Comrades, it makes me chortle. The Election's drawing nigh,
And Eight Hours' Bills, or anything, they'll _promise_ for to try.
They'll spout and start Commissions; but, O mighty Labouring Host,
Mind your eye, and keep it on them, or they'll have you all on toast!
_Chorus._
_It's high time that the Working Men should have it their own way._
_They'll strain their throats,--you mind your votes, and you may find it pay!_
* * * * *
WILDE FLOWERS.
Some other fellow, in the _P.M.G._, has been beforehand with us in
spotting "A Preface to _Dorian Gray_," by our OSCAR WILDE-r than
ever, in this month's _Fortnightly. Dorian Gray_ was published some
considerable time ago, so it belongs to ancient history, and now,
after this lapse of time, out comes the preface. And this "preface"
occupies the better part, I use this expression in all courtesy, of
two pages; which two pages represent a literary flowerbed, where rows
of bright asterisks are planted between lines of brilliant aphorisms.
The rule of the arrangement seems to be.--"when in doubt, plant
asterisks." _Sic itur ad astra._ The garden is open to all, let us
cull; here one and there one. "_To reveal Art and conceal the Artist,
is Art's aim.
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