_--To spend an annual holiday in marching
and counter-marching, and then, after thirty miles of moving over a heavy
country, to return to London dead beat.
* * * * *
EFFECTIVELY SETTLING IT.--A "par" in the _Daily Telegraph_ last Friday
informed us that "The Bishop of EXETER administered, yesterday, the rite of
confirmation to thirty-eight patients of the Western Counties' Idiot Asylum
at Starcross. This is the first time such a rite has been conferred upon
inmates of this institution." Very hard on these inmates, as, previous to
the ceremony there might have been some hope of their recovery; but now
they have become "confirmed idiots."
* * * * *
ODE TO A GIRAFFE.
(_On hearing that the Solitary Specimen at the Zoo had just died._)
[Illustration]
So Death has paid the Zoo a call,
And claimed you for his own,
Who "neck or nothing" had been left
To bloom--and die--alone.
From far I gazed into your face,
I did not know your name,
You looked uncomfortable, but
I loved you all the same.
Your neck _was_ just a trifle long,
I think you must confess.
I've often thought if, as a fact,
You could have done with less.
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