_OR, LE MONDE OÙ L'ON S'ENNUIE._

["Now that the pageantry and the social stir evoked by the
presence of the Imperial guests are over, there are few who
will care to prolong the dreary and disappointing existence
either of the Season or of the Session."--_The Times_.]

_Jeames loquitur_:--

_Ya-a-a-w!_ Yes, young man, you've 'it it there, penny-a-liner as
you may be,
And knowing, probably, no more about _hus_ than a coster's baby;
But dull it 'as been, and no kid, and dreary, too, and disappinting;
Is it this Sosherlistic rot Society is so disjinting,
The Hinfluenza, or Hard Times, them Hirish, or wotever _is_ it?
_I_ couldn't 'ave 'eld on at all, I'm sure, but for the HEMP'ROR's visit.
_Ya-a-a-w!_ 'Ang it, 'ow I've got the gapes! Bring us a quencher, you
young Buttons!
And mind it's cool, and with a 'ed! _Hour_ family is reg'lar gluttons
For "Soshal Stir." The guv'nor, he's a rising Tory M.P., he is.
And Missis all the Season through as busy as a bloomin' bee is,
A gathering Fashion's honey up from every hopening flower. _That's_
natty.
I _'ave_ a turn for poetry; you're quite right there, my pretty PATTY.
Lor! 'ow that gal admires these carves! But that's "irrevelant," as
the sayin' is;
Master and Missis both complain 'ow dull and slow the game they're
playin' is.
The Session? Yah! Give me the days, the dear old days of darling DIZZY!
With him and GLADSTONE on the job a chap _could_ say "Now we are busy."