Volume 153 — MARIANA IN WAR-TIME.

This tedious and important War Has altered much that went before, But did you hear about the change At Mariana's Moated Grange? You all of you will recollect The gross condition of neglect In which the place appeared to be, And Mariana's apathy, Her idleness, her want of tone, Her—well, her absence of backbone. Her relatives, no doubt, had tried To single out the brighter side, Had scolded her about the moss And only made her extra cross. But when the War had really come At once the place began to hum, And Mariana's, bless her heart! She threw herself into the part Of cooking for the V.A.D. And wholly lost her lethargy. She sent her gardeners off pell-mell (They hadn't kept the gardens well), And got a lady-gardener in Who didn't cost her half the tin, And who, before she'd been a day, Had scraped the blackest moss away. She put a jolly little boat For wounded soldiers on the moat; Her relatives were bound to own How practical the girl had grown. She often said, "I feel more cheery, I doubt if I can stick this dreary Old grange again when peace is rife; You really couldn't call it life." But something infinitely more Than just a European War Would have been requisite to part Romance from Mariana's heart; Once more she felt within her stir The dawn of une affaire de coeur; In other words, I must confess She found her thoughts were centred less On that young man who never came And more on Captain What's-his-name, Who'd left his other leg in France And was a model of romance. The wedding was a pretty thing; I sent the "Idylls of the King," Well bound. And Mariana wrote A most appreciative note. They live in London now, I'm told; The Moated Grange is let (or sold); I only hope they'll manage so That TENNYSON need never know.