxes; but how can I really punish her for her shameful desertion?—CONSIDERATE.
HAIR FALLING OFF.—My hair is coming off, not slowly, but in one great circular patch at the top of the head. A malicious report has in consequence been spread abroad in the neighbourhood that I have been scalped! What course ought I to adopt to (1) recover damages against my traducers, and (2) recover my hair?—LITTLE WOOL.