Ah, send your missionaries _there_!
If haply it repents,
I'll not surrender Eaton Square
For Surrey's wild or Kent's.

Not I alone; the best that breathe,
Archbishop, Duke, and Lord,
Your bust with chaplets rare will wreathe,
This boon if you'll accord.
How can we by example shame
The mob who mock at rents,
If we are left to do the same
Without our Three per Cents?

Reft of a carriage, life is poor:
A well-conducted set
Needs ready money to procure
Their butler and _Debrett_.
The country totters to its fall,
Disgraced to all intents,
Unless you instantly recall
Our solid Three per Cents.

* * * * *

THE FLOWERLESS FUNERAL.

(_BY A FLOWER MERCHANT._)

Funeral Reform? Oh! just a fad,--