Volume 107 — AIRS RESUMPTIVE.
Reading edition
V.—Lilith Libifera.
(After Rossetti.)
PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST IN BED-LAM PUZZLE— TO FIND HIM
Under a canopy dark-hued as—well, Consult the Bilious Book, page 51— Lies pallid Whiskersley's presentment, done By Whiskersley's own weird unearthly spell. His is that Lady known as Jezebel Or Lilith, Eden's woman-scorpion, Libifera, that is, that takes the bun, Borgia, Vivien, Cussed Damosel. Hers are the bulging lips that fairly break The pumpkin's heart; and hers the eyes that shame The wanton ape that culls the cocoa-nuts. Even such the yellow-bellied toads that slake Nocturnally their amorous-ardent flame In the wan waste of weary water-butts.
An Ecclesiastical Hibernian-Iberian Meddle and Muddle.—Lord Halifax writes to the Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo to protest against the appointment of an Anglo-Iberian bishop to Spain made by the Archbishop of Dublin & Co.; and his English Eminence Cardinal Vaughan writes to Spanish Eminence to protest against the protest of Lord Halifax. Of which the sum is that all the parties to the case are evidently, for the time being, Protestants!
ORIGIN OF THE BLUSH-ROSE. I asked the Queen of Flowers Why the blush-rose blushed so red, Through the sun-rays and the showers, And so bowed its modest head. And fair Flora whispered "Hush! It would hurt the rose to hear!— The beginning of that blush Was not love, or shame, or fear. All the pretty faëry fancies That you find in poet's song, And encounter in romances, Are entirely false and wrong. That flush so fair and fleeting Means not passion, pride or pity; But hot memories of the meeting Of a Vigilance Committee!"
Mrs. Chant-I-Clear The Music Halls.—So the verdict of the L.C.C. was against the Empire. This, of course, does not prove that the Members of the Council are amenable to Chantage. On this occasion Mrs. Chant made them sing to her tune. But the tune will not be popular.
A Cruel Poet.—Father Time is the offender when he begins to write lines on your face.
"ADVICE GRATIS."
Betsy Trotwood (Mrs. London City) to Mr. Dick (Mr. H-w-s). "Now here you see Sir Christopher Wren's Child, and the question I put to you is, What shall I do with him? Come, I want some very sound Advice."
The contemplation of Old St. Paul's seemed to inspire him with a sudden idea, and he replied briskly, "I should wash him!"
"Mr. H-w-s," said Mrs. London City, "sets us all right. We'll fill the Fire-engine with soap-and-water!"—"David Copperfield," adapted.
A HOPELESS QUEST. My mind a perfect blank I've made, Upon a disc I've fixed my eyes. I hoped, by mesmerism's aid, To probe stupendous mysteries. Hour after hour in solitude I thus have spent, but, to be frank, There was no magic trance ensued, My mind remained a perfect blank. To séances if I repair, "A hostile influence" they detect. The spirits, of my presence ware, Their customary rites neglect. A few faint raps, and they have flown, With all their perfumes, notes, and flowers. The mediums on my entrance frown— I am not blest with occult powers!
Perfect.—The Daily Telegraph, in a short notice of a present made to a Mr. Osler for assisting the police, mentions the unavoidable absence on this interesting occasion of "Chief Inspector Belton,"—which is a good name suggestive of staff attached to "belt on,"—and of "Mr. Superintendent Ferrett"—than which no better name was ever found, out of a burlesque novel, for a clever detective.