Volume 100 — CANINE CONFIDENCES.
Reading edition
Clever Dog, to the Minister of Agriculture, loquitur—
POTTERER, put the muzzle on! Potterer, take it off again! That is not the way, my friend, cruel rabies to restrain. Take my tip! As to self-styled "friends of dogs," too preposterous by half, Who object to all restraint, they deserve on seat or calf One sharp nip. It is doggish interest hydrophobia to stamp out; 'Tis a curse to us canines; that no person well can doubt Who has sense. They who think we doggies share old maid's sentimental fad, Just as though it really were a dog's privilege to go mad, Must be dense. Muzzles are a bore, of course, rather troublesome at times, But I'd rather have my nose made incapable of crimes, Than go free, With the chance of "going off," giving friend or foe a bite. And be clubbed to death or shot, murdered in my master's sight, Don't suit me! Never mind the fussy frumps, the old women of each sex; Better raise their ready wrath than the prudent public vex With crass rules. Muzzles now and collars then, partial orders soon relaxed; Men rebel when with caprice they are tied, or teased, or taxed, Else they're fools. Keep the muzzles on a year, regularly, and all round, Every doggy of high breed, mongrel puppy, whelp or hound, Will give thanks To the Minister who tries hydrophobia to stamp out Once for all o'er all the land, with consistency, and without Pottering pranks! Mr. CHAPLIN, take my tip! Science speaks in the same sense, So does true philanthropy. Ought to have effect immense, What they say. Heed not that old woman there, with her spoilt and yelping pet; I for every dog of nous in the country speak, you bet. Try! Good-day!
[Trots out, comfortably muzzled.
MOST APPROPRIATE.—We see, from some recently-reported proceedings, that the present Inspector appointed under the Infant Life Protection Act is "Mr. BABEY."
THE SECRETS OF LITERARY COMPOSITION.
The Fair Authoress of "Passionate Pauline," gazing fondly at her own reflection, writes as follows:—
"I look into the glass, Reader. What do I see?
"I see a pair of laughing, espiègle, forget-me-not blue eyes, saucy and defiant; a mutine little rose-bud of a mouth, with its ever-mocking moue; a tiny shell-like ear, trying to play hide-and-seek in a tangled maze of rebellious russet gold; while, from underneath the satin folds of a rose-thé dressing-gown, a dainty foot peeps coyly forth in its exquisitely-pointed gold morocco slipper," &c., &c.
(Vide "Passionate Pauline," by Parbleu.)